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FAYRA

Oh, this is just what I needed...

Giving him the go-signal, my danger word comes out of my mouth like a bullet. "Officer..." I shove and wrestle, but then a curved set of fingers clench around my head, clamping it like a delicate apple, firmly locking me into place. "You're making a big mistake!" Despite how I try to unglue my cheek from this roughcast wall, I can't. There is an effortless strength I cannot match, no matter how hard I try to wrench out of his grip.

"Mind telling me what charges I'm being arrested for?" I bite my lip, trying to tame this obscene shudder wreathing every silvery edge between my legs.

This big male leans over me, pressing against my back with increasing weight until I can hardly breathe.

"Later, fairy..." A bestial gust fills my left ear, the dark thrum accompanying it animalistic. It could've been born from a dragon's lungs if not from a lack of sulfur. And like brimming embers, the warmth of his lips enkindles my skin, scalding my composure. "For now, I want you to sing."

"What do you mean by sin?—"

My moan flies wild to this hand that just hurled my head upward, my arching back sending my backside against his crotch.

"Mmm..." he hums, trailing something sharp up my throat, "that's the song."

A shadow comes into the corner of my eye, and soon, a bone-like growth hooks under my jawline, forcing my chin up more than it already is.

"Please, officer..." I plead while stinging wetness encircles my throat. "I can sing more if that's what makes you happy." My palms are drenched in sweat as I dig my nails into them.

There's a head tilt. Soon, jaws close over my neck, collaring me with a necklace made of teeth and tusks. I can't help but cry-breathe from the nip, from this mouth—never snapping, never hurting, forever rasping sharpness over my skin. I can tell he's ridden with hunger, yet he keeps himself from thoroughly goring me. Goring me because something tells me he could easily rip my throat out with one bite.

A tongue comes to skin, and my knees buckle.

He's quick to catch my waist, keeping me upright. "Don't go jelly on me." Again, this huskiness. But this time, it's followed by several rapturous strokes, fingers slowly weaving down my hair like I've become a doll—his fetish.

It doesn't matter that he's still cladding my throat. He's still a little eager to discover me, to ravish me, because this sudden skin-to-skin contact—my waist, the epicenter of a mass erection—makes me stagger.

"Don't move," he growls, my eardrum vibrating from this ominous thrum, the weight of it suggestive and dirty. It's deep enough to numb my blood, setting my body into a zombie state.

I shiver. There's a sliding motion over my hips, leathery digits progressing over my stomach. "Got any weapons I should know about?" Inviting themselves under my shirt, they skate over and around like ribbons of leather. A throb awakes between my thighs, pulsing.

I shut my eyes. "No."

He doesn't care, doesn't listen. The officer drags his fingers under my bra and wedges them sluggishly.

His impatience wears thin fast, and, with rough thirst, he tugs it up. Freed, my breasts bounce out, one settling in his hand, and a needy grunt follows.

"I swear, I have no weapons on me." Pleading won't change a thing. I know this cop... I know him all too well.

As he cups my breast, massaging it in slow circles, his hips appear to waver against me. It's getting him off...

"I have no gun, I promise." Space opens between me and the wall. Seizing this opportunity, I pull and twist. The thing is, I'm unsure if this officer liked tha— "Ha..." My whole body gasps under his touch as he pricks my nipple.

"Don't make promises you can't keep." The breath he takes is sharp but not as stabby as the hand sliding down my belly. My mind returns to Deon, cornering me against the bricks in the dark alley... and a waking force scatters under my hands.

I push against my worries and the wall, my voice cracking. "Walls haven't been my friends lately."

"I know." The button on my pants snaps off at once. "I'm exorcising your demons." I wince at the heat and friction abrading the skin of my working palms.

"Please!"

A hand flashes in my peripheral. I choke down my surprise as it skims my cheek, the smack it gives the wall enough for my lips to lock together, nice and tight.

"Patience..." he husks, engaging with my zipper. It's not a brief, sharp hissing sound; it's dragging. I can picture the slider coming apart with every slow tug. A voice comes in, grinning. "You'll get your code seven." I know this is police slang for mealtime voiced over the radio.

Those words brand my skin like fire on ice, melting my bones so much that my hands abandon their hold and slouch down the wall. Hacked, my voice cuts out of me. "Code seven? Shouldn't I expect a warrant?"

He makes the torture last, maintaining his grip on the metallic tab. "No need. You're guilty."

My eyes widen as they follow his hand, detaching from the wall, and shut when low growls erupt from under my ear. His lips haven't left my neck; they stay moored at its crook, sometimes wavering up and down as he breathes me in.

As usual, the drill goes... I'm struggling for control, and my body refuses to cooperate. Under me, there's an escalating buzz of heat, and my teeth can keep grinding from this lack of it because I won't be having any soon.

Fingers slip under my panties, and my heart stops. "I don't have weapons down there." The words writhe out of me from fingertips encroaching my lips, and I shudder as they commence to knead.

A fraction of a laugh blows against my throat. "Don't believe that." He yanks my pants and thong in one shove, and they fall low enough for his foot to stomp them down my legs.

"Lift your feet." And I do exactly what he says because I don't think he's the kind to joke around.

A foot sweeps these away, the latter drifting on the parquet.

"Cavity check. Spread."

I don't comply. As of now, I'm still unsure whether to play it bullish or not.

"Don't misbehave, fairy, and spread your legs."

"How hard is it for you to see I have no weapon?"

Once more, I wince, my back curving from another thorough grip on my hair.

"Be careful not to make things worse than they already are." His growl is low but tainted with authority, and I won't show further resistance. "Now bend over, girl."

I'm pushed back against the wall and my feet skitter backward, thrusting my hips toward him. One second at a time, my heels spread until my inner thighs feel tension from the stretch.

It must be a lovely view from where he's standing, and from the long groan erupting from behind, one can assume he's satisfied.

"Can't fool me, Fayra..." He brings his arm down, hunching a little, gently placing a finger against the inside of my knee. It begins its upward course with decided confidence, my bottom lip bleeding from my gritted teeth. Mid-way, my quivering thighs sell me out, and when this finger makes its way up to my clit, and hitch into it, my knees clap and trap this cruel invader.

"You're parched," he deathly whispers, lips still tight on my now dewing flesh.

Fuck, I'm splitting at the seams, my feet shuffling uncontrollably on the spot. Tyke, you've upped your acting skills...

"Officer, please. Can we talk this through? This... this is a terrible mistake," I stutter.

"Attempting to corrupt an officer?" I can't see his face, but I can hear a keen smile in his voice.

"No." Yes!

"I could turn a blind eye," he says, walking a duet of fingers between my wings all the way down my spine, one of them damp from dipping in my juices not even a minute ago. Officer X keeps tiptoeing them with unhinged confidence toward my tailbone. And he's not a prude, because these fingers slip into the trench of my bum cheeks way down under.

"Okay... What could help my case?"

"Sex slave."

Omg, Tyke, just take me already! "Unshackle me!"

"Oh no, I won't."

This time, two fingers slip inside me, and I moan against the rough wall from this slow perverted slide deepening inside me.

Fuck, one finger is already as thick as a fairy's boner.

"Dirty fairy," he simpers, a rogue kiss landing on my shoulder. That is definitely not part of the script.

My blushing self is left drooling out a "Yes," like a chocolate flower melting under the scorching sun. I'm definitely not good with improvisation...

Soon after this probing session, something cold wraps around my throat, a jangling sound dancing around my neck as the object tightens—a Favorite's collar. Nothing more than thick black steel-welded chain links, one for each time the slave begged for her master's cock.

From the double choker collar that's now circling my throat, it can be said that I pleaded very hard for his on multiple occasions...

"What happens if I misbehave?"

"I wouldn't go there if I were you, slave," he growls, a tug firm enough to cut my breath.

"Okay, okay, I'll behave. I promise, I'll behave."

"Where's your room?"

"Back there, on the left."

"Too far," he rasps.

I chew on my lip, thinking how cocky I am to have him.

I'm swung in a ninety-degree arc, my eyes landing on a black marble kitchen island.

"Perfect. An altar to smother the bird." His growl is quieter, yet there is this excitement rolling his Rs in overstretched length.

I'm pushed over the kitchen island, my breast in a mess of bra and shirt, plating the surface. A powerful arm swiftly passes by my right temple, thrusting the plastic fruit bowl off the counter, along with magazines and other useless objects.

Here comes the grand finale!

"Now, Fayra Jinksovan..." Fingers slip under the chains around my neck, slow and soft. I'm taking in this gentleness, the heat of it tingling my nape. "You're going to hate me for what's next."

Hate?

From there follows a harsh tug, spinning me around, slicing my exhale in half.

A swirl of desire engulfs me, and as I face him, everything about me begins to water. While he approaches, a torso tinged in silver by the moonlight invading the living room becomes bolder, crisper, broader...

My waist is soon wrapped in soft hands, lifting me onto the counter. In the process, he draws himself between my legs, widening them until our lashes touch. Insufferable heat is beginning to brim off my thighs, a slight chill at the groin betraying my leaking state. Flowing in steam, my cunt is craving far too many throbs, my breast suffering from the most hardened spikes, my toes bending from a coil about to rupture.

The moment my eyes sweep up this menacing piece of flesh, art modeled to the finest form, my smile kicks up. The cast must've been destroyed soon after because I've never laid eyes on such solid green gold. "Officer..."

I squint when he wraps his arms over me, fiddling with my wrists at the back.

He's unshackling me? Well, that's a first!

My thirsty hands immediately go for his belt, prompting a wicked snicker from him. And when I split the hem of his jeans, I blink like I'm going blind.

My eyes won't detach from this enormous piece of spiked leather hiding his load—a fucking lock in the middle.

A chastity belt?

"Why is my access denied, officer?" I pout.

"As I said, anything you say can and will be used against you, so I suggest you remain silent," he commands, an insistent hand pressing against my chest, pushing me until my back submits and the cool marble greets my spine.

With my legs dangling off the counter, I gaze at the ceiling, my furious panting increasing.

"Now, you're going to do exactly what I say, and if you're a good little fairy, I'll give you the key as a reward."