He grabs my breast, and I feel his claws dig into the sheets beside my head. His mouth is on my neck again, kissing, sucking.
"Mine," he repeats against my skin, slamming into me. "Look at you. So beautiful taking my cock. Can you feel how wet you're getting? Your body knows, Adelaide. Feel your walls fluttering around me."
The betrayal of my body is complete. I can feel it. The flutter he's talking about, the increased wetness, the way my inner walls are clenching around him. And then, against my will, I feel something building. A pressure, a tension.
No. No, please, not that. Anything but that.
Then he leans down and sinks his teeth into my neck, right where it meets my shoulder.
The pain of the bite should be the final straw. Should push me over the edge into merciful unconsciousness.
But something happens instead.
A zing of pleasure shoots through me, starting from where his teeth pierce my skin and radiating outward. For a moment, my entire body is filled with a comforting vibrating warmth. Then, it’s gone. Replaced with a feeling of wrongness. It's so wrong. But my body doesn't care about wrong.
He's pulling back and thrusting forward, and those ridges, God, those ridges, they drag against something inside me that makes my breath hitch.
My breathing. It's the only thing I can control, the only way my body can respond, and it's betraying me. Getting faster. Shallower. I feel my breasts bouncing, the silk nightgowns bunched tightly on the sides.
"That's it," he groans against my neck. "Your body knows."
No. No, this isn't happening. I don't want this. I don't want to feel anything but pain and hatred.
But the pleasure builds anyway. Each thrust hits something deep inside me that sends sparks through my nervous system. The ridges catch and pull, and my breathing gets faster, more desperate.
I'm chasing something. Something I can't name, can't understand. My body is climbing toward something, and I can't stop it.
"Mine," he growls, and I feel his cock swell inside me.
The pleasure intensifies. It's building, building, building, and I'm terrified of what's coming because I know, I know, it's going to feel good, and I can't bear that. Can't bear the thought of my body finding pleasure in this violation.
His thrusts get harder, faster, and my breathing is ragged now, the only sign of what's happening inside me.
Then it hits.
The orgasm crashes through me like a wave, and it's exhilarating. My body clenches around him, pulsing, and pleasure floods every nerve ending. My breathing stops entirely for a moment, suspended in the intensity of it.
And I'm appalled. Appalled at myself for feeling this. Appalled at my body for responding. Appalled at him for doing this to me, for making me feel pleasure when I should only feel pain.
The shame is worse than the violation. Because my body liked it. My body wanted it. And I'm trapped here with that knowledge, unable to scream or cry or express the horror of what just happened.
"Such a good girl. My good girl."
I want to die. I want to cease existing. My body came while he raped me. My body betrayed me in the worst possible way, and I'll never be able to forget it. Never be able to forgive it.
"Adelaide. My treasure. My princess. Mine."
He stays inside me for a long moment, and I feel every twitch, every throb. Then he pulls out, and I feel the wetness. He tells me blood and semen are leaking from me.
He cleans me gently. Changes the sheets. Dresses me in a fresh nightgown. His touch is tender, careful, loving.
It makes me want to vomit.
He pulls me against his chest, wraps his tail around my legs, his wings go around my body, and whispers into my hair.
"I'm sorry. But I'm not sorry enough to regret it. You're mine now, Adelaide. Completely mine."
I lie there in his arms, feeling his heartbeat against my back, feeling the ache between my legs and the bite mark throbbing on my neck.
