So you did. #9
The orgasm slams into me like a wave. My vision whites out.
My whole body seizes around him—pussy clamping down on his impossible girth, inner muscles milking his cock in rhythmic pulses, wetness gushing around his shaft.
I’m screaming something—his name, maybe, or just wordless sounds of pleasure that tear from my throat without permission.
He doesn’t stop fucking me.
He drives me through the orgasm and into another one, his cock relentless, his fingers replacing mine on my clit when my hand goes slack.
I come again—or maybe I never stopped coming, maybe it’s all one endless wave of pleasure that won’t let me go.
Tears stream down my face. My throat goes raw from screaming. And still he doesn’t stop.
Then his hand fists in my hair and pulls my head back.
The grip is firm, commanding, arching my spine and changing the angle of his thrusts.
He’s so deep now—impossibly deep, hitting places inside me that make my vision blur.
His other arm wraps around my waist, lifting me until my back is pressed against his chest, until I’m suspended in his grip with his cock buried to the hilt.
“One more,” he growls against my ear. “Give me one more, omega.”
I don’t think I can. I don’t think my body has anything left—I’m wrung out, destroyed, so overstimulated that even his breath on my skin makes me shudder.
But his hand releases my hair and slides down to find my clit again, and his cock is hitting something deep inside me that makes my entire body clench, and I feel it building despite everything—
I shatter.
This orgasm is different. Deeper. I feel it in my bones, in my blood, in some primal part of me that’s being remade with every pulse of pleasure.
My pussy clamps down so hard it almost hurts, and I feel him follow me over the edge through the bond—feel his release crashing through him as his cock jerks inside me, feel the hot flood of his seed pumping into my already-full cunt.
“Good girl,” he groans as he comes, and I feel his knot swelling inside me again—that thick pressure at the base of his cock, stretching me impossibly wider, locking us together.
The praise hits me alongside his pleasure through the bond, doubling the sensation until I can’t tell which of us is feeling what.
“Such a good girl. Taking my cock, taking my knot. Mine.”
His seed floods into me in hot pulses, trapped inside by the knot, filling me until I feel the pressure deep in my belly. I collapse forward into the furs, completely destroyed, his cock still buried inside me, his knot sealing everything in.
He stays buried inside me, his cock softening slightly but not withdrawing. His seed leaks out around his shaft, a hot trickle down my thighs that should disgust me but just makes me feel claimed. My whole body is trembling. I can’t think, can’t move, can barely remember my own name.
But I remember his.
And somewhere in the wreckage of my mind, a small voice whispers that maybe that’s all that matters anymore.
The heat doesn’t give me time to think.
Every time I start to surface—start to feel like myself again, start to remember why I should be fighting this—another wave crashes through me and I’m drowning again. Drowning in need, in pleasure, in the desperate ache to be filled.
And he’s always there to fill me.
He takes me on my back with my legs over his shoulders, bent nearly in half while he drives into me so deep I feel him everywhere.
The angle makes every thrust hit that spot inside me, and I come twice before he even speeds up—helpless, shaking orgasms that leave me clawing at his arms and sobbing his name.
When he finally comes, his knot swells and locks us together, and I feel his seed flooding deep while we wait for it to release.
He takes me from behind again, one hand fisted in my hair while the other grips my hip, pulling my head back while he pounds into me. “Who do you belong to?” he demands, and I don’t even hesitate.
“You, Alpha. I belong to you.”
“Good girl.”
I come on the praise alone, my pussy clenching around him while he groans his approval.
His knot swells, locking us together, and I feel his release flooding into me while my walls milk him through the bond.
Through the bond, I feel how much he likes that—how much it satisfies something deep inside him to hear me admit it while his knot pulses inside me.
He sits with his back against the headboard and pulls me into his lap, making me ride him while his hands control my hips.
I’m dwarfed by him in this position—straddling thighs thicker than my torso, looking up at a face that’s still a foot above mine even with him sitting.
His cock spears up into me, impossibly thick, stretching me open around the ridged shaft.
I’m too weak to set my own pace, too far gone to do anything except take what he gives me. He bounces me on his cock like I weigh nothing—and to him, I probably don’t—using me for his pleasure while mine builds and builds and builds.
“Please,” I beg, grinding down on him, trying to take him deeper even though he’s already hitting the end of me. “Please, Alpha, I need to come—”
“Not yet.” He holds me still, his cock buried to the hilt, and tears leak from my eyes at the denial. His hands span my entire waist, holding me in place like a doll. “You’ll come when I say you can.”
“Please—”
His hand slides up my body—over my belly, between my breasts, up my chest—until his fingers curl around the back of my neck. The grip is firm, controlling, tilting my head back until I’m looking up at him.
The relief is instant.
All the tension I’ve been carrying—the resistance, the shame, the desperate attempt to hold onto who I used to be—it drains out of me the moment he takes control. I don’t have to fight anymore. Don’t have to decide. He’s holding me, controlling me, and all I have to do is feel.
“Beg harder,” he says, his thumb stroking along my jaw while his other hand holds my hip immobile.
“Please, Alpha, I’ll do anything.” The words pour out of me, shameless and desperate. “I need it so badly, need to come on your cock, need you to fill me up again. I’ll be so good for you, I promise, please just let me—”
He slams me down onto him and finally, finally lets me shatter.
I come so hard I scream his name loud enough to echo off the stone walls.
My pussy milks his cock in desperate pulses, and I feel his knot swelling inside me—stretching my entrance, locking him deep, sealing us together as he follows me through the bond.
His seed floods into me again, pulse after hot pulse, adding to the mess already inside me, nowhere to go with the knot plugging me full.
By the time the pleasure releases me, I’m crying openly, my face pressed against his chest, his knot still pulsing inside me, my body completely surrendered.
“Good girl,” he murmurs against my hair. “My good girl.”
And I don’t even flinch at the words anymore.
I just want to hear them again. Chapter 14: Karax
She’s breaking so beautifully.
I watch her sleep in the brief lull between waves of heat—curled against my chest like she was made to fit there, her face slack and peaceful for the first time since I claimed her.
My seed is leaking out of her, a slow trickle down her thighs that makes something primal in me want to push it back in, fill her up again, keep her so full she can’t forget who she belongs to.
Soon. The next wave will hit within the hour, and she’ll wake up desperate and aching, reaching for me before her eyes are fully open.
For now, I let her rest.
My hand spans her lower belly, feeling the slight swell where my cum has been pooling for the past day and a half.
She’s taken so much of it. Taken everything I’ve given her—my cock, my knot, my seed, my commands.
And with every orgasm, every whispered Alpha, every time she goes limp and pliant in my grip, I feel the old Hannah slipping further away.
The warrior is still in there. I can see her sometimes, in the moments between pleasure—a flash of defiance in those gray eyes, a tensing of muscles that speaks of escape attempts she’s too exhausted to make. She hasn’t surrendered completely. Not yet.
But she will.
The bond pulses between us, and I feel her dreams bleeding into my awareness. She’s dreaming of me, of course. Of my hands on her body, my cock inside her, my voice telling her she’s good. Even in sleep, she’s being remade—her mind catching up to what her body already knows.
I press a kiss to her hair and settle in to wait.