Novel & Cerita Masochism

The same bed we used to fight over when we were younger. “Feel that?” he said low. “This is where it all started. And this is where it stays.” I nodded. Couldn’t speak right. Every deep thrust made my toes curl. He hit that spot over and over. Slow and perfect. My cock leaked between our stomachs. Damon reached down and stroked me gently. Our hips were both moving in sync now. “No more fighting it, Kai. You’re addicted now. You need your stepbrother’s cum.” I hated hearing it. But I couldn’t deny it. “Yeah… I need it.”

I couldn't help but feel the lust rushing in my veins but I tried to control myself. "Ahh! Pinch my butt a little harder, doctor." Fino ordered me causing me to raise my eyebrows at him. So this is what Winston is trying to say, Fino is a fucking submissive and a masochist, he loves the pain, he enjoys every time he feels so much pain and I don't know why that idea fucking turns me on. Maybe being a sadist is one of my fetishes but I can't just let it out because I don't want to hurt Memo, but Fino is different, it seems like he wants me to hurt him. "Is this hard enough?" I asked Fino and added a little forced as I pinch Fino's smooth ass causing him to moan.

Like ever. “Maybe you’re not a masochist in the traditional sense…”. He muses as he places his arm on the table and rests his chin on it. “But you do like pain”. “I don’t want to be hit…or whipped…or anything like that”. It’s not even embarrassing to say anymore. I’m really not hardcore or anything, I— “I already know that, Sorahiko”. He places one of his slices of toast on my plate. “You just have a very nasty strength kink”.

I was back in the now and it was worse because he watched me as he filled my ass. "Yes, girl, look at me. I love your nasty asshole. You're not shutting me out... this out." His gaze burned into me. "I know how much you want it." The problem was-I did want it. I wanted him topping me, dominating me, hurting me. Making me do the things I hated. His chilling smile made my pussy wet and so did his cock. He was so beautiful, each muscle in his arms and chest perfect and strong-made for a masochist's pleasure. I gritted my teeth against the pain as his hands tightened on my hips. He plowed my ass, no longer taking his time or caring about the burning ache.

I wanted to speak again, but my words got stuck in my throat. “Lucian had always struggled with having sex like a normal man, Cassandra. He’s different, and he can’t show this side to anyone except me, because I am the only woman that has ever understood him.” She explained further, though I was still trying to make sense out of what she was saying. “What do you mean by he is different? What is his kink?” I inquired, trying so hard to keep my cool. “He is a masochist. He derives pleasure from pain. He is submissive and I am a dominant woman. He tried having sex the normal way, but it never worked out for him.”

She didn't want to be suffering like this, but she lacked the courage to make him stop. As much as her body hurt and ached, the pleasure she was receiving was so intense that she became addicted, and she suspects she had become a masochist. This man spanked her ass several times until it was burning and aching, but she also felt such intense pleasure that she was embarrassed when he made her climax with just a spanking. Was she really that sensitive and a masochist?

My dad sighed, seeing my confused expression, and looked down, "The type of intense stress...that, usually, comes from some sort of trauma." My eyes widened as he continued, "Usually...the type of trauma that's associated with...torture...or rape. And...if his wolf is as scarred as you say it is, then...that would most likely indicate long-term abuse. I'm sorry, son."

It didn’t matter how much he wanted her. Didn’t matter how insane she made him. He could be ruthless. He could kill a man with his bare hands and not blink. He could be a heartless bastard without shame or guilt— But he would never lay a hand on a woman without her consent. Thank God his mother had drilled that code into him. And yet… Right now, that code felt more like a curse. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe. Svetlana. Her name echoed in his mind like a litany.

Tiodor Lison sat at his office desk, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. Yesterday’s events had made one thing clear: his victory was assured. On the monitor, he once again reviewed the report on Libia Musso. It detailed every time the young woman had seen a psychologist. He had needed some money to dig deeper into her file, but it only confirmed what he had already suspected. “Depressive disorders, anxiety, all due to a disorganized attachment in childhood,” he read aloud.