A raw, broken scream tears out of me, echoing off the walls, as the chain yanks one last time on my nipples. The pain spikes bright and perfect, fusing with the deep, pounding fullness in my ass and the relentless grind on my clit.
Waves crash through me, one after another, merciless and welcome. My vision whites out at the edges, and tears spill hot down my cheeks but not from hurt. They're from the sheer overwhelming release.
"Red—fuck—I'm c-c-c-coming! Don't stop!"
"I'm not stopping. You're gonna take more of me!" he promises.
"Y-y-yes!"
He releases the chain and rubs my ass cheek. He bites out, "Look at this red, glowing ass bouncing every time I slam into you. I'm stretching your forbidden hole wide open, and your virgin ass tries to get tighter. Fuck, Bluebird, you were made for this. Keep taking me. Keep aching for me. I'm going to paddle you raw while I fuck the last bit of resistance out of this sweet ass."
"Yes! Please!" I shriek, my inner muscles spasming wildly around nothing in front while my ass grips him like a vise, milking him in frantic contractions.
"Play with yourself with the chain. One hand stays on the bars, and the other better work that greedy clit of yours," he barks.
I obey, my legs shaking uncontrollably, thighs trembling, and toes curling so hard they cramp. Every nerve feels lit up, raw, exposed, with pleasure so intense, it borders on pain. But the pain's exquisite while indistinguishable from the ecstasy.
"You still want to be my fucking toy doll?" he asked.
"Yes!"
"Then you better not stop rubbing that delicious pussy of yours," he warns.
Another orgasm rips from my clit, while glorious, painful sensations shoot from my tits. He smacks my ass while thrusting hard.
True hell breaks loose in my body. Endorphins like I've never felt consume me, turning me into a shaking puddle, sobbing his name in broken gasps. "Red—Red—fuck—Red?—"
"You're testing me today, Bluebird," he grits out, continuing the paddles and thrusts, creating pleasure and pain all over my body.
One high after another ripple through me, each one making my body jerk against the mattress. The clamps tug, I rub the chain in frantic, messy circles that drag my climax out longer, deeper, until I'm limp and quivering, held up only by his arm around my waist and his thick length still buried inside me.
His voice comes out wrecked. "Fuck, Bluebird. Every time I spank you, this tight little hole squeezes me like it's trying to keep me forever."
"I-I-I am!" I declare, split open, stuffed, utterly possessed. The fullness is so profound, it borders on too much, yet I crave more, wanting the constant reminder that he's inside me everywhere, claiming the last untouched part of me.
Tears prick my eyes from the overwhelming intimacy of it, the vulnerability of letting him have this, and the way my body is learning to love the hurt because it'shishurt, his mark, his love carved into me.
He praises, "So fucking beautiful. My perfect patient."
"Yes. Dr. Mercer. Yes."
He changes the rhythm to a slow, deep roll of his hips that lets me feel every ridge, every vein, every inch claiming me. The paddle falls inunpredictable bursts. One light tap to tease, then a harder crack that makes me sob into the pillow.
His gentle glide inside me versus the violent bloom of heat on my skin is a maddening contrast. My whole lower body electrifies into nerves firing in chaotic harmony.
He keeps fucking me until I'm undone, beautifully wrecked, and every inch of me marked and buzzing. Then his rhythm falters. His thrusts turn erratic, hips slam forward with desperate force as he buries himself deep one last time. A low, guttural groan rips from his throat, raw and unrestrained, his fingers digging into the bruised crescents already forming on my hips.
"Fuck, Bluebird. Take it all," he rasps, voice almost gone. His cock pulses hard, then his body shudders against and inside me. Hot, endless spurts flood deep into my ass, each one marking me from the inside, filling me so completely, the warmth spreads, the pressure building until it's almost too much.
My body clenches instinctively around him, milking every drop, pulling a broken curse from his lips as he grinds against me, riding out the waves.
He stays buried, chest heaving against my back, breath ragged in my ear. "You feel that?" he murmurs, voice softer now, reverent. "That's me claiming you, every fucking inch. You're full of me, Bluebird. Marked. Mine."
I tremble beneath him, still stretched and aching, the heat of his release seeping deeper, a filthy, intimate promise that'll linger long after he slips free.
A long time passes before he pulls out of me. I'm floating in the hazy, golden aftermath where nothing exists but him and the way my body still pulses around him like it never wants to let go. When he retreats, the emptiness is different. I still have his warmth inside me. The aches and adrenaline still linger.
He falls on the bed, tugs me into him, and holds me tight. He kisses me on the forehead and asserts, "I love you. You're never alone with your pain. You have me."
