Beneath The Mask

Beneath the Mask

Content warning: Consensual non-consent (CNC), rough sex, bondage, impact play, primal dynamic, explicit sexual content, dark romance themes. All acts depicted are consensual within an established trust dynamic.

She stepped into the forest just after sunset, breath hitching with every crunch of her boots on the undergrowth. The trees closed in around her like secrets. She wasn’t scared, at least not the kind of scared that made her want to turn back. No, this was the kind that burned low in her stomach. He was already here. Watching, waiting. He always was. They didn’t need to text anymore. One word a day before was enough: ready. That meant she’d come alone. That meant she was his. The crooked oak stood like a sentinel at the edge of the clearing. She leaned her back against it, pulse drumming in her throat, dress clinging to her thighs in the cool night air. No bra. No panties. Just obedience in its rawest form.

She didn’t hear him. She just felt him.

A gloved hand clamped over her mouth from behind and another twisted her wrists up and back before she could breathe properly. His body pressed into hers, hard and unforgiving, trapping her between him and the bark. She moaned behind his hand, not in fear, in recognition.

“Such a good little thing,” he breathed into her ear, voice muffled slightly behind the black mask that always made her knees weak. “You waited just how I told you to.” He tied her wrists above her head, rope biting into her skin, pulling her up until she had to tiptoe. Exposed. At his mercy. Exactly where she wanted to be. He ripped the dress open at the front. One harsh pull. No hesitation. Her nipples stiffened in the night air, chest rising fast with every breath. He traced his fingers over her belly, slow, before slipping them between her legs, slick and aching for him.

“Dripping already?” he asked, smirking under the mask. “You’re so fucking easy for me.” Two fingers pushed inside without warning, curling deep, his thumb grinding against her clit. She jerked, helpless to do anything but take it, moaning as he fingered her like he had all the time in the world. Then he dropped to his knees. Lifted one of her thighs over his shoulder and buried his tongue in her. No teasing. Just filthy, wet pressure, licking and sucking like he was starving for it. She whimpered. Cried out. Pulled at the rope as his tongue fucked her, over and over until her legs shook and she came hard, gasping his name like a secret torn from her mouth. He stood, unzipping his jeans, and thrust into her in one brutal, claiming motion. No build-up. No mercy. Just rough, relentless fucking against the tree. Her back scraped against the bark, her wrists strained against the rope, but she didn’t care. She gave him everything, her cries, her breath, her body and he took it like he owned it. His hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to blur the edges of everything but him. “You’re mine,” he growled, fucking deeper, harder, until she screamed his name again and came undone around him, clenching so tight he had to bite her shoulder to keep from losing control.

When he finally spilled inside her, he stayed there, breathing heavy against her neck, lips brushing the shell of her ear. Only then did he untie her wrists, lower her gently to the mossy ground, and pull her into his lap, both of them wrecked and silent beneath the stars. Because whatever this was, it wasn’t casual. It was ritual.

-❌tds