Page 119 of Every Shade of Shadow

A whole student body sleeps above and yet here I am, allowing myself to be tortured by a man twice my age for what? A greater purpose? To be fucked senseless and discarded like so many others?

I hover there, unwilling to make any move, adjust anything that might work to impale me further.

I know at any moment Darkwood could drop the lever completely and my weight would skewer me on the pyramid, the tip of the Judas Cradle hammering up into my insides. The thrill is almost erotic, bordering that fine line that skirts between death and sexuality, a line I have not known until now, when it is thrust before me—the line that has provided me already with power beyond my wildest dreams.

The lever drops more, the tip of the pyramid running right into my soaking cunt.

The air is driven from my lungs, the pyramid getting wider as I drop. It stretches me out from every angle, the pyramid oddly shaped and unnatural, never meant to be placed into a body. I’m more and more puzzled by the pleasure building within.

The shadows’ whispers grow louder, stronger.

The sting of the initial penetration dissipates, and I find myself oddly rocking forward to take more of the device inside myself. I squeeze down upon it, test my muscles and the new sensation as my head lolls in the air and my nipples turn to diamond points on flushed areolae.

“Ah, you enjoy it, my chair,” the Professor says, pulling the lever again until the pyramid sinks deeper and the tip prods right into the deep, hot confines of my cunt. My ass cheeks clench as he pulls until half the pyramid is swallowed completely, the ring of my sex drawn painfully wide and obscene as I sit there in limbo.

Lust takes over me, pushing aside logic. If I saw this just an hour ago, I would have laughed at the idea of letting it penetrate me. Nothing seems funny about it now.

I don’t know if my poor sex can accommodate any more. This isn’t a cock. It’s not human, not flexible. Another drop and I will break, the tip of the pyramid driven into my womb and vital organs beyond.

But Darkwood has other plans.

He uses another lever to lift me up slightly and then let me down with the other. In this way, I am pulled up and down on the pyramid, slowly fucked by this contraption as the sensation swells and builds and I shamefully spill fresh desire to make the unholy act even easier.

“See how you grow wet for it,” the Professor laughs. “You are a born minx, my dear, a true child of the shadows. You feel it, don’t you? How the shadows feed on it, how your power grows.”

I do.

Up and down I am lowered, the harness tight around my waist and my wrists pulled awkwardly behind my back. Inch by inch I take more of the pyramid until I am truly at my breaking point, the harsh angles of the pyramid turning my sex into a squared-out bore.

I smell it, my desire, sweat, sex all around me as I am pulled high and the pyramid leaves me, my flowered lips closing once more, and my hole left open and dripping. I look down to see the metallic tip of the chair glistening.

The Professor claps his hands below. “You have done well, little lamb, but I can tell you crave a real cock—one of flesh and blood.”

An odd twitch causes my sex to spasm and squeeze as I swing.

“Say you want it. Say you want my cock.”

I breathe hard, rushing the words out. “I want your cock.”

Shame washes over me, but the shadows are stronger, willing me on to greater pleasure.

The Professor works the pulley until I’m lifted clear off the cradle and back towards the floor, but he doesn’t lower me completely, allowing me to swing there in mid-air.

The harness pulls tighter around me, the leather wet as the ropes strain either side and my wrists plead for clemency.

The Professor moves to me now, taking his time, eyes burning with desire as he approaches my position. It’s as if he means to make me beg for him. Beg for his long, hard inches to plow into my pussy and pound me like there’s no tomorrow.

I am lowered enough for him to hold me under the thighs. His big hands land on my skin, his hungry gaze roaming up and down my body. He moves between my legs, his face on the same level as my chest. He guides his stiff cock to my entrance, breathing over my still swollen nipples.

I am lowered another inch or two, those same invisible forces now working the pullies.

Down I go until his member slips between the pillowy creases of my cunt and rests in the wet oyster inside, leaking fresh desire against my already suffering hole. My thigh muscles flex as my tightness spreads around the sheer girth of his cock.

Darkwood gives a whispered order and the lowering stops. His hands slide until they cup my buttocks. He keeps his thumbs parallel to my crack and splays his fingers over my hungry flesh. He leans forward and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, pulling it to twice its length with his teeth as I mew and beg.

New desire coats the head of his cock as it begins to slide inside me, exploring my depths.

Everything from before is forgotten—the larger problems at play, the drama with Cassandra…there is only myself, the Professor, and the exquisite pleasure his cock provides.

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