20. Silas

20

SILAS

I watch Clara's body tremble in the aftermath of her release, still suspended in the air by the rope on the meat hook. I'm usually the one in control—calculated, psychotic—but with Clara, I'm different. My dick is still solid as a rock, hungry for more. I step closer, pressing my body against hers.

"You drive me fucking wild," I confess, my voice a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Her breasts heave as she catches her breath, glistening with a sheen of sweat. "I want you to take me again. Please, Silas."

The desperation in her voice fuels my desire. I take her weight and unhook her from the meat hook, carefully lowering her to the ground, still bound and perfect. Her legs are shaky, so I support her weight, pressing her against the wall.

"You have no idea what you do to me," I murmur, my lips brushing against her ear.

I press harder against Clara's bound form, my control slipping as the darkness inside me rises. The sight of her submission awakens something primal—something I usually keep carefully locked away. My hands shake as I grip her throat, not from weakness but from the overwhelming urge to squeeze.

"Look what you've done," I snarl, my cock throbbing against her thigh. "You've awakened the beast. The thing inside me that wants to consume you whole."

My thoughts spiral into chaos. I am her salvation. Her damnation. Her everything. The power courses through my veins like lightning, making my skin crackle with electricity. I could end her right here—watch the light fade from those beautiful eyes—but no. No, she's different. Special. Mine.

"Tell me who owns you," I demand, tightening my grip just enough to make her gasp. "Who is your god now?"

"You," I gasp, the word torn from my throat as pleasure and fear mingle inside me. "You own me... you're my god." The admission both terrifies and liberates me, acknowledging the dark truth I've been fighting.

The rope marks on her skin are exquisite, my artwork. My signature. Each bruise is a testament to my dominion over her flesh. I trace them with my fingertips, savoring the way she shivers.

"I could keep you here forever," I whisper, and for the first time, I let her see the madness in my eyes. "Lock you away where no one else can touch you. Where you'd exist only for me."

The thought sends a rush of pleasure so intense it nearly blinds me. My self-control fractures further as images flood my mind—Clara chained, Clara bleeding, Clara begging. The possibilities are endless, and I am the master of her fate.

"You've unlocked something dangerous," I growl, my voice unrecognizable. "Something that can't be caged again."

"Are we still in scene?" Her voice is small, and her chest heaves as she looks up at me with those captivating eyes.

I pause, barely noticing the ropes that bind her or the red marks my hands have left on her porcelain skin. She's referring to our kinky game—consensual non-consent—where I pretend to be an attacker and her, my helpless victim. But the question rattles me because I'm not sure I can control myself anymore. I'm drowning in my obsession with her.

"Yes," I lie. "We're still in scene."

The truth is, I'm struggling. The intensity of my desire threatens to unravel the carefully constructed facade I present to the world. I'm consumed by her—by this overwhelming compulsion to own her completely—body, mind, and the delicious darkness she keeps buried beneath her professional facade. I want to watch her crumble and rebuild her in my image. Each time I claim her, my grip on reality splinters a little more."

I step back, willing myself to calm down. I can't let her see the monster that lurks beneath the surface. Not yet. But she senses my conflict, her eyes narrowing as she studies me. My silence only makes her more curious, her body tensing as she leans forward, straining against the ropes that hold her captive.

"Silas, what's wrong?" Her voice is stronger now, more demanding. She's a force to be reckoned with, even in her vulnerable state.

I shake my head, buying myself time as I battle the urge to give in to my baser instincts. "Nothing. I just?—"

"Don't lie to me," she interrupts, her eyes flashing with fear and desire. "I can see it in your eyes. Something has changed."

Her words are a gut punch, and I struggle to maintain composure. She sees too much, and it terrifies me. I want to possess her, but at that moment, I feel possessed by her—by the hold she has on me. My plans begin to unravel as I contemplate throwing caution to the wind and embracing the madness that pulls at me.

"You affect me," I admit, my voice hoarse. "More than anyone ever has."

As I speak, I move closer, unable to resist. Her scent surrounds me, and my grip on reality weakens. I know I should stop, but instead, I reach out and gently graze her cheek with the back of my hand, my eyes never leaving hers.

"I want to consume you," I confess, my voice a rasp. "To devour you and make you mine."

The desire in her eyes mirrors my own, and for a moment, we stand there, caught in a vortex of want and need.

"Then devour me." Clara's breathy voice sends a shiver down my spine. I can see the desire burning in her eyes; her struggle to maintain the facade of our game is eroding. "I can't pretend to resist you anymore. I'm too needy for you. I just want you to fuck me."

Her words are like a drug, pushing me further into my obsession. I step closer, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "You're fucking greedy, and I love it. You just came three times on my cock, and now you're begging for more."

Clara's gaze drops to my lips and bites her bottom lip, a subtle invitation. "Is that so wrong? To want more of you?"

"Never wrong, my goddess." I lean in, capturing her lips with mine. Our kiss is hungry, fueled by the raw desire building between us. My hands find her hips, pulling her against me so she can feel the evidence of my desire.

She moans into my mouth, and I slip my tongue between her lips, tasting her, claiming her. My hands move to the ropes binding her, quickly unraveling them. Her arms wrap around my neck as I lift her, still kissing her deeply.

The kiss is fiery, igniting something primal within me. But as much as I want to take her right here, I have something else in mind for my beautiful goddess.

I lift her with ease, cradling her against my chest as I carry her further into the darkness of the barn. Her arms tighten around my neck, clinging to me like she never wants to let go. I kick aside some stray hay, creating a soft bed for us. Lowering her onto the hay, I admire how the moonlight illuminates her flawless skin, beautifully marked by only me.

A soft whimper escapes her as I step away. I chuckle darkly, understanding her concern. The role of the dominant and submissive has shifted between us during this game of cat and mouse. She's not sure what to expect anymore, and that excites me.

My fingers close around the cool, familiar handle of my knife tucked in my jacket pocket. The moonlight glints off the blade as I draw it slowly, watching the play of emotions on Clara's face. Her eyes widen, and she shifts backward, suddenly aware of the potential danger. I inhale sharply at the sight, my body thrumming with desire.

"Silas, what—are you going to hurt me?" Her voice trembles, and she tries to scoot away, her back hitting the barn wall. I see the conflict in her eyes—fear battling the dark desires that drew her to me in the first place.

I take a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between us, my eyes never leaving hers. "Do you want me to?"

Her breath quickens, and her chest rises and falls tantalizingly. "I—I don't know. I'm torn, Silas. I don't know what I want anymore."

"You crave to yield, Clara. To let the shadows envelop you." I glide the blade along her skin, relishing the way goosebumps rise in its wake. "You long to be possessed, owned.”

Her eyes fall to the blade, watching it with fear and fascination. I move closer, my free hand reaching up to stroke her cheek. "I'm going to brand you, Clara. Etch my initials into your skin. That's what I want."

Clara's eyes snap back to mine, horror and desire swirling in their emerald depths. "You want to—mark me?"

"Yes." The word is a growl torn from the depths of my soul. "I want to mark you as mine. So that everyone who sees you will know that you belong to me."

Clara's eyes shine with a wild light, reflecting the moon's silvery glow. The faint scent of her arousal fills the air, spiking my desire. I know she's teetering on the edge of submission—ready to embrace the darkness we both crave.

"Brand me, Silas," she breathes, her voice laced with hesitation and desire. "Make me yours."

The knife feels lighter in my hand, as if it, too, is eager to leave its mark on her perfect skin. I lean closer, my lips brushing her ear. "Are you sure, Clara? There's no going back from this."

Her answer is a soft whimper as she leans into me, pressing her body against mine. "I'm sure. I need this, Silas. I need you to claim me."

I step back, unable to resist the temptation any longer. "Turn around, then. Present yourself to me."

Obediently, she turns, offering her back to me. Her skin is a canvas; I'm the artist, ready to etch my mark into her flesh. Slowly, I run the tip of the blade down her spine, listening to her sharp intake of breath. Her skin is flawless, a blank slate waiting for my signature.

"Tell me where you want it," I demand, my voice rough with desire. "Where do you want my brand, Clara?"

She hesitates, and for a moment, I wonder if she's having second thoughts. But then she surprises me. "On my ass, Silas," she says, her voice laced with a boldness I haven't heard before.

A growl escapes my throat as my cock twitches in response to her words. Marking her like this is a declaration of possession—a symbol of my dominion over her.

"Get on your hands and knees for me," I order.

She obeys, getting down on her hands and knees, obediently presenting her body to me. Her desire fuels my own, and I step closer, pressing myself against her. I can feel the heat of her skin, her breath quickening as she anticipates what's to come.

Slowly, I drag the knife along the curve of her ass, relishing the way she shivers at the touch. Her skin is a canvas; I'm the artist, creating a masterpiece with my blade. With steady hands, I start to etch my initials into the soft flesh of her ass, making sure the marks are deep enough to leave a permanent scar.

Her breath quickens as the blade digs into her flawless skin, and I graze her soft flesh. She squirms, letting out a soft moan that fills the barn. I drag the knife slowly, methodically, letting her feel the thrill of each cut.

"Your skin is so soft, Clara," I whisper, my lips close to her ear. "Like silk. I want to sign my name on every inch of you, brand you as mine so there is no mistaking who you belong to."

Clara pushes her ass back toward me, her anticipation palpable. I smile, knowing she's enjoying this as much as I am.

“You want my cock in you? Is that what my goddess needs?” I purr at her.

In reply, she arches her back, the movement sending a trickle of her blood down her pale skin.

I am her master, now. Eyes glinting, pulse pounding, I penetrate her eager pussy with my cock, only pulling out when she's taken the full length. I sink my throbbing shaft into her wetness and revel in the way her body welcomes me. The sensation is unlike anything I've ever experienced. She's perfect, and I need to possess every inch of her.

I begin to etch the “K” with slow, deliberate strokes. Starting from the bottom left, I drag the blade upward, carving a line through her soft skin. As I reach the apex of the letter, I sink my cock into her, our flesh meeting with a satisfying slap. She groans, her body trembling as she takes me in.

"Fuck, you're so tight," I growl, my voice hoarse with desire.

I pull out slowly, feeling her wetness coat my shaft. Continuing the “K”, I drag the blade downward, applying pressure to ensure the mark is equal in depth to each stroke before it so the scar created is consistent. As the blade moves, I thrust back into her, our bodies connecting in a deliberate but frenzied rhythm. Each stroke of the knife is accompanied by the savage thrust of my cock, claiming her as my own.

Clara moans, her voice echoing in the barn. "Yes, Silas. Oh God, it feels so good."

My dark laughter fills the air as I thrust savagely. "You crave the bite of my blade, don't you? The permanent reminder of who owns you?"

"Don't stop," she whimpers, her walls gripping me tighter. "I want the pain. I want to wear your marks."

Her surrender intoxicates me. I mold myself to her back, her blood smearing against my skin. I whisper against her ear, “Confess your desires, Clara. Every dark little detail."

Each word escapes between shallow breaths. "I want to surrender to this darkness inside me. To feel your blade write our story on my skin. To let you consume me completely."

With each thrust, I claim another part of her. My hands grip her hips tightly as I lose myself in the rhythm of our bodies. She's on fire, and I'm the flame that ignites her. The sound of our flesh slapping together echoes through the barn, a symphony of our passion.

Her walls flutter around my length as I drive deeper, pulling a desperate moan from her throat. "God, Silas. I'm right on the edge."

"Break for me, my beautiful goddess," I growl, driving into her with fierce desire. "Show me how you shatter for me alone."

Her body shakes as she surrenders to her orgasm, her walls clenching around me and demanding my release. I let go, thrusting deep and spilling myself into her. The electric sensation sends a rush through my body that ignites something primal within me.

As she shudders beneath me, I wrap my forearm around her neck, forcing her back to arch. I drop the knife, no longer needing it, and instead, claim her with my teeth, biting down on her soft shoulder.

My grip on her neck tightens, feeling the delicate bones beneath my palm. My teeth sink deeper, needing to leave my mark, to brand her as mine in every way possible. Her skin breaks, and the metallic tang of blood fills my mouth, spurring me deeper into my depravity.

She moans, her body submitting to me fully. In that moment I feel it, the undeniable sense of ownership—she is mine, and I am hers. Our connection is raw, intense, something I've never experienced before.

Slowly pulling my teeth from her shoulder, I trace the path of the bite with my tongue, tasting her, savoring her essence. My arm around her neck relaxes, but I don't release her, needing to feel her softness against me.

“I own every part of you, Clara," I breathe, my voice heavy with dark intent. "Your flesh. Your fear. Your future.”

Her breathing is ragged, her body pliant. I can feel her heart racing, the pulse at her neck throbbing wildly. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her breasts heaving with each breath.

I savor the mark like a communion, the taste of her blood a sacred offering. "Give voice to what we both know. Tell me your soul belongs to my darkness."

Her words emerge like a forbidden prayer, feeding my obsession. "You've claimed even my darkest parts. I'm bound to you completely."

With those words, my body reacts, ready for another round. I'm not done with her yet. Her surrender ignites something primal within me—a need to possess not just her body, but her very essence. Her submission is intoxicating, and I want to carve my dominance into her soul, claim every dark corner of her mind, every secret thought she's ever had. Her complete surrender to me, acknowledging me as her god, feeds the monster inside me. I want to reshape her, mold her into my perfect creation, until the line between us blurs and she exists solely for my pleasure, my ownership, my control.