Ep 4: The First Devouring

The blindfold was gone. The silk ropes were loosened. But my body still trembled with the memory of them—of how Zed had held me helpless in the shadows and forced me to surrender.

Now I lay beneath him, wrists free but still resting above my head like I had been trained to keep them there. It wasn’t the ropes that kept me bound this time. It was him. His weight, his gaze, his power.

“My Queen,” Zed murmured, brushing a finger down the line of my throat. “Do you know what tonight means?”

I swallowed hard, my heart drumming against my ribs. “You’re going to… devour me?”

A slow, predatory smile curved his lips. His dark hair fell over his forehead as he leaned closer. “Not just devour. Claim. Tonight, your body will remember who it belongs to. And after this… there will never be another King for you.”

The room was silent except for the low hum of red light above us, bathing everything in shadows. A mirror gleamed on the ceiling, catching every shift of our bodies, every trembling breath. I saw myself through his eyes—spread open, waiting, trembling like a Queen about to kneel to her throne.

“Look at yourself,” he whispered, tilting my chin up toward the reflection. “Do you see? My Queen, bound without ropes. Your body already knows who commands it.”

Heat surged through me. My legs parted instinctively, though I tried to close them again from embarrassment. Zed caught them easily, forcing them wide, pinning me against the bed.

“Don’t hide from your King,” he growled. “Your Queenhood is in your surrender.”

His mouth captured mine then, a kiss that was not gentle, not asking—it was devouring. His tongue swept in, his teeth nipped at my lip, and I whimpered into him as if my body had already decided to break.

When he pulled back, his eyes burned down at me. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, my King.”

He didn’t wait another heartbeat. His hand gripped the base of his length, guiding it to my entrance. The blunt head pressed against me, and I gasped at the stretch, the intrusion, the sheer size of him.

“Breathe, my Queen,” he ordered softly, almost tenderly. “I won’t stop until you take all of me. Every inch.”

Slowly, inexorably, he pushed forward. The burn was sharp, the stretch almost too much, and I cried out, arching away—but his hand pressed firmly to my stomach, holding me still. His strength caged me as his body filled mine, deeper and deeper, until I felt him everywhere.

Tears stung my eyes. Pleasure and pain tangled together so tightly I couldn’t tell them apart. My nails clawed the sheets.

“Too much?” he asked, his voice strained, his jaw tight. He was barely holding himself back.

“Don’t stop…” I whispered, broken. “Please, my King… claim me.”

That was all he needed. With one hard thrust, he sank fully into me. I screamed, my body convulsing, every nerve igniting with fire.

“Perfect,” he groaned, his lips at my ear. “You take me like you were made for me. My Queen. My throne.”

His hips began to move, slow but devastating, dragging me open with each stroke. The sound of our bodies echoed in the red room—wet, primal, obscene. I couldn’t stop my moans, couldn’t control the way my back arched and my legs shook.

I forced myself to look at the mirror above us. The reflection made me cry out louder. I saw him on top of me, powerful, relentless, taking me like I was his and his alone. His hand on my throat, his body driving into mine, my face twisted in desperate pleasure.

“Do you see it?” he demanded, voice rough.

“Yes… oh God… my King, I see…”

“Then remember it. Every time you doubt yourself, every time you forget who you are—you will remember this image. My Queen surrendering beneath me. Forever.”

His thrusts quickened, harder now, the burn turning to blazing pleasure that rolled through me in waves. My cries filled the room, bouncing against the crimson walls. I could feel myself teetering, the edge approaching, sharp and unbearable.

“Zed… I can’t…”

“You will,” he growled, slamming deep. “You will come for your King. You will shatter for me.”

The final thrust broke me. My climax ripped through me like fire, violent and consuming. I screamed his name until my throat was raw, my body convulsing around him. He held me through it, his hand gripping my jaw, forcing me to look at the mirror as I fell apart.

“Yes,” he groaned, finally spilling himself inside me, his release hot and overwhelming. “Take me, my Queen. Take all of me.”

When it was over, he collapsed onto me, both of us trembling, drenched in sweat. His lips brushed my ear, softer now, reverent.

“My Queen,” he whispered, “you’re mine. Forever.”

And I believed him. Because in that moment, with his seed inside me and the mirror above us reflecting our ruin, I knew there would never be another King but Zed.

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