would you submit to me fully once i brand your skin with my mark

Title: “Branded for Pleasure”

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with anticipation. She lay there on the bed, naked and vulnerable, her heart pounding in her chest. He towered over her, his muscular frame cast in shadows, a wicked grin on his lips. In his hand, he held a glowing red hot poker, the end glowing like the fires of Hades.

“Please…” she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper, “please be gentle.”

He chuckled, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. “Oh, I’ll be gentle,” he said, running the hot poker along the curve of her breast, “as gentle as I need to be.”

She gasped, arching her back at the searing heat. The poker left a red welt in its wake, the skin tender and sensitive. He admired his handiwork, tracing the lines of her body with the branded implement.

“You’re mine now,” he growled, “all mine. And I’m going to mark you, claim you, make you remember who you belong to.”

She trembled beneath him, torn between fear and arousal. Her body responded to his dominance, nipples hardening, thighs clenching. She knew she should resist, but the dark promise in his words called to something deep inside her, a primal part that yearned to be taken, to be owned.

He flipped her over, pressing her face into the mattress. The rough fabric chafed against her sensitive skin, the tiny fibers igniting every nerve ending. Her ass jutted up, a perfect target, and he brought the poker down with a firm smack.

She cried out, the pain intense but short-lived, replaced by a pulsing warmth that radiated from the center of her brand. He marked her again, and again, leaving a trail of scorch marks across her ample cheeks. She could feel the heat radiating from her skin, mingling with the unbearable ache between her legs.

“You take my mark so well,” he purred, massaging her raw flesh, “like you were made for it. Made to be my property.”

She moaned, squirming against his touch. She could feel his hardness pressing against her, the ridge of his cock tenting his pants. The knowledge that he desired her, wanted to fill her, complete her, only heightened her arousal.

As if reading her thoughts, he flipped her over again, spreading her thighs wide. She was dripping, her folds glistening in the dim light. He licked his lips, eyeing his prize.

“You’re mine to take,” he growled, freeing his cock from his pants, “mine to fuck. And I’m going to make you scream my name.”

He pressed the head of his cock against her entrance, teasing her with the promise of penetration. She moaned, arching her hips in a desperate attempt to pull him deeper. But he held himself back, tormenting her with near-misses and shallow thrusts.

“Please,” she whimpered, “please fuck me. Make me yours.”

With a dark chuckle, he complied, slamming into her with all the force of a jackhammer. She screamed, the sudden fullness stretching her wide, but the pain quickly gave way to pleasure. He set a brutal pace, pounding into her with abandon, his heavy balls slapping against her ass.

She lost herself in the sensation, her world narrowing to the delicious friction of his cock inside her, the raw scent of sex filling her nostrils. Her inner walls clenched around him, drawing him in deeper, desperate for his seed.

He groaned, picking up the pace, his hips a blur of motion. She could feel him swelling inside her, his orgasm building. With a final, bruising thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his hot cum spurting deep inside her.

She cried out, her own release crashing over her in waves. Her toes curled, her back arching like a bow as ecstasy coursed through her veins. She could feel his cum painting her insides, marking her as his, just as he had promised.

He collapsed on top of her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. They lay there for a long moment, gasping for breath, their sweat-slicked bodies entwined. She could feel his heartbeat slowing, matching her own.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes roaming over her body, taking in the marks he had left on her skin. A sense of possessive pride crossed his face, and he traced one of the scorch marks with his finger.

“Mine,” he growled, his voice a low rumble in his chest, “all mine. Branded, claimed, and filled with my cum. You’re perfect.”

She shivered at his words, a fresh wave of desire washing over her. This was what she had needed, what she had craved. To be taken, to be owned, to be marked as belonging to him.

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with adoration. “I’m yours,” she whispered, “now and forever.”

He grinned, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. She melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pouring all of her love and devotion into the embrace.

And so they lay there, tangled in each other’s embrace, basking in the afterglow of their passion. The marks on her skin would fade in time, but the memory of this moment, of being claimed and owned and cherished, would last a lifetime. She was his, body and soul, and he was hers. And nothing in this world or the next could ever change that.