“Bryn is struggling with your submission, or lack thereof.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Yes, Bryn, why does that matter?”
“Because you are out of control. I can’t be your master if I don’t have your submission and obedience.”
“Why do you have to be my master?”
“Yes, Bryn,” the Dark laughed. “Why do you have to be her master?”
“Because when I’m your master, you don’t have to spend a month with a broken back in some bushes, or maiming rapists.”
“I liked maiming rapists.”
Bryn glanced at the Dark, whose mirth was wildly apparent, then back at Hail. She felt that flip-floppy sensation in her stomach as he looked at her and grew entirely serious.
“You are MINE,” he growled, his fists on his hips, his firebrown eyes glinting with dominant ire. “You have always belonged to me. You know it, and I know it. But I’ve allowed you to pretend otherwise. That was my mistake. I am not going to keep making it. You are mine. I own every bit of you. There is no part of you that isn’t mine to command.”
She had wanted to hear this sentiment from him for a long time. He had always kept her as part of the pack, a troublemaker among his whelps. He had never laid specific claim on her.
“If you ever want to leave this place, you need to give yourself to me. Completely.”
“I gave you my virginity…”
“You gave me one of your virginities. Now you’ll give me the other, lass.” Bryn made a spinning circular motion with his finger. “Turn around.”
She looked at the man she had loved longer than she could admit to herself and certainly more than she could admit to him. Bryn was so much more than her master, and her feelings for him were so much more than those which might have led to submission. She misbehaved because he made her feel safe. She disobeyed because she knew he would always make everything right.
“I’m yours,” she said softly. “I’ve always been yours. And I’ll always be yours.”
He met her sweet confession with a rough order.
“Bend over for me and spread your cheeks with your hands.”
“Bryn, you’re not going to…”
“There are some lasses who believe that this way is even more pleasurable than the first,” Bryn stroked her face gently. “It doesn’t have to hurt.”
“Yes, it does,” the Dark hissed. He was a sexual heckler, an inescapable evil which neither of them could escape. Any attempt at a softer intimacy was immediately destroyed. It couldn’t be sweet. It had to be harsh. It had to be humiliating.
“Ignore the thing,” Bryn said. “Focus on me. Give yourself to me. No matter what it says, this does not have to hurt.”
Trembling, Hail did as she was told. The shades of the Dark were very close around them now. She could feel her captivity like a physical thing. There were no ropes holding her in place, but she was bound nonetheless, obligated to give herself in this way or remain a puppet of the dark. Putting her hands to her cheeks, she opened them up, feeling her cunt ache in the aftermath of Bryn’s filling. He had tried to be gentle, but he could not be gentle. She knew that even as his big palm smoothed over her back and pushed her down into a position of even greater submission.
She whimpered and wept as she felt Bryn’s cock entering her ass. He could have started with something smaller. He hadn’t. He could have warmed her up gently. He didn’t. She had never imagined in all her existence that Bryn would be doing such a shameful thing to her, that she would find herself compelled to submit to such a harsh punishment. This was sex, but this was also discipline. She knew she deserved it. Her virginity had not been a proper sacrifice. She had to be further humiliated—and Bryn had to be the one to humble her.
He pushed inside her slowly, but not so slowly that she did not feel the hot, tight resistance of the ring of muscle endeavoring to keep his thick cock out. There was no lubricant save for the remnants of his seed, scooped from her pussy, and used to slightly ease the passage of his flesh inside hers.
She cried, not only because it hurt physically, but because it hurt emotionally. Bryn did not want to be doing this any more than she wanted to be receiving it. This cruel knotting was being done out of dark necessity, and it would leave them both forever changed—of that she was certain.
Finally, she submitted. Completely.
She discovered in that moment that submission was not at all what she had thought it was. It was not humiliation, or pain, though those were the paths she had taken to it. It was a warmth which suffused every part of her, a freedom which left her feeling full and complete. Bryn’s cock no longer felt like a rough intrusion designed to break her. It felt like a sacred joining, the pain flowering through her body, breaking not her, but the shackles that had been wrapped tightly around all the most important parts of her.