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We Belong To Each Other

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“Do you know who I am?” The man standing in front of you asks calmly.

‘Yes,’ You think to yourself. You know exactly who he is. You've only ever seen one photo of the elusive man, but his face is a hard one to forget. You’d never admit it out loud, but despite all the terrible things Shouta Aizawa has done in his life, he was absolutely gorgeous.

Just like in his photo, he looks incredibly tired and his eyes are red, probably from a severe lack of sleep. His black hair is pulled back into a bun, allowing you a better view of the scar under his eye, which was barely visible in the photo. He’s standing tall. Much taller than you, especially considering the fact that you're sitting, tied to a chair.

You’ve been secured in multiple spots, ropes keeping you from wiggling or trying to escape. You already tried struggling against your restraints earlier and the only thing that happened was Aizawa raising an eyebrow at you, not even pausing as he disassembled and cleaned his gun.

There’s a long silence as you observe him until you speak.

“You’re Shouta Aizawa,” you finally respond.

“I’m going to assume that if you know who I am, you know what I do as well.”

You nod.

“Good. Now, do you know why you’re here?” He asks.

“Well, I assume—”

“I don’t care for your assumptions,” he says sharply, cutting you off. “For now, a simple ‘Yes, Mr. Aizawa’ or ‘No, Mr. Aizawa’ would suffice.”

“No, Mr. Aizawa,” you start, “But—”

“Tch. Did you not listen to anything I just said?”

You open your mouth to speak again but close it as soon as you make eye contact with his cold glare. It’s obvious that he isn’t playing games, and you decide it’s best to just stay quiet.

“Good decision, Kitty Cat,” he says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “If I ask you a question, answer it succinctly. Otherwise, keep that pretty little mouth of yours shut and we shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Now,” he continues. “You’re here because your idiot father is neck-deep in debt to us and now he doesn’t have the means to pay it off. You’re here as collateral.”

You raise your eyebrows and gape at him, mouth falling open slightly. You knew about your father’s gambling addiction, and that he had had dealings with loan sharks in the past. But you had no idea that it was enough to warrant an honestly ridiculous kidnapping.

“Unless that’s an invitation, I suggest you close your mouth. I’m sure those pretty lips of yours would look gorgeous wrapped around my cock,” he drawls. “But I’m not usually one to endorse cheating. Personally, I’d love to use you like a two-bit whore—”

Your face instantly turns red and heats up at his words. You’d never been talked to like that before. Not even cat-callers had the gall to say something like that.

“—But, I’m sure you have a boyfriend somewhere who wants you returned safe and sound after we get all this over with.”

You look down as your face burns in embarrassment. “I don't,” you say softly.

Aizawa makes a humming noise, making it seem like he’s mulling over your words.

“A girlfriend then, I suppose.”

You clench your jaw and grind out, “No, I don't.”

He raises an eyebrow, looking amused now. “A partner?” He asks.

You look up at him, face even redder than before, “There’s no one, ok?” You admit to him.

He smirks, and you instantly realize this was the wrong thing to say.

“You’re not really helping your case, Kitty Cat. If you want me to fuck you, all you have to do is ask,” he says with a cold laugh.

Your breath quickens and arousal shoots through you for a single instant, until you remember who he is and what he’s done.

You look up at him with malice and snarl, “Go fuck yourself.” Then, in a single moment of rebellion, you decide it would be a great idea to spit in his face.

It hits him right below his scar, and you instantly regret your decision as you make eye contact with him. His black eyes are like that of a shark hunting its prey.

He quirks his head to the side. “No,” he says calmly, kneeling in front of you, “I think I’ll take my chances and fuck you instead.”

He takes the bottom of your skirt into his hand and uses it to wipe his face off. You grimace at the thought of messing up your favorite skirt, despite it being your own saliva.

“I hope you realize how much of a mistake that was,” he comments lightly, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a switchblade, which he proceeds to flip open.

Your mind goes into overdrive as you start coming up with scenarios in which the mafia boss murders you with the knife. Your mouth opens to try and protest, but the words catch in your throat from the fear building inside of you. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, and you start pulling against your restraints again.

He’s perched on a single knee in between your legs, which are bound to the chair at your ankles and thighs. He rubs his free hand at the ropes around your ankles, and slowly trails up, just past your knee, until it rests on the ropes which keep your thighs spread apart. Up until this point, the skirt was modest enough to keep you mostly covered, but you have a feeling it won’t do much to keep you safe anymore.

Aizawa moves his hand so he can stroke your inner thigh with his thumb. He slips a finger in between the ropes, testing the give. He must have deemed it appropriate because he looks up at you with an oddly excited look on his face.

“Hope you’re not attached to this skirt, Kitty Cat,” he says with a cold smile, and before you have time to protest, he grips the bottom of the skirt with his empty hand and starts cutting the fabric upwards with the knife. He pulls the waistband out about an inch and you go absolutely still as he moves the blade along the skin on your lower stomach. Aizawa smirks as you shiver against the touch of the cold metal, and allows the elastic to snap back so that he can cut through it.

Your favorite skirt falls open over your spread thighs, and he quickly pulls it out from under you; Balling up the fabric and throwing it over your shoulder. Your eyes prickle with tears as you realize that except for what your panties covered, your lower body is completely exposed to him.
“Pink, with lace trim. And look—” Aizawa coos. “There’s even a little bow. How adorable.”

He sets the knife down by the chair and reaches up under your shirt, using his other hand to hold onto your waist. The hand making its way up your shirt continues until it reaches where your skin meets the fabric of your bra. He soothes the flesh below it for a moment and then dips his fingers into it, gently lifting the underwire. You finally feel the warm touch of his hand on your breast, just barely cupping the underside.

Your breath hitches and he takes that as approval to keep going. He pushes his hand up and lifts the entire right cup of your bra making it rest awkwardly on your upper chest. This forces the underwire on the left side to dig into your skin uncomfortably. Although, this goes mostly unnoticed due to how focused you are on the hand which now cups your breast.

He squeezes gently at first, palm skating across your quickly stiffening nipple. He moves his hand slightly into a more comfortable position and then swipes his thumb across the sensitive nub. You let out a short breath, showing Aizawa exactly how affected you are by even the smallest of touches. With your reactions encouraging him, he takes a chance and roughly pinches your nipple between two fingers. A choked out moan leaves your throat, and your head drops forward onto the mafia boss’ shoulder.

He brings up his left hand from its place on your hip to hold the back of your head and nudges it gently so that it rests in the crook of his neck. Your breath comes out in small puffs against his skin, and you start to pull at the restraints.

It takes Aizawa a second to notice the way you’re wriggling, but as soon as he does his face goes stony. He quickly winds his hand into your hair and yanks it back from where it lies against his shoulder. Your eyes water at the pain and he holds you in place by your hair, forcing you to look straight at him.

“Trying to escape?” He growls out, pulling your back hair harder. The action pushes your chest out further into his hand, causing him to let out a dull laugh.

“I knew you loved this Kitty Cat. Me treating you like this. Pinching at your nipples. Just. Like. This.” He rasps, punctuating every word with a sharp tug, each one making you choke out a moan.

He hikes up your T-shirt and before you can say anything about it, he shoves the bottom edge into your mouth, whispering, “Good Kitty, hold it just like that. You let go and there'll be consequences you won’t enjoy.”

He moves away suddenly and stands up to his full height. You look up at him, face red from the embarrassment of your position, spit gathering in the corners of your mouth where you can’t wipe it away. Your bra is half pushed up, exposing a single breast which allows the nipple to fully stiffen from the cold air in the warehouse.

Aizawa looks you over several times and hums noncommittally. He comes closer once again and leans down, face moving closer to yours. You close your eyes and lean forward, thinking he’s moving to kiss you. Instead, he reaches forward and his nimble fingers unhook the front clasp of your bra, finally exposing both of your breasts to the chilly air of the warehouse. Your eyes snap open and you try to school your face, but there’s no hiding from him.

“Aw, did my pretty Kitty think that I was going to kiss her?” He mocks, pursing his lips a little.

You look away in embarrassment, wondering to yourself why you would ever want to kiss this horrible person. Aizawa walks away for a moment and you get scared thinking he’s going to leave you here. But he only goes a few meters to where he sat when you first met him, grabs the chair, and drops it in front of you.

“I think—” Aizawa says lazily, sitting down, “—That I’m gonna play with these gorgeous tits of yours now.”

He brings up both hands and cups your breasts, squeezing slightly, pushing them up. You’re starting to breathe heavier from his touches, and you squeak when he suddenly pinches both nipples between his fingers.

“Liked that, didn’t you Kitten?” He asks.

You don't respond, not wanting to drop the shirt and he pinches harder, rolling the sensitive nubs between his fingers.

“I asked you a question, you little slut,” he growls, twisting painfully.

“Yes, Mr. Aizawa,” you grit through closed teeth, face burning, humiliated at the thought of enjoying the actions of this horrible man. “I liked it.”

“I thought you might,” he hums, mostly to himself, and rubs across your pink nubs gently with the pads of his fingers. “Although, we’ve gotten a bit closer now, so I think it’s alright for you to call me ‘Daddy’ now. Let’s try that again, shall we?”

Your eyes shut as the arousal shoots through your body.

“Yes, Daddy,” you mumble, face burning. “I liked it.”

“Good girl.”

He drops his left hand and leans in, still soothing the other nipple. He nips lightly at your right breast with his teeth before sucking harshly, leaving an aching purple mark behind. He moves to your nipple and flicks his tongue across it several times. Your breath catches, and he moves closer, enclosing it in his mouth. He sucks gently at first, swiping his tongue around it several times.

It’s warm inside, so warm. And the suction feels so good. He sucks harder and pinches your other nipple between his fingers. This time, you moan for real and Aizawa’s eyes glint knowing that he caused you this pleasure. The harder he sucks, the more you feel yourself pulsing with need.

He switches sides; Moves his mouth to your right nipple, and flicks the left forcefully with his nail, making you cry out. He’s rougher now, not afraid to cause you pain.

The man bites down around your areola and slowly closing his teeth harder and harder around it until you yell “Fuck!” muffled around the shirt still held in your mouth.

Aizawa moves back instantly and whips his hand up the underside of your breast. There’s a sharp pain that shoots straight to your core and it takes you a second to register the sound of the slap. You shimmy your thighs, trying to rub them together for some friction to relieve your ache. The ropes separating your thighs prevent this, but you try to rock your hips forward regardless.

He chuckles and leans back.

“Needly little whore, aren’t you?”

“I don’t like my Pet cursing,” he continues, “You curse, and I’ll hurt you. Although with the way you’re acting now I don’t think pain will be much of a punishment.”

His hands move back to your breasts, squeezing roughly and almost crushing your nipples between his fingers. The sensation makes you choke on your own spit and you squirm in your chair, praying for some relief.

Your shirt is becoming moist where it’s held between your teeth, and there is saliva gathering in the corners of your mouth. You’re unable to wipe it away, causing you to drool slightly and fall onto your breast. Aizawa looks at it and smirks, but doesn't move to wipe it away.

His gaze is pointed downwards, allowing him to finally notice the wet spot on your panties.

“Someone’s obviously enjoying herself,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “I guess you're just a slut for pain, aren’t you.”

He reaches down, cupping your sex through the thin panties. His hand is warm and you enjoy the gentle respite from the torture of your nipples. His finger strokes you up and down causing you to shiver as you enjoy the touch.

As you lose yourself to the sensation, your jaw goes slack and you accidentally release the shirt from your teeth. You try to catch it as it falls out but to no avail. You look up at him, wide-eyed, ready to apologize and beg for him to put it back in your mouth. His face is stony.

“Bad Kitty,” Aizawa reprimands, swatting your nose gently like you would a real cat. “I guess since you can’t keep it in your mouth for me like a good girl, I’ll just have to cut it off you.”

Your eyes start watering, not wanting the knife to come into play again. He picks up the knife and you look up at the ceiling, trying to keep any tears from falling. At the moment you look away, there’s a loud ripping noise and you feel the cool air of the warehouse on your whole upper body. There’s no way for him to pull your shirt off with how your arms are restrained behind the chair, so he reaches up and simply cuts away at the sleeves.

He pulls the shirt away from your body, leaving you in only your panties. A tear finally escapes your eye and you sniffle hoping he won’t notice.

He does, of course.

“Are you gonna cry for me, Kitty Cat?” He asks condescendingly, a cruel smirk growing on his face as he reaches up to wipe the tear away. “I bet you’ll look so pretty with big, fat tears dripping down your face.”

He puts the empty hand on your hip and rubs his thumb in circles on the thin skin there as an attempt to relax you. Instead, you sniffle again and a second tear falls from your eyes as you bring your head down to look at him.

“Please don’t,” you whimper, your voice shaking.

There’s a split second where Aizawa has an odd look on his face, but he schools himself quickly and returns to the matter at hand. You.

“Don’t worry, Kitty Cat. I won’t do anything you don’t enjoy,” he promises gently, closing the knife. “Cross my heart. Ok?”

He stands up, and you feel yourself calm down, now that the knife is no longer in play. Aizawa walks over to the table on his right and places it down. He comes back to stand in front of you, doing absolutely nothing but quietly taking in your appearance.

The short moment of silence is broken by the ringing of a cell phone. You look up and Shouta’s mask falters for a second as he realizes he forgot to turn his work phone off. You both know he doesn’t take calls when he’s with you like this unless it’s a true emergency. He reaches into the pocket of his slacks to turn it off but you interrupt him suddenly.

“Green,” you say, startling him. His eyes soften and he kneels down in front of you, gently cupping your cheek in his hand.

“Are you sure?” He asks you quietly. “This isn’t part of what we discussed, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

You take a deep breath.

“Who?” You ask him, voice shaking.

Shouta glances at his phone and the corners of his lips quirk up.

“Hizash—”

“Green.”

He nods in understanding and leans in, brushing his lips against yours softly.

“I love you,” Shouta whispers to you, wiping away your tears with his sleeve and gazing adoringly into your eyes.

“I love you too,” you respond, silently thanking whatever magic it was that brought the two of you together.

He leans back and in an instant, his smile turns into a cruel smirk and Aizawa stands up. His finger hovers over the answer button for a second before he presses down and answers.

“Aizawa,” he barks out.

You can’t hear the caller, only quiet garbled noise from the phone speaker. You focus on the sound, trying to place whose voice it might be.

“Fuck off Yamada, I’ll deal with him later. I’m busy now.”

Your face heats up with the realization of who he’s talking to. ‘Hizashi Yamada,’ you think. ‘That’s Aizawa’s right-hand man.’

Aizawa looks down and you do your best to glare menacingly at him, your only tell being the blush that goes all the way down to your chest.

You make eye contact for a second before your head whips to the side and you feel a sharp pain on your cheek as he slaps you. Hard. The slap is surely loud enough for his partner-in-crime to have heard it over the phone. The pain and the knowledge that someone overheard it makes arousal shoot down and settle in the pit of your stomach.

“Hold on a second,” he says into the receiver.

“Try looking at me like that again. I dare you,” he growls out roughly. “I didn’t want to leave any marks on that pretty face of yours, but maybe a few bruises on those cheeks will serve as a reminder of who you’re talking to.”

“Now,” he says. “Apologize to me.”

The corners of your lips quiver and you mutter softly, “I’m sorry.”

A moment passes and then there’s a sudden crack as he backhands your other cheek, making you gasp. Tears pool in your eyes and your entire face throbs, but this time there’s a sharper pain just above your jawline.

Aizawa leans over to grip your jaw in his hand. Your face is held in between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, while his palm spans downward to the upper section of your neck, pressing lightly against your windpipe.

He jerks your face to the right to inspect the new cut on your cheek left by the ring he wears. It’s several inches long and starting to bead with blood along the path of the scratch. He moves his thumb over the cut and you cry as he presses down. The combination of pain and need makes your hips thrust out several times, looking for friction.

“Apologize properly, or this time I’ll take that knife over there to your face. And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He asks condescendingly, forcing your face in the direction of the table with various supplies on it, including the said knife.

Your face pales and you try to shake your head within his tight grip.

“I didn’t think so,” he says in response to your silent plea. “Now repeat after me Kitty Cat, ‘I’m sorry Daddy. I promise to be a good kitty for you from now on and I’ll never look at my master like that again.” His smirk grows and he adds on, “‘I also sincerely apologize for getting my blood on your favorite ring.’ Got that?”

You nod and let out a soft whimper as you open your mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise that I’ll be a good kitty for you—” You swallow your pride and continue, your voice shaking, “and I’ll never look at my master like that again. I also apologize for getting my blood on your favorite ring.”

“Hmm. I suppose that was good enough,” he says with a fake smile. He lets go of your jaw and takes a few steps to the right, moving to where the knife sits on the table.

“Sorry, Yamada. I’m in the middle of training my new kitty,” he says into the phone, picking up the knife for the second time tonight.

Your heart is pounding in fear and you can’t even begin to pick apart what was said in response with how loudly your ears are ringing.

Aizawa walks back to you. “She hasn't been very cooperative so far, but I’m thinking of trying a different tactic this time. The girl’s a complete painslut,” he says, looking straight into your eyes. “All I’ve done so far was hurt her nipples and slap her around a bit, and she’s already so wet that I can see where she’s soaking through her panties.”

His words cause you to close your eyes in shame. It’s already bad enough that he has to see you like this, but talking about you as though you’re just an object is something completely different.

Your mind slips a little and you think about Hizashi, and what he must be thinking right now. It’s not often Shouta allows him to join you both, but some of your best scenes have been when they take you together. You look back up at the dark-haired man in front of you and his sharp gaze immediately snaps you back into your role.

Aizawa kneels down in front of you and holds the point of the knife to your inner thigh, right against the femoral artery.

“One slice and you’ll bleed out, Kitty Cat. So be good for me, alright?”

Your heart is hammering in your chest and you open your mouth to plead with him but find that you can’t make any words.

He lightly drags the knife up your bare thigh, following the path of the vein, making you shiver. You remember how he cut your other clothes off of you earlier and you let out a breath you didn’t even notice you were holding. You thank whatever deity is watching over you that the man is only planning to cut off your panties, and not cut into you.

His hand is now directly in front of the place hidden behind your panties. He flips the knife so that it’s pointed away from you and sets it down on the chair between your spread legs. His thumb reaches out and gently pets you over the front of your panties. You gasp as he puts more pressure, trailing it downwards, making your sex throb.

“I’ve heard positive reinforcement works wonders. I’m thinking a little pleasure with the pain might do her some good,” he says into the receiver. Yamada says something in response, and Aizawa throws his head back and lets out a dry laugh.

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be a sight,” he chuckles. “Maybe I’ll give that a try. I’d like to see how well she can beg.”

He pulls his hand back suddenly, causing your hips thrust forward ever so slightly, searching out pleasure. Aizawa smirks as he looks at you, then he cocks his head to the side and furrows his brows.

“What's wrong Kitty Cat?” He asks. “Is there something you wanted?”

You open and close your mouth several times, but can’t seem to form any words. You look at him, pleading with your eyes, hoping he understands. Aizawa seems to take pity on you because he moves his hand forward again, and you expect his gentle touch back.

But instead of continuing his previous actions, he roughly pushes a finger into you where the thin fabric covers your entrance. The already soaked through material enters you easily.

“Fu–” You gasp, cutting yourself off quickly. You don’t want Aizawa to stop what he’s doing, and punishment for cursing is exactly what you don’t want right now.

“Caught yourself, did you?” He muses. “I suppose I won’t punish you for that.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, “Thank you.”

“Ah–,” He slaps your sex three times in quick succession, “You wanna try that again, Kitty Cat?”

You exhale sharply and whimper softly, “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Better,” he says, gently soothing the stinging area.

He’s not doing much, just rubbing his fingers in circles over your panties, and you desperately want him to touch you more.

“Daddy–” You say for the first time without any prompting. Somewhere in the back of your head, a voice is telling you how wrong this is, but desire makes you completely oblivious.

His eyes snap up to yours and he grins.

“Yes, Kitten?” He asks.

“Please?”

Your breath hitches as he presses slightly harder, panties becoming even wetter.

“Please what, Kitten?”

You push your hips out hoping for a little more friction, but he pulls back just enough to keep the pressure the same.

“I can’t hear you, Kitten,” he prompts. “Please, what?”

Your breath shakes as you exhale.

“Please Daddy, touch me.”

“But Kitten, I am touching you,” he says with raised eyebrows

You let out a high-pitched whine, feeling the need burn through you, “Please touch me under my panties. Please Daddy, please please plea–” You beg.

He answers you by slipping two fingers under your panties and easing them inside you. It feels like a sudden electric shock to your entire being. His fingers are so much thicker than yours, rougher, with calluses from the constant weapon handling.

“Ah, Daddy–” You gasp, sagging forward in your chair.

They slide in easily with how slick you already are and make an obscene squelching sound your face burns at.

“You hear that Yamada?” He says into the phone, slowly pumping two fingers in and out of you. looking completely unaffected. “The little slut is so fucking wet. You’d love it. Next time, we should take her together. Fill her with cock till she passes out.”

He scissors his fingers, stretching you, and it’s honestly so much better than anything you’ve ever done yourself. He’s twisting them around now, searching for something—

“Ah—Fuck!!” You cry out as he curls his fingers up, pressing hard against the small area of spongy flesh inside of you.

You expect him to pull out the second the curse leaves your mouth, but he surprises you by pressing his fingers up again and rubbing savagely against that spot. You writhe within your restraints from the mindless pleasure he provides you with.

“Did you hear that Kitty?” He purrs, pushing his fingers in as deep as they can go. “Yamada just gave me an idea. I think that for every time you curse, that’s gonna one orgasm I force out of you by the end of tonight. You already have three strikes. That’s four orgasms you’re gonna get by the time I’m done with you. I wonder if you’d be able to handle five?”

He adds a twisting motion, eliciting a yelp from you. You think you can handle coming three times if they’re spaced out enough. However, you doubt this man will be merciful enough to give you any sort of respite in between.

The fingers inside you are incredible, but you soon find yourself needing more. Your clit is pulsing along with your racing heartbeat, and the lack of stimulation is almost painful. You start thrusting your hips forward, pushing his fingers deeper into you, hoping he understands your silent plea for his fingers to touch your sensitive nub.

He raises an eyebrow and the corners of his lips turn up.

“Something you want Kitten?”

You push your hips forward once again and his thumb brushes over your panties, just above where your clit sits hidden. He slowly presses down, between your folds. Even with this layer of fabric separating his touch, the pressure gives you a full-body shiver.

Overwhelmed by the feelings, you give in and beg, “Fuck—Please, Daddy! Touch me! Not like this! I want you below my panties! Please!”

“That’s five, Kitty Cat,” he whispers into your ear. “Yamada wishes you the best of luck.”

Turning his attention away from you for a moment, he speaks into the receiver directly to the other man, “We’re expecting shipments at eleven tonight at the docks. Don’t let that dumbass newbie Bakugou fuck it up, and take Shinsou with you. I’ll call you later when I’m done here.”

Aizawa hangs up the phone without waiting for an answer and you keen loudly as he removes his fingers from you. Your mouth is already open from the heavy panting, and he takes the opportunity to shove both fingers in between your lips. You close your mouth around them and suck without any prompting. He spreads them apart and you slip a tongue in between them, laving at the digits, cleaning your own slick off of them.

It, surprisingly, doesn’t taste bad, like you were expecting it to. You pull off for a second and take a single finger back into your mouth. Hollowing your lips and sucking and licking until there is only saliva left. You release it with a pop and give the same attention to the other digit.

“Fuck, Kitty,” he groans. “Those lips are gonna look so good wrapped around my cock.”

His words go straight to your core, and you shut your eyes visualizing the image he speaks of. Imagining what his cock looks like, how heavy it would feel on your tongue. Your mouth starts to water at the thought and you suck at his finger with newly found vigor.

Aizawa apparently decides that his fingers are thoroughly cleaned, because he pulls out and wipes the saliva off on a dry section of your panties. You whine at the loss, and sag in your chair, panting.

“Very good, Kitty Cat,” he says, picking up the knife he left between your legs. “I expect the same attention when I make you choke on my cock.”

Your mind is so hazy with arousal that you don’t even comprehend the danger of a sharp object so close to your sex. He trails the knife up the juncture of your thigh and slips it underneath the waistband of your panties. The knife is pulled back roughly and the panties fold over on the right side, revealing the pale skin of your mound.

The knife drags lightly along your lower stomach until it lies under the right side of the flimsy fabric. He rips it sharply and your panties fall away completely, finally exposing your nude body to him entirely.

There’s a small patch of well-groomed hair above your slit, the rest of it shaved. Aizawa stares at you, and while a little voice in the back of your head is telling you to find a way to cover yourself, your primal instincts make you keen and beg, “Please! Daddy!” loudly.

“As much as I love you begging for me, Kitty, I think I’d like you to be a little quieter now,” he says, pulling your soaked panties out from under you. “Let’s not make four orgasms into five, ok? I’m a busy man. I have other places to be after this.”

You don't respond, chest heaving with deep breaths, squirming in your chair to try and get some relief. Aizawa carefully scrunches your panties together. Arranging them to his liking. You raise your head up to meet his lustful gaze.

“Open.” He holds out your balled up panties.

Your face heats up but you follow his directions, afraid of what he will do if you don’t comply. He then carefully maneuvers them into your mouth, making sure that the wet patch sits directly on your tongue.

It’s so embarrassing, being gagged by your own panties. Especially being forced to taste yourself again. That’s what you should be thinking. Instead, the arousal pumps through you, the humiliation only adding to the feeling.

Aizawa looks back at you and nods in approval.

“You look like every bit the dirty whore you really are, Kitty Cat,” he purrs, dragging a finger through your wet folds. “It’s okay though. That’s just how I want you.”

He roughly inserts two fingers back in and finally, finally puts a finger directly on your clit. His thumb rubs hard circles over the small nub and his fingers easily slide in and out of your hole. He curls them upward to drag against your inner wall, making you moan loudly every time they rub past your g-spot.

Your clit has been throbbing with need all evening and finally getting the pressure you need on it is electrifying. Every circle he makes, every flick of his nail, every push downward makes you gasp for air.

His other hand moves up to play with your nipples again. Tweaking and tugging at them, making you twitch. Your eyes flutter shut at the overwhelming sensations he’s forcing on your body and you arch forward, silently begging for more.

He seems to understand because, on the next thrust inside, there are three thick fingers inside of you. You’re so full. His fingers are so much thicker and longer than yours, you’re not used to this amount of pressure being forced through your insides. It feels incredible. He coaxes out moans from you with ease, loud and primitive.

The fullness of his fingers combined with the quick circles he makes on your clit are almost becoming too much and you feel your entire body tense. All you need is a little push and it will be enough.

The push comes when he leans in and bites your nipple while pinching the other one. Hard. At the same time, his fingers curl up, and the thumb on your clit increases in both pace and pressure. All the sensations make you fall over the edge of pleasure and you wail as you finally come.

Your back arches as you clench down on his fingers. Fireworks are exploding behind your shut eyes and you can feel every single nerve in your body. His fingers pump in and out of you relentlessly, prolonging your orgasm. The panties do nothing to muffle your moans which you choke out with every new breath you take.

Aizawa begins to slow down his rapid pace, letting you down easily from your orgasm. His thumb rubs gentle circles on your clit, making your body twitch with the aftershocks several times.

Eventually, even the light pressure becomes too much for your sensitive body to bear. You squirm in your seat, trying to escape his fingers. He cruelly presses down on your clit once just to hear you gasp and then removes his touch from you.

Your “Thank you, Daddy,” is muffled behind the panties in your mouth, but he still hears you.

“Don’t thank me yet Kitty Cat,” he smirks. “That was only number one.”

His chair is thrown backward and before your worn-out brain has a second to process his words, his mouth is on you, sucking harshly on your clit. The nerve endings are screaming ‘No more!’ You shriek and begin to writhe in your restraints. He quickly pushes the three fingers back into you and your eyes start to water from the overwhelming feelings.

You can barely understand what your body feels other than the fact that it's too much.

Aizawa pulls back, giving you a few seconds of calm, before licking a wide stripe with his tongue. His tongue moves through your folds and ravaging you as though you’re his last meal. His fingers feel twice as large as they did before due to your oversensitivity. He moves downwards to lick at your opening, spreading his fingers wide.

The pressure inside of you makes a high pitched whine leave your mouth. His tongue laps at you between his fingers, pressing inside. The softer muscle has much more give than his fingers and he knows exactly how to use it. You can feel it inside of you. He wiggles his tongue, grazing your walls with the tip.

He seems to know how sensitive the nerve endings are at the opening of your hole because he pulls out and licks firmly around it. The hand previously on your breast is now tormenting your clit. You had hoped he would have mercy after his lips left the swollen nub, but Shouta Aizawa is not a merciful man. He lives to torture you, it seems, both with pain and pleasure until they blend into one.

You gasp for air, something you struggle to do with the panties still in your mouth. He notices this and pulls them out, allowing you to finally take a fresh breath into your lungs. You pant heavily, trying to catch your breath.

“Please,” you gasp. “Too much—No. Stop!”

The man seems to listen to you because he sits back on his haunches and looks up at you, panting. His mouth is covered in your slick. Lips red and plush from eating you out so thoroughly.

“You taste delicious, Kitty Cat,” he says, making you blush at his words.

With his fingers, he spreads apart your folds, tracing up and down gently. It’s a nice respite from the pleasurepain he’s been forcing you through.

“Look at that Kitten. You have such a pretty little pussy,” he coos, nudging your swollen clit with the tip of his finger. “You look so lewd spread apart like that. Your slutty cunt is just asking me to pleasure it some more.”

Aizawa stares intently, spreading you apart with his fingers. Then he leans forward and spits. His fingers rub his saliva around you, making you even wetter than before. Your face burns red as at the degrading act. He smirks and dives back in, licking and sucking at you, pumping his thick fingers in and out.

“Stop! Daddy! Please!” Your stomach is cramping from the overstimulation. “It hurts.”

“What hurts, Kitten?” He asks, pulling back for a second before diving back in.

He twists his fingers on each stroke, making you cry out.

“My…” you trail off.

“Your what, Baby?” He asks, continuing to lap at you.

“My cunt, Daddy!” You gasp. “It hurts. Please. I can’t anymore.”

“Tell me what kind of cunt it is, Baby. Then maybe I’ll stop,” he mumbles against you.

“My… my slutty cunt, Daddy.” The tears make their way down your face as you start to cry from the overwhelming pleasure.

“You have to stop. Please! Daddy, sto—ah! No more! Please!” You beg.

Aizawa just ignores your pleas and continues to lick into you while still fingerfucking you viciously. Your head sags forward, no longer having the strength to keep it up.

The orgasm builds up quicker this time, your over-sensitive body working against you. His mouth sucks on your clit while grazing the bottom of it with the tip of his tongue. He changes the pace of his fingers. Instead of pulling out, he curls them upwards, prodding hard at your g-spot. You feel the tension building in your body again. Too soon. Your hips jerk under him and there’s a moment where his teeth graze your clit. Then it’s all over.

It’s almost painful when you come. The keening sound you make as that wave crests is obscene. You double over, lower stomach cramping from coming so soon. The pain is euphoric. Electricity shoots through your entire being as he licks you through your orgasm. You thrash in your restraints as you try to escape the extreme pleasure you’re feeling, but the man just grips your hip by one hand and holds you still. Your toes curl as he maintains his torturous pace.

The orgasm seems to last twice as long as your first. All you want to do is come down from this high. Aizawa, however, has different ideas. He continues to suck relentlessly on your swollen clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you, trying to prolong your orgasm as much as he can. His hand comes up to squeeze your breast. He pinches your nipple hard and tugs at it. It’s already red and painful from his earlier actions, but he doesn’t seem to care at all. His hand moves over to give the same treatment to the other breast.

You want to beg him to stop but your brain can’t form words after that mind-shattering orgasm. Tears are dropping onto your lap as you begin to cry from the overwhelming feelings.

Finally, after what seems like years, he sits back, lips red and swollen, to take in the image in front of him. You must look like a complete mess: Crying and sniveling, hair matted, forehead damp with sweat.

But Aizawa thinks differently, it seems.

“Fuck, Kitty Cat. I wish you could see yourself like this. You look absolutely gorgeous.”

You squirm from his praise, twitching gently from the aftershocks of the explosive orgasm you just experienced.

“You look exactly like the whore I knew you would be. Such a good girl, coming twice in a row like that for your Daddy.”

Under any other circumstance, you would be embarrassed at his words. However, your mind is too melted to worry about any of that.

“I think it’s time you repay my generosity, Kitten,” he says, standing up.

Aizawa unbuttons his shirt slowly, allowing you to see the expanse of his solid chest. Swirls of black tattoos cover his arms and shoulders. The side of his ribs, on the left, is covered in plastic. You catch a glimpse of red, presumably the newest addition to his tattoo collection. The shirt is shrugged off and drops to the floor.

He unbuckles his belt next and pulls it out of the loops. It is thrown to the side, close to where the table of tools resides.

“I finally get to see your pretty lips wrapped around my cock,” he remarks as he unbuttons his slacks.

Your mouth waters as he reaches into his black briefs and pulls out his already hard cock. The tip glistens with precum. He gives it a couple of precursory strokes and cups his balls in the other hand.

“You gonna be good for your Daddy, Kitty Cat?” He asks.

You nod your head vigorously.

“I said,” he barks, reaching down and pinching a nipple painfully. “Are you gonna be good for your Daddy?”

“Ah—Yes, Daddy,” you mewl, trying to escape his rough handling.

He taps his cock against your lips, smearing the precum around. “Good Girl. Now, open up.”

You open your mouth and allow him to push his cock inside.

He starts slow, allowing you to run your tongue over the rigid flesh. You trail up the base of his cock and move back to lightly suck at the head. You look up to make eye contact with him and despite already coming twice, you feel your core pulse with arousal. Aizawa stares at you with a hungry look on his face. He looks like he wants to devour you. You have no doubts that when he fucks you, it will feel like the rapture.

He seems to get impatient with your slow worshipping of his cock because he puts his hand on the back of your head and pulls you all the way down to its base. It feels like it's halfway down your throat. You gag and try not to choke.

“Fuck, Kitty Cat,” he moans. “You feel so fucking good around my cock.”

Spit starts to gather in your mouth and you swallow, your throat contracting around him. Aizawa groans low in his chest at the feeling.

“Fuck, do that again, Kitty Cat. Close your throat like that again for me. But don’t swallow. I want to see you messy.”

Looking up at him, you do what he asks; Closing your throat around the tip of his cock, sucking at the base, and rubbing your tongue on the underside. He pushes in the tiniest bit deeper until your nose is pressed up against his stomach.

He holds you there and after a few seconds, you try to pull off to catch your breath. He pushes against your head harder, keeping your lips flush against him. Your throat contracts faster as you try to breathe around his cock. You start feeling light-headed and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. There are black dots in your vision and you can feel yourself going limp.

Aizawa moans again and then pulls you off of his cock, allowing the fresh air into your lungs. You breathe greedily, coughing and gasping for the air he has been depriving you of. It’s a pleasure of a different kind, and you can feel arousal settle low in your stomach as the oxygen returns to you.

But you barely get two deep breaths in before he pushes you down onto his cock again until you feel him in your throat. He pulls out shortly and allows you half a second to breathe before pushing inside once again.

You choke on every thrust as his cock hits the back of your throat. Your eyes water and you try not to gag. The hand on the back of your head pulls you onto his cock rhythmically, forcing it inside you. You do your best to keep the suction, wanting to make it as pleasurable as you can for him.

‘Daddy has done so much for you already,’ you think to yourself. ‘He deserves to feel good too.’

Your wandering mind causes you to breathe too late, and on the next thrust in you gag loudly. You rip your head back, off his cock, trying to catch your breath. The hand on the back of your head tangles in your hair and yanks backward.

“Did I say you could stop sucking my cock?” He growls.

“No, Daddy. You didn’t. I’m sorry,” you rasp, voice hoarse from his actions. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

“You’d better, Kitty Cat. And if I want you to gag on my cock, you’ll fucking gag on my cock.” He emphasizes this with a harsh tug on your hair.

“Breath,” and with that, he slams his cock back in your mouth, face fucking you with earnest now. You choke on every thrust, spit dribbling out the corners of your mouth.

Daddy groans as he looks at you. “You should see yourself, Kitty Cat. You look like such a mess.”

You moan at his words, vibrating around his cock, making him gasp. Seeing his reaction, you take it upon yourself to do it once again. You start moaning around him on every thrust just to see the look of pleasure written across his face. There are wisps of hair falling out of his bun and he looks like every girl's wet dream.

Eventually, though, he slows down and takes his cock out of your mouth. You whine and keep it open, begging for more.

“Little Kitty wants more of Daddy’s cock, doesn't she,” he simpers.

“Yes. Please,” you beg. “I want to make you come. Please, Daddy.”

“Aw, sweetheart. If I come now, then I won’t be able to fuck that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head. Daddy stops you by placing a gentle hand on your cheek, leaning down to whisper into your ear.

“Don’t worry Kitty Cat. I’ll be sure to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow. Gonna stretch those insides of yours to fit my cock. Make a space inside you that no one will ever replace. I’m gonna use you like my own personal cock sleeve. Ok Baby?”

Your eyes glaze over at his words and you feel your pussy throb. You nod your head stupidly, not knowing how to respond to him.

“If I take those ropes off you, will you be good for me?” He asks. “No trying to escape, all right?”

“I’ll be good, Daddy,” you nod, somewhat confused at his words. Why in the world would you try to escape?

He kneels down to pick up the knife off the floor. The knife slips under the rope on your ankle and slices it open. He repeats the action on the other side and then trails the knife up your thigh. He cuts off the ropes spreading your thighs apart and you wiggle in your chair, trying to get a bit of feeling back in your legs. Daddy massages the areas the ropes were wrapped around for a few moments and then stands up.

He walks around to the back of the chair and cuts the ropes which tied your hands behind it. You flex your arms and try to stretch the muscles. Daddy comes back in front of you taking your hands in his own. He methodically inspects the places where the ropes were digging in to make sure that nothing impacted your blood flow.

He deems your limbs satisfactory and helps you stand up. Your legs wobble as you stand from the lack of use. Daddy wraps an arm around your waist and walks you over to the table on your left. Several different guns and various torture devices are laying there. Your heart races a little but you know that if you’re a good girl for Daddy there won’t be any reason for him to use them. He pushes them off to the side to make some room on the table.

He pulls out an elastic from his pocket. “Put your hair up, Kitty,” he says casually as he hands it to you. “I want something to grab into when I fuck you so hard you forget how to speak.”

“Now, bend,” Daddy says, pushing your shoulder blades down until you brace your forearms on the table.

The position makes your back arch slightly, sticking your ass out for Daddy to see. He comes up behind you and you can feel his cock between your cheeks. He squeezes them a little with his hands, rubbing himself against you. You can feel his precum leaking onto your back.

Crack.

You yelp and jerk forward slightly as Daddy’s hand comes down on your ass. It stings like hell but it makes arousal shoots straight through you. He rubs over your ass, soothing the pink handprint.

“You have such a sweet ass, Kitty Cat,” he says, squeezing you. “I can’t wait to see how red I can get it.”

Crack.

His hand comes down once again to spank you. You cry out louder than before as the second one lands. It’s not a light spank by any means. It’s the kind that leaves bruises in the shape of handprints for the next week. Your hips rock forward at the pain, and once again you feel arousal slowly returning to your worn-out body.

You think about sitting down over the next week and being able to feel every single one of Daddy’s hits. The full-length mirror in your bedroom will allow you to see every single bruise you know he plans to leave. If he lets you go, that is. Although, you really hope he doesn’t.

Crack. Crack.

“Daddy!” You gasp.

Your ponytail is yanked backward. “Were you not listening, Kitten?”

“Ah—no, I’m sorry Daddy!”

“You were only going to get five spanks per curse, but how about we make that 10 each, ok?” He lets go and pets your head gently. “It’s ok that you’re a mindless little whore, but next time, pay attention to what Daddy says. You wouldn’t want to miss anything important now would you?”

“No, Daddy,” you whisper. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Kitty Cat. I forgive you. But you said ‘Fuck’ four times today. You deserve to be punished. Don’t you agree?” He lets go of your hair and gently strokes your back with his hand. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me, right?”

You nod dumbly, “Yes, Daddy.”

“You already got four, so you’re gonna start with five now.”

Crack.

You don't even get a chance to respond before you feel the sting on your ass again.

“Five,” you whimper.

Crack.

“Six.”

Crack.

“Ah! Sev—” you gasp as he increases the strength. “Seven.”

“Good Kitty,” he says, rubbing over your pink ass.

Eight and nine come down at the same time. They make you jolt forward at the pain. You bite your lip trying to muffle your cries, but they escape anyway. Every hit comes with an aftershock of pleasure running straight through your core.

By the time Daddy gets to twenty your eyes are watering from the pain but you can feel yourself getting wet again. You don’t mind the dulled arousal milling around your body, but you pray that he doesn’t touch down there anytime soon. You’re already extremely sensitive from your previous two orgasms.

On twenty-eight, you’re choking on air and your eyes are watering. Every blow seems to knock the breath out of you, making you gasp for more. You’re getting slicker with every slap of his palm.

Thirty-seven is when you begin to cry. The pain feels so good and your confused senses overwhelm you to the point of tears. You gasp for air and try to rub your thighs together for the tiniest bit of friction. They close for a fraction of a second before Daddy kicks your feel apart.

“Thighs apart, Kitty Cat. I want you wet dripping down your thighs when I shove my cock inside you,” he murmurs into your ear. “Three more. Ok? I know you can do it, Baby.”

“Ok, Da—Daddy,” you respond softly. You spread your thighs once more and brace yourself on your forearms for the last three.

Crack.

“Thirty-eight,” you whimper, arms shaking, unable to hold you up anymore.

Crack.

This one is by far the most painful one yet. You cry out and dig your nails into the table. In between your pants you manage to gasp out, “Thirty-nine.”

You expect forty to come quickly after, but instead, Daddy drags his fingers over your stomach and down to brush over your sex. You shiver as he trails a finger in between your folds.

He slips a single digit inside of you. “I think you’re still loose enough from my fingers earlier,” he whispers into your ear. “No need to waste time by stretching you again,” and then you feel the head of his cock rubbing against you.

He pulls his finger away and pushes you down by your neck, flat against the table. You tense, awaiting his cock.

Crack.

The hit land as he enters you and you barely register the pain enough to gasp out “Forty.”

The cry you let out as he sinks inside is agonizing. It’s so incredibly full. The pressure against your walls feels like nothing you've ever felt before. A haze falls over your mind and all you can feel is his cock as he bottoms out inside of you. You swear you can feel it all the way inside your throat with how deep it is.

“Fuck, Kitty Cat,” he rasps. “Can you feel how big I am inside of you? I’m gonna stir up those insides of yours until they won’t want any other cock but mine.”

You whine loudly as he pulls out, trying to push your hips back on him, wanting the thick pressure back inside of you.

Daddy hauls you off the table and throws you onto the ground. You lay helplessly until he pounces on you and manhandles you onto your knees. He grabs your arms, pulling them behind you, and captures both wrists in one hand.

Satisfied with your position, he slams back inside of you, pulling you back onto his cock by your arms. The walls of your cunt mold around him as he carves a space inside you for his cock. His other hand trails downward, spreading your soaking wet folds and rubbing your sore clit with heavy pressure.

“Daddy! Please, it hurts,” you cry, begging him to stop. “It’s too sensitive, please! I can’t!”

“I don’t really give a fuck about how sensitive you are, Kitten. You’re here for me to use your cunt as a cocksleeve and you tighten so well around me when it hurts,” he pants into your ear. “You will come by the time I finish with you. Don’t forget you owe me five orgasms tonight.”

No matter how much you say you don’t want it, his words still make you pulse with arousal. The pressure of his cock inside you, dragging along the sensitive spot each time he passes it makes your orgasm build quicker than you would have expected.

He continues to piston in and out of you, adding more fire to the heat inside your belly. The way he rubs your clit is ruthless. It throbs and pulses under his touch. You’re not sure if you want to get away from his touch or if you want more. Not that Daddy cares. He’ll make you come whether or not you want it.

Your orgasm builds quickly until you're digging your nails into your palms from all the extreme sensations. The dam breaks when he bends over you, his chest pressing against your back and digs his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. The pain is enough to tip you over for the third time tonight.

You convulse beneath Daddy as the electricity runs through you. Your throat is choking out moans as they try to escape. You can’t see your clit, but you can imagine how red and swollen it is from all the action it's seen tonight. He lets go of your arms before they start to cramp from the position and your hands curl into fists, trying to hold yourself together until the wave passes.

It takes several moments for the aftershocks to subside and you let out a breath of air as he takes his finger off of your clit. Thank God he’s not planning to overstimulate you this time. Maybe he’ll even give you a break before your next two orgasms.

Oh, God. Two more orgasms.

You don’t think you’ll be able to handle one more, let alone two. You always get sensitive after a single orgasm, two make it hurt, and three is even worse. He gave you a bit of a respite in between two and three, for which you are eternally thankful.

Then, two things happen.

One, Daddy starts thrusting into you again and you realize he hasn't come yet. This means you have to suffer through him stimulating your insides more until he comes. At least he isn't touching your clit again.

Thought number two comes directly after. You notice a low buzzing noise that makes your heart sink to your stomach as you realize just how fucked you are.

“No—Daddy, please don’t!” You plead, knowing what’s coming next. “Please don’t make me! I’ll be a good girl for you! I promise I won’t curse anymore.”

Daddy grabs you around your midsection and hauls you up so you're sitting on his lap, full of cock, while he sits back on his thighs.

Oh, God. You can feel him so deep in your guts. It’s even thicker than before inside of you. It’s gonna break you if he doesn’t stop soon. The position changes his angle, making you keen loudly as it rubs past your g-spot.

“Bounce, Baby,” he pants in your ear. “Bounce on my cock or I might decide to force a sixth orgasm out of you.”

Your eyes widen and you do what he asks. Coming five times is already a stretch, but there’s absolutely no way you’d be able to handle six. You’re already so sore and swollen after three.

You bounce on his cock, grinding down and clenching around him every time you get to the base. His hand moves down to your cunt and you start to breathe heavily in anticipation of the worst. He cups you softly and uses his fingers to spread you apart.

There’s a moment where you feel nothing, and then there are fireworks exploding behind your shut eyes. You thrash your body as the vibrator makes contact with your clit, forcing Daddy to wrap an arm around your midsection to keep you still.

He presses down, hard, on the toy, keeping it flush against your sensitive nub.

“No! No! No! Daddy, stop!” You wail, tears obscuring your vision. “Ah—It hurts so bad!”

“I don’t fucking care, Kitty Cat,” he growls. “Now bounce on my fucking cock and make me come. Clench around me, Baby. Fuck! Just like that.”

Your insides are spasming from the intense combination of your clit being tortured and the pace at which Daddy is pistoning in and out of you. You bounce on his cock, slapping your ass against his thighs as you meet his every thrust.

He breathes raggedly behind you as his thrusts become more erratic. He’s going to come soon. Maybe, you pray, just maybe, he’ll take pity on you after his orgasm and remove the toy from your sore cunt.

You squeeze your walls around him and bounce faster. “Shit, Kitty Cat. Keep milking my cock like that,” he orders. “I’m so fucking close. Gonna fill you up with my cum. Make you leak for days.”

You keep your fast pace and clench around him. You can feel his cock pulsing inside of you as he gets closer to the edge.

There’s a feral snarl and Daddy pulls you down onto his cock, grinding up into you. You tighten as much as you can around him, milking him as he ordered. His warm cum spurts inside of you, filling you up, claiming you as his.

His cock starts to soften inside of you but he does nothing to take it out. He swivels his hips while you sit on his cock and turns his attention to you.

“Ready for four, Baby?”

You don’t get a chance to answer because he increases the intensity of the vibrations. You wriggle your hips, trying to escape from the torture. Overstimulated tears fall from your eyes as he pushes the toy harder into your clit. Despite the pain you feel, once again, there’s a building heat in your belly signifying how close you are.

“I can feel you throbbing around me. You’re close, aren’t you? Let’s turn your toy up a little bit. Ok, Kitty Cat?”

Pain. There’s a fiery pain inside that burns through you as he increases the vibrations to the highest possible setting. There are spots in front of your eyes and your body quakes with the intensity, helpless to the pleasure he forces on you.

A scream makes its way out of your throat and you fall over the edge of orgasm sobbing. Your head falls backward onto Daddy’s shoulder and you cry into the crook of his neck, trying to get free from the arm wrapped around your midsection. His cock grinds into you and the vibrator stays on the highest setting possible. Your poor, swollen clit is in excruciating pain after your fourth orgasm of the night.

Your orgasm starts to subside but Daddy just continues grinding his soft cock inside you, keeping his cum plugged inside of you, torturing you with the toy.

“You’re such a good little cockwarmer, squeezing around me like that as you come,” he whispers into your ear. “Maybe I’ll keep you chained to the desk in my office from now on and you can warm my cock with that tight cunt of yours during my meetings. They would all be so jealous. A beautiful, drooling slut sitting on my cock while all they can do is stare.”

The image makes you shiver and you let out an anguished cry as the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive spot on your clit. Tears stream down your face as your hazy mind tries to find words to make him stop. It’s overwhelming and it hurts and you can’t breathe anymore.

Your hand touches the floor and two short thuds are heard over your loud sobs. The vibrator turns off with a click and drops to the ground. You take a shaky breath and try to orient yourself, finally free from the horrible overstimulation. Daddy pulls out of you, allowing the cum to slowly leak out. It’s a strange sensation and you think you feel something wet down there but you barely pay any attention to it as your mind floats.

You feel something soft sliding up your legs, and settling around your hips. The panties feel so soft and you wonder distantly where he got them, considering they were cut off of you earlier this evening.

Your breath is still hitching as you cry, but you’re not being wracked with full-body sobs anymore. You look up at Daddy through your tears and see his face set in stone. He’s put his slacks back on but remains shirtless. He looks down at you and then looks at his watch.

“You got lucky, Kitten. We’re gonna have to forego your last orgasm,” he sighs dejectedly. “I’m a busy man and I don't have time for this so we’re gonna speed things up a little bit, ok?”

You don’t answer him as you lay on the floor, still trying to catch your breath.

“I’ll be right back, Kitty Cat. Just have to grab something I left in the car.” And with that, he walks out of the room.

You sit up and wipe your tears now that you’re alone. Your mind clears a little and you look over to the bed in the corner of the room, feeling tempted.

You trail your fingers across the anklet you wear. You could take it off now and it would all be over. Shouta would walk in and everything would stop.

But, no.

You’re safe. You both agreed to this. He loves you and would never hurt you unless you asked. Your fingers leave the anklet and you try to calm yourself, breathe still hitching occasionally. It takes a moment, but you clear your head and wait for Aizawa to walk back in.

The door swings open and you freeze as you see what the man is holding.

You scramble backward, terrified until your back hits the table. He’s walking forward steadily, holding a branding iron in one hand and a blowtorch in the other. Your mind is completely blank except for the thought, ‘I need to get away’. Tears are still falling steadily from your eyes, blurring your vision. You try to stand up and run, but your limbs are frozen in fear and all you can do is stare as the man stalks closer to you.

“Stay still, Kitten,” his voice rings out as he comes closer.

Then, he’s on you in an instant, straddling your hips and holding you down by your neck, hands encased in black nitrile gloves.

“If you move, I’ll put this on that pretty face of yours,” he spits, holding up the brand, “And neither of us want that now, do we?”

You shake your head violently, unable to find words to respond with. He presses down on your neck harder, digging his fingers into the side of your throat. The force on your windpipe is uncomfortable, but it’s not enough to cut off your air supply. Instead, he puts heavy pressure on your carotid artery, directly cutting off the oxygen supply to your brain.

Black spots dance in front of your eyes and your head starts to feel fuzzy. Aizawa lets go for several seconds, allowing you to reorient yourself, and then presses down again.

He leans forward and whispers into your ear, “A few more seconds of this and you’ll pass out. A moment longer and it'll kill you.”

All you can do is gasp, trying to get more air, scratching at the hand around your throat with your nails and trying to pull him off you. It doesn’t work.

Aizawa drops the blowtorch to reach into his pocket. He proceeds to pull out the knife he used on you earlier and sets it down on the ground next to the both of you.

“Stay. The fuck. Still.” He growls at you. “You move again, and I’ll slice my name into your stomach instead.”

With his empty hand, he reaches up onto the table you're pressed against and grabs a short length of rope. He manages to wrap it around your wrists several times, pulls it through the middle, and then loops it around one of the legs of the table, restraining you.

Aizawa leans back, grabbing the belt he discarded earlier. He folds it in half and murmurs, “Open wide, Kitty Cat.”

He leans in to put the belt in your mouth but hesitates for a second. Looking nervous almost. He’s having second thoughts.

You try to smile up at Shouta through your tears, and whisper, “Green.”

He nods once at you and schools his face back into the stone-cold image it was before. You open your mouth and he puts the belt in.

“Bite down.”

Your mouth closes around it and you dig your teeth into the black leather. It has a slightly earthy taste to it, but it’s not the worst thing you've ever had in your mouth.

Your eyes move to the branding iron in his hand. The handle is about a foot and a half long, so that he doesn't burn himself when it heats up. The brand itself is several inches wide and an inch tall. It looks as though it has some sort of cursive writing on it. Aizawa notices you looking at it, and angles it up for you to see.

“See Kitty Cat?” He says, the corners of his lips quirking up. “This is so you know exactly who you belong to.”

In elegant cursive, you make out the words “Property of Shouta Aizawa.”

The thought of you being branded like a prize-winning cattle makes your tears start flowing again. Something cool touches the side of your ribcage, moving up and down along the skin. You can’t see it, but the air smells strongly of rubbing alcohol. Your vision blurs and then you vaguely see him pick up the blowtorch. Your heart is pounding but this time you don't try to struggle, finally realizing the futility of your situation.

“Don’t move, ok?” He says, completely nonchalant about the fact that he’s about to stick a burning piece of metal onto your skin. “We want it to come out nice and pretty, don't we?”

Aizawa turns on the blowtorch with a click and begins to heat the metal. Tears are streaming from your eyes as you watch the iron turn an orange-red color. Your head falls backward, resting on the cold floor. There’s a loud thudding noise as he sets the blowtorch down.

“Deep breath, Kitty Cat,” he says, pushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “And Don't. Move.”

He puts his left hand on your sternum, between your naked breasts and presses down, holding you in place. He looks down at you with an unreadable expression on his face and then there’s a searing pain down the side of your ribcage.

It hurts.

It hurts so bad. The air smells of burning flesh and you can hear someone screaming. It takes a second before you realize it’s coming from your own mouth. Your teeth are grinding down on the belt and you’re trying not to let out any sobs in fear of moving your ribcage and messing up the brand.

There are soft lips on your forehead and you feel wisps of Shouta’s hair falling around your face.

“Shh, Kitten. Just a few more seconds,” he comforts you, kissing your temple. “We’re almost done.”

His forehead is pressed against yours. You’re thankful for the closeness he provides, although it does nothing for the extreme pain down the side of your ribs. The brand feels like you're being stabbed by a thousand hot knives, and for a second you wish you could just pass out from the pain already.

Just when you think you can’t possibly take anymore, the pain increases tenfold as the brand is removed from your skin. You open your mouth and the belt falls out as you let out a piercing scream. The hand which was holding you down is no longer there and there’s a thudding noise to your right where Shouta has thrown away the branding iron.

You hear a sharp click which you have learned to associate with the switchblade and you try to roll away, praying it won’t touch your skin again. But in a matter of seconds, your hands are free from their restraints allowing you to roll to your unharmed side and curl into a ball, hugging your knees close to you while sobbing violently.

You feel Shouta’s warmth next to you as he wriggles his arms underneath you and picks you up bridal style, carefully placing his hands to avoid touching the fresh burn. You curl into his chest and hold onto his neck, sobbing into him as he carries you to the bed in the corner of the safehouse. You’re vaguely aware of him whispering to you as he kisses your forehead.

You feel yourself being set down on cool sheets and then there’s a water bottle by your lips.

“Open your mouth Kitten,” He whispers, “I need you to drink for me. At least half, ok?”

His right-hand tips the bottle up gently, while the left holds the back of your neck in place. The cold water is heaven going down your throat, and you drink greedily, realizing just how thirsty you were. A hiccup causes a bit of water to dribble out of the corner of your mouth, and Shouta sets the bottle down to wipe your chin with a magically appearing washcloth. He uses it to wipe around your face and neck, wiping away the tears and sweat you worked up during the scene.

Another bottle is lifted up to your mouth and you open your mouth sipping carefully at the liquid given to you. It’s sweeter this time, and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“It’s Gatorade, Kitten,” he says softly. “Gotta replenish those electrolytes, right?.”

You take a few more sips and then pull away. Finally, you open your eyes and gaze up at Shouta with a light smile. He looks down at you adoringly and gives you a short kiss on the lips.

“Hungry?” He asks.

You shake your head.

“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s get a little more comfortable,” and he maneuvers the two of you so that he’s sitting propped up by the headboard, and you're curled up with your head in his lap.

He reaches over to the side table to grab a tube of ointment and a couple of q-tips.

“Sorry Baby, this will probably hurt,” he apologizes. “But we have to make sure that it doesn't get infected.”

You whimper and prepare yourself for the pain. It hurts. Not as bad as the creation of the mark itself, but still extremely painful. Shouta spreads the paste carefully over the wound, trying to distract you by petting your head softly.

You grind your teeth together until he leans down to kiss your temple and whispers, “Almost done.”

He leans over to the bedside table again, grabbing the adhesive tattoo bandage you bought earlier this week. It burns as he applies it and presses down gently, but you both know that this is the best way for it to heal and scar over properly.

“Done,” he says, putting away the cleaning supplies. He leans down and brushes his lips softly over the bandage. Being careful not to put any pressure on it.

He props a pillow up behind himself and lies back, grabbing you and pulling you closer to him. You lay on your right side, keeping the wounded area up in the air. He wriggles a little and wraps his arm around you, resting it on the small of your back. You lay your head down, using his chest as a pillow. You press your ear closer, searching for his heartbeat. It’s strong and even, lulling you gently, making you sleepy.

Shouta presses a kiss to your head and then buries his face into your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, voice shaking. “I hate hurting you like that, I really do.”

He pauses.

“You know how much I love you, right?”

You nod lazily and smile up at him.

“I love you too, Mr. Big Bad Mafia Man.”

His laugh rings out clear as a bell. He’s never like this with others at ‘work’. Your smile grows as you think about how lucky you are to be able to see this side of him.

“Not with you, I’m not,” he says, hugging you closer.

You reach out your arm and lay it across his chest, your fingers trail over his side until you reach a patch of cellophane, similar to your own.

“Turn,” you tell him. “I wanna see yours.”

He obliges and repositions himself so you can look at the three-day-old wound. It’s still red and inflamed under the wrapping, allowing you to see it clearly. The brand burned into his skin is a mirror image of your own, marking him as your property, just as he marked you as his.

He flinches as you run your fingers over it, and you rip your hand away quickly.

“Sorry,” he grimaces, “It’s still pretty sensitive.”

“I know the feeling,” you joke, poking his nose with the tip of your finger.

“Boop.”

He wrinkles his nose at the touch.

“Boop, Boop.”

Poke. Poke.

“Boop”

Poke.

“Boop.”

Po—

“Ah!” You shriek as your finger finds itself caught between his teeth.

Shouta growls playfully and shakes his head, still biting your finger.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he teases. “I’ve bitten off fingers before, you know?”

“You love what my fingers can do too much to ever bite them off,” you say, wiggling your eyebrows and poking his cheek this time.

He smacks your hand away from his face. “I think I’m done with sex for today, Kitty. I’m all worn out.”

“You only came once, old man.”

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. My stamina is amazing.”

“Meh,” you shrug, mimicking your favorite emoji.

“Meh,” he mocks back at you.

You stare at each other for a moment before breaking into matching grins and devolving into hysterical laughter. You have no idea what you’re laughing at but it’s absolutely hilarious. Shouta is doubling over with full belly laughs, trying to catch his breath only to snort and fall back into uncharacteristic giggles.

You're not sure how, but at some point during this laugh attack your eyes start watering and your laughs transition into some odd emotional combination of crying and laughing at the same time. You still have a smile on your face so it takes Shouta a moment to realize that you’re not laughing anymore.

He sobers immediately and hugs you closer.

“Hey, Kitty Cat. What’s going on?” he asks, worried.

“I’m not—”

“I—”

“Fuck. I don't fucking know,” you weep with a half-smile stuck on your face, still giggling in between your sobs. “I just—”

“I don't know—”

“Fuck, Shouta. Sorry, you have to deal with my bullshit when I’m like this.”

“Jesus Kitten, it’s not bullshit,” he stammers. “Nothing is ever bullshit when it comes to you. Please, just tell me what's going on.”

“I don’t—I don't know,” you manage to gasp out. “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure it out.”

The giggles trail off completely, leaving you gasping and crying into Shouta’s chest. Your chest is heaving as you sob violently in the arms of this wonderful, incredible man. He says nothing but pulls you closer to him, rubbing slow, calming circles into your back. For some reason, the brand is hurting worse now and you can feel every hit, slap, and bruise from tonight. Your body aches and all you want to do is stop crying and go to sleep.

“Hurts,” you whimper.

“Fuck—I know. I never should have been so forceful tonight. I’m so sorry, Baby”

“No. Please,” you cry harder. “Please don’t regret it. I don’t— I’m just feeling like shit right now.”

“You’ll be fine Kitten. I know you will,” he sniffles. “It’s just the endorphins messing with your brain.”

Shouta moves his hand away for a moment and you push your face into the crook of his neck, instantly grieving the loss of his warmth and comfort. Fortunately, he comes back in an instant, wrapping you in his arms once again. Something presses at your lips and you open automatically.

The chocolate he gives you starts to melt in your mouth and you instantly recognize the taste of your favorite sweet. You bite through the half-melted piece in your mouth, reveling in the silky texture and sweet taste.

You turn your head to look at him and open your mouth again, silently asking for another square. He obliges with a soft smile on his face, placing one more on your tongue.

“I don’t deserve you,” you whisper as you bite through the piece.

Shouta frowns and puts a hand on your cheek. “Never say that,” he scolds gently. “You deserve the world to kneel at your feet. You’re an incredible human being with such a big heart. You’re generous and loving and beautiful. And you’re a close second to being as cute as a Mr. Mittens.”

You give him a watery smile, still hiccuping every so often. “I’m glad you think I’m almost as cute as our cat. I still can’t believe you named him that, Shouta,” gently slapping his shoulder. “No one would ever take you seriously if they found out.”

“Hizashi knows and he takes me seriously.”

“That’s because he’s the only competent person who works for you. Despite how much of a dumbass he is.”

“Hey!” he says in faux outrage. “That's my best friend you’re talking about. Just because he’s a dumbass doesn’t mean you should call him out on it.”

The corners of your lips quirk up and you let go of him finally, sitting up.

“Meh,” you say once more, shrugging.

He smiles and grabs you close, scooting down the bed so you’re lying down together.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair.

“Love you too, Shouta.”

He jerks his leg a few times, trying to pull the sheet over his foot. It takes him a couple of tries but he eventually manages to get the sheet over the both of you. The fresh sheets feel cool against your body, a nice feeling after all the pain you went through this evening.

“Sleep now, bath later,” he whispers lazily.

“M’kay.”

The two of you snuggle close, entangling your legs and not leaving a single inch between you. You breathe together, your chests rising as one. Your eyes start to feel heavy and you feel the exhaustion of tonight roll over you. The last thing you hear before you drift off is Shouta, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, telling you just how much he loves you.