Page 100 of Lost to the Woods

My body locks up, a scream ripping from my throat, before I start to convulse, my body shuddering in the ropes, as white-hot pleasure tears through me, violent and unstoppable.

I don’t want it. But my body accepts it greedily, melting into it.

Ghost isn’t surprised. No. He expected this. He planned for it. “There it is,” he breathes, his voice thick with triumph as he watches me with fascination.

I gasp for air, still trembling from the aftershocks, shame searing through me like an open wound.

He strokes my cheek, almost tender, kissing me over the slobbered gag. “See how good you are for me?”

I hate him.

I hate myself more.

His lips kiss down the column of my neck, leaving a wet trail behind. His hand grips my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I feel it—his arousal, thick and unforgiving, pressing into my stomach.

It shouldn’t feel this good.

And I hate that it does.

I squirm, trying to deny it, but my hips tilt forward, seeking, drawn to the rigid heat against me.

“Needy little slut,” he murmurs, pulling away, leaving my skin aching where his mouth had been. “You’re starting to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

I shake my head desperately, but the movement is weak.

Ghost just knows. His fingers trail between my legs, spreading me wider with a slow push of the spreader bar. Then he slides his cock against the drenched rope, dug into the slit of my pussy. His swollen crown taps against my abused clit, each smack harder than the last, until—

Nothing.

He moves away just before I gush all over his throbbing shaft.

Unintentionally, I suck in a sharp breath in disappointment. But it quickly goes away as he reaches for the wand.

No.

He slides it securely beneath the crotch rope, the vibrating head nestling right against my abused little clit—oversensitive, overstimulated, still pulsing from the last orgasm.

My stomach drops, and I twitch before anything even happens, glaring at him.

“Don’t give me those eyes. I know it’s your favorite, baby,” he murmurs like the sadistic piece of shit he is.

He’s right, though he has no business knowing that. But before my mind can even process it, he turns the wand on.

The first buzz has me screaming into the gag, my hips bucking wildly, but I fight it, trying my hardest not to give him any more satisfaction.

Yet, no matter what I do, there’s no escaping the relentless sensation between my legs. The ropes hold me in place, the hook drags inside me, and the wand destroys me.

I cum.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Until I’m weeping, until my throat is raw around the gag, until my thighs are slick with my own mess, juices dripping on the floor.

All of a sudden,silence.

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