Pain streaked my world white. My vision blanked, my breath caught against his palm, and then—oh God—pleasure came chasing after, faster, meaner, catching the pain by the throat and dragging it under.
My knees buckled. My thighs trembled. The bite anchored me, held me captive to a storm only he controlled. My body tried tocollapse, but Kenji’s arm caged me upright, his palm sealing my mouth, his weight pinning me to his hunger.
And still he bit.
The pressure built, teeth digging deeper, pain climbing until it kissed the edge of unbearable. My scream tore from me, but his hand caught it, muffled it, turned it into a shameful hum against his skin.
Water poured over his tattoos, over the steel cage of his body, over me. It made everything slick—his grip, my thighs, the pulse of his cock grinding against my ass.
Oh fuck.
He rolled his hips as he bit harder, the pierced head of his cock rubbing slow and merciless between my cheeks, gliding along the seam of my ass, threatening my pussy with every pass. The metal caught, slid, sparked heat until I thought I’d combust right there under the spray.
The bite burned.
The cock teased.
The water drowned.
And I couldn’t escape any of it.
My body was his canvas. His teeth, his cock, his hunger—those were the tools painting me into something new, something ruined. Every nerve screamed alive—pain streaking down my neck, pleasure flooding my clit, heat coiling low in my belly until I was shaking in his grip.
Kenji groaned into the bite, low and guttural, the sound vibrating against my skin as if he meant to mark me not just with teeth but with sound, with vibration, with everything he was.
And I felt it—his cock hardening, thickening as he ground against me, the blunt crown dragging lower, lower, almost finding me.
My pussy clenched in betrayal, weeping for him, fluttering with frantic little spasms that only made the bite feel deeper.
I should’ve wanted to fight.
To wrench free.
To scream.
Instead, I melted into the pain, into the teeth, into the cock grinding against me. My body became one long pulse of surrender, a prisoner that didn’t want release.
Some stubborn part of me still wanted to write the ending myself—to prove I could hold a pen even as he broke me. But my body was already signing his story in blood and trembling.
Kenji lifted his mouth just enough to growl against my raw, bitten skin.
The bite throbbed. It was a firework lodged in my flesh, burning, pulsing, alive.
Kenji finally pulled back, his teeth leaving me raw and stinging, and the hot spray of the shower instantly kissed the wound.
The water wasn’t relief.
It was gasoline poured on flame.
I gasped against his palm, chest heaving, lungs searching for air.
My eyes flicked down, desperate to see what he had done. While I couldn’t see the bite, I did witness the dark ribbons of blood spiraling down my skin, mingling with the water, blooming red against clear before thinning, and washing away.
There was no doubt in my mind that he’d left teeth marks in my skin. The only question was if they would ever heal, or would the scar stay there forever—his bite painted into my flesh.
Did he just brand me?
The world tilted.
