The Library

Lilith

M y legs are still trembling as I step out of his house, my mind spinning with everything that just happened. The feel of him, the taste of him—it’s all still so fresh in my head. I can’t believe what I just did, what he made me do. And the worst part? I loved every second of it.

The way he fucked me, slowly at first, letting me feel every inch of his cock stretching my tight, virgin pussy, before slamming into me with a force that had me seeing stars—it’s etched into my body, my mind, my soul. He took me hard, rough, but with just enough control to keep me grounded, talking me through the pain, guiding me into the pleasure that followed.

I can still feel the ache in my jaw, the raw burn in my throat from choking on him, and the lingering taste of his come on my lips. The way he looked down at me, his cock deep in my mouth, telling me I was his good girl as tears streamed down my cheeks—it was twisted, dark, and I fucking loved it. My body is on fire, still trembling from the way he took me, the way he claimed me in every possible way. He didn’t just fuck me, he owned me—pinned me down and made me come over and over again until I was nothing but a writhing mess beneath him, begging for more.

I know I should be ashamed, especially since he just took my virginity—ripped it away like it was nothing, like it was his to take all along. But I’m not. There’s no room for guilt in the haze of lust and need that’s consuming me right now. Instead, I feel alive, raw, aching in ways I’ve never known before. His come is still inside me, marking me, as if it’s a reminder that I’ll never be the same again. And maybe I don’t want to be.

All I can think about is him. How his cock filled me, how he stretched me, how he was gentle for me, but I saw it in his eyes—this was the last time he’d ever be gentle. He didn’t say it, but I could feel it in the way his hands gripped me, in the way he held back. He won’t hold back again. Next time, he’ll take me like the monster he really is, and I can’t stop thinking about how badly I want it.

I can still feel the ache between my legs, a reminder of how Sebastian just fucked me. But it’s not just wetness—it’s his come, leaking down my thighs with every step I take to my car. He filled me completely, his cock so big I could barely take it all. My body is still throbbing from the way he stretched me, ruined me, and yet, I can’t stop thinking about how much more I want.

Every time I shift, I feel the soreness deep inside me, a raw, aching reminder of how hard he pushed into me, how he made me take him, inch by inch, until I was nothing but a trembling mess underneath him. He knew exactly what he was doing, making sure I felt every part of him, and now I can’t stop feeling it. My pussy is still swollen, tender from the way he fucked me, the memory of his cock driving into me over and over again branded into my skin.

I knew his cock was big—felt it when he pressed into me, inch by inch, stretching me until I thought I might tear. But it wasn’t just the size—it was the way he used it, the way he looked at me as he fucked me, watching every reaction, every moan, every gasp of pain and pleasure. And even though he was gentle at first, I can already feel the sting of it. The kind of sting that will stay with me for days, a constant, throbbing reminder of just how much of me he took. How much I let him take.

But the way he came inside me—no condom, no hesitation—was another form of his control. He knew exactly what he was doing, laying claim to me in the most primal, possessive way possible. He didn’t ask, didn’t wait for permission, just filled me completely with his come like I was already his. And god, I fucking loved it. The way he laid claim to me, marking me with his seed, owning me in every way. It wasn’t just about sex—it was about power, control, and the fact that I let him have all of it.

And the worst part? I want more. Even now, as I feel his come trickling down my thighs, marking me as his, I know I’d let him do it all over again. Let him fuck me until I’m broken, ruined, until there’s nothing left of me but his to claim.

I know this was just the beginning. He was careful with me, holding back, and I can’t stop thinking about what it’s going to feel like when he doesn’t. When he gives me everything, without restraint. The thought sends a shiver down my spine, even through the soreness, because I want it. I crave it. It’s like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore. It’s his. He made sure of that when he fucked me, when he filled me so completely, leaving no part of me untouched.

I can still feel the weight of him, the way he looked down at me like I was something to be devoured, conquered, and even though he took so much, I know he wants to rip more away from me. I know he’s going to push me further, break me in ways I can’t even imagine yet. And the terrifying part? I’m ready for it. I want him to take it all. My body, my mind, my soul—whatever he wants, it’s already his.

I never thought I’d want someone like this—never thought I’d crave someone so much after the way he used me. But I do. God, I do. I want him again. I need him again. The way he fucked me… it’s all I can think about. Every inch of my body still feels him, still wants him. I can barely walk without remembering the way he stretched me, the way his cock filled me, the way he looked down at me like I was his possession.

And now, I am. I’m his, and the terrifying thing is, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Fuck, what is he doing to me?

I can barely focus as I make my way back to my apartment. My mind keeps drifting back to the way he looked at me, the way he commanded me, took control of me. The way he told me that I was his. It’s intoxicating, the way he owns every part of me without even having to try.

But then there’s the other part. The part where he’s been watching me. Where he knows every little thing about me. He’s been in my apartment. He’s seen me at my most vulnerable, seen the way I touch myself, the way I moan his name without even realizing it.

I should be terrified. I should be running far, far away from him.

But I’m not.

All I can think about is seeing him again, feeling him again, losing myself in the way he makes me feel. I’m not just thinking about it—I’m craving it. And that scares me more than anything.

He cleaned me up afterward, his touch surprisingly gentle as he wiped the sweat and tears from my skin. Then he told me I could stay. I didn’t miss the significance of that—it wasn’t just an offer. It was him giving me a shred of dignity back, but only because he allowed it. Even in that small gesture, the power was still his. He’s in control of everything, even my need for him, and I hate that I’m starting to love it.

I get back to my apartment and close the door behind me, leaning against it as I try to catch my breath. My hands are shaking, my body still buzzing from everything that happened. I feel like I’m going to explode if I don’t do something about the heat pooling between my legs again.

Without thinking, I head straight to my bedroom, my fingers already reaching for my pussy, still filled with his come. I can’t to my bed fast enough, as I collapse onto it, my hand slipping between my legs. I know he’s watching. I’m going to put on a show.

I’m soaked with his come.

I moan as my fingers brush against my clit, and the image of him, standing over me, his cock deep in my throat, floods my mind. The way he looked at me, the way he told me I was his—fuck, it’s driving me crazy. I can’t stop thinking about it. About him.

I circle my clit slowly, letting the sensation build, my body already on edge from the day. I can hear his voice in my head, low and commanding.

“Good girl.”

God, I want to hear him say that again. I want to be his good girl. I want him to ruin me, to make me his in every way imaginable.

I slip a finger inside myself, gasping at the sting. I’m bleeding and raw from him fucking me, but I don’t even mind the pain. It reminds me of him. My hips buck against my hand, and I bite my lip to stifle the moan threatening to escape. My other hand reaches up to my breast, pinching my nipple hard enough to send a jolt of pleasure straight to my core.

I can’t stop thinking about him. The way he fucked me, the way he made me feel so small, so powerless, but at the same time, so fucking alive.

I add another finger, pumping them in and out of myself, my body already trembling on the edge. My mind is spinning, lost in the fantasy of him.

“I’m going to fuck you in every way imaginable.”

I picture him on top of me, his hands on my body, pulling me onto his cock, filling me over and over again until I can’t take it anymore. My fingers work faster, my clit throbbing under my touch as the pleasure builds to a crescendo.

“You’re mine, .”

I can hear his voice, feel his breath against my neck, and it pushes me over the edge. My body tenses, and I come hard, my hips bucking against my hand as I moan his name, over and over again.

“ Sebastian .”

It’s like a prayer, a plea for more, and as the waves of pleasure crash over me, I know that I’m lost. He’s right. He’s the only god I’ll ever know, and I’ll worship him with everything I have. It doesn’t matter if he takes me to heaven or hell—I’ll follow him wherever he goes.

I lay there for a few minutes, my body still trembling from the intensity of it all, my chest rising and falling as I catch my breath.

But as the pleasure fades, the reality of it all comes crashing back down. What am I doing? What is he doing to me? He’s dangerous. I know that. And yet… I can’t stay away.

I type out a message to him.

I hesitate for just a second, but then I hit send.

We need to talk. Seriously this time.

Whatever this is, whatever is happening between us, I need answers. I need to know what he wants from me, what his endgame is. But more than that, I need him. Again. I can’t deny it anymore—the pull between us is too strong. But it’s not just the lust. I want to understand him. I want him to let me in, at least a little bit.

He knows everything about me, every detail, every weakness, every secret. I want him to trust me with something, anything. I need him to show me the parts of himself that he keeps hidden in the shadows, just like he does with me. I want more than just his body—I want to know him.