Rage & Ruin | 18+

15| Tell me how much you love me(18++)

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice a low growl that seemed to resonate through her very soul. "So tight, so wet for me." His words were erotic, a symphony of obscenities that painted a vivid picture of their shared depravity. Each syllable was a slap in the face, a reminder of her powerlessness. Yet, she couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of arousal, her body responding to his praise despite her mind's screams of protest.

"Your cunt is mine," he murmured, his hips slamming into her with a rhythm that was both punishing and exquisite. "You're going to come for me, Daphne. You're going to scream my name." His words were a promise, a dark pact that she was powerless to refuse. His fingers found her clit, pressing and teasing with a precision that made her toes curl.

Daphne's body responded despite herself, the pleasure a living, breathing entity that grew with each thrust. She felt his cock pulse inside her, a testament to his dominance. "Say it," he breathed, his eyhis eyes never leaving hers. "Tell me how much you love it."

Her eyes squeezed shut, she bit her lip to hold back the scream building in her chest. "I hate you," she managed to choke out, her voice thick with unshed tears. But her body didn't lie, the walls of her pussy tightening around him, betraying her with every beat of her pulse.

"But you love this," he countered, his voice a seductive whisper that seemed to wrap around her like a velvet noose. "You love the way I fill you up, the way I make you feel." His thumb moved in circles, the pressure building until she thought she might shatter.

"No," she whimpered, the word a lie that even she didn't believe. But it was all she had, a feeble attempt to maintain some semblance of control in a world that had gone mad.

He chuckled, the sound a dark, twisted melody that sent shivers down her spine. "We'll see," he said, his voice low and dangerous. His thrusts grew harder, faster, his fingers working her clit with a ferocity that bordered on pain. "You're going to come for me, Daphne. You're going to come hard."

The pressure was unbearable, a crescendo that built and built until she felt as if she would explode. And then, with a cry that was half pleasure and half despair, she did. Her body convulsed around him, waves of ecstasy crashing over her like a tidal wave. His name was on her lips, a silent confession of her body's treachery.

Alaric's grip tightened, his eyes never leaving hers as he watched her fall apart. His thrusts grew erratic, his breath coming in harsh pants. And then, with a roar, he too found his release, his hot seed filling her up in a claim that was both primal and degrading.

The aftermath was a haze of confusion and pain, her body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure. Daphne felt his arms wrap around her, his embrace surprisingly gentle as he held her against the cold tiles. "Mine," he murmured into her ear, his voice a dark caress that sent a shiver down her spine.

The water continued to rain down on them, a mockery of the storm that had just ravaged her soul. She knew she should fight him, should push him away. But all she could do was lean into his embrace, her body craving the warmth and safety she knew she would never find in his arms.

As the water cooled and the steam began to dissipate, the reality of her situation came crashing back down around her. She was his, in every way that mattered. And as much as she hated it, she couldn't deny the sick, twisted thrill that his words brought her. The handcuffs were gone, but she was more trapped than ever before.

Her eyes found his in the mirror, a silent challenge that he met with a smug smile. "You're going to love your new life," he promised, his voice a seductive purr. "You're going to love being mine."

The words sent a chill down her spine, but she couldn't find the strength to argue. Instead, she nodded, her voice a broken whisper. "I know," she said, the defeat in her voice unmistakable.

And with that, she realized the true horror of her situation. It wasn't just the physical pain or the emotional torment. It was the fact that, somewhere deep inside, she feared that he might just be right.