Page 8 of Demon's Cruel Desire
“Dagon! Please, don’t!”
His hand connects sharply with my rear.
The sound echoes through the quiet room, a sudden burst of noise that hangs in the air for a moment before fading. The sting of impact flares hotly against my skin, surprising and shocking.
Embarrassment, fury, and something strange and electrifying surges through me like a wild river. I gasp, trying to squirm away, but his arm is like iron around my waist. He's too strong, far too strong.
"Dagon!" I protest again, my voice weak and trembling with indignation. He laughs, a deep rolling rumble that resonates against my body where he holds me securely. His hand hovers above my bare skin for a second and then falls again with another sharp smack.
“Now Callista,” he rumbles low in his chest after another spank resonates in the quiet room. “Learn your lesson.” His voice is stern yet filled with warm amusement that belies his harsh treatment.
I grit my teeth against the sting, fighting back both tears and oddly enough, a hint of sheer exhilaration. Panting, I ball my hands into fists by my side, nails digging into my palms as I try to absorb the pain that licks up my spine like wildfire.
Then suddenly his hand softens, rubbing gentle circles on the reddened skin of my bottom with a surprising tenderness. The coarse pad of his thumb glides over the inflamed area, letting soothing warmth seep deeper into me.
“Why…” I start to ask breathlessly, but he cuts me off with another hard swat that sends jolts of electricity singing through me.
“Silence,” Dagon orders, his voice a gravelly baritone that sends shivers down my spine. I bite back a whimper, pressing my face into the rough fabric of his breeches.
His fingers continue to caress my heated flesh, tracing the contours of my lower body with a sinfully sensual touch that is as confusing as it is arousing.
His hold on my waist tightens, pinning me securely against his solid frame. "You've been a bad girl, Callista," he purrs in my ear, his breath hot against my neck.
His fingers tug gently on my hair, lifting my face toward him. I can feel the hum of his laughter vibrating against my skin.
Again, his hand falls sharply, and I cry out as pleasure-pain shoots through me, stealing away my breath. My body arches instinctively against him, gasps escaping between clenched teeth. He chuckles darkly at my reaction.
The spanks continue rhythmically for a time, each one erupting fresh waves of prickling warmth across my raw backside. And then suddenly they stop and are replaced with slow soothing strokes from his hand once more.
“Dagon,” I manage to groan. “What are you…” But before the sentence can be completed, another sharp smack meets its target, causing an involuntary squeal to echo around us.
His fingers, calloused and firm, glide over my reddened skin again as if he's trying to memorize every inch of its scorching heat. I shudder under his touch, my body quivering in anticipation or perhaps fear. I don't know.
"Relax," Dagon murmurs, his voice lulling me into a state of submissive serenity. I feel myself melting under his touch, my tensed muscles slowly uncoiling, the pain blending into something more bearable, something bordering on pleasure.
Then his hand glides lower, fingers exploring the soft folds between my legs with a gentle precision that has me arching my back in surprise and pleasure. The sudden shift from stinging spanks to such exploration sends my senses reeling.
His thumb begins moving in slow circles around the engorged bud that throbs with a newfound intensity brought on by his earlier punishment, teasing it expertly until a fresh wave of heat floods through me.
Dagon responds to my gasps with a deep, warm chuckle. "Do you like that?" he asks, his voice a low growl that vibrates against my skin. His fingers delve deeper now, delving into the pulsating warmth between my thighs.
I bite down on my lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out. Yet somehow in spite of everything - the pain, the humiliation - a part of me yearns for more of his touch. A part of me wants him to continue.
His hand moves rhythmically now, fingers sliding in and out causing dizzying waves of pleasure that make everything else insignificant. His other hand snakes around my waist, pulling me closer as he continues to stroke my most intimate parts with a masterful touch. I can do little more than groan in response, completely at the mercy of his skilled fingers and burning desire.
He suddenly withdraws his hand, leaving my body pulsing in outrage and craving for more. I whimper softly but any protest dies on my lips when he effortlessly lifts me from his lap and places me on the cold stone floor.
I barely have a moment to collect myself, let alone question his actions when Dagon is on top of me, the weight of his body pinning me down. His breath is hot against my skin, and I can feel him, hard and ready against my thigh.
His strong hands grab my hips, tilting them upwards and positioning himself at my entrance. I can't help but gasp as his head rubs between my slick folds. My hands instinctively reach out for something to hold onto, finding purchase on his broad shoulders.
And then he plunges into me with a harsh movement that steals away my breath. My hands dig into his shoulders while my back arches off the floor. The world around us blurs into insignificance as Dagon begins to move, each drive stoking the fire that had been ignited in me.
His pace is relentless, punishingly so, but with each movement, I find myself spiraling deeper into the overwhelming pleasure-pain. It's almost too much to bear, but I don't want it to stop.
Dagon's breath hitches in his throat as he drives into me harder and faster. His grip on my hips tightens, fingers digging into my flesh, leaving marks that will inevitably remind me of his possession. Which I find is something I want.
He moves faster, deeper, and I can barely catch my breath between each plunge. It's as though each drive is pushing the pain away while amplifying the building pleasure.