8. Callista

8

CALLISTA

D agon grabs me, his fingers tangling in my hair so I have no way to free myself from his hold.

"Let go!" I scream, my hands working fervently to pry his fingers loose. He merely laughs at my efforts.

At six foot five, he's nearly a foot taller than me. I don't stand a chance and I know, but the tension between us is palpable. It becomes even more obvious when he tears my dress off my shoulders.

My heart hammers as he throws me over his knee. I'm terrified, but more excited than I've ever been.

"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.

I feel myself starting to unravel. The pressure mounts within me, each roll of his hips bringing me closer to the brink. His rhythm is unyielding, almost beastly, and yet in an odd way, it feels divine. My nails sink into his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as he drives me closer to the edge.

Every nerve in my body is screaming for release. Dagon's hands explore every inch of my body with a possessive ownership that leaves me breathless with anticipation. His hands roam over my breasts and down to my waist before returning to my hips, holding me firmly in place as he continues his relentless assault on my senses.

"Come for me," he growls, his voice so low I can barely hear him over the fire roaring in my ears. The command sends shivers down my spine that ignite a spark deep within me.

With a final punishing drive of his hips, Dagon buries himself deep within me and holds still, waiting for my response. The world around me slows as a powerful wave crashes over me.

I let out a strangled cry as an intense shower of pleasure washes over me. My walls clamp down on him in rhythm with the pulsating waves of ecstasy that consume every fiber of my being.

The world fades away and all I know is the sensation of Dagon deep within me, his possession as intoxicating as it is absolute. His low growl rumbles in his chest as he revels in my release, his hips moving against mine in a way that prolongs the pulsing waves of pleasure coursing through me. The sensation is utterly overwhelming, leaving me gasping for breath.

He gives me barely any time to recover before he's moving again, his pace now slow and measured, drawing out my pleasure with every stroke. I can feel every inch of him as he moves within me, the sensation both exquisite and maddening.

From close by, a whisper drifts through the sound of our mingling pants. The voice is pure Dagon - commanding and demanding but with an underlying note of anticipation that belies his desire for my submission. He needs this as much as I do.

I obey his command blindly, my body responding instinctively to the rhythm he sets. His fingers dig into my hips again, guiding my movements to match his own. Each drive connects with a sweet spot inside me that has me groaning uncontrollably.

Slowly, the world comes back into focus and all I can see is Dagon above me. His face is drawn tight in concentration and there's a feral hunger in his eyes that sends a jolt of pure lust coursing through me.

His movements grow more forceful as his climax nears, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through my oversensitive body until I'm teetering on the edge once more.

Just when I think I can't hold on any longer, Dagon's rhythm falters. His grip on my hips tightens painfully as he plunges himself deeply within me, his body going rigid as he reaches his climax. A guttural growl echoes through the chamber as he spills himself inside me.

There's silence in the dim room save for our ragged breaths gradually slowing down to match each other's pace. My cheek rests against the solid plane of his chest, listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart reverberating through me. It's an oddly comforting sound amidst all that we've just experienced.

His fingers trace lazy circles on my bare skin as we lie entwined in each other's arms. The intimacy is jarring after such fierce passion but not unwelcome. His deep baritone breaks the silence by murmuring words into my hair that are meant just for me.