Page 68 of Every Shade of Shadow

He disappears from view, winding the levers back on the rack and allowing my limbs to fall back into position. My bones ache, my joints loose and fragile. I may never be the same.

My bonds are undone, and the Professor lifts me back into his arms. Leading me away from the rack, he steps in and out of the shadows, the fire casting its light upon most of his chest and shoulders. Already the blood around my wrists and ankles is starting to cool and grow sticky. I imagine my wounds will take days to heal. I know the situation between my legs is probably the same, not to mention the river of cum still leaving my body, but I’m too tired to care.

Correction: too satisfied to care.

The firelight continues to flicker as we move up the stairs, the last thing I see as a crushing wave of fatigue consumes me.

“Sleep,” he whispers.

And a single second after that word leaves his lips, I do.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Getting out of bed is an effort the following morning. How Darkwood even got me back here is a mystery, but I seem to be clean, albeit naked.

My ankles, knees, and ribs protest as I walk, but there are no surprises there. That damn rack of his got close to pulling me apart. I stretch out my joints in the hope that will help, but all it seems to do is open up new areas of pain.

I hold up my wrists, but they’re no longer bloody from the bonds—only a lingering ring of pink around each. That’s almost certainly Darkwood using some kind of healing spell to at least have me looking somewhat presentable today.

But there’s one area of particular concern. I reach down between my legs just to check it’s still there and not obliterated completely by the Professor’s monster of a cock.

The lips of my pussy are swollen and tender, yes, but I’ll live.

For all this discomfort, though, there is only one way to describe how I feel.

Amazing.

Fucking amazing.

Because I’ve lost it, and it wasn’t some buck-toothed drunk from a bar or cauliflower-head college kid running his mouth, but a real man, dominating and taking me to places I thought impossible.

And it’s just the start, I tell myself, fresh anticipation already growing where Damien was inside me only hours ago.

I can still feel him there, the phantom fill of his cock.

Is that possible? Is it even a thing? Has he ruined me for an average man?

Not that I think I could be with anyone else after experiencing what I have with the Professor. It would all seem so…vanilla. Which is fine. Vanilla was always my least-favorite flavor. Brownie Batter Core all the way, baby.

If I close my eyes, it’s like he’s already fucking me again, plunging into me over and over until I can barely breathe.

And still you barely know a thing about him.

That may be true, but if our language is fucking, that’s fine by me.

I shower, the bathroom jam-packed, and still I can’t wipe the smile off my face. It’s not a toothy grin by any means. It’s just a proper, honest smile of a woman who’s been truly satisfied. I’ve had my brains fucked out for the very first time and it was wonderful and word-shattering…even if I was strapped to a medieval torture device and actively being ripped limb from limb.

I’m toweling off back in my room when there’s a knock on my door.

“It’s us,” comes Lily’s voice.

“Who?” I query, playing along.

“Dumb and fucking dumber. Let us in.”

I wrap myself in the towel and pad over to the door, pulling it wide. Lily and Ava spill inside.

Lily goes to say something, but stops, lifting up a finger. “Wait, wait, wait…”

---