Page 82 of The Surrender

One thing I do not have in common with Quinn: I wish I could turn numb.

He doesn’t allow it. He holds my mind, my body, He holds my full self within the palm of his hand. He directs my pain, my pleasure, and all my senses.

And still, I hold onto hope that this is simply a season for atonement. Perhaps if he torments and punishes me enough, he will grow bored and eventually release me.

My breath hitches at the first touch of his cock to my slit. Tensing only increases the pain as he pushes inside me, working himself inside me, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated with his firm balls against my lower ass. First, he unstuffs my ears so I may listen to his heavy breathing, deep grunt, and cooing words. “Good little mine,” is always what he says first.

I moan on cue when he tweaks my nipples. He’s gifted a new piercing for them each night, along with my clit. They keep the stinging pain fresh. What’s worse is the opposite extreme. If he were content to simply give me the pain, it would be easier.

But Kronos suckles my nipples like they are a treat. He rubs my nub, which grows plump and swollen while my pussy heats and oozes with arousal. Endorphins ignite. Chemicals gush through me.

“Yes, drip all over me and take my cock, dirty little mine. Mine forever.” He crushes my hopes with those words every time and tugs on the ring in my clit, playing with it while I arch and writhe and moan beneath him.

He feels harder, thicker. Like the size of a minotaur as he rocks in and out, pumping ferociously into me. With a chuckle, he rips off the blindfold, stabbing deep into my anus so he may capture the pain and shock in my eyes.

“Pretty little soul,” he commends me for whatever he finds.

I imagine my hatred must fester like an internal wound. A poison infecting every drop of my blood, but I’ve kept it out of my eyes and give him whatever he wants.

Gods shouldn’t sweat, but I’m convinced he does just for me. It makes my skin crawl and churns my stomach. Those sensations don’t last before he commands my pleasure. Huge cock in my ass to punish me while he works his fist in twisting movements until it pops in my pussy.

I convulse, muscles tightening and spasming and fluttering around his fist like he loves. Anal muscles clenched so hard, I wonder if it’s possible to strangle a cock.

As usual, he covers me in ropes of hot seed to cover me. Then, he covers me in warm streams of his urine. But it doesn’t satisfy him for long. After he wipes his member off, he’s still iron-rigid and ready to penetrate me while his cum dries and crusts my skin.

First, he feeds it to me. I’ve discovered how much I picked up from Quinn with her experience with boys in the Borderlands. It hasn’t taken me long to learn how to suck a cock. My lungs burn from lack of breath at how he chokes me, then pulls out to free my air, and slaps his dick across my cheek and then the other, coating my skin in my own saliva and his cum.

His saliva comes next. I can’t help my body’s response when he suckles my nipples before licking my clit and closing his lips around it. I can’t help the climaxes ripping through me, each one like a lightning strike birthed from his mouth and tongue.

Blood comes last. He’s begun to mix ours. Superficial slashes on my belly. It guts me deep to my core because he never marks me so deeply, he leaves a scar. He doesn’t have to. He’s covered my soul with scars. If he left a mark on my skin, I could pretend like her. I could take solace that she and I share something.

Instead, I must wear the beauty he has created from the piercings in my tits and clit to the diamonds and rubies seared into my flesh. Tears burn my eyes every time he leans down to trace the jewels on my chest and bustline, admiring the decoration he’s imparted.

Everything else I have is what Kronos ejects, then washes away, grinning with malevolence the whole time because I will always feel his defilement. I’ll never wash him off me. I’ll never be clean, nor free of him.

I both love and hate it.

After he’s pinched my nipples with the blood and rubbed it along my clit and my skin, Kronos commands, “Kiss me.”

Trembling beneath him, I arch my neck and lift my mouth to his. At the same moment that our lips touch, he sheathes himself to the hilt inside me.

A deep groan from his mouth vibrates into my throat to fill my chest. “So fucking tight every time. I’m going deeper in and harder than ever, Nereya. And you’re going to thank me for fucking you.”

By now, I know not to look away.

He smiles down at me. A sick and twisted smile. Not one of a sadist because that would be a comfort. His smile is one of a deity who is assured of his power and control. I feel that power and control like a spiderweb tangling with his affection.

With his divine eyes centered on me and smile growing in approval, Kronos lowers his hand to rub my hot nubbin and says, “Come with me, little soul.”

Pressure snaps inside me. He jerks hard, thrusting so deep, I imagine my womb itself must howl. Unlike every time, he doesn’t pull out to cover me with his seed. Instead, he unleashes it inside me. It’s not so rare, but it is the first time he remains inside me, tracing those gems, fingering locks of my hair, kissing my lips tenderly now and then.

I wish he would come out, do his aftercare, and chain me up again. At least cold air would be a relief for my burning sore cunt.

“I underestimated her,” he croons and kisses my cheek.

I raise my brows, but I know whom he’s referencing. My blood crystallizes more because the thought of Quintessa is a greater, deeper torture. One I can never hope to escape. Her ghost haunts me every moment of every day.

Kronos lowers his lips to my brow. “She has broken two gods’ curses. The Veil of Souls is forming cracks. How proud those fools are of a child growing in her womb.”

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