CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I still can’t believe how close I came to Mortis. That failure sits in my gut as I make my way to Darkwood’s chambers.
There’s guilt too, because if this bastard takes another life, it’s on me.
Ava’s inability to identify him is frustrating in its own way.
I did my best to get there in time, but my best wasn’t enough.
But do you have the power to stop him? I think.
That’s another reason why I’m looking forward to my session with the Professor. I need to train, to grow my power, and if that means endless orgasms, well, fine.
I’m surprised we’re in the Professor’s bedroom tonight.
Candles flicker on the oak dresser, still absent of photos, casting a dim glow over the large four-poster bed.
I stare at the intricate carvings along the bedposts. It seems old. Everything about Darkwood, from his fashion sense to his choice of torture is all grounded in the past.
"Are you ready, little lamb?" his voice rumbles behind me.
I’ve already disrobed.
I turn to face him, mouth dry. He's stripped to the waist, muscles rippling under pale skin, a tantalizing trail of hair disappearing into his breeches.
"Yes," I breathe.
“You’ve had quite the day, haven’t you?”
No point hiding it given he’s in my head anyhow. “There was an incident, with Ava.”
“And you consider my involvement?”
“No.”
He rounds on me. “You’re sure?”
“The person attacking Ava was tall, yes, but I couldn’t see who it was.”
“But you felt it, didn’t you? Your newfound powers coming to the fore.”
“Yes.”
“And how did it feel?”
I think back. “Dangerous.”
The Professor gives a light chuckle. “Very good, but we’re far from done. Now,” he stalks toward me, “lie back on the bed.”
I climb onto the bed, arranging myself against the pillows, skin tingling under his gaze.
"Such beauty," he murmurs, seating himself on the edge of the bed and trailing a finger along my collarbone. "I’ll ask again, are you certain you wish to give yourself over to me so completely?"
"Yes," I gasp, the hunger returning. "I need this. I need you."
A wicked grin curves his lips at this capitulation. "Ah, but tonight you will have more of me than you expect, for this trial demands a certain level of…creativity, shall we say?"
I have no idea what he’s getting at with these riddles, but the intensity has been building with each lesson, a play-by-play of every conceivable way magic can be used to further sexual experience.
“This will feel unusual. Wrong, perhaps. Relax. Do not fight it.”
I soon understand why.
He waves his hands, chanting the incantation.
My body flushes cold in an instant. Then, before I can protest, I sense heatwaves shifting through me. And, as if this rapid shift in temperature isn’t shocking enough, I lose all sensation. I can’t feel a thing. I can’t move my arms or legs.
I try to, but I can't. I try again, but it’s clear: he’s petrified me.
I think of Cassandra watching on, the terror in her eyes—the helplessness.
That same fear wells up inside me, a spring, but I remember Damien’s words and temper myself.
Trust him, says the voice of reason in my head.
Still, it’s not easy losing all natural function in your body. It’s not easy knowing you’re utterly helpless.
I'm completely at his mercy, unable to resist whatever he chooses to do with my body.
"Do not be afraid," he croons, cupping my cheek. "Your power will grow more than you can imagine tonight."
I hold onto the promise in his words, knowing in my heart they are not empty.
His hands move lower. I watch his fingers gliding over my breasts in a slow, sensual manner. They tease my nipples, his thumbs pushing into them. I hiss internally, the sound echoing in my mind. Waves of need roll down my thighs. A familiar hunger spreads across my insides. A hunger that has his name written all over it.
"So responsive, even in your immobility," he says, his rich voice cutting the silence. He slides his hand between my legs, fingers circling my clit. "Tonight, I will make you come until you pass out, witchling. The shadows,” he continues, licking his lower lip as he stares down at my pussy, “how they do delight in this.”
I sense his weight on the bed. The mattress sags as he crawls over towards me. I whimper at the feel of his mouth against the tender folds of my pussy, his tongue brushing over my clit. A second, upward swipe tests my patience. God, I want to toss my head back and savor his lust, to lose myself in his skill. Instead, I scream soundlessly, unable to move, torn between ecstasy and fear.
Damien doesn’t make this any easier on me. He feasts on my pussy, his tongue sliding down my slit and getting a proper taste of my desire. He rolls it back into his mouth, laying a trail of hot kisses down my cleft. His upper lip bumps into my clit over and over again. His fingers circle my cunt, his teeth grazing my clit. One index finger slips through my folds, curling upwards in a come-hither motion.
My mind whites out from the intensity of sensation. Once again, I wish I could move as his tongue parts my folds, penetrating me in one long, delicious stroke.
The tip of his tongue moves out, a fleshly explorer, probing into the heat and desire that’s pooled fast between my legs. I want to place my hands on the top of his head, grab fistfuls of hair and pull him towards me, urge him deeper, but I remain paralyzed.
I moan internally when his tongue sweeps down and burrows deeper, his rough fingers holding me open. The shadows rush to join him, to increase the torture.
I’m self-conscious of how I am down there, how wet I am, but I know he doesn’t care. His mouth moves over my mound as he laps higher in long, flat strokes against my clit, rubbing the tip of his tongue back and forth over the swollen bud. The opposite motion sets my nerves ablaze. Unfortunately, it also intensifies the mix of frustration and anger building within me.
I am being worshipped. There’s no other way for me to describe this. Damien is eating me out, his grunts attesting to his own pleasure. There’s no sense of urgency in his moves whatsoever. More desire pools in my core as orgasm approaches. A sudden spark of lightning later and I come, juices rushing over his tongue.
This orgasm seems endless, my unrelenting lover living up to his reputation. He doesn't stop. He knows how sensitive my clit is, instead working around it. His tongue and fingers are pushing me higher. I want to scream in ecstasy, but I can’t.
Finally, he pulls away, hovering above me and wiping his mouth. "How tasty you are, my pet."
The bed shifts below me, a transfer of weight.
It’s so strange being immobilized like this, so completely powerless.
The head of his cock nudges at my entrance. He slides in, ever so slowly. The swollen head of his cock disappears inside of me and withdraws. One more push sends him more than halfway in. I whimper internally, trying to arch into him. Again, this is hopeless. I’m still frozen.
"Patience," he croons. "We have all night."
He pushes in another inch, then draws back out. My cunt flutters around him, desperate for more, desperate for all of him, but he denies me. I want him to fill me. To show me how much he wants to conquer my body one more time, but he’s resisting. He repeats this leisurely pace, sliding in and out. He’s toying with me, prolonging my agony.
"Please," I beg in my mind. "Please fuck me."
"Not yet." A sly smile plays on his lips as he continues his sensual torture. "You will come again and again on my cock before I give you your ultimate release."
He drives into me again, deeper this time. I scream inside as another orgasm rips through me, my vision going dark at the edges. His face swims in and out of focus.
"Is that two?" he whispers and begins moving again. “How wanton you are, my pet.”
A sheen of sweat covers my skin, my body heavy but for the Professor’s thrusting.
My pussy is swollen and sensitive by now, but he’s not going to relent. That’s not his style, no.
I crest over again, the orgasms starting to swim together in my head and the sensation too much to bear. I thought multiple orgasms were a myth, an urban legend, but I’m proved wrong tonight. It is a maelstrom of sensation almost too much to bear.
Not like I have any choice in the matter.
"I've never had a lover come so easily or so often," I hear him say. “You truly are a miracle, my pet.”
Panic rises in my chest. How many more times will he force me to climax before releasing me from this spell? I'm already exhausted, wrung out. I’m covered in sweat—drops of it are dribbling down my scalp. I don't know how much more of this I can take.
He's utterly ruthless in his use of my body. He cares not for my limits. All that matters now is sating his own selfish desire.
The head of his cock presses into my tender flesh again. I brace myself for the onslaught of sensation, but instead of thrusting deep, he remains poised at my entrance, leaning forward to stare into my glassy, fixed eyes.
"Tell me to stop, speak the word, and I will." His lips twist in a mocking smile.
I struggle with all my might to form the word, to move my lips and tongue into the required position, but it's no use. It’s one fucking syllable, but I cannot speak. I cannot escape. I am his, to use as he pleases.
He slides home then in one brutal thrust. I scream again internally, coming apart around him, darkness threatening to claim me once more.
It takes me several seconds to come to.
He reaches forward and slaps a breast, the burn and shame rising ten-fold while I’m prone like this.
“Look how your tit blushes at my hand,” he says, drawing away.
I’m sure he’s done, but rough hands are flipping me over onto my belly, my legs hanging over the side of the bed. He forces them apart, the full weight of his hand clapping down on my ass cheek. In a moment, his other hand falls hard on my flesh. Consecutive slaps on my ass cheeks send waves of pain coursing through my body. Any pleasure I get from this is short-lived. I’m positive my skin is turning red with each one of his blows. It’s agony, tears spilling from my eyes. He slaps at my ass in alternate, laughing quietly at my pain.
Such is the intensity of each blow I’m starting to shift down the bed face-down.
Panic blanks out all else.
I can’t breathe against the mattress like this, can already feel my lungs straining.
Help! I scream.
His cock slides in from behind—in and out, shifting and pulling at the slack lips of my sex.
His balls press up against my clit, the flesh of my ass still burning hot from his hand.
Help, I plead. To no avail.
My chest is stone, my lungs burning. Things start to go fuzzy, that familiar drowsiness before I fall under. But just as I’m about to go unconscious, my head is turned to the side and air filters back through my nostrils.
Starved of oxygen, the Professor’s cock buried deep into my body, his fingers clawing deep into the flesh of my ass, I come.
This climax unhinges me completely. My head goes light and I sink into that drowsiness again, let the darkness take me.
*
I come to propped up in a chair beside the bed. My sex aches, the aftereffects of the spell turning my limbs to slurry as I try to shift on the chair. My God…it’s like my arms are about two hundred pounds each.
Darkwood is in a chair on the far side of the room, fingers tented against the arm of it, his wet cock hanging between his legs. “Easy now, my pet. The spell has been lifted, but the effects will linger for some while. Of course, having ascended, you are free to go whenever you wish."
I don’t like the phrase ‘ascended,’ and go? I can barely gather the energy to sit up, much less leave this chair. My limbs are weak and rubbery, my mind hazy from exhaustion and conflicting emotions.
He stands and approaches the chair, looking down at me. I’m utterly exposed under his verdant eyes, as if he can see straight into my soul. "You were exquisite tonight, little lamb. So beautifully helpless and receptive to my every desire."
He kneels, his fingers closing around my jaw and squeezing. Pain flares in the bone there, but my heart flutters at his cruel touch.
“Do you feel that? I fucked your pretty little mouth too. Can you taste me, in the back of your throat, my seed filling your belly, your cunt?”
I do.
Red heat rises up my cheeks at his praise. I want to tell him to leave me be, to stop gazing at me so intently, but the words won't come.
He reaches out to track a finger down my cheek. "You enjoyed it, didn't you? Submitting so fully to me. Exploring the depths of your passion. How did the shadows like that? You feel them, don’t you?”
I jerk away from his touch, anger and embarrassment a heady mix. This is going too far.
He laughs. “Ah, is that what you think?”
My lips move, but the words that come from them are ill-formed, infantile. “Let me go.”
Damien Darkwood has unlocked something dark and primal inside me, and I fear there is no going back.
Shadows dance across the stone walls. My body aches in places I didn't know could ache, sharply sensitized from the Professor's relentless attention. It’s going to take me days to recover from this.
With trembling fingers, I touch the tender flesh between my legs. It's swollen and slick, evidence of how thoroughly he claimed me. I squeeze my eyes shut, a sob catching in my throat.
If Sabrina saw me now, she would be so ashamed.
Or turned on, I consider darkly.
I should hate him for treating me like this. I should despise him for bringing me to the brink of madness and back again. But I don't. I crave his touch, his possession, the intensity only he can ignite inside me.
The memory of his cock stretching me open, filling me so completely I thought I might shatter, sends a pulse of heat through my core. I dig my nails into my palms to distract myself as arousal and confusion swirl inside me.
None of this makes sense. I've always been in control of my desires, able to satisfy my curiosity within reason—feeble as my attempts may have been. But Damien has shattered my restraint, exposing a part of me I never knew existed. A part that craves submission and ecstasy in equal measure.
He extends his hands. “You’re no prisoner, my pet. As I said, you’re free to leave.”
I stand but falter, trying again with a little more success even though my legs are like licorice strips.
I manage to stumble a few steps, collecting my coat from the floor. It requires a great deal of effort to put it on.
“What about Mortis?” I ask, my voice still weak.
The Professor nods. “In good time, my pet. For now, you need to rest.”
He stands before me unmoved and wearing a look of such neutrality I want to pound my fists against him in frustration.
He steps aside and I pass, that war within my head refusing to abate as I leave his chambers. I don’t think it’s going to stop. I don’t think my brain will accept the fact that my body needs Damien Darkwood. Because this is a fact now. Something I can’t deny or ignore. My whole existence is seeking out his attention.
For better or worse.