65. Sage #2
“Please,” I whispered, my voice breaking into a desperate, ragged sob of frustration. I pulled against the rattling chains, the metal singing a frantic, hollow song against the tree trunk. “Please, Julian…. please..Fuck me.”
His gloved hand left my jaw, trailing a slow, teasing path down my stomach.
He traced the inside of my bare thighs, the tickling sensation making me twitch under his fingers, his grip suddenly tightening before he brutally and forcefully pushed my knees apart, spreading my legs wide to the freezing night air.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he spat out, the distorted, gravelly voice behind the plastic. “Tell me you belong to me.”
“Yours,” I gasped, my chest heaving against the cold as I looked up into the hollow eyes of the mask. The chain rattled against the trunk behind me as I trembled. “I’m yours.”
He hooked a single, thick finger under the delicate lace of my black panties. With one effortless pull, the fabric tore completely, snapping against my skin before he let the ruined shreds flutter down to the roots at my feet.
Lucky this costume was cheap, I thought dizzily, my mind consumed by the heavy, suffocating heat radiating from the massive body pinning me against the bark.
I sucked in a quick breath as I felt his gloved hand trace down the slick, wet slit of my pussy.
The rough texture of the leather against my hyper-sensitive skin sent a searing shockwave of pleasure straight through me.
I instinctively tried to push my hips forwards, demanding more, but the chain at my ankle jerked tight, keeping me anchored to the tree. I let out a frustrated moan.
“More,” I whispered, thrashing weakly against the cold links binding my wrists above my head.
In the exact same instant, he pushed a thick, gloved finger deep inside me.
I couldn’t help the filthy, breathless sounds that escaped my lips.
I moaned into the dark, my head falling back against the rough, biting bark as he pushed in and out—hard, slow, and devastatingly deep.
I was a complete mess just from his finger alone, the wet sounds of my arousal filling the dead silence of the forest around us, amplified by the hollow ring of the chain rattling against the wood.
He pushed a second finger inside me, stretching me slightly, and my eyes all but rolled into the back of my head.
“Oh my godddd,” I gasped, my spine arching off the tree as he curled his fingers up, hitting that perfect spot that feels so good.
I was losing myself in the pleasure of his hand, our breathing ragged and desperate in the dark night.
The tension was coiled so tight my vision was flashing.
I was teetering right on the edge, held in place by steel and bark, my orgasm building and cooking heavy inside my stomach, ready to implode at any second.
I was a beautiful tragedy in his hands—a masterpiece currently being consumed by a fire I had mistaken for warmth.
With a sudden, metallic clink that echoed through the silent trees, he unfastened the heavy chain from my lower half. The weight fell away, leaving me dangling and exposed under his gaze. He had complete access now, and the vulnerability made my blood sing.
I was breathless, my eyes glued to him as he moved.
Even under the thick fabric of his costume, I could see the way his bicep flexed, a corded mass of power as he hiked my thigh up, anchoring it against his hip.
My stomach clenched, a tight, pulsing knot of anticipation, as his hands began to fumble with his belt.
The sound of the leather sliding through the buckle was deafening in the quiet.
I watched, my heart hammering as he let himself free.
He was thick, hard, and already slick, the moon catching the glisten of pre-cum at the tip of his cock.
He didn’t move to take me yet. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around himself, his knuckles white as he began to stroke himself in a slow, teasing rhythm. The mask hid his face, but his eyes—dark and predatory—locked onto mine.
“Beg for it,” he commanded over and over.
“Please,” I sobbed, my head lolling back against the bark. “Please, Julian… I need you.”
Then, he finally pushed into me.
it immediately felt like a punishment. He hit me with such a brutal, crushing thrust that it knocked the breath from my lungs.
A loud, broken moan ripped from my lips the exact moment I felt the full, stretching length of him inside me.
As hard and rough as he was being, as much as his heavy body was bruising mine, a dark, twisted part of me absolutely loved it.
It was like my own private heaven when we fucked—or maybe a beautiful twisted version of hell.
I hadn't figured that out yet, but whatever it was, I never wanted it to stop.
The heavy chains rattled and dug into my skin as he tore into me, his rhythm relentless and hauntingly steady—a violent collision of fury and fever.
Every heavy punishing blow was a contradiction, fuelled by an intoxicating mix of raw lust and volatile hate.
A low, moan escaped his lips, one he was struggling to keep quiet, a sound that immediately threatened to send me straight over the edge.
He was using his body like a weapon to erase a ghost, drowning me in a relentless tide where his malice and desperation bled into the same action.
He gripped my bare hips with such force it was definitely going to leave some marks tomorrow and used his weight to smash me against the tree.
He was taking everything, destroying everything, and rebuilding me all at the same time.
He was treating my bound body like a war zone he intended to conquer, determined to violently beat the ghost of anyone else I’d ever been with out of my body.
As I began to clench around him, my internal muscles pulsing in a desperate, strangling squeeze, I heard him hiss a breathy “Fuck”—the sound was so foreign, so different from Julian’s usual tenderness, that it made me see stars.
Before I could slip away into ecstasy, his hand wandered up and grabbed my jaw, his fingers digging into my skin with a bruising intensity, forcing my head back until I had no choice but to look up.
“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice vibrating against my lips. “Right now,”
I obeyed.
The eye contact was too much. As the orgasm ripped through me, I stared into the hollow, dark sockets of the mask, feeling a terrifying sinking sensation in my stomach as he looked back at me. And then, from the thick shadows to my right, came an all too familiar voice.
“Sage? Are you okay? Where are you?”
The voice wasn’t coming from the mask hovering over me. It was a distant sound.
What the fu—
Before my brain could even process the impossibility of the situation, a hand clamped brutally over my lips, crushing my head back against the rough bark.
“You like being scared from the safety of your couch, don’t you? You like the thrill of the make-believe.”
He leaned his heavy body fully against mine, the weight of him pinning me so hard against the tree that my ribs groaned under the pressure. He brought the mouth of the mask directly to my ear, the cold surface a contrast to the heat of his skin.