Page 47 of Cursed
His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back with a sharp tug that makes my spine arch painfully with my wrists still restrained. The mixture of pleasure and pain short-circuits my brain.
“Landon,” I whimper, my voice breaking as he bottoms out inside me.
“Good girl,” he praises, then suddenly he sinks his teeth into the junction between my neck and shoulder.
I cry out as he marks me, the sharp sting of his bite sending endorphins through my system. He doesn’t release, insteadbearing down harder as his hips continue their relentless assault on my ass.
“Please,” I beg.
Everything is too much—the stretch, the fullness, the taboo nature of what we’re doing in front of a room filled with people.
Landon releases my shoulder, licking the indentation his teeth have left. “Your ass squeezes me so perfectly when you beg,” he pants against my ear. “Like it’s trying to milk my cock.”
His fingers slide around to find my clit, circling it. “You’re dripping,” he observes. “Getting this wet from having your virgin asshole stretched open. You filthy, perfect thing.”
I should feel shame at his words, but instead, I feel seen. Known. My darkest desires are exposed under the harsh lights of the orgy room, witnessed by strangers and embraced by the monster who understands me.
My eyes dart around the room, suddenly aware again of our public setting. Several unlucky hunters watch us with hungry stares, their masks hiding everything but their obvious desire. Yet most of the crowd has paired off or formed groups, lost in their own pleasure. The sounds of ecstasy echo through the room—moans, gasps, the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin.
No one’s really paying attention to us. We’re just another scene in this twisted carnival of flesh. Inside me, a shift begins—a surrender, a release of the last thread of resistance I’ve been clinging to.
What’s the point of fighting this? Of fighting myself? Here, in this moment, I can be the broken, twisted thing I’ve always feared I was. Here, with Landon, my darkness has found its match.
I let go.
“Take me,” I whisper, pushing back against him. “I’m yours.”
Landon’s rhythm falters for a second, as if my surrender has caught him off guard. Then he growls, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my body.
“Fucking finally,” he hisses, slamming into me harder.
His thrusts become punishing, each one driving the air from my lungs. The burn returns, but it’s good now—a cleansing fire that consumes everything except sensation.
His hand wraps around my throat, fingers pressing against the sides of my neck rather than the front. Not cutting off my air, but restricting blood flow to my brain. The effect is immediate—a lightheaded, floating sensation that intensifies everything.
“This is what you needed all along,” Landon says, his voice distant through the rushing in my ears. “To be owned. Possessed.”
The world narrows to pinpricks of light as my vision begins to tunnel. Every sensation amplifies—the stretch of him inside me, the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the cool air on my sweat-slicked skin.
Just as darkness threatens to overtake me, he releases his grip. Blood rushes back to my brain in a euphoric wave that makes me cry out.
The rush from his chokehold, combined with his relentless assault on my ass, pushes me toward a towering cliff edge. His fingers return to my clit, circling.
“Come for me,” Landon demands, his voice strained as his hips slam against me. “Come with my cock in your virgin ass.”
The command cracks me apart. The orgasm detonates, waves of violence rolling from my core as I thrash against the restraints. His name rips out of me as my body shakes, gripping him hard.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Landon chants, his rhythm faltering as my muscles contract around him. “Your ass is milking me, Sadie. I’m going to fill you up.”
He drives into me one final time, so deep. His cock pulses as he groans, a sound of possession as hot spurts of cum flood my insides. The sensation of being filled—marked internally in this most intimate way—prolongs my orgasm until I’m sobbing from the intensity.
Landon collapses over my back, his breath hot against my neck as we both tremble through the aftershocks. After several moments, he straightens, still buried inside me.
He pulls his cock out slowly, and I whimper in protest, feeling so empty.
“Push it out,” he commands, his voice hoarse. “I want to watch my cum drip from your ass.”
In my pleasure-drunk state, the request doesn’t even register as humiliating. I bear down, feeling the strange sensation of his seed leaking from me as he slowly withdraws.
