Chapter Forty-Eight #2
I flail around but it’s useless, he forces my legs off the edge of the table and steps close, restricting my movement. In one swipe, he pulls the material from my ass, and it tears off like paper rather than linen. The chill attacks me instantly.
“Stop!” My voice is hoarse from screaming. “Stop it, Deogal!”
“You’re not in control here.” He growls. The sound is dark, too dark for any human cadence. “I am.”
Fear bleeds through my body when his fingers curl into my ass. He squeezes hard until I’m sure red marks bruise, and my skin is forced to remember the grooves he leaves behind.
“Get off me! Fuck, help! Help!” I scream again. My eyes dart up to the camera just above me, and shame burns my cheeks. I stare at the small screen helplessly and then look away just as fast. The light is red. Off.
How did he—
“Help isn’t coming, Doctor.” He coos, and I can almost hear the way his lips tip into a smile. “But I will be.”
No.
He groans, low and satisfied, like he’s felt every reaction I’ve tried to bury.
“Do you really expect me to believe you’re not enjoying this?”
My breath stutters, betraying me instantly.
I hate that he hears it.
I hate that he knows.
His hand moves again, slower this time, deliberate. His nails drag down my spine with just enough pressure to burn.
A sharp shiver tears through me before I can stop it. It ripples from my shoulders all the way down, a full-body tremor that I can’t disguise, can’t explain away.
God—I clamp my jaw, forcing my muscles to lock, forcing stillness back into my limbs like I can take it back before he notices.
“There it is,” he murmurs, voice rough, almost pleased.
He presses his thick erection against me.
I mewl loudly, my legs moving automatically to kick him away, the protests screaming off the tip of my tongue. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s almost worse. He just takes. Lines himself up with me, slides it through my folds, like he knows I’ll submit soon.
My back arches instinctively and I correct it a second later, but it’s too late.
“Deogal!” I meant to scream no. I meant to yell stop. But his name falls out like it’s a ritual.
He doesn’t stay patient. His name on my lips unravels him and with a sharp thrust, he forces the head in.
I seize up immediately. It’s just the tip, just the start, and yet, it stings, and the pressure is suffocating.
I’m full, too full, like I’m being ripped apart beneath him.
The noise doesn’t reach my ears, but I feel the burn at the back of my throat.
Pain. More pain.
I scream, fingers curling until my knuckles whiten under the strain.
He drags the head out slowly.
It’s agonising. It feels like torture.
Because it feels like loss.
He adjusts his position, hands moving to the base of my spine. He presses down sharply to correct my body, and the cold table burns my straining nipples. I choke on a sob as he slams himself inside of me. Fully. To the hilt.
My lips fall open. Noise ruptures from my lips, something caught between a cry and a moan.
“That’s it.” He coos, “Scream for me, Doctor.”
I wish I could deny the pleasure. The high that’s already nearby. The desperate, dripping arousal streaming down my thighs. I wish my traitorous fucking body didn’t sing how alive it feels, how good he feels tearing me open.
“Listen to how wet you are, Doctor,”
I try to ignore it, but it’s impossible. Wet, violent smacks as his body pounds mine.
“Stop it! Stop it now, Deogal!”
He laughs again. It’s horrifying, and twisted, the sound of something depraved tearing through him. It echoes, and somehow, the sound grows louder and louder each time it bounces off the walls.
The lights flicker.
I scream. My eyes squeeze shut, and I pray that they do not give up on me.
He thrusts into me again. His fingers snake around to my clit and he squeezes it aggressively.
And—oh, fuck.
I cum hard. I don’t even have the chance to breathe as the pleasure scorches through me, starting as an explosion between my thighs, and then blistering out through the rest of my body. My toes curl. My head falls back. I cry out.
“Oh fuck, Doctor, your pussy squeezes me so tightly when you cum.” He groans.
He repositions his hands on my hips and drags me back into him. He pounds faster, and my head spins. He chases his own high, the sound of my whimpers and his grunts filling the room.
He thrusts violently. And then, I feel another one. It hits me harder than the first, and this time, the world turns fuzzy. My vision tunnels. Blurs. Turns off and on again. And I shake.
I can’t control myself. I’m like an animal in heat. Desperate for more. Praying for more. Needing to feel his release inside of me—
Where the fuck did that come from?
“You’re insatiable, Doctor.” He praises, though his voice is taunting.
I can’t help it, I feel myself bounce against him. Tears prick in my eyes as the pleasure mounts higher and higher. It feels so good, too fucking good, and I know that I’m about to cum for him again. And I fucking hate it.
I pant. “Please, Deogal.”
I tell myself it’s purely survival instinct, that I’m responding to a threat. Textbook definitions. But I don’t stop him. I don’t say no.