need to fuck her. I need to claim what’s mine. I want to hold on to possibility. And I want her to feel me so far into next week that she knows who her Master is.
My orgasm gathers in the base of my spine. She’s passive under me, grunting softly as I ream her ass. A perverse part of me loves that she’s uncomfortable. But I also want to make her cum. Watch her fall apart while I’m balls deep inside her ass. Make her love the depraved things I do to her body. Make her crave them. Make her crave me.
Next time, I’ll train her ass myself, and force her to cum only when the plug is wedged tight in her bowels. I want to do such filthy, wrong things to her and I want to make her love them.
I reach my hand under her and, sure enough, she’s a sopping mess. Poor, neglected pussy. I find her clit and grind the heel of my palm against it, making her cry out. My free hand grabs a handful of her hair, drawing her head back as I pummel her bottom. I want to hurt, to destroy her. Break her down until she’s in pieces. Then rebuild. She’ll be reborn. I’ll make her new. Make her mine.
A roar builds in my throat. Daphne cums with a howl, my hand at her clit and cock in her ass. She shudders hard, her back bowing until I’m afraid she’ll break in two. Her ass clenches around me, ripping out my cum. I fill her to the brim with my creamy offering, then pull out and coat her perfect ass.
Then I lean on the table, trembling, weak from my orgasm. The mask glimmers in the corner, empty eyes pointed in our direction, a judgmental voyeur. My clothes are crumpled on the floor. I left pieces of me all over the room.
Because, this night and always, Daphne’s the one who broke me apart.
She’s destroyed me. And I’m the one reborn.
Daphne
I thought it might mean something: giving myself over completely. But when I go to turn around and hug my Master, he stops me. A dark cloth drops over my face. He blindfolds me carefully, and leads me from the dungeon. Rose petals whisper at my feet.
Logan is gentle as he guides me to the bathroom, to a shower first for a rinse and then a tub full of fragrant water. Judging from the soft fluttering against my bare skin, he’s added rose petals. He eases me back and washes me gently, taking care not to disturb or submerge my newly pierced nipples.
But he won’t let me touch him. When I reach for him, he captures my wrists.
“No,” he rasps.
“But…” I bite my lip. We just shared a moment, I know we did, but he’s holding back. Retreating behind his stone walls. I opened myself completely, but it wasn’t enough to earn his trust.
I fight back tears as he takes me from the tub and dries me off. He removes my blindfold so I can take out my contacts. But his mask is back, firmly in place. I finish my business in the bathroom and head to bed where he waits for me in the darkness.
“I want to see you,” I whisper as he draws up the covers, tucking me in.
“I know.” His lips are on my forehead. The mask is cool on my skin. And I hate it. I hate how he hides. Not because he’s holding back from me, but because he thinks he’s ugly. The mask is a shield, but it hasn’t stopped me from hurting him.
He retreats to the door, pausing when I call his name.
“How, Logan? How can I earn you?”
He pauses and my silly heart fills to the brim with hope.
“You can’t.”
And when he leaves, I feel nothing but despair.
Eighteen
7 Years Ago
Daphne
My whole life has been spent towards one goal: saving my mother from death by this horrific disease.
And I failed.
I didn’t grow up fast enough, finish my degree quick enough, spend enough time with her while I had her on this earth.
And now she’s gone.
Gone.
It’s not fair. I believed so hard we would save her. That if I just did everything I was supposed to and worked hard enough…
But I’ve been a little naïve fool, imagining there’s any order or balance or fairness to things in the universe at all.
I’ve been a child still believing in fairy tales.
It rains while they lower my mother into the ground beneath