Ch. 46..50: Breed Me, Daddy Alpha chapter 46-50
Favorite Sin 46
Lyra~
When his c*m was still hot and thick inside me and I was too full to move, too sore to think, too f*****g wet to pretend I didn’t love every filthy second of it.
I lifted my hips just a little, even though his knot was still swollen and stuffed inside me so deep it ached.
And the second I moved?
More of his c*m leaked out.
“Oh my God,” I moaned again, louder this time. “It’s still coming out of me. I can feel it dripping down my thighs. I can hear it. I’m so full, Daddy. You bred me so good. I can feel your c**k twitching inside me. I can’t stop clenching.”
He reached around and slapped my p***y.
I screamed.
The sound that flew out of my mouth wasn’t even a moan anymore – it was a f*****g cry.
“You like that, baby girl?” he growled in my ear, voice rough and thick and smug. “You like moaning for her? You like letting her hear what a soaked little knot–hungry slut you’ve turned into?”
“Yes,” I gasped, my whole body shaking. “Yes, yes, f**k, yes. I don’t care. I want her to hear me. I want the whole f*****g house to hear me. I want everyone to know your c**k’s still locked inside me and I don’t even want you to pull out.”
He grabbed my hair again.
Yanked my head back until my throat was bared, my mouth open, my eyes rolled halfway back into my skull.
Then he started grinding.
Not f*****g.
Grinding.
Just slow, deep circles with his hips while his knot stayed shoved inside me, thick and swollen and throbbing like he hadn’t even finished yet.
“Oh f**k,” I sobbed. “Oh my f*****g God, I can feel it moving. I can feel your knot rubbing my walls. It’s so thick. I’m so stretched. My p***y’s so swollen I feel like I’m about to burst.”
He didn’t stop.
He wouldn’t stop.
And I was unraveling all over again.
“Damon..Daddy..please..oh fuck I’m gonna come again..I swear..I can’t hold it..I can’t..I’m too full..I’m too f*****g full..your knot’s making me lose it..I can feel everything…I can feel your c**k throbbing..I can feel every twitch..it’s making me drip all over again..I’m soaking your cock..I’m leaking all over the bed..please let me come…please let me scream..please..”
He pulled my hair tighter.
“Then scream,” he growled. “Come. Scream. Let her hear what Daddy does to your slutty little virgin cunt.”
“I don’t wanna come now, Daddy,” I choked out, my voice shaking, my body twitching under him like I was
about to break but I just couldn’t let it end yet.
”
I’m f*****g holding it. I wanna feel it longer. Please. Please keep f*****g me. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to come yet. I want you to keep going. I want your c**k deeper. I want you to make it worse. Please don’t stop. Please don’t knot me yet.”
I was whining now
Actually whining
My p***y was soaking his c**k like it couldn’t decide between coming or just staying on the edge forever. And that edge? That f*****g edge? It felt like it was made of fire and lightning and slick and shame. I could feel his knot throb. I could feel it pulse inside me like it was warning me that when it locked this time, I wasn’t just gonna come–I was gonna f*****g lose it
“Please Daddy,” I moaned, my back arching so high I thought Twas gonna snap. “I want you to keep using me. I want you to ruin me. I want you to slam me into the bed and f**k me like I’m nothing but your little omega fuckhole. I want to feel it in my throat. I want to drool while your c**k pounds me from the inside. I want to drool Daddy. I want to forget my name. I want your knot to f**k me stupid.”
He growled again. Louder
And then he moved
Not gentle
Not slow
He started f*****g me again like he wasn’t even human
And I screamed
Not because I came
Not yet
But because it was so deep, so thick, so much I couldn’t even form a thought. I was babbling, moaning, saying s**t I didn’t even understand
“Your c**k, your c**k, Daddy your c**k is so big. I can’t take it. I can’t. I’m trying but you’re too thick. Your knot is rubbing my p***y raw. I feel it in my belly. I feel it in my spine. You’re everywhere. You’re f*****g everywhere. I can’t move. I can’t breathe. I want more. I want it to hurt. I want it to split me open. I want you to break me in two. I want to bleed from how good it feels.”
His hand slammed down on my ass so hard I screamed again, and the sound of skin against skin made it even worse. My ass was jiggling, my thighs were dripping, and my p***y was so f*****g wet.
I couldn’t hold it anymore
I tried
I really did
But his c**k hit something inside me that made me sob
My hands clawed at the sheets. My mouth dropped open. My back arched like my whole spine was bowing
toward him. And I felt it
That snap
That breaking point
The scream ripped out of me before I could stop it
“Daddy. I’m..I’m coming..fuck..I said I wasn’t ready but I am..I need it..I need it..I need your knot..I want it now..please..please f**k me..lock me..stretch me..I’m yours..I’m your little c*m rag..your fucktoy..I’ll take every drop..every pulse..every twitch..just please Daddy I need to be knotted again…”
And just like that
He slammed in deep
His knot swelled
I screamed
My cunt clenched like it was trying to trap him My cunt clenched like it was trying to trap him, squeeze him, milk him until he had nothing left to give me. And then
The c*m hit
It slammed into me like a wave, filling every inch, every crevice, every tight little spot inside me that had been desperate for this. My body jerked. My thighs gave out.
My vision blurred. And I came so hard my entire soul left my body and floated over the f*****g bed watching me squirt down his knot like a broken, f****d–out b***h who didn’t even deserve to feel this good
“Oh my God Damon Damon Damon f**k f**k I’m coming I’m coming Daddy I’m gonna f*****g pass out I swear I can’t breathe I can’t stop squirting I’m gonna drown us both in it fuck..”
Buzz
My phone
I heard it
Faint under the sound of skin slapping and bed creaking and me moaning like a f*****g b***h in heat but it was there and it was ringing
I turned my head
Saw the screen light up
Mum
No
No no no
“Fuck..Mum..not now..not now I’m cumming-“I sobbed, voice shaking, my legs convulsing, my entire body drenched and ruined and locked to the c**k that was still twitching inside me like it was claiming my soul “Not now–not f*****g now–Mum I can’t–I’m f*****g busy–oh f**k–f**k Damon–Damon she’s calling–my
******g mum is calling me while I’m getting knotted by my best friend’s father and I can’t stop coming..
“Let her hear it,” Damon growled, voice thick and dark and breathless right at my ear, his c**k grinding into my swollen cunt like he wanted me to come harder
And I did
“Oh my God–oh my f*****g God–Daddy I’m gonna squirt again–I’m leaking all over your knot–i can feel it- my p***y’s sucking you in and won’t let go–I can’t–I can’t stop–f**k Mum I’m sorry I can’t talk I’m busy getting bred like a filthy omega w***e”
My phone kept ringing
Vibrating against the nightstand while I sobbed into his sheets and screamed his name and begged him to keep ******g me like her call didn’t even matter
Like the only thing that mattered was the mess dripping down my thighs and the way my womb clenched like it was trying to pull every drop of his c*m into my body
“Damon please–f**k–please don’t stop–she can wait–f**k my mum can f*****g wait–this is more important–this knot–this c**k–this is what I need–this is what I want–oh my God yes yes YES f**k-
My scream broke again
Louder than the ringtone
Louder than my sanity
Because I came again
I exploded around him like I was trying to burn myself out from the inside
My body convulsed
My p***y gushed
My fingers twisted in the sheets like they were the only things keeping me from floating away and I cried his name over and over while my cunt pulsed around his knot like it was f*****g worshipping it
“Damon–Daddy–Daddy please–f**k me through it–keep going–lock me down–make me forget I ever had a phone–make me forget my f*****g name-”
My phone finally stopped ringing
But I didn’t
I kept leaking
Kept coming
Kept moaning his name like it was a prayer and I was a slutty little disciple offering her p***y as the altar
And the worst part?
I was still clenching like I wanted more.
And the worst part? I was still clenching like I wanted more
Like my p***y hadn’t had enough
Like the knot buried inside me wasn’t already locking me wide open and dripping with so much c*m it was
<-F*cked Stupid
running down my thighs and soaking the bed
Like my body didn’t know the meaning of done
I was still panting
Still shaking
Still whining with my mouth open and my brain spinning while his c**k stayed buried so deep I swear I could
feel the shape of it in my chest
And then-
Her voice
Right outside the door
“Damn, girl”
My eyes snapped open
I froze
Again
Tasha’s voice was low this time
Not angry
Not yelling
Not full of that sharp shriek she’d thrown like knives when she first banged the door
No
She sounded… different
Like she’d just-
“s**t,” she muttered, “I just touched myself hearing you moan.”
My heart stopped
My body didn’t
No
My p***y clenched even harder
Because the thought of her on the other side of the door, touching herself while I got f****d by her dad, while she listened to me scream and beg and come like a little c*m–drunk knot–hungry b***h–it made my stomach twist and my n*****s ache and my p***y gush all over again
f**k
I whimpered into the pillow like I was trying to swallow it
Tasha laughed
Low
Breathless
< Picked Stupid
And so f*****g amused
“When you come out of there,” she said, “you’re gonna tell me who this man is.”
My throat closed
I buried my face deeper
She didn’t stop
“Because it sounds like he’s f*****g good.”
My whole body jolted
She heard everything
She loved it
And the worst part?
So did I
I was still spread wide
Still knotted
Still clenching around Damon like my p***y didn’t know how to let go
And now my best friend had just told me she got herself off to the sound of her dad f*****g me through the
mattress
And I wasn’t even close to done.
Favorite Sin 47
Well my mum called back and I shouldn’t have picked up. I swear to God I knew the moment my finger brushed the screen and that f*****g call connected, I was making the dumbest mistake of my life.
My cunt was still swollen. Damon’s knot was still inside me. I could literally feel his c*m dripping out of me like honey oozing out of an overstuffed donut and yet somehow my dumbass still answered the phone like this was a good time to chat with my mother.
“Hello,” I said, and my voice came out like I’d just run a marathon while sobbing through a porn scene. My throat was raw. My lips were still wet. My whole body was trembling. I sounded like a girl who just got wrecked. Because I f*****g had.
“Lyra?” she said, and instantly I wanted to throw the phone across the room. Her voice was so sharp, so clear, so full of motherly suspicion it made me clench around Damon’s c**k all over again.
I froze.
Damon didn’t.
He was still behind me. Still buried inside me. Still f*****g knotted. And of course he smirked. Of course he had the audacity to run his hand up my spine like I wasn’t dying inside.
Like this was a joke to him. Like I was just some filthy little slut caught between her mother’s voice and her best friend’s father’s c**k and expected to survive.
“H–hi Mum,” I said, my voice so f*****g squeaky it barely even sounded like mine. I cleared my throat. “Sorry, I was sleeping.”
“You sound weird,” she said, immediately, like she already knew I was lying. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Your breathing is off. Are you sick? Are you in pain?”
God, if she only knew.
“I’m on my period,” I blurted before I could stop myself. “That’s all. Cramps. Really bad ones.”
Damon’s hand was already sliding lower. I swear he did it on purpose. Like he was rewarding me for lying so f*****
g badly. His fingers found the edge of my thigh. Then the slickness leaking down it. Then he dipped two fingers into the mess between my legs and pushed my thighs open wider.
I jerked. I gasped.
My mum paused.
“Did you just trip?” she asked.
“No. I–I dropped something. My water bottle. It spilled. AlLover. I’m naked. I mean I was sleeping naked. Because it helps with the cramps. And it’s hot. You know the heat here is crazy. Like it’s so f*****g hot this period I literally can’t even breathe at night.”
“Language,” she said automatically.
The Call
f**k
Damon dipped his fingers back in and scooped up more of his c*m and dragged it up my slit like he was painting me with it. I bit my lip. I clenched my thighs. I was going to die. Right here. Like this. On speakerphone with my mother while my best friend’s dad made my p***y leak even more just for fun.
“Lyra,” she said, her voice sharper now. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me,” I said, maybe a little too quickly. “Honestly. I’m just really tired. Like I didn’t sleep well. At all. And I had cramps all night. And the fan was loud. And I think there’s a mosquito somewhere in this room that literally hates me. So I’m not just exhausted. I’m delusional.”
She was quiet.
I could feel Damon’s c**k still twitching inside me. I swear it was mocking me. My p***y was still locked so tight around him I could feel every vein. I was dripping down my thighs like a ruined little slut and my voice was shaking but my mum was still on the phone and I wanted to cry.
“How’s tasha?” she asked.
“Fine. I’m in her room. Alone. She’s in the kitchen or something. I think she went to look for bread. Or indomie. Or maybe she’s shitting. I don’t know. She’s not here.”
Damon smirked.
I glared at him over my shoulder. He was still inside me. His hand was still between my legs. And now he was grinding again. Tiny, slow, almost invisible movements that made my eyes roll back and my belly twist like I was about to come again.
“She’s what?” my mum said.
“She’s not here,” I said again. “I’m alone.”
“You sound like you’re hiding something.”
“I’m not,” I squeaked. “I’m really not. I just woke up. Literally. I’m not even wearing panties. I mean–I’m on my period so I don’t wear panties at night. Or I do. But not when it’s hot. Sometimes I use a towel. But–anyway. Mum, please don’t ask me questions. I’m so tired I could cry. Can we talk later?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked, her tone softening just a little.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” my mum asked again, and this time her voice was doing that soft but suspicious thing, like she already knew I was lying and was just politely giving me the rope to hang myself with.
And of course I panicked.
Because no, I wasn’t okay. I was the opposite of okay. I was lying face down in a stranger’s bed with my best friend’s dad’s c**k still knotted inside me like a f*****g seatbelt. I was sweating, twitching, overstimulated, leaking like a busted pipe, and my p***y was literally whimpering because he hadn’t moved in the last thirty seconds. And now my mother was asking me if I was okay.
So naturally, my traumatized, c*m–filled, emotionally unstable little teenage brain decided to make everything
so much worse.
I took a breath,
Then I said, “Mum, yes, I’m okay, I’m just… like… mentally menstruating.”
The Cal
Silence.
I went on.
“I didn’t sleep at all, like not even one second, and the fan was on but somehow I was still sweating like I was
being cooked from the inside out. I kept waking up thinking there was a rat in the room but it was just my hair sticking to my leg. And then I had this dream that I was being chased by a goat in lingerie, which is probably Tasha’s fault.
“I farted in my sleep, I’m pretty sure. The kind that sounds like a trumpet from hell. And then the lights blinked and I thought we were being haunted, and then I rolled over and the bed squeaked so loud I’m sure the house thought I was getting dicked down by a demon.
Not that I was. I mean..obviously not. Obviously I wasn’t. Because I haven’t had s*x and I’m on my period. My womb is literally closed for business right now.”
I was sweating. Trembling. Clenching. Lying like a f*****g demon.
Damon was grinning behind me, still buried to the base, his hand sliding across my waist like he was proud of me for being so unhinged.
But I wasn’t done.
“And Tasha,” I added quickly, “she’s not even in the room, she’s downstairs looking for noodles or maybe drinking garri, I don’t know, and I don’t want to go down because I feel like a ghost touched my ass last night. “And I’m bloated. My boobs feel like someone pumped them full of cement. And if you make me stand up right now, I will faint. I will actually collapse like a Victorian orphan.
“So yes, I’m okay. Just your regular period demonic possession, spiritual fatigue, mosquito warzone, hallucination–ridden teenage meltdown. Totally fine.”
Dead silence on the other end.
My whole face was hot. I felt like I’d just given a TED Talk on how to sound like a mentally unstable virgin who accidentally summoned Satan during sleep paralysis. And Damon’s c**k literally twitched inside me like
it agreed.
I cleared my throat.
“So um… why did you call? Is everything okay with you? Like are you fine? Is Dad fine? Did someone die? Are we broke? Are you getting divorced? Is the dog pregnant? Please just tell me what’s going on before I
combust.”
I barely got the last word out before Damon f*****g moved again.
Not a lot.
Just a tiny grind. A small shift of his hips. Just enough to make his knot press right into the sore, overstretched spot deep inside me that still hadn’t calmed down from the last orgasm. My body spasmed. My p***y clenched. And before I could stop it, a sound slipped out of my mouth that was definitely not appropriate for a mother–daughter phone call.
It was a moan.
I slapped my hand over my mouth like it could undo it.
The Call
But the damage was done.
Because the second it happened, my mum went dead silent.
Like the whole earth paused just to let me suffer.
Then I heard it.
“LYRA RACHEAL AUSTINE,” she screamed so loud I almost threw the phone, “ARE YOU f*****g SURE YOU ARE
ALRIGHT.”
I swear to God my whole soul left my body. My n*****s went hard. My p***y pulsed again because for some disgusting reason my body was still aroused while my mother was out here shouting like a soldier who just caught me breaking into the Lord’s temple.
“Mum,” I croaked, panicking, sweating, trembling, leaking, dying, “yes. I swear. I’m fine. I’m just… I dropped something again. My leg hit the fan. It shocked me. The fan shocked me. I think I screamed. It’s nothing. I promise. I’m just sore. I mean I’m not sore. I mean I’m sore from cramps not from anything else because I obviously haven’t done anything.
She sighed.
“Alright then, the reason I called was to check up on you and also to let you know that me and your father have been thinking…”
I froze.
Damon smirked again.
She continued.
“After summer we would like you to finish high school there with Tasha. Since you only have one grade left, it would make sense to just settle down and focus.”
I blinked.
My brain didn’t register it at first.
Then it hit me.
Wait.
What.
What.
No.
No no no no no.
“Mum,” I said, my voice cracking like glass, “what did you just say.”
“I said,” she repeated like it was nothing, “we’ve been talking and we think it would be good for you to stay. Finish the school year there. You and Tasha seem to be getting along very well and her father seems like a respectable man.”
I choked.
I actually choked.
The Call
Respectable man?
Respectable.
The same man who was literally knotted inside me right now while I was on the phone with her? The same man who had just made me moan into the pillow like a b***h in heat? The same man who had been stuffing my virgin p***y full of so much c*m it was still dripping down my thighs?
My mother just called him respectable.
And wanted me to stay here.
With him.
In this house.
In this bed.
Where I just screamed into the sheets with his knot still buried inside me and his hand still stroking my cit under the blanket like this whole conversation was some kind of sick twisted game.
“Mum,” I gasped again, trying to sound calm, normal, *not like a girl who just got bred harder than a pornstar in a dog park. “Can we talk about this later?”
“No,” she said simply. “It’s now!”
Favorite Sin 48
~Lyra~
“…he seems like a man who takes discipline very seriously.”
I blinked. I blinked again. I wanted to scream.
My mother just said Damon Thornvale. The man currently buried so deep inside me I could feel his heartbeat in my p***y. The man who had made me come four times and was grinding into my sore, swollen clit right now with two fingers like I was his own personal fucktoy. The man who literally had my best friend calling him Daddy two days ago.
She just called that man a role model.
“I think he’ll help you stay on track,” my mum continued, like she wasn’t talking about my ruin in real time. You’ve always been a bit… impulsive. Rebellious. But he’s firm. Focused. Protective.”
I let out a noise.
It wasn’t a moan. Not this time.
It was some kind of strangled sob–laugh–choke hybrid because what the f**k was happening right now.
Damon leaned over my back, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“You hear that, sweetheart?” he whispered, smug as hell. “Mummy wants me to discipline you.”
My p***y clenched like it agreed. Traitor.
“I-“I tried to speak but Damon pushed his knot a little deeper and my whole back arched like he’d
electrocuted me.
“Sorry,” I stammered into the phone.
He snickered against my neck.
I hated him.
I hated how good it felt.
I hated how my body betrayed me every second his hands stayed on me and his c**k stayed inside me and my mum kept talking like I wasn’t already past the point of damnation.
“I’ll send your school records over,” she was saying now. “You’ll register there before the next term. Tasha said she’ll help you settle. And Mr. Thornvale has already agreed to supervise.”
Like..what the f**k did she just say?
No, actually. What in the seven levels of hormonal teenage hell did she just say?
Because it sounded like she said school records.
It sounded like she said she was sending my school records.
To him.
To this house.
My Guardian Devil
To this man.
To this very bed where I was currently full
of his c*m, full of his c**k, full of his knot, and completely void of
any remaining dignity.
I blinked like the words might rearrange themselves if I stared hard enough.
“Wait,” I said, my voice shaking like a faulty church fan. “Mum. What do you mean school records? Why are you sending anything? What is going on? Like what exactly is the reason we’re suddenly transferring my
entire academic life to Tasha’s house?”
She sighed.
The sigh.
The sigh that meant: Don’t start, Lyra.
“You’re almost done with high school, Lyra. One grade left. It just makes sense. You’re comfortable there, you’re focused, you and Tasha have each other, and Mr. Thornvale–well–he’s been so gracious.”
I choked on air.
“Gracious?” I echoed. “He’s been… gracious?”
Damon shifted behind me.
Still inside.
Still thick.
Still knotted like the c**k of a f*****g goddamn werewolf on heat.
Still pulsing.
I could feel everything.
Every vein.
Every twitch.
Every silent, smug little grind of his hips as he pressed his c**k deeper into me like this was some kind of private game he was winning just by existing.
And my mother just called him gracious.
I almost screamed.
“No no no no no,” I babbled, my whole body spasming, my arms wobbling like I was going to collapse face–first into the c*m–stained sheets.
“Mum you can’t be serious. Like this is not a little decision. This is my whole life. My whole school year. You’re saying I should just stay here permanently? After summer? Like stay stay? What if I don’t want to stay? What if I hate it here? What if I get possessed by a demon and murder someone in their sleep? What if -what if the house catches fire? What if I develop a mushroom allergy and there’s mushrooms everywhere?
What if I fall in love with-”
I cut myself off.
Holy f**k.
My Guardian Devil
Nope.
Not finishing that sentence.
Damon chuckled behind me, his breath hot on my shoulder like he knew. Like he could taste the panic rising up my spine and wanted to smear it between my thighs with his next lazy thrust.
“You’re overthinking again,” my mum said, like I didn’t have half a liter of his c*m dripping out of me and soaking into Tasha’s sheets. “You always do this. You spiral. You talk too much. You catastrophize. Just breathe. We’ve thought about it. We’ve prayed about it. This is what’s best for you.”
Best for me?
Best for me?
No. Best for me would be teleporting back to my own bed, erasing the last seventy–two hours, and surgically removing every memory I had of Damon Thornvale’s tongue between my legs while I called him Daddy like a
depraved little orphan on heat.
“This isn’t fair,” I whispered, trying not to sob. “You didn’t even ask me.”
“I’m not asking,” she said gently. “I’m telling.”
And that’s when I knew.
I was f****d.
Not just literally.
Not just physically.
Not just emotionally, spiritually, academically, psychologically.
I was universally, cosmically, universally–f*****g–f****d.
Because now I was trapped.
In this house.
With him.
“I’ll take care of her,” he mouthed silently, mockingly, toward the phone as if my mother could see him.
Then he looked down at me.
Still under him.
Still trembling.
His palm dragged down my spine again, slow, steady, then curved under my hips like I was weightless. Like I wasn’t already shaking so bad I couldn’t breathe.
“You hear that, sweetheart?” he murmured, hips starting to move again, this time deeper, sharper, crueler. I’m gonna take care of you.”
”
I gasped, my fingers curling into the sheets as his c**k began grinding against every destroyed nerve inside me like he was punishing me for every sound I’d made on that call.
“I’m gonna make sure you sleep on time,” he growled, thrusting harder, “after I f**k the attitude out of you.” My body jerked. The bed creaked. I couldn’t stop the broken noise that spilled out of my throat.
My Guardian Devil
“I’ll supervise your studies,” he hissed, snapping his hips into mine so hard I nearly screamed. “With your legs tied. Your p***y soaked. Your mouth stuffed so you don’t make noise while you revise.”
I moaned into the mattress, my eyes fluttering, my p***y clenching like it was starving.
“I’ll discipline you,” he went on, f*****g harder now, rougher, using my body like it was his property and the world needed to know it. “Every time you lie to your mother. Every time you talk back. Every time you forget
who owns this tight little cunt.”
I couldn’t breathe.
My whole body was rocking into the bed with every brutal thrust, his knot dragging against the sore, overstretched edges of my p***y like it was meant to rip me open and fill me again.
“She thinks I’m protecting you,” Damon grunted, gripping my hips tighter, dragging me back onto his c**k like I was his own personal fucktoy. “But I’m not. I’m corrupting you.”
He slammed into me.
I cried out.
“I’m destroying every innocent thought you’ve ever had,” he hissed, his voice feral now, wild, filthy, dripping with heat and hunger. “And your f*****g body loves it.”
I did.
God help me, I did.
My p***y was clenching around him like it had been waiting for this all my life. My thighs were shaking. My n*****s were throbbing. I was soaked, swollen, stretched, ruined. And he was f*****g me through it like my soul belonged to him now.
“She just handed you over to me,” he growled into my ear, f*****g me so deep I sobbed into the pillow. “And I’m never letting you go.”
Then he gripped the back of my neck, shoved me flat against the bed, and whispered the filthiest promise I’d ever heard in my entire ruined, shaking, overstimulated life.
“You’re mine now, Lyra. Every moan. Every orgasm. Every f*****g inch of this tight little cunt. Mine to punish. Mine to train. Mine to breed.”
And then.
“Lyra? Are you still there?”
My mother’s voice.
I wanted to die.
I wanted the earth to open up, swallow me whole, and bury me in the Mariana Trench with a plaque that said here lies the dumbest girl alive, who moaned on a call with her mother while getting knotted like a b***h in
heat.
But I couldn’t move. Damon’s c**k was still twitching inside me. His hand was still gripping my hips like he owned me. I couldn’t f*****g move.
“Lyra, I’ll take that silence as a yes,” she continued, voice tightening like she was switching into final–mom–mode. “So get ready, okay? Summer is about to end soon. ! expect you to behave. No drama. No
My Guardian Devil
chaos. And please–Lyra, don’t cause trouble.”
My lips parted.
“What?” I croaked, barely able to breathe. “Mum, you know—”
But she didn’t let me finish.
She didn’t let me beg.
She didn’t let me scream please don’t do this, please don’t leave me with him, please I’m being destroyed
right now.
She just cut the call.
The line went dead.
Just like that.
Like my fate had been signed, sealed, and delivered right into the hands of the man still knotted so deep inside me my womb was fluttering like it wanted to be claimed.
Reamy
“f**k,” I whispered. “No. No, no, no. No this is not happening. Oh my God. She hung up. She actually hung up. She didn’t even wait. She didn’t let me explain. She didn’t ask if I was sure. She didn’t even give me time to fake a seizure or scream or accidentally confess that I was being held hostage in a mansion with a d**k too big to survive.”
I was spiraling.
I was absolutely spiraling.
Because my mother–the same woman who once grounded me for two weeks for forgetting to soak the beans–just f*****g dropped a life sentence on me and hung up like she’d ordered pizza.
And I was still face–down in a bed.
Still naked.
Still shaking.
Still split wide open with Damon Thornvale’s knot locked inside me like some demonic seal of ownership.
And now I was officially his.
Not just for the summer.
Not for a week.
But permanently.
For the rest of the school year.
“I’m going to die,” I whispered into the mattress. “No actually. I’m going to disintegrate. I’m going to melt into this bed like a cursed candle and no one’s ever going to find my bones because you’re going to f**k me into
extinction.”
Damon just laughed.
Laughed.
Like this was hilarious.
My Guardian Devil
Like my whole breakdown was the prelude to his f*****g victory speech.
“She didn’t even say goodbye,” I ranted, blinking hard as my eyes welled up, not from sadness but from complete mental combustion. “She didn’t ask if I needed pads. Or if I was feeling homesick. Or if the fan is still making weird ghost sounds at 2am. She just said behave and cut the call like I’m not currently being turned into a s*x puppet by the man she just appointed as my guardian.”
I looked back at him.
Favorite Sin 49
~Lyra~
Because he looked so satisfied.
So smug.
So calm.
Like this was all part of his evil little masterplan.
Like he was already planning what desk to bend me over when I started online classes.
“You’re smiling,” I hissed, my whole body trembling from where I was still stretched around his c**k. “Why are you smiling? This is not a smiling situation.
“This is a ‘call the police‘ situation. This is a ‘burn the house down and flee to Cuba‘ situation. This is not the time for that sexy, arrogant mafia smirk thing you do when you know you’ve won..oh my God you think you’ve
won.
His hand slid across my ass, slow, heavy, possessive.
“I have won,” he said calmly. “You’re not leaving.”
My breath caught.
I shook my head so hard it made the pillow shift.
“No. No no no. I still have options. I can run. I can get a job. I can join a convent. Or pretend to be possessed.
Or fake a coma. Or jump out the window and let Jesus take the wheel. I’m not staying here.”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Because his hips rolled forward..slow, deep, f*****g deliberate..and his knot dragged inside me like he was
proving I couldn’t even finish a sentence without moaning anymore.
“I hate you,” I whimpered, gripping the sheets like they could save me?
“No you don’t,” he murmured.
“I hate how you feel,” I cried. “I hate how full I am. I hate that you didn’t even ask. I hate that my mum thinks
you’re respectable.”
His lips brushed my neck.
“I love that she does.”
I gasped.
“Oh my God, you’re evil,” I hissed, my voice cracked and trembling and way too high–pitched to sound intimidating.
“You’re not just evil. You’re like evil with a capital E. Like if Lucifer had a c**k and a mansion and a f*****g six–pack and ruined girls for fun while their mums were on speakerphone thinking he was a God–sent father figure..that’s you.
“That’s who you are. You’re the reason I’m going to hell. You’re the reason I’m going to wake up tomorrow with a cross carved into my thighs and no hymen and a permanent tremor in my legs.”
He just smirked behind me like he was proud.
“I mean seriously,” I kept going, because apparently I had no self–control and also no brain cells left, “who does that? Who ruins a girl this hard while her mother is still on the line? Who knots a virgin and f***s her stupid until she moans into the pillow and then goes ‘I’ll take care of your daughter‘ like he’s applying for a babysitting job?”
He didn’t say a word.
Just slowly, deeply, rolled his hips forward again like my entire speech was an invitation to stretch me wider.
I gasped.
Full–body tremble.
My toes curled so hard I think I caught a cramp but I didn’t care. My p***y pulsed so tightly around his knot I nearly sobbed.
“You think this is funny,” I whimpered. “You think this is so f*****g funny. I’m stuck in this house with you. You. The man who calls himself Daddy when he’s wrecking me and makes me beg and says things like good girl in that voice that makes my brain leak out of my ears. You literally fingered me while I was on the phone
Forever.” with my mother and now she wants me to stay. Here. With you.
His mouth brushed my shoulder again, that calm, smug monster of a man still buried inside me like he was never planning to leave.
“She called you stable,” I cried, writhing under him like my body couldn’t decide if it wanted to cry or climax.” My mother called you a stable male influence. Do you know what that means? That means she thinks you’re a safe adult. A trustworthy guardian.
“A mentor. She thinks you’re the kind of man who gives speeches about boundaries and consent and safety. When really you’re the kind of man who makes girls cry while calling them his personal cumslut–oh my God, I am your personal cumslut.”
He groaned low at that.
I slapped my hand over my mouth.
“Oh my God. I said that out loud. I actually said that. I admitted it. This is it. This is how I die. My soul is going to detach from my body and float to purgatory and the angels are going to gag when they pull up my file and see what’s currently stuffed inside me. I’m going to have to fight for entrance into heaven while walking bowlegged from your cock.”
I buried my face in the sheets, screaming into them.
“I used to be normal,” I mumbled into the fabric. “I used to be a virgin who drank iced coffee and watched
rom–coms and cried about failing Chemistry. And now I’m just… your little s*x doll with no brain and too much c*m in her uterus.”
He finally spoke
“You love it,” Damon growled.
And my p***y clenched.
Because I did.
God help me. I did..
“Lies! I do not love it,” I snapped.
And then immediately gasped. Because my p***y betrayed me again. It clenched around his knot like it was clapping. Like it was proud. Like it wanted to scream yes she f*****g does in Morse code through my cervix.
“Okay fine,” I hissed, burying my face deeper into the sheets. “Maybe I like it a little. Like a very small microscopic amount. Like the size of a grain of rice. Or a flea. Or a dust particle that got lost in a hurricane and accidentally landed in my frontal lobe and made me say that.
“Because obviously I don’t love being used like a personal fuckdoll by my best friend’s father while my mum is out here planning my permanent relocation like this is the f*****g Sims.”
He rolled his hips again and I moaned so loud it sounded illegal.
“I’m not okay,” I whined. “I’m genuinely not. Like I don’t even know who I am anymore. What’s my name? What year is it? How do I walk? Because I’m pretty sure you’ve rearranged my organs and I’ll have to pee out of my
throat from now on.”
His hand curved around my hip, pulling me back harder onto his c**k like I was made for it.
“You broke me,” I whispered. “No actually. You shattered me. You stuffed me full of your c**k and now I can’t even think about bananas without picturing your d**k. I can’t hear the word ‘discipline‘ without getting wet.
“I can’t talk to my mother without dripping all over the sheets like some desperate little nympho who needs to be gagged before she confesses everything.”
I gasped again. Because I was still leaking.
So much.
I could feel it.
His c*m was sliding down the insides of my thighs like it belonged there.
“And the worst part?” I whispered into the sheets. “The worst part is that I know you’re going to do it again. You’re not done. You haven’t even started. You’re going to keep me here, and make me call you Daddy, and f**k me so many times I forget what daylight looks like. You’re going to ruin me and then smile when I thank you for it.”
He groaned again, deeper this time, and I felt his knot twitch.
My p***y clenched again.
“I’m eighteen,” I whimpered. “I’m supposed to be applying to universities and having existential crises and drinking boba tea while crying over boys who don’t know I exist. Not… this. Not getting bred by my best friend’s dad while my uterus sings the f*****g Hallelujah chorus because your c**k hasn’t moved in thirty
seconds.”
I turned my head and looked back at him, my cheeks burning, my hair stuck to my face, my entire body trembling with every tiny movement of his hips.
“You’re going to break me,” I whispered. “Aren’t you?”
< Knotty Business
He smirked.
Then he pulled back.
And started f*****g me again. f**k yes!!
He was still inside me.
Still thick.
Still twitching.
Still buried so deep it felt like I could feel his c**k in my f*****g throat.
But slowly, finally, I felt it. The pressure starting to ease. The knot beginning to shrink. My poor p***y was still pulsing around him, raw and overstretched and full of so much c*m I was pretty sure I could drown a toddler, but his grip on my hips loosened.
And then.
He pulled out.
My whole body flinched.
c*m spilled down my thighs immediately. So much. It slid down to the backs of my knees and pooled onto the sheets beneath me like a f*****g crime scene.
Damon didn’t say anything at first. Just reached for the edge of the blanket, dragged it up with one hand, and wiped the inside of my thighs like I was something fragile. Or his.
Then he leaned down.
Pressed a kiss to my shoulder.
And whispered, “Better clean up before Tasha walks in and asks why her room smells like a porn studio.”
I choked.
I literally choked on my own spit.
“You’re disgusting,” I croaked, half dead, face still buried in the pillow, body twitching like I’d been hit by a
truck.
He stood up, stretched like the predator he was, and walked toward the door butt–naked, not even pretending
to be ashamed.
Before leaving, he paused at the doorway, looked over his shoulder at my dripping, sprawled, broken body on Tasha’s bed, and smirked.
“Next time,” he said casually, “you’re riding me.”
Then he walked out.
Just like that.
Naked.
Smirking.
Swinging.
Leaving a trail of corruption and
c*m in his wake like a walking felony.
I laid there..
Silent.
Sticky.
Staring at the ceiling like it could explain to me how my life had imploded in less than seventy–two hours.
“Oh my God,” I whispered to myself. “I’m going to hell. I’m genuinely going to hell. With VIP access. Jesus is going to slam the pearly gates shut when he sees my browser history. I need therapy. And holy water. And a f*****g exorcism.”
I was mid–spiral, still breathing like I’d just survived an earthquake, when my phone buzzed beside me.
I blinked at it.
Still on my side.
Still nude.
Still leaking like a cracked pipe.
The screen lit up: Unknown number.
I frowned.
“Who the hell?”
I picked it up and pressed it to my ear, still panting.
“Hello?” I said cautiously.
“Lyra,” a voice said on the other end, smooth and familiar and full of smug, undeserved confidence, “how are you doing?”
I froze.
No.
No no no no no no no.
It couldn’t be.
It f*****g was.
“Marcus?” I hissed. “You f*****g prick./How the f**k did you get my number?”
My voice cracked halfway through the insult.
Because of course this would happen now.
Because of course the boy who once called me useless for not letting him break my virginity would call me now after it had been broken, shattered, absolutely annihilated by a man three times filthier and ten times
thicker.
Because the universe hated me.
And Marcus?
Marcus was about to find out just how not useless I’d become.
Favorite Sin 50
Didn’t bother wiping the c*m off my thighs or pulling the sheets over my wrecked, twitchy, utterly defiled
body.
I just held the phone to my ear with one hand, stared at the ceiling like I was God’s favorite disappointment,
and let a smile slowly curl across my face.
“Oh my God,” I whispered sweetly into the receiver. “Marcus. What a surprise. Did your d**k finally get signal?”
He stuttered.
Actually stuttered.
Typical.
1–uh–1 just wanted to check on you. See how you were doing.”
“How I’m doing?” I purred, voice sticky with fake innocence. “That’s so sweet of you. Really. Because the last time we spoke, you called me useless. Remember that? Because I wouldn’t let you stick your pinkie–d**k in
me in the backseat of your mum’s Corolla after youth service?”
Silence.
Oh, I was just getting started.
“Well, guess what, baby,” I cooed, flipping onto my back with a wince because my poor p***y was still screaming in multiple languages. “I’m doing fantastic. Never been better. Life is just… pounding me in all the
right ways.”
“Lyra…”
“I got f****d,” I said plainly, staring at the ceiling like it owed me rent. “Properly. Completely. f*****g. Ruined. Like the Virgin Mary looked down and had to cover her eyes.”
“You what?”
“Oh don’t act surprised,” I laughed, breathless. “Isn’t that what you always wanted? Well, congratulations, asshole. I finally did it. Except it wasn’t with some acne–faced, testosterone–deficient high school reject who thinks fingering is just aggressively poking the clit like a doorbell.”
He sputtered.
I went on.
“It was a man, Marcus. A real one. With hands the size of your self–esteem issues and a c**k that touched my lungs. You hear me? Lungs. Not uterus. Not cervix. Lungs. I was gagging and moaning and f*****g crying, and
he still didn’t stop.”
Silence again.
Dead silence.
I licked my lips and smirked like the devil’s favorite slut.
“Do you know what it’s like to be khotted, Marcus?”
“-what the f**k are you talking about-”
“Oh, sweetie. You poor, clueless baby.” I giggled, nasty. “It means he stretched me so wide I could feel his c*** lock inside me. Like a seatbelt. Except the only accident was my dignity. I was clenching so hard my soul left
my body.”
“Lyra, who the f**k-”
I cut him off.
“Do you want to know what I screamed when I came?” I whispered.
“No.”
“I screamed Daddy.”
He groaned like he’d been punched.
I smiled like I’d won the lottery and used the prize money to book a vacation to hell.
“Yeah,” I said. “Daddy. Because the man who f****d me into next week? He’s not just hot. He’s not just rich. He’s not just older. He’s my best friend’s dad.”
Silence.
I could practically hear his balls shriveling.
“You’re lying,” Marcus muttered, voice brittle with denial. “You’re just saying this s**t to piss me off.”
“Oh Marcus,” I whispered, “I’m not lying. I’m leaking.”
And I was.
Still.
There was c*m on my thighs. My sheets. Probably on the ceiling if I looked hard enough.
I rolled my eyes.
“I just thought you should know,” I added airily. “Since you were so sure I’d never be good enough. Never sexy enough. Never worth f*****g. Guess what? He’s f****d me four times since sunrise and I still can’t close my legs. So maybe you were just too small to make me feel anything.”
“You’re disgusting,” he spat.
“And you’re pressed,” I sang. “Enjoy your miserable little ego trip, Marcus. Maybe next time you try to slut–shame someone, you won’t lose them to the first man with working stamina and a house bigger than your future.”
“f**k you,” he snapped, voice cracking like his pride.
I laughed. Full, broken, feral.
“Baby, you couldn’t even if you tried” I hissed.
“f*****g bastard”
Truth Kept
Click.
I ended the call.
And I swear to God, if my p***y had vocal cords, she would’ve applauded.
The kitchen was way too bright for someone who got absolutely wrecked less than twelve hours ago.
I sat at the island with my legs tightly crossed, hoodie pulled all the way down to my knees like it could cover the truth seeping out of my pores.
I had one hand wrapped around my glass of juice, the other half–heartedly holding a slice of bread I hadn’t bitten into yet because my throat still felt like I’d swallowed a ghost. A big one. With tattoos. And a goddamn
six–pack.
Tasha was standing by the stove, flipping eggs like she didn’t know my body was currently recovering from a full–on, knot–wielding, cervix–rearranging, consciousness–snatching Dicking. That’s right. Capital D. Like his c**k had its own birth certificate.
Then she turned around.
She turned around so slowly, so deliberately, that my entire soul paused in my chest. She had a plate in her hand. A perfectly made, innocent–looking plate of scrambled eggs and toast. But her face? Her face said murder. Her face said confession booth. Her face said b***h I’m about to wreck your spirit.
She dropped the plate in front of me like a cop slamming evidence on the table during an interrogation. Then she slid into the stool across from me, crossed her arms on the counter, stared into my sin–stained soul, and said–so casually it felt like a trap:
“Tell me who the f**k you were f*****g yesterday, Lyra.”
I choked.
I actually choked.
Not metaphorically. Like, literally. Toast–in–throat. Juice–up–nose. Panic–mode choke.
I smacked my chest. Coughed. Wiped at my nose with my hoodie sleeve like a feral raccoon. Then stared at her like she’d just opened the gates of hell and asked me if I knew Lucifer personally.
“What the–what are you talking about?” I squeaked, voice three octaves too high and eyes too wide to look innocent. “I wasn’t–I wasn’t f*****g anyone!”
She didn’t even blink.
She just tilted her head slightly to the side like a therapist about to diagnose me with ‘Lying w***e Syndrome.’
I tried to recover, took a deep breath, and powered through the most chaotic, badly planned lie of my entire
existence.
“I was using a dildo,” I said quickly. “And my f*****g fingers. Okay? That’s it. That’s literally all. Self–care. Like normal girls do when they’re… hormonal and ovulating and bored. I was just… discovering myself. Spiritually. With batteries.”
Tasha didn’t say a word.
376
Truth Kept
She just stared at me for a full ten seconds. Silent. Still. Then she reached for her juice, took a very calm sip. and finally spoke with the kind of deadpan energy that made my skin itch.
“Girl.”
Oh no.
439
“If your dildo made you scream ‘Daddy‘ three times and beg to be ruined like a c*m–hungry Catholic schoolgirl, I want the link. I want the review. I want the brand, model number, voltage, and a tutorial on how to
survive a seizure.”
I dropped my head onto the counter with a loud, desperate groan and smacked my forehead against the wood like I could beat the shame out of my skull.
“I hate you,” I mumbled into the toast.
She leaned in closer like a detective sniffing out the truth.
“I heard everything. Through the walls. Through the vents. Through my bones, Lyra. The house was vibrating like we summoned a succubus. You were moaning like the main character in a porn titled ‘Daddy’s Little w**** Gets Punished.””
“I was not!” I wailed, even though I 100% was.
“Stop lying!” she snapped, grinning. “You literally screamed. I heard the mattress. I heard him. His voice was so deep I thought a demon was haunting my house.”
“I hate my life,” I muttered. “I hate this juice. I hate toast. I hate your ears. I hate myself. I want to crawl into a hole and eat grass until I die of embarrassment.”
“WHO WAS IT?”
“I’m not telling you.”
Her eyes narrowed like a sniper lining up a shot.
“It was someone forbidden, wasn’t it?”
“No.”
“Someone older.”
“No.”
“Someone with big hands and even bigger d**k energy.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Someone whose voice sounds like sin and whose hips sound like thrust thrust thrust.”
I slapped both hands over my ears.
“I was using a dildo and my fingers!” I yelled. “Just like every other normal teenage girl going through an identity crisis and a dry spell!”
Tasha slammed her fork onto her plate.
“Don’t play with me, Lyra. Tell me who the f**k had you screaming ‘yes Daddy‘ at 3AM while I was trying to cry in peace.”
Truth Kept
“I WAS SPIRITUALLY EXPRESSING MYSELF!”
“You were expressing your cervix!”
“I WAS STRETCHING MYSELF!”
“No, b***h. HE was stretching you. Whoever he is. And if you don’t start talking, I swear I’ll start a PowerPoint presentation with audio evidence and screen–recorded timestamps from the security camera footage in the
hallway!”
I froze.
My breath stopped.
My soul left my body, did a backflip, and came back only to remind me that I was absolutely, undeniably, one hundred percent f****d.
Not just physically.
Socially.
Emotionally.
Existentially.
And then..
As if the universe needed to punish me one more time.
Tasha dropped her final bomb.
“It was my dad, wasn’t it?”
My toast fell out of my hand.
The juice slid down my throat sideways and made me cough.
My eyes went wide.
Tasha stared at me.
And I–Lyra, overthinking, overstimulated, freshly bred, and still spiritually twitching–smiled like a lunatic and whispered:
“Would now be a bad time to pretend I’ve lost my memory?”
“The f**k,” I muttered under my breath, eyes still wide and sanity hanging by a thread. “That’s so weird. That’s like… disgusting. You’re my best friend. He’s your dad. He’s–he’s way older than me. He’s like grown. With suits and credit scores and probably health insurance. Even if I can’t get over his d**k. f**k. I said that last part in my head. Please tell me I said that in my head.”
I blinked, Swallowed.
Tasha just stared at me for a beat.
Then suddenly burst into the most chaotic, unhinged, witch–like cackle I’d ever heard in my life. She slapped her palm against the counter and doubled over, laughing like my trauma was her favorite Netflix special.
“Come on, girl!” she choked out between fits of laughter. “I’m just messing with you!”