52 Grabbing (1/2)

It hurts so good. It makes me want to cry out. I come once and then over again. He forces orgasms from me, no fancy means of torment, just plain hard fucking, the hard line of his pubic bone grinding my spanked clit over and over. I come half a dozen times and by the time he takes mercy on me and deigns to spill his seed inside me I am aching inside and out.

”Don't ever fucking make me worry for you like that again,” he growls in my ear as he slides from me and lets my feet touch the floor.

”I won't, I promise,” I whimper, meaning it.

There is one man left. Pharaoh. Standing in the middle of the balcony, his hands on his hips, the eagle amber of his eyes focused on me so fiercely I wish I could sink through the ground. I am naked, cum-sodden, sore, spanked, and I know none of that matters to him right now.

”I'm sorry,” I whimper, falling to my knees. It won't save me, I know that. ”Take me. Hurt me. Use me. Just... forgive me.”

He draws in a deep breath. Pharaoh—no, Oren. That's his name. I know him perhaps the least of all of them. He takes the dimmest view of my behavior. He is the most demanding. He holds himself apart in many ways, and I crave his approval, though I know I do not have it.

”Forgiveness is given when lessons are learned,” he says. ”You haven't learned a thing.”

”I have, I promise!”

”You would promise anything to avoid more punishment.”

”That's not true. You can do anything you want to me.”

”I know that,” he snaps.

I swallow. ”Or maybe... you don't want to do anything to me anymore.”

”You have not earned the right to pity yourself, girl,” he growls.

I look around at the others—Silver, Alexios, Mattias—for help, but even the king himself has decided to leave me to Oren's wrath.

”What can I do to make it up to you?”

He gives me a hard look. ”Get up.”