GENESIS
Tears streamed down my face. My butt was on fire—stinging from his punishment—but it wasn't just pain coursing through me. Pleasure crept in, twisted and sharp. My body trembled, and between my legs… I was soaked. I could feel it dripping down my thigh.
Why?
He was hurting me. Punishing me.
So why did it feel good?
Why was I arching my back and pushing my ass out more?
My mouth fell open, forehead pressed against the wall, as I felt him shove two thick fingers inside me.
"You're so wet," he rasped, voice low and husky, the kind that raked over skin like velvet and smoke. "So warm. I just want to sink inside you."
He drove his fingers deeper, pressing against the spot I privately called my sweet spot—the one he always found. The one that made me unravel when he kept hitting it over and over again, like he was doing now.
His fingers thrust in fast, merciless. The sounds—obscene. Wet. Sloppy. Loud enough to echo.
"I only spanked you, and you're already dripping," he said with a mocking chuckle. "So dirty."
Heat rushed to my face. Shame and arousal tangled up, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
But he wasn't having that.
He wrapped his hand around my throat and pulled me from the wall, pressing my back tight to his chest.
"Don't close your eyes," he growled. "Look. Watch how my fingers fuck your greedy little hole. Look how you squeeze me like you never want me to leave."
I shivered as his grip around my neck tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me I was his. Then he hooked one of my thighs up, making sure I had a perfect view of what he was doing.
I glanced down, biting my lip so hard it stung. It was filthy. Between my legs—red, swollen, soaked. His fingers moved in and out of me, and every time they did, more slick coated them. Some of it even dripped onto the floor.
Then he paused, fingers still inside me, and turned my face to his with that same hand wrapped around my neck.
"Mine."
His eyes were wild—dark and intense—and they should've terrified me.
But they didn't.
"I should've given you the collar earlier," he murmured. "Maybe that idiot would know exactly where to keep his eyes—and mouth."
My brow furrowed. "Collar?"
He didn't give me time to process his words.
His lips crashed onto mine, rough and hungry, right as his fingers slammed back inside me. His mouth swallowed my moans, devoured my lips, sucked my tongue like he owned every part of me.
And he didn't stop. His fingers kept thrusting, relentlessly. I could barely breathe—not from his grip, but from the way he kissed me like I was air.
My body began to quake, climax curling at the edges of my soul.
Then—he stopped.
Pulled his mouth away.
My jaw dropped, a silent cry of frustration escaping.
I was so close…
He spun me around.
"Hold the wall. Don't let go," he commanded, yanking his pants down.
I caught a glimpse of him—thick, hard, aching to be inside me. My body responded instantly, my opening clenching around nothing, desperate.
I obeyed. Hands on the wall. Legs shaky.
Then I felt his hands on my hips. His thick head pressed against my entrance.
"If anyone ever sees you like this," he growled, "that day I'll commit murder—and then fuck you in front of their corpse. So even in death, they'll know you're mine."
And then he thrust in.
I screamed.
I felt full. Complete. Possessed.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thwop.
The sound was so lewd, so wet, so constant it drowned out everything else. I was gone, brain mush, my only job to take every thrust like I was made for it.
"You…" Thrust
"Are…" Thrust
"My…" Thrust
"Wife…" Thrust
Then he yanked my head back by the hair, pulling me off the wall.
"MINE," he growled, voice feral, as he slammed in one more time—deep, punishing, perfect.
My body convulsed, legs trembling, every nerve sparking as the climax slammed into me. My eyes squeezed shut, tears slipping down my cheeks from the brutal, maddening blend of pain and pleasure.
"Fuck."
He pulled out with a wet plop. My knees buckled—useless, jelly-like. I would've collapsed if he hadn't pressed me against the wall, one firm hand on my waist, steadying me like I was something precious... and ruined.
I was shaking now. Panting. Wrecked.
But he wasn't done breaking me apart.
He dropped to his knees behind me, spreading me open with both hands, staring at my swollen, slick folds like I was a feast crafted for him alone. Then—he leaned in. His tongue dragged up the center in one slow, deliberate stroke.
I gasped, forehead hitting the wall, a moan choking in my throat.
"Still crying?" he muttered against me before licking again—harder, deeper. "You're so wet, baby. You like it when I punish you… then fuck you. Don't you?"
My thighs trembled violently as he devoured me, tongue deep, lips pulling at the sweet, aching mess he'd left behind.
Then he slapped me—right where I throbbed—and I cried out, the pain sparking another wave of pleasure. It melted into a moan I couldn't hold back.
"Say it," he stood, rubbing himself against my slick heat. "Tell me whose you are."
I turned my head, looking up at him—eyes glossy, dazed, but speaking louder than words ever could.
"That's right."
He grabbed my hips, lined himself up, and sank in with a low groan, inch by inch, until he was buried to the hilt. My body didn't resist—it molded to him, desperate and ready, like it always did.
My breath hitched. My walls fluttered around him—tight, hot, needy.
Then he leaned over me, his breath against my ear, voice low and lethal.
"You'll never smile at another man again, Genesis. Not without remembering exactly what I did to you."
And then—he thrust.
And just like that, I shattered again, right as I felt his release spill into me.
More tears slid down my
cheeks—this time I didn't know if they were from pleasure or something else entirely.
And while we were lost in the haze of
it all, consumed by heat and hunger, we failed to realize—
Someone had seen everything.
And that… was the beginning of our troubles.