Chapter 11

Isabella

I couldn't see his face, only feel his presence—tall, imposing, like an insurmountable mountain. He stood before me, his breath hot, mingled with expensive cologne and wildness that made my wolf howl inside me.

I tried to move but found my wrists bound behind my back with thick leather straps, my ankles fastened to the sides of the stone altar, forcing my legs wide open, my sex completely exposed before him, wet folds glistening in the moonlight.

The leather bit into my skin with a slight sting, yet it felt strangely comforting, as if being controlled by him was natural.

God, why does this feel so right?

His fingers suddenly gripped my chin, forcing me to look up. I couldn't make out his face, but those amber eyes glowed in the darkness, like a predator's gaze. My sex spasmed, my clit swollen to the point of pain, wetness flowing uncontrollably down my inner thighs, leaving sticky trails.

"Answer me, little wolf," he commanded, his voice low like thunder, making my entire body tremble.

"Yes..." I panted, my voice small, almost begging.

"Yes, what?" His thumb slid across my lips, the rough texture making me instinctively open my mouth, my tongue nearly touching his skin.

"Yes, sir," I moaned, my body involuntarily leaning forward, trying to get closer to him.

"Good girl," he chuckled, satisfaction in his voice, "and good girls deserve rewards, don't you think?"

I nodded, my throat too dry to speak, my heart beating so fast it felt ready to explode. He released my chin and stepped back. I heard the light click of metal clasps, as if something was being unfastened.

The next moment, a warm leather whip lightly tapped my breasts, just enough force to create a sting, my nipples hardening further, as if begging for more. I let out a cry, my body arching, the wetness between my legs intensifying, pulsing with each of his touches.

"You like this, don't you?" he whispered, the whip falling again, this time striking my abdomen, leaving a hot red mark that burned into my nerves.

"Yes, sir, please..." I gasped, my voice broken like a plea. My sex was so wet it felt like it was melting, my clit throbbing as if it had its own heartbeat, each strike bringing me closer to the edge of collapse.

He paused, the air filled only with my panting and the distant murmurs of other presences—their energy like a dark tide, pressing on me until I could barely breathe.

I felt him circling me, like a hunter examining his prey. Suddenly, a large hand gripped the back of my neck, forcing my head down, while his other hand slapped my bottom hard, the sound of the blow echoing through the room. Pain shot through my body like lightning, the burning sensation in my buttocks surging straight to my sex, my clit jerking violently, wetness dripping onto the stone altar.

"Little wolf, what do you want me to do?" his voice was against my ear, his hot breath making me shiver, "Punish you, or... satisfy you?"

"Both, sir," I nearly cried, my body shaking like a sieve, "please... whatever you want to do."

He chuckled, a hint of danger in his voice: "Whatever I want? Be careful, little wolf, I'm not gentle."

Before I could respond, I heard a deep humming sound, like electricity crackling in the air. From the shadows, he produced a vibrator, smooth and gleaming coldly in the moonlight. As he approached, the humming grew louder, teasing my nerves.

Without hesitation, he pressed the vibrating head against my labia, avoiding my clit, slowly sliding it along the outer edges. I jerked violently, screaming as I arched my body, every fold of my sex numbed by the vibration, pleasure sharp as a knife shooting straight to my brain.

"Don't move," he commanded coldly, his fingers gripping my throat, just tight enough to make breathing difficult but not enough to choke me, "you'll take only what I give you."

"Yes, sir," I sobbed, tears sliding down my cheeks, yet my sex clenched at his control. The vibrator continued to roam my outer labia, stimulating every inch of sensitive skin, deliberately avoiding the spot I craved most. My clit was swollen to bursting, wetness gushing from my entrance, streaming down my thighs, the air thick with my musky scent.

Suddenly, he moved the vibrator directly over my clit, the vibration increasing sharply, like an electric current striking my core. I screamed, my body convulsing violently, every nerve in my sex burning, my vagina contracting uncontrollably, begging to be filled. I clenched my teeth, trying to obey his command, but the pleasure had reached its limit, my moans turning into broken pleas: "Please, sir... I can't take anymore..."

"Not enough," he growled, releasing my throat, his other hand slapping my bottom hard again, pain and pleasure exploding simultaneously, the burning in my buttocks making my sex wetter.

He pressed the vibrator directly against my clit, turning it to maximum, while his fingers probed my vagina, precisely pressing against the sensitive spot inside.

My mind went blank, my vagina gripping his fingers, my clit pulsing under the vibration, waves of pleasure crashing over me, threatening to tear my body apart.

"Beg me once more, little wolf," he commanded, his fingers thrusting faster, the vibrator mercilessly stimulating my clit.

"Please, sir, let me come!" I screamed, my body tense to the breaking point, my sex erupting like a volcano, wetness dripping onto the stone altar with shameful sounds.

He paused for a second, as if enjoying my breakdown, then whispered: "Come now."

Pleasure crashed over me like a tsunami. I screamed as I released, my sex contracting violently, my clit exploding under the vibration, wetness gushing out like a flood down my thighs.

My vagina clenched tightly around his fingers, each contraction bringing new waves of pleasure, my body convulsing in its restraints, every cell burning. My wolf howled, completely submitting to his control, my consciousness nearly consumed by pleasure, only his scent and whispers echoing in my ears.

I jerked awake from the dream, my body still caught in the aftershocks of orgasm, my underwear soaked through as if drenched in water. I gasped for breath, staring at the familiar water stain on my apartment ceiling, unable to believe I had reached such an intense climax merely from a dream.

That blonde man—his amber eyes, his voice, the moment he called me "little wolf" at the Howling Night Bar—all branded into my mind. Was it him in the dream? My wolf growled inside me, craving answers, while I felt only shame and emptiness.

What the hell is wrong with me? Am I so pathetic even in my dreams?