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Soren is pounding my pussy harder and faster, his big hands curling in my hair. They’re both gripping my head, both trying to control the one thing they can never control: my mind. They can use my body, but they don’t know me. They can’t claim what lies at the core of me. But they can make my body shake and quiver, they can make lewd sounds emerge from both ends. They can shame, humiliate, and claim my flesh, and I will let them, because the pleasure that coils along my spine, makes my toes curl, and takes me out of my body entirely is absolutely worth it.
I scream in orgasm as Soren floods my pussy with his seed. My lips and tongue lap and contort around Jason’s cock and send him over that invisible edge we have all been desperately trying to reach since this began.
He comes. I come. Soren comes. Soren’s cock throbs inside my ravaged little cunt, pulsing and filling me with that great big muscular rod. His seed spills from me when he pulls free, and then is pushed deeper inside me when he drives back in again. It’s not enough to fuck me, or to come inside me. He has to drive it in again and again. He is using his cock to spread his seed around my pussy, to make it sink into every part of me, to mark me as his.
Afterward, he holds me. He holds the chain in his hands, and I turn my face up to him. I let him see me, as much of me as can safely be seen, and I ask the question that has been burning inside me.
“Do you forgive me?”
“You’re forgiven,” Soren says. “But don’t make any mistake, Aslin. The rules have changed. You’re my pup now. You belong to me, and you do as I say.”
You belong to me. Those words stick in my mind and play themselves over and over again. They make me feel warm, and loved, or maybe something more than loved. Possessed. Safe. Held. His. Theirs.
I finally fall asleep, and properly this time, not the broken sleep I got last night that was shallow from guilt. This is the deep kind of sleep that only the forgiven can experience, wrapped in the arms of someone I can feel cherishes me.
9
Soren
“Feel better?”
“Much,” I answer Jason.
Aslin is still asleep next to us, exhausted and finally, maybe, under control. We fucked for most of the evening, and then we all slept together again last night in a big pile of sexually satiated limbs. I was warm and I was happy. I felt like I’d finally gotten through to her, and that maybe we’d made a connection that would finally lead to the truth.
He grins. It was never really a question in either of our minds that we would share Aslin. She’s too much trouble for any one man to handle. I was hesitant, thinking she might be too delicate — though I knew she wasn’t delicate. I am ashamed, to some extent, of my appetites. It takes a special woman to withstand my love, and an even more rare one to blossom in it. I think I’ve known from the beginning that Aslin was for me, but I couldn’t be sure until it happened.
“Do you know exactly what you have on your leash? You think it’s a puppy, but it might turn out to be a panther cub.”
Jason is still grinning.
“You think she’s a bank robber?”
“I think she’s…” He shakes his head. “I think she’s a survivor. That can mean a lot of things. When people have to learn how to get by, they usually learn a lot of other dangerous things besides. I have to wonder how much she’s been hurt.”
As luck would have it, we don’t have to speculate too much longer. When we check the comms equipment, there’s a message waiting for us, a blinking light on the radio indicating something is ready to be downloaded. Bill left me a message about Aslin. Finally, the mystery is going to be resolved, or we’ll at least know a little more about her.
“Aslin Reed doesn’t exist,” Brian’s voice says, crackly and gravelly. In the early morning light, it’s a creepy missive to receive. “There’s no record of any Aslin Reed existing before about six months ago. I don’t know who you have out there but be careful.”
“Well. Fuck,” Jason curses.
“She might have a good reason to be using a fake name.” I leap immediately to the best possible interpretation of the facts. “A lot of women have to change their names when they leave bad relationships.”
“And she’s obviously hiding out here,” Jason adds.
“So we can assume there’s an ex somewhere in the picture,” I murmur.
“We might have to actually talk to her,” Jason says.
