He thrusted inside me in a single hard stroke that knocked the air out of my lungs.
I screamed.
My voice echoed against the walls, raw and broken, but it didn’t stop him. He filled me completely and paused just long enough for me to feel the stretch and the fullness and the heat. My legs trembled in the grip of his tendrils but he didn’t let me fall. He held me there, suspended and open and dripping.
He pulled out slowly and then pushed in again, deeper. I cried out and grabbed at the air but my wrists were still pinned above me. My back arched and my breasts bounced with every movement as the tendrils shifted to keep me spread. He didn’t kiss me and he didn’t whisper, he just moved. Controlled and measured and precise.
“I told you,” he said. “You don’t get to take. You only receive wi
