Chapter Eight

                                    

                                          

Alex 
Emma made me come in my fucking pants. I don't know if I'm more shocked or impressed. I didn't know she had it in her, the guts to push back, to play my game, to make me lose control like that. She could be my perfect toy—forever.
As she leaves the room, I smirk, watching her flushed face and disheveled hair. She looks like she's been thoroughly fucked, and I like that. The guards uncuff me and drag me out, and I hope they see the stain on my pants. Do they know how filthy their precious little doc is? Do they know what she just did? I almost hope they do. I want everyone to know what kind of woman she is. Mine.
They haul me back to my cell, and the familiar walls close in around me. I see the blood-smeared paintings on the walls, the old images of her gagged and bound, her pussy spread wide open by clamps, her skin marred with cuts. The blood has dried, and the paintings are fading. They aren't enough anymore. I need something new. I need her. I want her in ways I never wanted anyone before.
She makes me feel things I've never felt. I want her to be my personal sex toy, to break her down piece by piece, to own her completely. The things we could do together... It's almost a shame I'm stuck in this place. Almost. But I suppose I should be grateful I'm not on death row in some maximum-security prison. Not that it matters to me. Life, death—it's all the same. But I had friends, people with power and money, who made sure I ended up here instead of there. "Insanity," they called it. But I'm not insane. I understand exactly what I am and what I want. The people around me just don't understand the power that comes with holding a life in your hands.
I glance down at the stain on my pants again. What a waste. Wasted cum. That should have been inside her, filling her up, watching it drip out of her tight little pussy. I bet she'd love the feeling of my ladder piercing, the way it would drag against her inner walls, just enough to hurt but also to bring her to the brink of ecstasy. I can see it so clearly—her eyes wide, her mouth open in a silent scream, her body writhing beneath me as I thrust into her, each movement deliberate, each push and pull designed to drive her mad.
I eye the small shower in the corner of my cell. I should wash up, get this mess off me, but the thought of her, the image of her bound and begging, keeps me rooted in place. I want to fuck her so badly it hurts. I close my eyes and let the fantasy take over.
I imagine her tied up again, but this time, she's more vulnerable. Her wrists are bound above her head, her ankles spread wide, leaving her completely exposed. She's gagged with a ball gag, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and excitement. I can see her chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath, her nipples hard and peaked. She's making these soft, desperate noises, trying to speak, trying to beg, but the gag muffles her cries. She's afraid, but she's also excited. She wants this as much as I do.
I kneel between her legs, my hands sliding up her thighs, feeling her shiver at my touch. I take my time, savouring her reaction, letting my fingers trace over her skin, inching closer and closer to where she wants me most. When I reach her pussy, she's already wet, her arousal glistening, and it makes me grin. She wants me. She's desperate for me. She just doesn't want to admit it.
I slide a finger inside her, slow and deliberate, feeling her clench around me. She lets out a muffled cry, her hips bucking up instinctively, trying to pull away. But there's nowhere for her to go. She's mine. I add a second finger, curling them just right, hitting that sweet spot inside her that makes her toes curl. She moans again, louder this time, her body arching off the bed, straining against her bonds.
I pull my fingers out, watching the way her juices coat them, then lean down and give her a long, slow lick, tasting her, savouring the way she shudders beneath me. She's sweeter than I imagined—a perfect mix of fear and desire. I flick my tongue over her clit, teasing her, feeling her body tense, her breath hitch. She's close, so close, but I'm not going to let her come. Not yet.
I slide a third finger inside her, stretching her wide, feeling her body resist, then give way. She whimpers, her hips lifting, trying to accommodate the intrusion, her eyes widening as she realises just how much I'm giving her. I thrust my fingers in and out, stretching her, filling her, feeling her walls tighten around me. I can see the struggle on her face, the way she wants to resist, but her body betrays her. She's soaked, her arousal dripping down my hand, and I can't help but laugh.
"Is this what you want, Emma?" I murmur, my voice low and mocking. "Do you want me to fuck you like this? To stretch you open and make you take it?"
She nods frantically, her head bobbing up and down, her eyes pleading. I thrust my fingers harder, faster, making her gasp, her back arching. "Beg for it," I demand, my voice rough with desire. "Beg for me to fuck you."
She tries to speak, but the gag muffles her words, and it only makes me harder. I push in deeper, my fingers stretching her wide, filling her completely. "I said beg for it," I growl, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, making her scream.
Her muffled cries fill the room, her body jerking with each thrust, and I know she's close, so damn close. I lean over her, my mouth hovering just above her ear. "Come for me, Emma," I whisper, my voice dripping with command. "Come all over my fingers. Show me how much you want this."
And she does. She shatters beneath me, her body convulsing, her screams muffled by the gag, her pussy clenching tight around my fingers as she comes, her juices soaking my hand. I feel my own release building, the pleasure coiling tight in my gut, and I let myself go, imagining myself buried deep inside her, filling her up, every last drop.
I open my eyes, the fantasy fading, leaving me panting, my cock throbbing, my hands trembling. I need her. I need to make her mine, to mark her, to own her. I want to break her down piece by piece until there's nothing left but her absolute submission.
I strip off my clothes, my hands moving quickly, almost frantic, and step into the small shower. The water is cold, but it does nothing to calm the burning need inside me. I scrub myself clean, the soap stinging my skin, the water washing away the evidence of my desire. But it doesn't wash away the want, the hunger. I can still feel it, a raw, aching need deep inside me that won't be satisfied until I have her again.
I close my eyes, letting the water cascade over me, my mind filled with images of her—bound, gagged, and begging for me. My hand moves down my body, wrapping around my cock, stroking slowly, imagining it's her hand, her mouth, her tight, wet pussy. I want to hear her scream my name, want to feel her break beneath me, want to make her mine in every way possible.
I stroke faster, my grip tightening, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I can almost feel her around me, can almost hear her cries, her voice breaking as I thrust into her, hard and deep, claiming her over and over. I imagine her writhing beneath me, her body giving in to the pleasure and the pain, her screams turning to moans, her tears to desperate pleas.
My release hits me hard, a shuddering gasp escaping my lips as I come, my cum splattering against the cold tile, mixing with the water, swirling down the drain. I lean against the wall, my body spent, my mind still buzzing with thoughts of her.
When I finally step out of the shower, I feel a strange calm settle over me. I dry off, pulling on a fresh pair of pants, my gaze drifting to the walls of my cell. The blood has dried, the paintings have faded. They're not good enough anymore. I need new ones. I need to see her, to capture her again, to make her mine in every way possible.
I sit on the edge of my cot, staring at the walls, my mind spinning with plans for our next session. She thinks she can help me, thinks she can save me. She has no idea what she's gotten herself into. But that's fine. That's how I like it.
I smile to myself, leaning back, my eyes fixed on the door. I'll wait. I'll be patient. And when the time comes, when she's ready, I'll show her just what kind of monster she's fallen for.