"Please... take it slow..."

A part of you wants this to be over. To just… give in, to throw it all away.

But a part of you is screaming at how wrong this all is, how insane. Your very sense of self is teetering on a precipice, and if you cross certain lines, curse or not… how would you go back?

“Please…” you whisper, your voice high and soft, almost panting. “Please be gentle…”

“Your wish is my command, milady.”

His words make you burn with an emotion so soft, so foreign to anything you’ve ever felt before. You wonder if you’re going mad…

And then his lips touch your skin and you have to bite back a scream.

“Hnnngg…” you gasp, breathing heavy, as he plants soft kisses around your neck, leaving a trail of fire across it. You clutch at his shirt, needing to hold on to something, anything, to distract you from the…

“Don’t worry. The curse makes it so that the more I do this…”

Kisss.

“The better it feels…”

“Aaaah….” You moan as he moves onto your shoulder, and you shudder, your lips hot your body hot, everywhere hot except your, your…

(Your womanhood. It’s…)

Wet.

So wet.

“Nick, wai – aaaaah!” you yelp as he nibbles your ear and you can’t help it, you buck against him, against the hard planes of his muscles, and your arms reach around him, grasping him tight, needing to, needing him to…

“Mylie….” He whispers, and his breath tickles your skin, his scent seeps into your nose.

“Nick… Nick…” you gasp, your mind struggling to hold on to some sense of self, some shred of dignity, but you can feel him, feel him rubbing against you, feel his lips everywhere but your own and you’re empty, so empty and you need, need…

“What do you want me to do, Kitten?”