Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Mine ❯ Mark of Property ( Chapter 3 )

Mark of Property

I'd managed not to break the ki-cuffs that bound my wrists on either side of the support pole, but I'd come damn close. The links weren't as strong as they were when we started; a fried connection here, a weakened joint there. Naturally I was enjoying myself, but in a terribly confused way. If someone had told me up was down, I'd have to take their word for it, because at this point nothing I was feeling made sense.

Vegeta rocked within me, running sharp fingernails down my back. Between his cum and mine, the hours had made for plenty of lubricant, but I was still torn and sore. With the tingles of pleasure each movement brought, sharp spikes of pain reminded me of abraded flesh. His hands crept up to run through my hair, and despite the ache and pain, the ever-present tension drained from my spine as I relaxed into him. I almost didn't realize he was scheming something.

"I can't see my claim from here," he mused, as if giving voice to a thought that had long been a half-formed dream. "Everyone… Everyone needs to know that you're mine. No matter which side they're facing."

I began to get nervous. What was he….?

The ringing flick of steel made my tail brush out in alarm. I heard it, but I couldn't see what he had, or what he was going to do, and I tried to peer over my shoulder. "Down," he barked, and I hid my face again, having caught a glimpse of a wickedly curved knife. I couldn't help wrapping my tail around the other side of my body, halfway curled under my stomach rather than join the tip to the base - in my head I might know that he'd never cut it off (he liked playing with it too much), but he'd surprised me so much that I truly had no idea what to expect.

"Hold still," he ordered, the unspoken "or else" hanging in the air, and the anticipation was unbearable. I wasn't built for this sort of thing dammit, I liked to see what was coming, I was no good at the unknown -- so despite myself I jerked a good foot forward when the knife dug into the skin on the off side of my low back. He snarled, thrusting back into me; I cringed apologetically, cooling blood trickling down my side.

His hand gripped the base of my tail, and chill fear-adrenaline rushed through my veins as he let me think about it for a second before his grip tightened - hard. I went boneless, mewling hoarsely from the pain, hearing my own breath shallow in my ears. Numb cold gripped everything beyond my knees and elbows as pinpricks lanced the back of my head. I closed my eyes, since I couldn't see a thing through the white haze anyway. Hot tendrils wound up my spine from his grasp on my tail, leaving me shaking. My leg provided an aching chorus for the background, and overlaying that, the burning pain as he rocked inside me, but over everything -

Well. I was used to pain, I was a warrior, a Saiyajin. But battlefield gashes and bruises are one thing, when you're hyped up on aggression and the thrill of movement and fighting and killing. When you can't do anything, when you're forced to be still, nothing else to distract you from each and every slicing cut… The cold pressure of the sharp edge, precluding the pain that lances up your spine as skin splits; yet that exceptional pain is dwarfed by the uniquely searing agony as the blade cuts into layer after layer of raw flesh. Unable to move, your throat too tight to scream even as two cuts intersect, slicing doubly deep into bloodied muscle. Warm blood chilled by the air as it tickles your side in thin streams.

Let's just say I gained a new understanding of the difference between pain and torture.

It was an eternity before Vegeta loosened his grip, apparently finished. Somewhere in the back of my mind I felt him moving, weight shifting, and I guessed he was licking my blood off the blade, which might have been erotic if I'd been able to appreciate it. I was busy simply relishing the metamorphosis from sharp agony to dull ache, cold pain-endorphins flooding my body.

Then his tongue was along the cuts, softening, soothing, so warm… almost burning along the fresher lines. I cried and gasped helplessly, curving my back into him. Even mingled with pain, the pure pleasurable sensuality of the action was something I drank up like a desert beast dying of thirst.

With a lustful growl he pulled me back, stretching my arms out above my head, still bound by the ki-restraints. He turned me on my side, holding a bruised leg up and away so he could reposition himself against my entrance. His hand ran along my bloodied flank, caressing his mark, and even through the ache of torn flesh I couldn't help but respond to his approval, arching my hips, uttering small whimpers. Then a shiver as his hand crept down to stroke the over-sensitive base of my tail… oh god, oh Kami… Vegeta… He'd had me so rough, so hard, yet still I ached for him to fuck me again… and naturally he obliged.

The sideways angle stretched me in new and as-yet unused places, urging my broken voice to cry out once again in passion. My ribs, stomach and shoulders ached as I pulled on the restraints, only barely able to stop short of breaking the already-strained links. Vegeta paused, bracing a palm against my hip, pulling back as he gathered power, his aura flaring --- no, he wouldn't -

He burst once more into golden ascension, driving home the point with a bruising thrust; I swear he felt half again as thick and twice as long as before. I writhed and panted, gasps hybridized with hoarse cries, but I had nowhere to go, stretched tight between him and the support pole.

It was… I was so tight, from my clenched fists to the tip of my tail. I couldn't… the tension was too much, something had to give, I was going to fucking snap like a rubber band. Each thrust wore the barrier between me and ecstasy thinner and thinner; I was so close, yet so far, completely dependant on him for that final push… Please… Vegeta, please… I can only take so much! Every bit of me is yours without reserve, but I can't give what I don't have… You're going to break me in two!

The press of his body against mine as he leaned close along my side was true heaven, sending shivers of pure pleasure through my system. "You're mine," he growled into my ear, chest resonating against my aching ribs. "Mine forever. Every fucking inch of you…" I wanted to moan `yes' in reply, but he'd driven language from me with sweat and blood. My head tossed from side to side; he was slowly and assuredly driving me insane.

His strong, smooth hand crept down to stroke my neglected heat, and I shivered into him. Every tiny nerve crackled with hazy fire where he stroked my shaft; the ridges of his fingers ran along the veins and contours of my heat. Deliberately and teasingly he crept up close to the apex, then backed down, denying me that final inch. Then he came up just barely over the edge… and back down to the base. My breath shuddered in sobs, and I whimpered like a dog - even if he hadn't admonished me not to speak, words were far, far beyond my ability.

Then his hand was exactly where I wanted it, precisely as I needed it, suffusing my body with liquid pleasure. "Cum for me," he snarled into my claim-scarred shoulder, and I broke.

Waves of pleasure cascaded with excruciating slowness through my battered body. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. Hazy consciousness returned between the crests only enough to taunt me with the knowledge that another was coming. If I dared to think I'd reached the top, another thrust hard and deep against my sweet spot or a cum-slicked hand slicked firmly against the head of my cock drove me to another high.

Finally I could once again draw breath in fits and starts, punctuated by shivers as the claws of passion slowly, reluctantly, relinquished me from their grasp. A warm hazy cloak of euphoric afterglow draped around me. Everything felt so good… I could easily overlook the residual aches and pains. Lazily I rolled over, one hand resting by my jaw on a soft carpet of hair.

Wait. My hands were…. Free?

I blinked in confusion even as I felt Vegeta shift and move to sit up. The restraints had finally given; in the middle of passion, I had simply pulled too hard. I didn't suppose there was any way under heaven that he'd have forgotten… or that he'd forgive…

He bristled above me as he realized what I'd done, fury gathering like a northern storm. Cold fear drove the afterglow from my core as I cringed, trying desperately to figure some way out of this… perhaps I could bolt, but even as the desperate idea occurred I knew it was unfeasible; I didn't even think I could get up, let alone run.

I flinched as fear closed my throat. My tail made a bid for safety, retreating close to my side, but my back was to the floor and there was nowhere for it to go. His hand sought it out easily, his touch all the more threatening because it was gentle. "Please," I gasped, panic overriding sense.

His eyes were chips of black ice as his grip tightened in a crushing vice. I inhaled shallowly, head dropping back down to the floor, feeling with sickening clarity the tender skin bruising between his hand and the bones within. Pain whipped up my spine, making my vision whiten and the muscles in my legs burn; I kicked out blindly, half in an instinctual attempt to get away, half simply to do something, to distract myself. Vegeta's hand bore down inexorably until the strength abandoned my body entirely… as if from a distance, I could feel myself barely breathing in short, hyperventilating gasps, cold fingertips brushing the floor as my hands shook. I felt my master shift to perch straddling my legs, free hand supporting him as he leaned closer towards me, the pressure of his grasp narrowing to a point --

CRACK

A scream burst from deep within my chest, tears blurring my vision. No… please, no! For the love of Kami… anything, anything you want, please! Just don't… don't be angry at me…. But his hand slid down the stiff, shaking length of my tail to inflict a second fracture, wrenching a broken, sobbing whimper from what was, not so long ago, a proud warrior. Pain crawled over me like an army of ants; as pleasure had been my entire world a few brief minutes ago, agony was all I could feel now.

His hand relinquished its hold, and for a second I dared hope he was finished. But his hand firmly grasped the base protruding from behind my back, squeezing firmly as he pulled up its length. Sliding mercilessly past the lower break, inflicting pressure on the wound and drawing another cry from me, to settle on an area that pleased him. This time, as he crushed my battered tail, the pressure was not localized on a single vertebrae…

As bone splintered, oblivion crept from behind the cold tendrils lancing the back of my skull to mercifully envelop me.