Page 89 of Kotori
"Fuck," he snarls, his control finally cracking as he sets a punishing pace. "Tight little cunt, gripping me like you never want to let me go."
The crude words should shock me, should remind me of how far I've fallen. Instead, they make me clench around him harder, desperate to please, to be everything he needs me to be.
"Is this what you've been craving?" he growls, one hand fisting in my hair to hold me in place while he pounds into me. Above me, I can see the flex of his forearm, black ink shifting as his muscles work—traditional patterns that mark him as yakuza, as someone who commands through violence and absolute authority. "Getting fucked like the desperate slut you are? Being used by the man who owns you?"
"Yes," I sob, pleasure building with frightening intensity. "Yes! I've needed this so badly."
"Needed what? Be specific."
"Needed you to fuck me," I gasp, past caring how filthy I sound. "Needed to be reminded that I belong to you. That I'm nothing but your slut to use however you want."
"Ore no ningyou," he growls in rough Japanese that makes my core clench even though I don't understand all the words. "Kimi no manko wa ore no mono da. Say it—tell me your cunt belongs to me."
"My cunt belongs to you," I cry out, the degrading words pushed from my throat by desperate need.
"That's right. You exist for my pleasure now. Your only purpose is to take my cock and be grateful for the privilege."
The degrading words push me toward an edge I didn't know existed. When he shifts angle, hitting that spot deep inside that makes stars explode behind my eyelids, I cry out his name like a broken prayer.
"You like being degraded like this, don't you?" His voice is rough with exertion and dark triumph. "Like being reminded that you're nothing but a fucktoy for my use."
"I love it," I sob, beyond shame or dignity or any pretense of being anything other than his willing whore. "I love being yours completely."
"Then come on my cock like the good little slut you are. Show me how much you love belonging to me."
The command combined with one more devastating thrust sends me over the edge again. I convulse around him, my body clenching as another orgasm tears through me, this one even more intense than the first.
My surrender pushes him over his own edge. His grip on my hips becomes bruising as he drives deep one final time, his cock pulsing as he empties himself inside me. The hot rush of his release filling me feels like the final seal on my ownership.
"Ore no mono," he growls in harsh Japanese, collapsing forward to pin me against the wall with his weight. "Kimi wa ore no mesu da.Completely fucking mine."
"Yours," I agree breathlessly, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "Always yours."
Afterward, he pulls out slowly, making me whimper. "Clean yourself up," he says, reaching for his gi and returning to his normal composed demeanor. "Then go to my chambers. I'm not done with you tonight."
Not done. The promise makes my abused body clench with renewed need despite what we've just done.
"Thank you," I whisper as I struggle to collect my scattered clothes. "For helping me accept what I am."
His smile is warm, satisfied, completely possessive. "You're welcome, kotori. Though we've barely begun your education in serving my needs."
The promise follows me as I stumble toward his chambers, my body still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. Anticipation builds in my belly at the thought of what new lessons await. Of how thoroughly he plans to erase whatever's left of the woman I used to be.
Because he's right. This is what I am now. His willing plaything, addicted to his dominance and the relief that comes from stopping the fight against my own nature.
And I've never felt more complete in my life.
24
Kaito
Istandbeforethemirror in my private chambers. The reflection shows a man in complete control: composed features, steady hands, the satisfied expression of a predator who has successfully broken his prey.
But beneath the surface, dark anticipation courses through my veins.
She will come to me willingly. Not dragged, not coerced, but walking through my doors with the complete surrender I've spent months engineering. The thought sends brutal satisfaction through every nerve ending.
The dojo floor still bears the scent of our claiming—her arousal, my dominance, the unmistakable musk of absolute possession. By tomorrow, the staff will have cleaned away the physical evidence, but the psychological scarring will remain forever.
