Page 7 of Painter's Obsession: Volume II

“You feel so good,” I moan, my voice strained with pleasure as I begin to pound into his ass, his unconscious body jolting beneath me with each thrust. Small noises and grunts continue to escape him, his lips parting slightly, his breath uneven.

“So tight.” Another thrust. “Bleed for me, Byron.”

I fuck him so hard his entire body moves upward with each thrust. My knees ache from the ground but still I keep fucking him, ignoring the ground burning my skin. The slap of skin echoes through the space, the wet squelch of his body giving way to mine. His ass feels wetter, and I look down, pulling my cock halfway out to see the residue of blood, and you don’t want to know what else.

“That’s it, Thorn, take everything I got to give,” I mutter, knowing he won’t listen. Not willingly but I couldn’t wait for him to be awake and alert while I fucked his asshole. I wanted his fights, it’s no fun this way, but the need was too great. It’s always too great. Iknow for a fact if I didn’t do this, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. Not with the way I crave him, need him.

A full week away will be hell, especially when he will be so close. But this is his punishment, what’s worse than being left in the dark, with no one to talk to but your demons? I bet he has plenty, this is a very needed step towards the right direction. Take everything away and deprive him of light.

My balls tighten, the pressure mounting, heat rising to my spine, and all I can focus on is how his thick, veiny dick jumps with each thrust. Precum drips off the side as I mercilessly continue to pound into him. The sight is intoxicating, consuming. I don’t even think as I bend down and take his cock into my mouth.

The warmth of him floods my senses, his taste heavy on my tongue. The saltiness of his cum invades my senses as my tongue swirls around the head, tasting him. Tasting the essence of what I own. I focus on swallowing him deeper, his cock sliding down my throat, my lips stretched wide around his length. My tongue moves frantically because who am Ikidding? I don’t know what I’m doing, but I want—no, I need— him to feel this minute of heaven I’m offering just before I give him hell.

I hollow my cheeks, taking notes from all the women who have been on their knees for me, as I take him deeper, hitting the back of my throat over and over. Saliva pools at the corners of my mouth, my throat convulsing around his thick length.

I groan as his cock jolts in my mouth, his body reacting against his will. My hands cup his balls as I continue to fuck my mouth.

It doesn’t take long to push him over the edge.

His body tenses, muscles flexing, his cock twitching one last time before he spills into my mouth. His cum is warm, thick, and salty, a taste I’ll commit to memory. I pull back, spitting his cum onto my cock before pushing back in, grinding my hips deep, deeper, claiming every last inch.

I fuck him into oblivion until I find my own release.

“Fu—“ I moan, my voice breakingas I slow down, my balls emptying.

I bury myself inside him, filling him up, marking him.

I breed him like the bitch he will be.

Slipping from inside his warmth, I take a step back and watch his body twitch. His breathing is slow, rhythmic. From my point of view, he looks peaceful. How ironic. This will probably be one of the last peaceful sleeps he will ever have. Because in order to rebuild, you have to completely destroy the foundation. Turning away, I walk over to my discarded clothes before bending down to grab them. The cool air clings to my skin, a final reminder of what I’ve taken. Naked, I move towards the stairs attached to the wall of the bunker, my hand meeting the cold metal.

One last glance.

His chest rises. Falls. So unaware.

One week, Thorn.

Let’s see if you can survive the dark. Will it break you? Or will you welcome it?

Chapter Five

Byron

My limbs feel heavy, the weight of something unseen pressing down on me. Fog surrounds me, thick and suffocating. I look down—so much blood covers my hands, warm and sticky, dripping from my fingertips. The smell of iron fills the space, sharp, overwhelming, clinging to the back of my throat. My body shakes despite the warmth spreading through me, a deep, unnatural heat that does nothing to stop the cold sweat clinging to my skin. So much blood.

A woman lays before me, naked and still, her body lifeless but not at peace. Her brown hair covers her face, long strands tangled in the blood pooling around her. From whereI stand, I can’t make out her features. Something inside me tells me I don’t want to. I try to move, but the thick blood pooled on the ground clings to my feet, holding me prisoner. It’s like quicksand, dragging me deeper, refusing to let go. The woman’s head lolls to the side, her neck twisting unnaturally, like something broken. Her face is a blur as my body moves away from her, as if something else is pulling me back.

With her hand now outstretched, she reaches for me… her fingers trembling, weak, slipping against the blood.

For salvation.

I look down at my bloody hands, my breath catching in my throat, my chest tightening. My hands… They feel foreign, like they don’t belong to me. Then I look back to the woman in front of me.

“By,” the soft, familiar voice croaks, cracked and raw, as if forced from a throat that’s already gone silent. “Hel—pp me.”

The familiarity of the voice sinks into me like a blade, slow and agonizing, twisting deeper the longer I listen.

“Gab—“ I whisper, my voice breaking, the sound fragile, barely there. I try to move closer, my body trembling, muscles straining as I fight against the invisible restraints that hold me in place.

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