Page 16

T he tears won’t stop. They blur my vision as I sob uncontrollably, helpless and broken.

And he relishes every moment of it.

His ribbed tongue follows the mark of his teeth, soothing the sting of the bite as he laps up the pooling blood. My body trembles, swinging slightly in the air as I pull against the chains with what little energy I have left.

His mouth moves down my neck, leaving shallow marks until his lips close around my nipple.

He sucks greedily, the tip of his tongue toying with the hardened peak, and I can’t suppress the moan that escapes my lips.

The sting of his teeth testing against my flesh adds a delicious edge to the sensation.

And when he bites down on, a sharp hiss tears from me, the pain flaring briefly before being swallowed by the wave of shameful, unwanted pleasure.

My back arches involuntarily, pushing my chest closer to him as my body betrays me.

He moves to the other breast, giving it the same ravenous attention, and his growls vibrate against my skin, sending shivers straight to my core.

He’s teasing me, savoring every reaction, every tremor that runs through my body as he alternates between biting, sucking, and licking, his motions maddeningly slow and calculated.

As he finally pulls back, his dark eyes meet mine, glinting with cruel amusement. Blood smears his lips, and he drags his pointed purple tongue over them, licking away the remainder of his feast.

Then, his claws rake down my sides, sharp tips breaking the skin with ease, sending fresh waves of pain radiating through me. Blood wells up, warm and sticky, trailing down in uneven streams that drip onto the stone floor below.

The metallic scent of it fills the air, and his eyes flash with an otherworldly hunger, drinking in the crimson streaks, fixated.

He immediately leans in, and his tongue flicks out, dragging along the fresh cuts with agonizing slowness as he savors the blood like it’s an aphrodisiac.

His breathing grows heavier, pupils blown wide as his growls take on a ragged, fevered edge.

He isn’t just feeding on me—he’s consuming my resistance, my fear, proving with every deliberate motion that his control over me is absolute, reminding me that I am entirely at his mercy.

Terror slithers through my entire body, and yet, buried beneath the dread, something else stirs. A sick, crawling heat that I don’t want to acknowledge.

“Get off me!” I scream, kicking blindly, my heel connecting with the solid muscle of his chest, but it’s like kicking a brick wall. He growls, low and dangerous, his glowing eyes narrowing as his claws dig deeper into my flesh.

A sharp, searing pain bursts across my sides, and a wail rips from my throat, echoing through the cavern. More blood wells up, trickling down my ribs in sticky rivulets, and I bite down on my lip, desperate to fight back the rising panic.

I realize it’s his punishment, a lesson carved into my flesh and etched into my mind: You’re mine.

There’s no running away from me. The blood oozing from my body, stripped of its power, isn’t just sustenance to him but a mark of his claim.

Yet, it isn’t just brutal—it’s almost reverent, like a twisted form of worship.

My body responds. And that’s the actual horror in this hell.

His tongue catches every drop of blood with deliberate, unhurried strokes, pressing harder, scraping over raw, exposed cuts.

A cry escapes me, the pain unbearable. His claws trail lower, dragging across my legs, parting them before I even register the movement.

His fingers slide between, and his claws dig into my thighs, pressing into muscle with just enough force to pierce the skin.

He knows exactly how to hurt, how to draw fresh blood without crippling his prey in a calculated torment.

Every scrape, every flick is excruciatingly precise, and the sting of him meeting the torn skin of my inner thighs makes my vision swim with tears, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

He doesn’t stop—if anything, he revels in it. I can feel his excitement. The sight, the scent, my fear—it’s awakening something in him, something even more bestial. He gets off on it. And I know he’s just getting started with me.

He exhales against my skin, heat mixing with the cavern’s chill before his tongue returns, more urgent now, almost frantic.

My mind spins with the horrifying mix of pain and the perverse intimacy of his touch.

His blood-covered hand moves up, steady and firm, slipping between the apex of my thighs before I can even protest. His rough, calloused fingers slide against the slick folds of my pussy, the invasive touch igniting fresh waves of shame.

Then, without hesitation, he plunges them inside my core.

My body jerks at the intrusion, the sensation both unbearable and maddeningly precise as his fingers curl and pump, stroking with an intensity that makes my stomach twist.

At the same time, his other hand clamps around my throat.

The pressure is immediate and unyielding, cutting off my air with a brutal efficiency that makes my vision blur.

My legs kick uselessly in the empty air, the chains above me rattling wildly as I claw at the shackles to get free.

His grip tightens, and it feels like his claws dig into the delicate skin of my throat.

I choke. The sound is a broken rasp as I struggle to draw air.

But he’s unforgiving, and his grip on my neck remains unrelenting.

His eyes burn into mine, dark and triumphant, daring me to fight harder even as my strength slips away.

Each thrust of his fingers sends sharp, electric shocks rippling through my body.

And in the back of my mind is lingers the ominous thought—just one wrong move, and his claws will extend, slashing me from the inside.

But then he presses the magic spot.

My head snaps back, my vision going white for a moment as his fingers press and circle that hidden bundle of nerves.

I let out a strangled cry, my body arching against my will as he drives me to the edge. My lungs burn, my chest heaving against the pressure of his hand on my throat, but my body betrays me in the cruelest way.

I’m teetering on the brink, helpless to stop the flood that’s building inside me. His fingers don’t relent, each pump more forceful, as though he knows he’s breaking me.

Just as I’m about to pass out, my release crashes over me like a tidal wave, every muscle in my body locking as I convulse against him.

His hand loosens around my throat after my juices flood his hand. Air rushes back into my lungs in choking gasps, but I barely notice, my mind splintering under the weight of the moment.

This wasn’t passion, but domination, pure and primal, his declaration of him being in charge.

And a twisted part of me loved it.

His hand lingers, his fingers still buried deep inside me as he growls, low and guttural, his lips pulling back in a feral smirk.

Humiliation burns through me like acid, settling deep in my chest. My breath comes in ragged, heaving gulps, each inhale tearing through my bruised throat. I want to shout, to spit defiance in his face, yet the weight of my own disgust keeps my voice locked inside.

But he isn’t done.

His fingers slide out of me with a deliberate slowness, dragging against the trembling, oversensitive walls of my pussy.

The sensation sends an involuntary jolt through me, and I shudder, biting back another cry.

His hand doesn’t move far, though. His rough fingers spread my slickness up, smearing it over my swollen, throbbing clit in a cruel caress.

The first touch makes me flinch, my body jerking against the chains as a sharp gasp escapes my lips.

He seizes the delicate nub between his calloused fingers, rolling it, squeezing, pinching with just enough force to send a wave of white-hot electric sensation crashing through me. The intensity borders on pain.

“Oh fuck!” I let out a strangled whimper.

Lowering his head, he licks a slow, deliberate path down my trembling body, his tongue hot and wet against the trails of blood streaking my skin.

He laps at each crimson rivulet, following it with greedy, languid strokes as though savoring every drop.

His growl reverberates through the space between us, the sound vibrating against my skin as he feasts on me, devouring the evidence of his own violence.

I thrash weakly, my legs trembling and my arms aching from the strain of my futile struggles. “Stop!” I manage to choke out, the plea barely audible over the sound of his growls and the slick, obscene noises of his tongue against my skin. “Please, no more!”

He doesn’t stop.

My breaths hitch with every stroke of his tongue, my nerves screaming from the overstimulation.

I feel raw, exposed, and broken under his relentless touch.

Then he reaches the tender slit of my pussy and his tongue presses against my core, lapping at the wetness he’s coaxed from me with ravenous hunger.

I cry, and I kick, but he doesn’t show me mercy.

His mouth works with frenzied precision as he drinks me in, his growls reverberating against my most sensitive flesh.

My body betrays me one more time.

I come undone with a shuddering mewl, my muscles locking and quaking as the release crashes over me, flooding his mouth with everything I wish I could withhold. My vision blurs, and a deep, bone-deep exhaustion settles over me as the last of my fight drains away.

And still, he doesn’t stop. He devours me like a true beast, leaving nothing behind but the echo of my ragged breaths and the shadow of his possession.

This is worse than the slashes. Worse than the choking .