“Holy shit,” she moans. Her back arching off the bed, one of her hands clutches the bedspread under us, the other grips hard around my wrist. She moves me so that the bullet is right where it needs to be.

I feel and hear her getting wetter, the obscene sounds of our copulation urging me to go faster. I watch as my dick becomes wetter with every thrust. “So fucking wet for me, pet. Are you going to come for daddy?”

“Yes, gods, you feel so good.”

“No gods here, little witch, just your demon.”

“Don’t stop.”

“I’m not stopping until I feel you come around my cock. Even then, I might not stop.”

I turn the setting up even higher, the buzz of the toy loud in the room. Her grip on my wrist tightens, her head thrashing back as her pussy begins to milk me. Sending me over the edge. I keep the toy on her over sensitive clit as I fuck her with no mercy, showing her what she does to me, that she’s mine, that she needs to take better care of what belongs to me.

She nearly screams in my ear as I come, the sensation of the toy and how hard I was fucking her too much. We’re both panting when I look her in the face. She gives me a sleepy smile and holds her arms out at me. Not mad, not scared, but with want. This smaller, more fragile witch, who has been through who knows what, wants to comfort me. When is the last time I felt or desired comfort for myself?

I lie down, my head on her soft breasts, arms wrapped around her waist as her small arms wrap around my head. This, this was what I needed.

Clanging of pans is what wakes me up, my face pressed against the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I kiss them delicately and there’s a soft giggle above me. I can’t help it when I pull back and smile at her.

“What time is it?”

“Around nine, I think,” she says. “Do you want to shower before breakfast?” I nod my head. I feel disgusting after the past couple of days. My feet hit the hardwood floor and I walk to the shower first. I can see in the mirror that Blair is watching my ass as I move.

“Are you watching or joining, little witch?”

“Both,” she says, walking behind me and slapping my ass. She turns the spray of the shower on, holding out her palm to test the temperature. The shower is small, but it will do: a simple glass shower with white tile, a toilet and a small vanity covered in products. “Is everything okay with Asmo?”

“Yes, we found him. He’s with Kas.”