Asher laughed when she struggled all the harder, a dark sound, and she whimpered behind his palm, which he took from her mouth. "Going to scream out?"
But he already knew the answer to that. No, she never was. Jezebel had only been about to scream out of a jump scare, and she would never scream for help now that she knew it was him.
That sense of endangerment grew even more terrible, and she grappled against his touch while he lightly forced her to her small college apartment bedroom.
Asher tore at her yoga shorts, shoving her back so that she fell on the bed, and he tugged them down.
He got one leg free before she recovered and tried to kick him, but he caught that easily, laughing, and all he'd needed was one leg free anyway.
Asher was so slight, but his strength was pure anyway, and he was so exact, composed, while her struggles were panicked flailing.
But she did find one opening. Asher reached for her hand to turn her on her stomach on the bed, and she shoved, hard enough to break his grip on her waist.
Jezebel ran for the door, kicking off the yoga shorts, and reached it right as he reached her.
And that time, he locked one hand around her throat and used the other to shove two fingers into her pussy, letting her have her hands free.
Jezebel didn't do a thing with them. They moaned together, his a deep growl and hers an animalistic gasp of sex.
Jezebel fell to her knees on the floor, and he followed, shoving her forward and thrusting those fingers so that she obeyed his touch with a soft cry.
"That's it. That's enough fighting. I was going to use this hot little pussy, lovely, but now that you made me work so hard for our first time, I think I'm going to make it a nice, hard anal raping instead."
Asher undid his jeans just enough to free his cock, and she had to bite her wrist to keep from screaming with the pleasure when he pressed inside of her pussy.
Just as quickly he was gone, only using it to lubricate himself with the cum she poured for him.
Jezebel clawed at the scratchy carpet when he pressed into her asshole instead, burying her face into it when cold sweat broke over her body from the sweetest pain.
But he wasn't having it. Asher hissed and pulled her up with a fist in her hair instead.
"No, you watch in the mirror when I have you. Watch yourself when you submit."
Obediently, she did, staring into the mirror on the back of the door, whimpering at the sight of him in the theatrical mask.
Asher looked down at her, watching his cock press inside of her centimeter by centimeter, watching her pain at the pure debasement of it.
His lips parted with a heated pleasure at how it must have looked, and she...
Jezebel crouched low, arching so that he could have her better, lifting so that he could use her harder and feel her in more pain for him.
The sight of his desire, of his pleasure made her mentally soar, and that sweet, searing pressure only threw her higher, as if she had been tethered to a wire.
Asher had left her shirt on, and she scrabbled suddenly because that was wrong, and she knew it.
He was the Master who could wear clothes when he wanted, while she was supposed to be naked in front of him.
"Good girl," he whispered in approval when she yanked the rest of her clothes off and freed her breasts for him to see.
His gaze went to them in the mirror, momentarily distracted from the image of her asshole being stretched around him.
Asher was hurting her, and it was the most wonderful thing she'd ever felt. Jezebel pulsed around his dick, quivering around him in such a way that even she was aware it was happening.
"Cup your tits and punish your nipples for me. When you feel pain, your asshole squeezes on me, and you want to give me more pleasure, don't you?"
Jezebel wanted that more than she'd ever wanted anything. His patient teacher's voice made her love him even now, even if it meant her pain.
And she was happy to obey that because somehow the more pain it caused her to please him, the more satisfying it felt to do so, too.
So she cinched her nipples, crying out with how hard she hurt herself and his eyes lit with a dark light. "What do you say for the chance to please me?"
"Thank you, Master!" It came out of her like a dance she had known her whole life. Jezebel knew this. She knew it so fucking easily that it was like breathing for her.
"Such a good girl. You should have behaved sooner, though. Now that I've felt this tighter asshole, I won't want to use anything else for a while when we're training you in the dungeon. And you do belong in the dungeon with me, don't you?"
"Oh yes, Master." Jezebel gasped when he thrust the rest of the way into her, and finally her body processed the pain and fullness until all that remained was the sharp edged bliss of pleasing him, of being where she belonged.
This had been the right way all along. This had been why it felt so wrong to tease him and leave him unsatisfied while she took her own orgasms.
Jezebel cried out when he withdrew and sawed back into her, tumbling even further into subspace, flying so high.
She twisted her nipples and thrilled to his pleased grunt in response, looking up at his eyes through the bone white demon mask.
She saw him through a haze of desire and groaned when his eyes lifted to meet hers in the mirror.
Asher looked like a dark god above her, his hands around her waist. He used his grip to pull her back in a strict, hard rhythm, and every surge of him in her asshole made her more aware of every sign of pleasure he gave.
Jezebel thrust her tits out, and the motion drew his gaze, made his eyes darken with his delight in the view. She dipped lower in more submission, and he growled a low sound of approval.
Jezebel stared up and hurt her tits, the way he would if it were his hands instead. Time lifted away into something endless, and there was nothing but her bowing, letting him use her.
Asher didn't speed up, didn't change his rhythm, instead keeping to his harsh pace, riding her into the floor like she was a little animal.
And she no longer fought him at all, didn't even so much as beg for an orgasm. No, even that much didn't feel right with the way he dominated her.
If he wanted her to have an orgasm for his pleasure, he would give her one. If he wanted her to have more pain, he would give that too.
That latter one was what he decided on, slapping her thighs between his strokes, so that her body tensed and tightened around his fucking.
Jezebel was torn someplace where she was dying to cum from his treatment, but she also kind of didn't want him to be nice enough to allow her.
Part of her wanted to be left to burn for him when he took her to his dungeon, wanted to know that her Master was sated on her body, and she was the one who had been used.
***