CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Never Be His
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Never Be His
Zagreus’s cock pistoned in and out of me with each forceful thrust, driving the air from my lungs in ragged gasps and desperate moans. Driving me closer to something I couldn’t name. A breaking point, probably, a reckoning or a place where my body was no longer my own.
I wanted to resist, but everything in me betrayed me. The sound and moans of surrender just made him more animalistic. He could feel my velvet walls fluttering and clenching around his thick shaft, gripping him like a vice as he stretched me wider than I’d ever been before.
“Fuck, I knew this pussy was meant to be mine from the moment I saw you,” he grunted, hammering with brutal, merciless strokes.
His balls slapped lewdly against my arse with every pump of his hips, the obscene sound mixing with the creaking of the bed frame beneath us.
“Your cunt is sucking me in, begging me to fill it up, to pump it full of my seed until it overflows.”
A shaky breath left my lips as he hooked my legs over his elbows, bending me nearly in half as he loomed over me, his muscular body blanketing mine.
The new position allowed him to plunge impossibly deeper, his cock kissing my cervix with every thrust as he fucked me with a wild, animalistic abandon.
No. No, it wasn’t right.
Yet I felt so starved for touch. So easily manipulated by sensations. I could feel it reacting, hips tilting, walls tightening as if the same primal part of me believed him.
His shaft stretched me wider than I should allow, more expansive than I thought was possible until it felt like he was fucking his way into the very fabric of my existence.
A body learns its master even if the mind struggles.
Tears stung my eyes. Not from pain anymore. Not even from pleasure. But from the realisation that I could no longer tell the difference.
“This is what you needed, isn't it, Dolcezza?” his voice lowered. “To be split open on my cock, a pretty little cunt to ruin. A set of holes for me to ruin,” Zagreus taunted, his voice a dark, cruel rasp in my ear.
His words scraped something against my skull, digging into places I could not afford to let them take root. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I would never be his.
Suddenly, he flipped me back again, shoving a pillow under my hips to tilt my arse up higher. He knelt behind me, gripping my hips bruisingly as he slammed back into me with a guttural groan.
“Scream for me, fucking scream!” He roared, spanking me hard as he jackhammered into me, the obscene slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the room. “Let everyone know who this cunt belongs to now, who's ruining it for anyone else!”
Tears poured down my face, my body no longer felt my own as he claimed me, conquered me, and owned me completely. I could only sob and wail, feeling my orgasm building, my body betraying me as it raced towards a shattering climax.
“That's it, fuck, milk my cock, take every fucking inch.”
My body tensed, and I clamped down around his pistoning cock like a silken vice as my climax approached. He fucked into me even harder, spurred on by the knowledge that he was pushing me to my limits, wrecking me utterly.
“Yes, that's it, fucking come on my cock!” he snarled. I knew he could feel my upcoming orgasm.
But as my vision began to swim and darken at the edges, Zagreus didn't let up. He fucked me through my climax, using my fluttering core, his cock grinding against my G-spot with every thrust as he chased his own release.
“Fuck, I'm going to pump you full, fucking breed this pussy,” he growled, his hips stuttering, his balls drawing up tight. With one final, savage thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside me and came, his hot seed erupting from his cock to paint my insides white.
As his scalding essence flooded my womb, my eyes rolled back in my head, and everything went black. My body went limp beneath him, and my breathing grew shallow and slow as I slipped into unconsciousness, completely fucked out and claimed.
Still, then, I endured.
Because I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me battered, even if my body betrayed me, even as my walls fluttered and gripped, even as pleasure poisoned my veins, I swore to whatever gods were listening… I would never be his.
The first sensation that crawled through my body was the dull, persistent soreness between my thighs.
A lingering echo of his brutality. My hamstrings burned with the sweet ache of overuse and stretched past their limits, cramped in protest. Even as I lay still, wrapped in warmth. My body recalled every thrust.
I didn’t know when I lost consciousness. But I was grateful I did.
I ceased to be a person and became something else entirely. A plaything. A possession. A body without a soul.
The sheets were soft against my skin, velvety and warm like a cocoon. But the wreckage inside me was anything but. There was something else, something foreign against my body.
That felt like lace.
The moment my fingers brushed over the delicate fabric, a cold rage settled in my chest. My jaw clenched so tightly I swore my teeth would crack.
Soft pink lace lingerie.
I breathed in through my nose, out through my mouth, fighting the scream clawing up my throat.
So he had the decency to clean me up? To wash away the evidence of his sins and dress me like a doll, ready for display again?
Or was it Elena? Did she pull the ruined sheets from beneath my body, wipe the dried tears from my cheeks and whisper apologies I didn’t want to hear?
I didn’t care. I hated everyone, including her.
My stomach churned, nausea curling at the back of my throat. It wasn’t kindness. It was control. He didn’t leave me in my filth because he wanted to remind me I wasn’t even allowed to carry my own shame. He stripped me even of that.
My fingers curled into fists and I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, but the moment my feet touched the cold floor, a sharp pain shot through my core, tearing through my thighs, my abdomen and then my chest. My knees buckled.
A hollow laugh escaped my lips.
Look at me.
A woman dragging herself across the floor, she did not recognise because this wasn’t my room.
No.
This was his.
I could tell by the oppressive weight of darkness from every corner. Black sheets matched the darkness outside. Dark walls. Minimalist space stripped of warmth, stripped of life, much like the man who owned it. Cold. Gloomy and devoid of anything soft, anything human.
Like his ugly fucking soul.
He wasn’t here.
I exhaled. I didn’t even realise I was holding it in, as relief and resentment warred within me. He was gone. But he’d be back. That was the problem with monsters. You couldn’t wish them away. They always returned to finish what they started.
With slow agonising steps, I dragged myself to what appeared to be the bathroom. The pain worsened as I pressed my hand to my lower stomach as though I could hold myself together, and keep my insides from unravelling completely.
The bathroom was magnificent. Marbled floors, sleek counters, and a sprawling Jacuzzi that could drown me with ease. Wealth. Power. Luxury.
But luxury meant nothing when you were drowning.
And then I saw her.
The girl in the mirror.
I stopped breathing for a moment.
Bruises bloomed across her skin like ink bleeding through parchment, smudges along her throat, her collarbones, and her wrists. Lips swollen, parted in a silent plea, a scream never released. Hair tangled around her shoulders, and the soft pink lace mocked her.
A breath shuddered from my lips.
It was me.
He did this.
He took away everything. Ruined me, not just for anyone else, but for myself.
I could never touch my skin again without remembering the way his hands defiled it. Could never wear lace without the feel of his touch. Could never look into a mirror again without seeing him behind me.
But this girl? She was shattered.
Tears burned my eyes, but I bit them back.