My left ankle falls free.
Snap.
Right.
The blade slices through the rope, and my legs fall open like a prayer. The air bites my cunt–raw, swollen, dripping–and I laugh. Or cry. The sound is an echo against the trees.
Damon sheds his robe.
His cock is angry, flushed dark, veins ridged and pulsing. Thepiercings glint in the firelight, the ladder of bars. They look terrifying, like hardware used to hold him together, but I’ve felt them before. Rough and painful. Teasing. But it’s not my pussy that craves him. It’s my mouth that floods with want, tongue curling against the roof, craving the salt-slick slide of him, the stretch of my throat around that fat head.
The soothing.
He doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t need to.
His hands lift my thigh, spreading my legs to part for him. To make room. He’s too hard, too real—fingers digging crescents into flesh. Then he finds my entrance, still slick, and punches inside.
One brutal thrust, no warning, and I’m split open.
The scream tears out of me, shredded, perfect.
It’s not just fullness; it’s texture.
Each bar of Damon’s Jacob’s Ladder drags along my walls like a countdown. One, two, three, four metal beads kissing swollen nerves with every thrust.
The first bar catches at my entrance, stretching the rim before it pops inside.
The second slides deeper, a cold kiss that turns molten when my heat swallows it.
The third rubs that spot,there, and my vision whites out for a heartbeat.
The fourth locks him in, a final click that makes me feel owned.
When he pulls back, the bars reverse the path, tugging gently, then harder, like they’re trying to keep him buried. The drag is filthy, perfect friction that makes my toes curl and my breath hitch.
I’m raw, still tender from Hunter’s stone hilt, but the piercings amplify it, every ridge a reminder: this is mine, this is yours, this is us.
He slams home again, and the bars shift inside me, a rolling wave of metal and heat. My pussy clamps down, greedy, trying to keep every bead, every inch.
“Look at me,” he snarls, voice gravel and venom. “Your body is mine.I marked you.” He pinches my nipple. “How dare you forget it.”
His hips snap forward, again, again, and again.
Each slam jars my teeth. My tits bounce, piercings tugging like leashes. Splinters flay my back. The cleanse, theirs,ours–trickles warmth down my thighs.
“You think you can burn us and walk away?” He drives deeper, grinding against my clit with every punishing stroke. “You think you can beg your way back in?”
I float higher.
The girl below is red now–mouth open, eyes rolled back, cunt clenching around Damon’s cock like it’s the only real thing tethering her in place.
The Shadows chant, “Noctis Crucem. Noctis Crucem.”
It’s a lullaby. My lullaby.
Damon’s hand fists my hair, and pulls.
