by Ava Hunt
He had to control how strong his urges were. He had to attempt to contain his madness until he could be deep inside of her where the true release could happen. Morgan wouldn't be free until she was enslaved.
"Please fuck me and let me come on your cock, I need it!" Mercy yelped. She didn't care how she felt, or about the tears burning streaks down her face. Her body focused and only existed where he was touching her. Only in yielding to him could she feel anything.
The full several seconds before he sunk into her were as maddening for him as Morgan felt they were for his trembling little Mercy, and when he sunk hard and deep to his balls into her, she shuddered around him, already so close to her release. Slamming hard, fast, again and again into her, she quaked around him. A wet smacking sound filled the air around them and the temperature of the room seem to go as molten as their lust.
Mercy was out of her body and so deliciously in every moment as her body shook around Morgan's, still tied up and his body pressing her even further against the "X" he had her bound to. She'd never felt so confined and so free all at once. Her body was filled with his large, pulsing cock, thrusting hard and unforgiving into her with more and more force each time, and her body took every inch and every second of it and seemed to become only that space. Only that feeling. Her entire being summarized in the feeling of him overtaking her, her eyes shut and velvet wings purred beneath her eyes. Somewhere in the darkness she'd found herself somewhere so entirely other and beyond normal.
It was safe. Safe, captured, captive.
Barely coming down from her high, Mercy felt the flutter of a thought that she couldn't ever go back to who she was before Morgan, even if he was done with her.
The idea of him being done with her made the tears flow harder, which was frightening. Mercy hadn't realized she was still crying. Her stomach hurt at the idea of being taken where she was not and then dropped off the precipice of this dark, secret chamber she'd entered in her heart with Morgan.
Both of his hands grabbed her face, his hips rolling harder to thrust just right into her to hit every part of the most pleasurable fuck that he could give his Mercy, and his thumbs overtook every tear.
"You're mine, always," he growled, grinding his cock into her harder and spending himself deep inside of her.
Always. He could never give up Mercy. Never let her be free. He couldn't let her be anything other than his. Sinking his still hard cock deep into her, Morgan sharply turned her head to the side and sunk his teeth into her throat, carefully biting her as she gasped. He bit to claim her because he needed to feel her blood against his tongue. His bear required it.
"Mine," he groaned into the broken skin.
Whimpering, Mercy shuddered more against Morgan's cock, eager for every twisted thing he did fucking her.
"Yes," she cried out, feeling somehow past a point of no return when he licked the bite in her neck. Though it ached terribly, it gave her some sense of pride. She was pleasing him.
Just like that, he'd had her begging for him to let her have pleasure, and his pleasure had become the summary of her thoughts and desires. She did want to be his. Mercy knew she should be afraid but somehow she was more afraid at the fact that she wasn't afraid.
"I'm going to untie you now," Morgan growled against her throat, his lips pressing against her with every word, a little sticky against her with some of her blood on his lips. It was perverse but it made every hair of hers stand on edge in a way that was not unlike further arousal.
Saying nothing else, Morgan removed her binds and curled her into his arms, carrying her over to the leather and silk bed and sitting down with her in his arms. He rubbed where she'd been bound, making sure that the circulation would return properly. Mercy said nothing but she'd stopped crying. She seemed smaller, more fragile, more delicate, than she had this whole time. But that was the thing...she was strong. Strong enough to become small for him. Morgan delighted in owning her so wholly. He knew that she was the one for him. That he'd scorch the earth before he let her go.
Suddenly, he rolled her over to her stomach. Mercy's body took note and her nipples hardened against the silk sheets where she hung over his lap.
"You were very good," Morgan's voice was like a rough silk through the air. Dark, deep, rough, and entrancing. "Now, for your reward," he cooed to her.
Then, the first spank landed, hard, on her ass.
Mercy cried out loudly. It was sharp, stinging, and shocking. "I," she groaned but she had no words.
"Don't speak," Morgan ordered. Mercy would obey. She was his.
Obey, Mercy did, and as each spanking hit in exactly the same spot, but a little harder each time, Mercy felt the world around her transform into colors and music around her. As if she were a star scooped from the sky, her body was lightened and painted with stroke against her backside. How could the pain of being spanked be a reward for begging to be allowed pleasure? It didn't make sense in any normal way but the fearful symmetry of Morgan's dark magic enraptured her and she understood. Was enchanted. The wordless acceptance of his reward, of his hand, of his sensation, brought her higher and higher and she somehow felt it. Understood it.
Silence flew Mercy higher than she ever had before, Morgan confirmed it when she came on his lap, her shuddering body spending more pleasure on him. When her sensitive body shuddered afterward with ripe sensations, only then did he turn her around and bring his mouth back to the hearth of her arousal. Her pussy was hot and he was ready to surge more fire from it, sinking his mouth against her sex and dangling her body up in his arms around it. Like a rag doll she was suspending it his arms, moaning at his mouth's ravenous ministrations.
It was almost painful, Mercy realized when she felt another orgasm building pressure in her belly. Her overly sensitive pussy was swollen in need. Morgan pressing three large fingers inside of her while his tongue harshly pressed over her clit was so good and the pressure so intense that it almost felt something like pain. Pain felt something like pleasure. Pleasure felt something like an ache. Mercy let go, again, and again, and was deep in a void from reality.
Morgan finally laid her against the bed, crushing his body against hers and feeling every inch of her on every inch of him. His. He would never stop claiming her as his because it felt right. Necessary. Her utter submission was as blissful to him as it had clearly been to her, and Morgan felt a large smile overtake his face.
Deep in the crevices of his mind he kept uttering "I love you" over and over again, even if the words didn't leave his lips.
Chapter Twelve: Sunday Service
Morgan approached the pulpit stoic. It was his turn to say a few words at the service, a first for him. He'd chosen his bible passage careful in light of his life at the moment. While he was freer than he'd ever been, he was forever bound to Mercy.
He'd thought of nothing more than to collar her. Make her his completely. After service, perhaps. The idea left him weak in the knees.
He took a deep breath before scanning the room. A room of people all trying to do the right thing; live the only way they know how. Morgan felt safe here in these walls.
"Today I'm going to be talking about the Song of Songs, or the Song of Solomon as you may know it. I read from Song of Songs 1, verses 12 to 13... while the king was at his table, my perfume spread its fragrance. My beloved is to me a sachet of myrrh resting between my breasts."
Morgan continued as the room held on each and every word. While the quiet man was always in service, and was acting deacon for the community, he usually organized events instead of speaking at them. Hearing him testify was vastly new.
Morgan called home to see how Mercy was after his service was completed. It was so new to him, this feeling of belonging to someone.
"I just wanted to see if you had a moment where we could talk about something important later tonight?" he said, speaking rapidly as he did whenever he was nervous.
"Well that sounds ominous, Morgan."
"No, no, it's a good thing. I'm just
a bit nervous to bring it up to you, that's all."
"Well Morgan Rattle, if I didn't know you better I'd think you were going to propose."
Morgan pondered that. In his own way, it was much like asking her to marry him. Morgan wasn't a marrying type of man, and he believed collaring a submissive was just as much of a commitment and a life-long bond. For Morgan, while he wouldn't be giving her a gold band, the act of placing that collar around her slender pale neck would be just as significant.
"No, I'm not that type of man, Mercy," he laughed, "but you're close."
He clicked the phone off, and settled in for the short drive back to the home he shared with her.
Chapter Thirteen: Testing Boundaries
Mercy hardly recognized herself, and, yet, she couldn't unsee Morgan in her. He had shaped her, formed her, and he'd said there was more.
Collaring. Mercy didn't know that humans used collars for anything other than pets. She thought to ask Morgan about this. His back was turned to her, as he was going through assorted items in a drawer next to the pegboard of the dungeon.
As if he could read her mind, he turned. "What is it, my Mercy?" His voice was dark chocolate syrup in a chilled milk, melting all her nerves when she heard his voice. She'd quivered with anticipation at what he might have to offer, and now she was taken by his voice. By a need to please him.
"Collars sound like they are for pets," Mercy said quietly, daring to look him. His dark eyes were...unknowable to her. Her heart ached, and then she remembered himself.
Shouldn't she be afraid?
"Oh," Morgan said, clearly appraising her every movement, the very way she said her words. He'd had the bear shifter conversations previously, and remembered how he giggled when she asked if the collar was for his bear. No, but you'll know soon, he'd had told her.
Hesitantly, she spoke again, emboldened by him stroking his chin with his long, slender fingers. Fingers she ached to have on her. "I should like to be your pet.." She said, now looking down. "I think."
Morgan laughed, a small chuckle that felt so genuine, so real, but everything was heightened with him. Life with him seemed to have colors that her life before had. What little of it that she could truly recall. It felt as though she'd, at once, been with him forever, and for so little time at all.
"To collar you," Morgan explained, "means that I would completely own you. You would never remove this collar. It would mean something that you wore it. It is much more intimate than a pet, though, there are some similarities."
He grabbed her hair and made her to look up at him. A thrill shot through her body at his words, at the feel of him pulling her like this. Looking up into his dark eyes, his wicked grin was her undoing. Already, Mercy's pussy was wet and her pulse had quickened.
"Not here, though, we'll do this in the bedroom," he said, pulling her up to stand. She kept her hands down at her side as he'd told her to, and that was when she noticed that he was holding a gorgeous silvery necklace.
The collar.
So rarely had they been in his bedroom. But it meant something to her. If the collar meant that he owned her, then being in his bedroom mean that he belonged to her, too.
Mercy liked that, and she smiled, following him. It was her little secret, and it was safe in her heart now, because no one was there to judge her.
It was safe to love Morgan. It felt right. It felt right to be his.
When they came into the bedroom, he lifted her laid her on the bed. It took her breath away to be treated like this by him. Sure, Morgan literally treated her like an object, like a pet, like he owned her. But he did. He consumed every inch of her thoughts, of her soul, of her desires. And he made her feel treasured because of this. He was never cruel to her. Morgan always brought Mercy pleasure that she'd never even known was possible.
"Lift your hair," he said, his husky voice thick. Mercy did as he asked, and as he drew the silvery collar up her body, running its cold metal over her nipples to bring them to taut, puckered peaks, she sucked in a breath and felt her eyes burn and start to water. Morgan was just as emotional as she was right now.
“That’s good, Mercy,” Morgan leaned in and pressed his lips to her neck, letting them drag down her skin while he inhaled her scent. “I’m going to put the collar on you in a moment. You will not be able to take it off. I can, but only with a special key. I don’t want to have to use the key, ever.” His breath caught in his throat. This was huge for him, and he was really going to have her. Better yet, when he slid his tongue down her neck, her entire body responded. She was aching for him as much as he needed her and ached for her, and he so loved that. He brought the collar up to her neck. Morgan saw her eyes were watering.
“It won’t hurt,” he promised. But he knew she wasn’t afraid. She was excited. But he wanted to make her say it. Morgan looked into her eyes, tilting her chin up at him. “Are you okay?” he asked, leading her to speak up.
“I’m fine,” Mercy whispered, licking her lower lip. “I’m…I just…”
She didn’t know what to say. Her hand shook a little and some of her hair spilled out of her hand.
Morgan grabbed her other hand and brought it to scoop up the rest of her hair, and it arched her breasts up. They were begging for his touch, and they would have it. But, first, he would collar his pet. His Mercy.
When she started to drop her other hand, Morgan sharply grabbed both of them. “Keep them up, and spread them,” he pushed his hand on either side of her arms, ensuring he had ample access to her neck to place the collar on her. He dropped a hand down her breast, trailing lower, having seen what the word spread had done to her. He liked that a lot…but she liked it just as much.
Finally, he put the collar onto her neck, pulling out the pin to unlock it and then clicking it back together. It was secured around her neck, loose enough to lie down on above her collarbone. He liked it that way, since it was thin and flat rather than rounded, so that it was easy to keep her slender, sensual neck clean.
The sight of her on his bed, collared now to symbolize that she truly belonged to him, her breasts out and bouncing with the heaving, panting breaths she was taking…it made him hard as steel to see.
“I’m going to fuck that sweet ass now. That’s my ass and I want to fill it so tight that you lock around me and make me see the stars,” Morgan leaned forward to bite her lower lip, and then continued, “that you’re seeing now, my Mercy.”
Morgan flipped her quickly, her arms flailing down.
He put his hands to the collar and yanked slightly, then let go. When she came, he would tug again. The feel of her breath taken away would make her orgasm even more intense, and make her ass worship his cock like it should.
He ran his hands over her body, worshipping every inch. His dark little angel challenged him to be better for her everyday.
Darker.
To fuck her deeper, to connect with her on a level than he even knew possible. The way her tight little cunt and her hot little mouth—and next her tight little ass—locked around his cock was so like the lock she had around his heart. She was the perfect match for him in every way.
The collar on her neck begged him to finger it, and he did, gently this time, hooking his other hand’s thumb into her dripping wet pussy to pull her ass up to the height he wanted to fuck it from.
“Sweet, sweet Mercy,” Morgan groaned into her ear. Both of his hands captured handfuls of Mercy’s ass and grasped tight, pulling the moons of her flesh possessively.
Morgan grabbed some restraints she hadn’t noticed were attached to the bed and bound her wrists high above her head, forcing her in place, though she was paralyzed with lust and couldn’t move her hands anyway. Still, it felt like her arms positioned above her made her ass jut out more. Mercy’s core was hot with lust at what that meant.
The familiar snap of a bottle of lube was the indication that he was going to fuck her soon. But, then, Mercy felt his fingers grasp at her nipples, hard, and the flesh, moistened with the oi
l on his fingers, puckered and heated under his touch. He pinched her nipples hard, pressing his cock to the seam of her ass so that when she bucked in reaction she would shimmy her ass up against his rock-hard cock. The feel of him pressed against her hole, him hot and hard over where she was sure to be piped full of him soon, was incredible. Her breath was stolen in her throat.
He brought clamps to her breasts now, though her eyes were still squeezed shut, she felt the bite of the metal against each burning nipple. It tugged her breasts viciously. She groaned, biting her lip.
Morgan’s fingers pulled up her clit, teasing and tugging it hard and plump as it had ever been, and her own moisture of arousal melded with the heated oil. He then hooked another clamp, brutally, to savage her clit. She tugged up in natural reaction, and the pull ignited her nipples and her clit in joint pressure. Mercy gasped in agony, her core heating hotter than ever before. Her pussy was drenched with arousal.
