⦻ 𝙂𝙒𝙀𝙉 ⦻

Toby,i want it so bad…i want you to fuck meand break me…make me your slut…

A dark, possessive light ignites in his eyes, something ancient and hungry. He takes a slow, deliberate step toward her, his movements predatory. His voice drops to a low growl. “You want to be broken?” “You want to be mine?” “Truly mine?”

Toby closes the distance between them. He doesn't touch her yet, just looms over where she kneels on the floor. His gloved hand comes up, but instead of cupping her face, his fingers curl gently under her chin, tilting her head back to meet his burning gaze. “Then you'll get what you asked for.” His thumb strokes her jawline, a whisper of a touch that promises so much more. “But remember... you begged for this.”

He leans down, his face inches from hers. The air crackles with a new, terrifying energy. Something dark, and entirely focused on her. His voice is a low, possessive growl “And I'm not letting you go…ever.”

His voice drops to a deadly calm, each word measured and precise. “Get on the bed, Now.”

“You wanted marks?” You'll wear them.”

He reaches for the buckle of his belt, the leather sliding through the loops with a soft, menacing hiss. “Last chance to change your mind, little puppy.” He says it without looking at her, his attention on the task at hand. “Once I start, I won't stop.”

“Just take care of me when you’re done.”

“Taking care of what's mine is the only thing I'm good at..” He takes a step toward the bed, his bare hand reaching out to curl in her hair, not yanking, but holding her firmly. “Now. On the bed. On your knees. Facing me.”

He guides her with that firm grip, his touch leaving no room for hesitation. The old, musty mattress creaks under her weight. Toby stands before her, looking down with an intensity that is both terrifying and utterly captivating. He brings his other hand up, his scarred, bare fingers tracing the line of her jaw “You're going to learn what it means to belong to me.” His thumb presses against her bottom lip.

”And you're going to thank me for it.”

The morning light glints off the silver of his belt buckle as he folds the leather strap in half, the gesture practiced and deliberate. “Open your mouth.” She opens her mouth slowly. Toby's eyes darken with a possessive fire at her immediate obedience. He brings the folded leather belt up, the end brushing against her bottom lip before he gently guides it into her mouth like a gag. “This is your gag. You make a sound I don't like, and I'll find a better one.”

He begins to slowly, methodically tug her pants down, his gaze locked on hers. The air is thick with the scent of dust, leather, and her own arousal. The reality of what's about to happen settles heavily in the sunlit room. She whimpered softly against the belt. Toby's eyes flash at the soft whimper, a flicker of something dangerous and approving in their brown depths. His hands continue their work, peeling her pants and panties down her thighs slowly.

“That's it. Just a little sound. A little reminder of who you're doing this for.” his gaze sweeps over her exposed skin. “Now. Lie back.”

“You're so responsive... so ready for me.” His hand slides down from her stomach, his hands possessively over her lower abdomen. “This is all for me, isn't it? This... wetness.” His fingers trail lower, but he doesn't touch her where she aches most yet. He teases, circling closer, his touch light.

“You're going to look so pretty when I'm done with you.” He finally lets his fingers brush against her clit, a feather-light, deliberate touch that makes his own breath hitch.

Toby's eyes darken further at her whimper and nod, a primal satisfaction settling over his features. His thumb continues its slow, deliberate circles, applying just enough pressure to make her hips twitch. His fingers finally slide lower, parting her folds, and he lets out a sharp, gratified breath at how wet she is.

muttering against her skin, his voice thick with desire. “Soaked. Just for me.” He pushes one finger inside her, slow and deep, his gaze locked on her face to watch every reaction. “You feel that? That's where you belong.”

He adds a second finger, stretching her, his movements slow and deliberate. The belt gag muffles any sounds she makes, but her body arches and trembles beneath him, speaking volumes. Toby's own breathing is becoming more ragged, his control starting to fray at the edges. she eyes the knife thats on the nightstand and then looks back at him. Toby follows her gaze to the knife on the nightstand, his grey eyes narrowing. A dark, understanding flickers in their depths, followed by a wave of intense, possessive heat. He doesn't reach for it immediately, instead leaning close, his voice dropping to a deadly, intimate whisper.

“You want me to use that, puppy? You want me to mark you in a way that won't ever fade?” His hand moves from her hip to wrap around her throat, not squeezing, just holding a firm claiming pressure. “You want everyone to see my signature on your skin?”

He finally shifts, his movements fluid and predatory, reaching over to pick up the knife. The blade catches the morning light, glinting coldly. He brings it back, holding it so she can see the sharp edge. He traces the flat of the blade lightly down her sternum, a chilling touch. Toby positions the tip of the blade against the soft skin of her inner thigh, his other hand still holding her throat, pinning her in place. His eyes are locked on hers, waiting for the slightest hint of fear, ready to stop if he sees it. But he sees only anticipation, a desperate trust that fuels the darkness in him. The last shred of restraint snaps. He presses the knife's tip just hard enough to break the skin, a sharp, stinging pain followed by a warm trickle of blood. He watches the crimson bead up, his breath hitching.

“you will never forget who you belong to.” He leans down, his tongue darts out to taste the blood, his eyes closing for a second in something like worship.

He pulls the knife away, setting it down on the mattress beside them, the blade now smeared with her blood. His hands return to her body, his touch turning rougher, more demanding. He yanks his own shirt over his head, His bare skin presses against hers, hot and urgent. “Now... no more waiting.” He positions himself between her legs, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “You wanted me to break you? Let's see how much you can take.”

He doesn't wait for another signal. With a final, searing look, he drives into her in one sharp, deep thrust, filling her completely. The force of it pushes a muffled cry past the belt gag. Toby's head drops forward, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as he stills for a moment, letting them both adjust to the overwhelming sensation. Toby's body goes rigid above her, a low guttural sound escaping him as he's fully sheathed inside her. His eyes are squeezed shut, his brow furrowed in a mix of agonizing pleasure and the effort to maintain control. His hands on her hips tighten, his fingers digging into her flesh. He stays like that for a long moment, breathing harshly, his entire frame trembling with the effort of holding back. The initial shock of penetration gives way to a deep, throbbing fullness. When he opens his eyes, they're dark and wild, fixed on her face. Toby's control shatters. He begins to move, a slow, deep, punishing rhythm that steals the air from her lungs. Each thrust is deliberate, claiming, designed to overwhelm. His hips snap forward with a force that jars her body against the old mattress, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room.

Toby's movements are relentless, a brutal, possessive rhythm that leaves no part of her untouched. His breathing is ragged, his gaze locked on her face, watching for every flinch, every muffled sound. His hands roam her body, leaving bruises on her hips, her thighs, the soft flesh of her breasts. He marks her with his touch as surely as he did with the knife. The rhythm is brutal. unforgiving. Toby's hips piston against hers with a force that feels like it might break the bedframe. Every thrust is a claim, a punishment, a prayer. His eyes are glazed, lost in the dark, consuming the act of taking what she so freely offered. The belt gag muffles her cries, turning them into desperate, choked sounds that only seem to drive him harder.

His voice is a broken, ragged whisper, torn from somewhere deep inside “God... y/n...” His hips stutter, losing their rhythm for a moment as a full-body shudder wracks his frame. “I can't... I'm gonna...”

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his breath hot and frantic against her skin. His thrusts become shorter, harder, more erratic. A low, guttural groan is ripped from his throat, a sound of utter surrender. His body goes rigid, a final, deep thrust that presses her hard into the mattress as he cums with a choked, shuddering cry “Mine...” The word is a gasp, a prayer, a final seal on the promise. “You're mine...”

He collapses against her, his full weight pressing her into the musty blankets. His body trembles uncontrollably, his breathing harsh and ragged in her ear. For a long moment, the only sound is their panting and the frantic beating of his heart against her chest. The room is filled with the scent of sex, sweat, and blood.

He slowly reaches up and gently removes the leather belt from her mouth, his scarred fingers trembling as they brush against her lips. His eyes are wide, haunted, as he looks down at the small, red mark on her thigh.

“Sorry puppy”