[Exclusive] TIS 1328.1 R18 Beach Episode (4). You Own Me…

[Exclusive] TIS 1328.1 R18 Beach Episode (4). You Own Me…

Then I lifted the whip.

Smack.

She gasped.

The sound cracked through the room like a spell being cast. Her ass jiggled from the impact, just one clean stroke across her right cheek. A red line bloomed slowly, beautifully despite I controlled my strength.

I watched her react.

Her fingers curled into the sheets.

Her breath came faster.

But she didn’t cry out.

Didn’t stop me.

Didn’t ask me to.

I leaned forward again, tracing the mark I made with my fingers.

Another smack.

Left cheek this time.

Harder.

She arched with it. Her voice caught in her throat, a choked sound between pain and pleasure.

My lips brushed her ear.

“You can wear a crown all day, but when you're on my bed—”

Smack.

She cried out this time.

I chuckled darkly.

“You belong to me.”

I watched the red bloom across her skin. Her hips shifted, thighs tightening. Every smack left another proof that pride could be painted in marks instead of jewels.

Another swing.

She gasped again.

Not a protest.

A plea.

She whispered something I barely caught. “More…”

I dropped the whip beside the bed. My hands slid around her waist.

And I pulled her flush against me.

My body against hers.

My voice right beside her ear again.

“Now say it. Who owns you?”

She hesitated.

I ran my hand between her legs, fingers slick with heat.

“Say it.”

“Y-you do…”

My hand tightened.

She whimpered. Her back arched again.

“Again.”

“You do,” she moaned. “You own me…”

I smiled. Kissed her shoulder. My grip softened.

“Good girl.”

Her ears twitched at that. Her entire body shifted at those two words, like they’d been stitched into her bones. I felt it. How deep it hit.

And I wasn’t done with her yet.

I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back gently. Her neck arched. Her breath hitched.

I stared down at her.

“Do you want more, my lady?”

She nodded fast.

I reached down.

Positioned myself behind her again.

Let the head of my cock press against her heat.

But I didn’t enter her.

Not yet.

I leaned forward again, resting my chest against her back, one hand still in her hair, the other gripping her hip like it belonged there.

“Beg.”

She gasped.

I didn’t move.

She tried again. “Please…”

“More.”

“Please,” she moaned. “Please f*ck me again…”

That was enough.

I pressed inside, slow and deep. Just enough to make her collapse forward, arms trembling, voice breaking.

“Ahn~ Deeper. I want deeper.”

I didn’t move yet. Just held her there.

Let her feel all of it.

Let her body remember what it meant to be mine.

Then I moved.

Hard.

Fast.

Possessive.

And the bed began to creak again with every thrust.

But I didn’t break the role.

Not yet.

Not until she couldn’t speak anymore.

Not until her proud little mouth stopped forming sentences and started moaning my name like it was a prayer and a curse all at once.

Not until her tails twitched and wrapped around me again, not with power, but with need.

And even then…

Even then, I held her close.

Whispered against her flushed, tear-streaked cheek.

“You played the cruel heiress perfectly, Foxy.”

Her breath hitched. Her fingers curled into the sheets like she couldn’t tell if she was still playing the role or begging for real anymore.

I kissed her jaw, slow, tender, but with teeth. Enough to make her shiver, enough to remind her that the game was still mine.

“But you forgot one thing,” I murmured, voice low against her skin. “I always win.”

I pressed back into her with a slow, deep grind. Not thrusting. Not fucking. Just grinding. Letting every thick inch drag across her walls in long, pulsing waves that made her tremble again.

She moaned. High and sharp. Her legs spread wider instinctively, her body too raw, too open, too ruined to fight back anymore.

But her hips still rolled up to meet me.

She wanted it.

I could feel it in every breath. Every squeeze. Every twitch of her slick heat around me.

I stayed pressed to her back, arms wrapped around her waist, cock buried deep, grinding in slow circles, like I was carving my shape into her from the inside out.

And she broke.

Again.

Soft at first. Just a gasp. Then a choked sob of pleasure as her body clenched violently, her orgasm tearing through her like she wasn’t ready for it.

Her nails dragged across the sheets. Her mouth opened in a silent scream.

I didn’t stop.

Didn’t let up.

I held her tighter and whispered, “Mine.”

And then I came too.

Hard.

My jaw clenched. My breath caught. And the release hit like fire down my spine, my body tensing, cock pulsing deep inside her as I spilled into her again, claiming her, marking her, owning her in the one way she couldn’t ever deny.

Her whole body collapsed forward with me still inside, her breath ragged, her cheeks damp with tears and sweat.

But her tails…

They never let go.

They stayed wrapped around me.

Like she never wanted to be anywhere else.

Even when her body collapsed fully, trembling from the aftershocks, even when I finally let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding… she still clung.

Clung like I was home.

I let go. Slowly. My grip loosened from her waist. I brushed her damp hair from her cheek and leaned in, kissed her forehead, her temple, then the soft corner of her lips.

“You were good,” I whispered, still breathless, voice low and rough. “So good.”

She blinked up at me, dazed and flushed, lashes wet, lips parted.

I chuckled, gently. Let my hand run down the curve of her back, stopping just above the rise of her still-red cheeks.

“But no…” I added, shaking my head. “That was enough. You’ll melt if I keep going.”

I was about to shift, to pull back, to give her space…

But her arms wrapped around my chest before I could even sit up.

And then…

She moved.

Straddled me.

Her thighs slid around my waist like silk and sin. Her body pinned mine down, chest pressing against me, and she pushed my shoulders back with both hands. Not roughly. Not demanding.

But with intent.

And then she looked at me.

Her cheeks were glowing.

Her lips curled into that damn foxy smirk, the one I’d seen so many times but never with this much heat behind it.

And in the softest, sweetest voice…

“More,” she purred. “Master~”

I blinked.

Paused.

My brain lagged like a dying server.

“Oh dear…” I muttered.

Because she said it like a prayer. Like a weapon. Like she knew exactly what that word did to me.

And yeah, I cringed, because I was weak. Weak for that voice. Weak for her.

Foxy leaned in, grinding down slowly on my half-hard cock, dragging a gasp out of both of us.

“You said I played my role well,” she whispered, breath hot against my lips. “Then let me finish it.”

“Foxy…”

She giggled. The soft, wicked sound of a demon who knew she had me.

Her tails wrapped tighter around my legs. Her hands slid down my chest. And when she rocked her hips again, that look in her eyes, possessive, hungry, glowing with affection, told me the cruel heiress wasn’t done.

And maybe?

Neither was I.