The Library

Sebastian

A s I carry her to the car, her body feels light in my arms, completely spent from everything we’ve just done. She doesn’t fight it, doesn’t protest—she can’t. Her limbs are limp, her skin still damp with dirt, blood, and sweat and glowing in the moonlight. I gently place her on the cool leather of the backseat. Her breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps, and I can see how wrecked she is, how vulnerable.

Climbing into the car after her, I’m still fully clothed while she’s completely exposed, naked and raw. I shove her forward through the small gap between the two front seats, bending her over, her ass high in the air. There’s something so intoxicating about seeing her like this, helpless, with no fight left in her. She doesn’t know what’s coming next, but I can see the flicker of anticipation in her eyes as I grab the seat belts.

I pull the belts across her body, one by one, tightening them until they dig into her skin, securing her to the seat like she’s my personal plaything. Because she is. Each click of the buckle, each tightening of the strap, sends a shiver through her. I know she feels it too—the tension, the anticipation, the helplessness. She’s completely at my mercy, and there’s no escape.

I lean in close, my breath hot against her ear. “I can be a lot of things, Lilith… even one of your book boyfriends,” I whisper, my voice low, teasing. I see her reaction immediately, the way her body tenses at the words, the way her breathing hitches. She knows what that means. She knows what’s coming.

Without another word, I slam my cock into her. The seat belts are the only thing holding her in place, stopping her from crashing into the dashboard. Her body jerks violently with each brutal thrust, the sound of her gasping, choking on her own pleasure filling the car. She’s completely restrained, bound so tightly she can barely move, but her body is reacting, arching, desperate to take every inch of me.

I fuck her hard, relentless, the car rocking with the force of each thrust. Her cries fill the space, mixing with the squeak of leather and the sound of my cock slamming into her over and over. Her body is shaking, trembling as the first orgasm rips through her, her pussy tightening around me as she comes. But I don’t stop. I won’t stop until she’s completely shattered beneath me.

I drive her into another orgasm, watching as her body convulses, her moans turning into desperate whimpers. She’s crying out, begging for more, and I give it to her—faster, harder—until her third orgasm sends her over the edge completely, her body collapsing into the seat belts as she screams my name.

I come inside her with a guttural groan, filling her up, my cock pulsing as I pump every last drop of my cum deep inside her. I pull out slowly, savoring the way her body shudders beneath me, her legs trembling, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She’s a fucking masterpiece—ruined and beautiful.

I reach for my phone, the dim light illuminating her sweat-soaked skin with my cum dripping out of her sweet cunt as I snap a picture. She looks up, her eyes widening in disbelief as the sound of the camera clicks. Fury flashes across her face, but it’s mingled with something else—arousal. I know this is getting to her, and it’s turning her on just as much as it’s pissing her off.

“Just a little reminder for later,” I say, my voice dripping with amusement. I laugh when I see the anger in her eyes— she’s fucking pissed. She hates it, but she’s too turned on to deny the effect it has on her.

I undo the seat belts, releasing her from the tight restraints. She’s too exhausted to move, too spent to even lift her arms, so I wrap a blanket around her, pulling her into my arms again. My kiss is soft against her forehead, so different from the way I fucked her moments ago. There’s something about this—about taking care of her after I’ve ruined her—that makes it all the more satisfying. She’s mine, and I’ll treat her like the most sacred thing in the world, because she is.

Lighting a cigarette, I slide into the driver’s seat, taking a long drag before glancing at her. She’s still coming down from the high, her eyes half-closed as she watches the smoke curl around me. That’s when it hits her—we’re close. She’s starting to realize we haven’t driven far.

“I own the whole one hundred and thirty-seven acres around this place,” I tell her, my voice filled with pride. This land, this house, this entire fucking territory—it’s mine. Just like she is. She belongs here, with me, in this dark, twisted world we’ve created.

I park the car in front of the house and get out, circling around to her side. She doesn’t move, too tired to even stand on her own, so I scoop her up again, cradling her in my arms. I carry her inside, past the door and into the warmth of my home. It’s strange, how different it feels now with her in it. Like it’s not just a place—it’s a sanctuary for both of us.

In the bathroom, I run the water hot, steam rising in thick clouds as I lower her into the tub. She relaxes instantly, sinking into the warmth, her muscles softening under the heat. I take my time, washing her carefully, my fingers gliding over her skin, cleaning away the sweat and cum, the dirt and grime. My touch is gentle, deliberate. I’m not just washing her—I’m taking care of her, something I never thought I’d feel the need to do for anyone.

Once she’s clean, I lift her out of the tub, carrying her to the bedroom. The sheets are soft, warm against her skin as I lay her down, spreading her legs wide. I don’t waste time. I lower my mouth to her pussy, tasting her, devouring her with the same intensity as before. Her body reacts instantly, her hips bucking against my face as I lick and suck, my tongue flicking over her clit.

Her moans grow louder, more desperate, and I can feel the tension building inside her again. She’s already so sensitive, so raw, but I push her further, needing to taste her as she comes apart for me. When she finally breaks, her orgasm crashes over her like a wave, her thighs clenching around my head as she screams my name. I don’t stop until I’ve licked every drop of her release, savoring the taste of her on my tongue.

I climb into bed beside her, pulling her close. She fits perfectly against me, her body soft and warm in my arms, her skin still flushed from everything I’ve put her through. I’m still hard, still needing her, and I slide into her slowly, deeply, my cock sinking into her pussy with a groan. It’s different this time—slower, more intimate—but no less intense. Every inch of her wraps around me like she was made for this, made for me. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight as I fuck her, my movements deliberate, savoring every second. This isn’t about control anymore. This is something else.

As I move inside her, my breath mingling with hers in the dark, I realize this is my way of making love to her, or at least the closest thing to it that I’ll ever be able to give. There’s no violence in this, no game, just the slow, steady rhythm of my body against hers, the way she yields to me. It’s more than just the usual obsession, more than the need to dominate and claim her. This is deeper, something I never expected to feel.

I want to take care of her after everything I’ve put her body through tonight. I want her to know that I see her strength, that I’m impressed by how well she handled every brutal thing I threw at her. She didn’t break. If anything, she rose to meet me, challenging me, and it turns me on even more.

As we fall asleep, her body wrapped in mine, my cock still buried deep inside her beautiful pussy, I feel something shift. I can’t explain it, but I know that after tonight, nothing will be the same. She’s not just mine—I’m hers too, in some way I can’t fully grasp.

* * *

The next two weeks pass in a strange blur, our lives settling into a twisted version of normalcy. I fuck her daily, tying her up, dominating her, taking her to the brink of fear and bringing her back again. But every time, after I’ve pushed her to her limits, I hold her close. I kiss her softly. I run my fingers through her hair, soothing her, comforting her. She’s the most sacred thing in my world, and I’ll never let her forget that.

One day, I decide it’s time to show her everything. I take her down to the basement. It’s cold, sterile, the walls lined with the tools of my trade—chains, saws, instruments of torture. There’s dried blood on the floor, remnants of the work I’ve brought home when I couldn’t get to The Library. This is the darkest part of me, the part I’ve kept hidden from her until now.

Lilith hesitates at the doorway, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene. “What is this place?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you bringing me here?”

I step closer, my hand resting on her lower back. “This is me,” I say softly. “Fully letting you into my life. The life in the darkness.”

I watch as her eyes scan the room, lingering on the chains hanging from the ceiling, the medical chair bolted to the floor. I press her back toward it, kissing her roughly, feeling her panic rise as I guide her naked body toward the chair. Her breaths come faster, more frantic, but I don’t stop. I clasp the restraints over her wrists, one by one, then move to her ankles, locking her in place.

She starts to struggle, her body thrashing against the restraints as the fear takes hold. “, no!” she cries, her voice trembling, but I only laugh.

“We’re going to have some fun now,” I murmur darkly, leaning in close, my lips brushing her ear. Her eyes are wide, frantic, her body pulling against the restraints, but she knows as well as I do that there’s no escape. The sight of her helpless, bound to the chair I’ve used so many times before, makes my blood run hotter.

I move around her slowly, letting the anticipation build, letting her fear settle in. “I know what fear does to you, Lilith,” I say, my voice low and menacing. “It makes your pussy wet.” She gasps, her body trembling as I circle her like a predator, my eyes trailing over her exposed skin. I see the flicker of recognition in her eyes, that primal part of her that knows I’m right. Fear has always turned her on, always made her body betray her.

But this isn’t just about fucking her. It’s about letting her in—fully, into the darkest part of me.

I leave her there for a while, watching her squirm in the chair. The restraints bite into her skin, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she struggles to keep her composure. I can feel the fear rolling off of her, thick and heady, but beneath it, there’s desire. She’s always desired the darkness, even if she doesn’t admit it out loud.

I pull a knife from my pocket, the blade glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. Her eyes lock on it, and I see the panic rise again, her body tensing. I bring the knife close, running the cool steel along the edge of her jaw, down her neck, over her collarbone. She shivers, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but she doesn’t say a word. I drag the blade down her arm, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake. It’s not enough to hurt her—just enough to make her bleed.

Blood drips down her skin, and I feel my cock hardening at the sight of it. We both get off on this—the blood, the fear, the power exchange. I drag the knife lower, making another shallow cut across her thigh, watching as the crimson trickles down her leg. Her breathing is ragged now, her body trembling in the chair, her hands clenched into fists as she tries to control herself.

“You like this,” I growl, leaning in closer, my lips brushing her ear. “You like being scared. You like being cut. It makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?”

She moans softly, a sound that’s half fear, half arousal. I can feel the heat radiating from her, the wetness between her legs, and I know she’s on the edge. I undo the restraints slowly, releasing her wrists, then her ankles. Her body is still trembling, weak from the adrenaline and the cuts, but I’m not done with her yet.

I grab her roughly by the waist, spinning her around and slamming her face down onto the metal table bolted to the floor, bending her over to expose her perfect pussy and ass to me. Her body collapses against the cold surface, and I don’t waste any time. I spread her legs apart with mine and thrust into her with brutal force, my cock driving into her as hard as I can.

She screams, the sound echoing off the walls of the basement as I fuck her violently, taking what’s mine. Her body arches beneath me, her skin slick with sweat and blood as I pound into her again and again. Her pussy clenches around me, tight and wet, and I can feel the desperation in her movements as she meets my thrusts, needing more, needing to be completely consumed.

“Look at you,” I growl, my hands gripping her hips tightly as I slam into her. “So fucking perfect when you’re scared. So fucking wet for me.” I bend down, biting the back of her neck, leaving marks on her skin as I continue to fuck her, harder, faster.

Her body trembles, her nails scraping against the metal table as she clings to whatever control she has left. But I’m not giving her any. I fuck her mercilessly, pushing her over the edge until she’s screaming my name, her pussy pulsing around me as she comes violently. The sound of her orgasm sends me into a frenzy, and I thrust deeper, harder, until I finally come inside her, filling her with everything I have.

For a moment, I stand there, my cock still buried deep inside her, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Her body is limp beneath me, trembling and weak, her skin streaked with blood and sweat. But there’s a calmness now, a sense of completion that settles over both of us.

I pull out slowly, watching as she collapses onto the table, completely spent. Her breathing is shallow, her body still shaking slightly from the intensity of what we’ve just done. I step back, looking down at her, my chest tight with something I can’t quite place.

This strange feeling has been building for weeks now. It started as a flicker, something I could easily ignore, but now it’s undeniable. It’s more than just an obsession. More than just control. I’m falling for her.

The realization hits me hard, but I don’t say anything. Not yet. I can’t tell her how much she means to me, how much I need her. She’s more than just mine now—she’s becoming a part of me. But I won’t tell her that. Not yet.

I reach out, running my fingers through her hair, pulling her up gently from the table. Her eyes are half-closed, her body completely drained, and I know I’ve pushed her to her limits. But she’s still here. Still mine.

Over the next few days, our lives blur into a twisted routine. Each day, I fuck her relentlessly, tying her up, dominating her, and pushing her to the very edge of fear and desire. I control every gasp, every shiver, bending her to my will until she’s completely undone beneath me. There’s nothing but the two of us, locked in this dark, consuming dance.

But after I’ve broken her down, I always take care of her. I hold her close, cradling her in my arms, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, running my fingers through her hair. It’s my way of grounding her, reminding her that she’s more than just mine—she’s sacred. Even if she doesn’t fully realize how much yet.

Each moment with her pulls me deeper into something I didn’t expect, something that’s more than just control. I can feel it growing stronger every night as she lies in my arms, completely vulnerable, completely mine.

And then the call comes.

It’s late—she’s resting in my arms, her breath still shaky from the intensity of the day, her skin warm against mine. I feel the vibration of my phone on the nightstand and reach for it without thinking. The number flashing on the screen sends a surge of irritation through me. Work. An assignment. Of course, it had to be now.

I answer, my voice low, trying not to disturb her. But as the details of the job are laid out, the frustration builds. It’s not just any assignment—it’s important, urgent, something I can’t refuse. Another mess that needs cleaning up. I clench my jaw as the voice on the other end tells me where I need to be and when, pulling me away from this.

I hang up, staring at the phone for a long moment, the weight of reality settling over me like chains tightening around my chest. I glance down at her, still nestled against me, her body soft and pliant in my arms, her dark hair splayed over the pillow. I don’t want to leave. Not now. Not when everything feels so… right. So damn perfect.

Carefully, I shift her off of me, pulling the blanket up to cover her. She stirs slightly, her eyes fluttering open in confusion, her lips parting just enough to make my chest tighten. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice soft, sleepy, full of a vulnerability that hits me harder than it should.

“I have to go,” I say, my voice tight. “Work.”

Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t argue. She knows this side of me, knows what it means when I get a call like this. She knows that this is part of the darkness I drag behind me. But that doesn’t stop the sinking feeling in my chest as I pull myself away from her warmth, as I start to dress in silence.

The weight of my gun at my side feels heavier tonight. More final. As if stepping into this job means stepping out of her world for too long. But there’s no getting around it.

Before I leave, I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, breathing her in one last time. “Don’t leave the house while I’m gone,” I murmur, my voice firm but softer than it should be. “I need to know you’re safe. I’ll be back soon.”

She nods, her eyes still heavy with exhaustion, but there’s a flicker of something else—something that mirrors what I feel. Neither of us wants me to go. Not now. Not after what we’ve been through together tonight. Not after how she gave herself to me, completely.

But I have no choice.

As I step out into the night, heading for the shadows where my real work lives, I can’t shake the feeling that this is different. That I’m leaving more than just a body behind. I’m leaving a piece of myself with her, and I already can’t wait to get back.

The motorcycle engine growls to life as I pull out of the driveway, the streets blending into a blur as I push harder, faster. The job has always been a part of who I am, but tonight, it feels like an interruption. A disturbance in something that, for the first time, I don’t want to tear apart.

Lilith is different. And it’s killing me to leave her behind, ever. This job… hell, all of this could have waited. But now I’ve been pulled back into the storm. And for the first time in years, the storm is the last place I want to be.