Chapter 33
IVY
Ifind it the next morning. In the center of the fitness room, like it’s always been there.
A reformer machine.
Not just any reformer—sleek, professional-grade. The kind I’ve only ever used in high-end studios where everything smells like eucalyptus and money.
I stop in the doorway. “You’re fucking joking.”
Soren’s voice comes from behind me, close enough that I can feel the heat of him before I turn. “I don’t joke about things like this.”
I step forward slowly, like it might disappear if I move too fast. My fingers trail along the frame, the smooth metal cool under my skin. The carriage. The straps. The springs.
It’s perfect.
“This is…” I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. “This is insane. Too much.”
It’s the most extravagant thing anyone has ever given me. By a mile.
He shrugs. “It’s what you need. I’ll always take care of what you need.”
Not what I want. What I need.
It’s not something I asked for. Or something I thought about. And yet—now that it’s here—I do want it. I just hadn’t let myself think that big.
I turn back to him, smiling despite myself. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.” He pushes off the wall and steps closer. “But I wanted to.”
There’s something in the way he says it—simple, certain—that makes it feel less like a gift and more like a decision that was always going to happen.
I shake my head, still half-laughing. “This is better than any studio.”
“That’s the point.”
I climb onto it without thinking.
My body remembers immediately—positions, balance, the subtle engagement of muscles I don’t usually notice.
But here in the apartment, it feels different. Quieter. More exposed because he’s here.
“Show me,” he says.
I glance at him. “What?”
“You like it,” he replies. “Show me.”
Heat creeps up my neck. But I start anyway, lying back on the platform and putting my hands through the straps, gripping them and pulling down as the platform moves beneath me.
Slow movements. Controlled. My breath syncing with the rhythm of the carriage.
I’m too conscious of where he’s standing. Of the way his gaze doesn’t waver for a second. It’s not casual watching. It’s focused. Intense. Like he’s taking in every movement, every shift, every adjustment my body makes.
I transition into another position, standing up on the static part of the platform and extending one leg onto the moving part, adjusting my balance and using the straps to keep myself stable. The carriage slides. My breath catches as I wobble.
“Careful,” he murmurs.
And then he’s there. His hand at my waist. Firm. Steadying.
“Like this,” he says quietly, shifting my hips just slightly. It’s a small adjustment, but my body reacts like it’s something more. “That’s better.”
I swallow. Try to focus. But his hand doesn’t move.
I continue the motion, slower now. Every movement feels heavier. More deliberate.
“You feel that?” he asks. His voice is lower now. Closer.
“Yes,” I whisper.
His hand shifts just enough to remind me it’s there. “Good.”
I stop moving. Not intentionally. It just… happens. The room feels quieter. Smaller. Like everything has narrowed down to the space between us.
“Come here,” he says.
I hesitate. Just for a second. Then I move.
He helps me off the reformer, his hands guiding me—waist, wrist, the back of my neck—like it’s instinct. Like it’s always been this easy to direct me.
“You like it,” he says again. Not a question.
“Yes.” My voice is softer now.
His fingers tilt my chin up. “Say thank you.”
My breath catches. Not because I don’t want to. Because of how easily the words come. “Thank you.”
His mouth curves slightly. Satisfied. “Good girl.”
This time, the words land deeper. Settle. His hand slides into my hair, not rough, but firm enough to anchor me in place. “Show me how much you like it.”
Something in me shifts. Clicks. And I don’t hesitate. I close the space between us.
He responds instantly. Pulling me closer, one hand steady at my waist, the other still threaded through my hair.
Then he pushes me down onto the platform, and the reformer shifts slightly. The carriage moving under my weight. Unstable. I falter. “Careful,” he murmurs again. His hands tighten just slightly. Grounding. Positioning.
The machine moves with us—subtle, responsive. It makes everything feel sharper. More intentional.
My breath stutters.
His presence is everywhere. Close. Contained. The world constricting to just this.
The tension builds slowly. Not rushed or chaotic, but measured. Like everything else with him when he’s not unraveling.
And when I lean into him fully—when the last bit of space disappears—it doesn’t feel sudden. It feels inevitable. Like this was always where this was going to end.
Soren climbs onto the platform, towering above me. He lowers his pants, his thick, hard cock springing free, piercings glinting under the low lights.
I eye the glistening drop of precum at the tip as he uses the straps to bring me toward him.
“Get on your knees,” he commands.
I clamber to my knees, no hesitation, my eyes level with his huge, engorged cock.
“Open,” he says, nudging my jaw with a shin.
I open my mouth to take in the tip. I keep my head still, allowing him to direct the pace and the depth.
He pulls my face up to his cock, closer, and holds the straps taut. “Suck it,” he commands, and I bob my head around the tip.
“Lick the underside, one slow motion. Over all the piercings,” he directs me.
I obey, the metal bars jostling against my lower teeth.
“Now fuck me with your mouth,” he growls.
My lips, slick with saliva, slide over his shaft as he directs the pace, his hands gripping the straps tighter, pulling me even closer.
I take him in as far as he’ll go, and he yanks on the straps again, forcing himself deeper into my mouth.
His hardness hits the back of my throat, tears teasing the corners of my eyes. He pulls himself forward, lodging himself further inside.
Tears sting my eyes as I gag, pulling back, saliva slipping from my mouth.
He laughs quietly. “Good girl,” he says. “I like it when you gag for me.”
Soren unwraps his hands from the ropes, still holding onto them. He leans down, his cock slipping out of my mouth.
He adjusts the pulleys, his muscled arms flexing as he wraps one rope around my wrist, extending my arm above my head. Then he repeats the same motion with the other, so both of my arms are trapped above me.
I gasp as he takes my nipples between his fingers, pinching them roughly against the silver bars, rolling them until they’re hard. Then he bends me forward.
He lowers my chest and slots one of my nipples between the cool spring coils at the base of the reformer.
I squirm as the coils tighten.
He smirks as he pushes the platform away. The pull is immediate, my nipple stretching as the bar catches on the coil.
Pain zaps through me. “Fuck!” I cry out.
“Good girl,” he says. “You enjoying that pain?” He lets the carriage go further, squeezing my nipple even harder.
“Holy fuck!” I scream.
“Scared?” he smirks.
He feints letting the carriage go and I jerk, pulling the nipple harder. I cry out.
The nerves in my nipple shoot electricity straight to my clit. Betraying me—my body relishing how he’s rendered me helpless, that he could seriously hurt me if he wanted to.
But then he laughs and eases off, letting the platform return to the stoppers.
I exhale a rush of relief, my breath catching as my nipple releases from the tortuous springs. “Fucking hell! Fuck you, Soren!” I pout. “You almost tore my nipple off!”
“Mm, look at those full lips that were just wrapped around my cock. What? Did I scare you?” He grins again.
I move to hop off the machine, trying to wrench my arms out of the ropes which only serves to tighten them, and he presses me back down with a foot.
“Oh, you thought I was done with you? I don’t think so.” He sits me back upright and unbinds my wrists from the straps. “Lie back,” he commands, and I press my back against the long part of the platform.
“Legs up.” I tentatively lift them.
“Higher,” he instructs, his voice raising slightly as if I’m meant to read his mind.
I elevate my legs so they’re perpendicular to me.
“That’s just right, my little poison. Now let’s see what comes next.”
What did he just call me? I let the name slide. For now.
With a grunt, he reaches again for the straps. He wraps them around my thighs, lifting my hips. Then he moves between them, slowly pulling up the straps until his own hips are close to my pussy.
My breath catches.
I know exactly what he’s about to do.
He rubs his hard cock against my slit, letting it bump against my clit, teasing me.
It’s the first time his cock has been near my pussy and I clench, wanting him inside me. Desperately wanting to feel his girth as it fills me, stretches me. I’ve been thinking about this moment way too much, and finally it’s here.
The piercings do their job as he continues to tease me by caressing my slit. It’s almost too much to bear.
I whimper and he smirks, as if he knows how I’m feeling. How much I’m craving him.
“You want this?” he asks.
It’s torture. “Please,” I beg. “Please. I want you so bad.”
He nods once, then grabs me by both thighs, his thumbs digging into the flesh.
I gasp as he uses the leverage to thrust into my wet pussy.
He groans as he slides inside me.
I moan as he fills me completely, controlling both depth and speed.
He gains pace, the sound of our skin slapping together echoing through the fitness room as he rails into my dripping cunt over and over again.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans as he ramps up his speed. “You feel so fucking good. I’m addicted to your pussy, Ivy.”
The coil within me continues to tighten, his cock reaching untold places, nerve endings on fire.
Without warning, he lets go of my thighs and pulls out. My legs stay elevated until he unwraps them from the straps.
“Get on your hands and knees,” he growls, gesturing at the stable part of the platform closest to the mirrors.
I comply, grabbing the handles at the front of the machine to hold myself in place, my ass in the air.
“Look at yourself,” he demands hoarsely.
I obey, looking at my reflection. My face is flushed, my skin sticky with sweat. My chest rises and falls, my breath shallow with lust.
I moan as I see him get onto the platform behind me, where he grabs my ass firmly.
He leans down, his tongue on my pussy, devouring me from behind.
I watch my reflection as he feasts on me, tongue-fucking me into oblivion.
I gasp as one of his fingers caresses my back entrance, teasing the pucker as he laps at my cunt.
Then he drags his tongue out of my pussy, licking his way up to my back entrance.
His tongue circles.
My body quivers at the touch.
Without warning, he plunges his tongue inside my ass and I gasp. My hips instinctively back up against him.
I wobble slightly, the pleasure almost too much.
“That’s my girl,” he says, warmth and lust competing in his voice.
He takes a finger, his gaze on mine as he inserts it, my ass making way for it, followed by a second finger.
I moan as he works his way inside.
My hips buck involuntarily, grinding against his knuckles. “Fucking hell, Soren,” I moan.
He leans close, licking the shell of my ear. “You like that, stray, don’t you.”
“Mmhmm,” I moan as he continues to ravish my ass.
Then he pulls his fingers away as his cock presses into my pussy from behind.
He delivers, piston-like, as I watch our reflection in the mirror.
He slams into me, his piercings scraping my walls.
I almost lose control.
As his cock pounds my pussy, he works his fingers back inside my ass.
I moan, filled by him in two places. I can’t get enough of him being in me. Consuming me.
“You like taking it in both holes at once, you dirty girl,” he growls, his mouth close to my ear, his breath warm.
“Mmhmm,” I moan. “Very much.”
My eyes meet his in the mirror, and he grins.
I feel his shaft swell inside me. “Fuck!” I cry out, my body convulsing beneath him, wetness releasing between my legs and drenching his cock, pulsing around him.
Then he bucks against me, his orgasm filling me with hot ropes of cum.
He collapses against my back, both of us sweating as we breathe raggedly together.
Once his breath slows, he releases himself from me and moves to the side, giving me room to turn onto my back.
I lie back against the reformer, my breathing uneven, my body still humming with the aftermath of something I don’t quite want to name.
The machine is still now. The room quiet again.
Soren adjusts one of the springs absently, resetting it with the same calm precision he does everything else. Like nothing just shifted. Like everything happened exactly as it was meant to.
I watch him, a little dazed. “That was…” I trail off.
He glances at me. “Better than your class?”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “Yeah.” There’s no hesitation. No second guessing. Just truth.
“You’re going to think of me every time you use this,” he says, glancing at the machine and then back to me.
The words are light. But they land heavy.
“I already think about you all the time. There’s not a moment I don’t.”
His mouth curves slightly. Approving.
“Good. This isn’t a machine anymore,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. “It’s where you learned what you are to me.”