Rage & Ruin | 18+

14| I own You (18+)

Her breath hitched as his fingers delved deeper, slipping inside her with a smoothness that belied the harshness of his words. The sensation was exquisite, a mix of pain and pleasure that sent her senses reeling. "I own you," he murmured, his voice a low growl that seemed to resonate through her very soul. "Every inch of this sweet little pussy is mine to take, mine to enjoy."

"Please," she whimpered, the word slipping from her lips despite her best efforts to keep it contained. The sound was a mix of pain and desperation, a plea for mercy that she knew would fall on deaf ears.

Alaric's grip on her body tightened, his fingers moving faster, harder. "That's it," he murmured, his voice a dark purr of satisfaction. "Say it again."

"Please," Daphne gasped, the word torn from her chest. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that made her vision swim. Yet, there was something else there too, a sizzling undercurrent of pleasure that she couldn't ignore.

His grip tightened, his fingers moving in a relentless rhythm that had her body writhing against his. "You like it, don't you?" he growled, his teeth grazing her neck. She could feel his cock, thick and demanding, pressing against her backside.

"Please, it's hurting," she let out, the words a desperate plea that seemed to hang in the steamy air. But the pain was a strange sort of comfort, a reminder that she was still alive, still fighting. It was a war she knew she couldn't win, but she would go down swinging.

Ignoring her protests, Alaric's mouth moved down her neck, his tongue tracing a path along her collarbone. He took his time, savoring every inch of her skin as if she were a fine delicacy. His teeth nipped at the sensitive flesh, sending a jolt of sensation through her body. The water droplets on her skin served as a delicate contrast to the harshness of his touch, a sweet and sour symphony that played havoc with her senses.

He kissed her jawline, his tongue flicking out to catch the droplets that clung to her skin. The sensation was unexpected, a gentle caress that made her body shiver. Daphne couldn't help but lean into him, her eyes fluttering shut as she lost herself in the moment. His hands remained on her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples with a firm, unyielding pressure that had her breath hitching in her throat.

Without warning, Alaric spun her around, pressing her against the cool tiles of the shower wall. His erection throbbed against her stomach, a silent demand that she knew she couldn't ignore. His eyes bore into hers, a storm of emotions that she couldn't begin to unravel. There was anger, desire, and a hint of something else, something that made her stomach twist with a mix of fear and anticipation.

He didn't ask for permission, didn't bother with sweet nothings or gentle persuasion. Instead, he simply thrust inside her, the force of his movements making her cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. Her body stretched to accommodate his size, the sensation both agonizing and exhilarating. Daphne's eyes widened with shock, her nails digging into his arms as she tried to find something, anything, to hold onto.

The tiles were cold against her back, the water beating down on them like a drum, a relentless rhythm that matched the pounding of her heart. Alaric's eyes bore into hers, a storm of emotions that she couldn't decipher. His mouth descended on hers, his tongue forcing its way inside with a ferocity that stole her breath. The kiss was bruising, a silent declaration of war that she had no hope of winning.

He thrust into her again, his cock filling her with a brutal force that sent her vision swimming. Daphne's legs gave out, but his arms were there, holding her up, keeping her in place for his use. She felt his fingers dig into her hips, his nails leaving half-moons in her skin as he claimed her, inch by inch. The pain was a living, breathing entity, a beast that consumed her thoughts, leaving no room for anything else.

Her screams were muffled by his lips, his tongue invading her mouth with a fervor that was almost as terrifying as his possession of her body. His kiss was a silent command, a demand for her submission that she couldn't fight. Her body responded despite herself, her hips moving in a desperate attempt to escape the agony, only to find a strange, twisted pleasure in the pain.

His hands moved to her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streamed down her cheeks. The gentleness was a stark contrast to the brutal force of his thrusts, a tender touch that was almost loving. Daphne's eyes searched his, a silent plea for relief, for an end to the torment. But all she found was a cold, unyielding determination, a hunger that seemed to grow with each passing second.