My Taboo Harem! - Chapter 565 - 565: Amber's Reverie (r-18)

Days had slipped by since that fateful day in the 70D—since Phei had bound her, gagged her, paddled her swollen mound until it throbbed red and slick, and teased her virgin entrance with that brutal black dildo, stretching her puffy lips thin and angry around just its flared head, forcing her to gape and squirt in desperate, denied arcs without ever claiming her fully.

The camera had captured every filthy detail of her perfect round ass cheeks rippling violently with each denied chase, slick strings snapping between her fluttering hole and the glossy silicone, her muffled screams bubbling through drool as she begged for ruin.

But he had held back—saving her true penetration for himself, whispering that dark promise in her ear as he finally set the toy aside: “Your cunt is mine now. No one touches it—not even you. You’ll ache and drip and beg until I decide to fill you.”

She had nodded through, her body still spasming from the shallow pops that had left her entrance raw and weeping.

And now, in the gilded sanctuary of her bathroom—a sprawling expanse of imported Italian marble veined with gold, walls lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors that reflected infinity, a rainfall showerhead the size of a chandelier suspended from a crystal-domed ceiling that mimicked a starry night sky—

Amber stood naked, vulnerable, the weight of his command pressing heavier than any chain.

The room screamed opulence of heated floors that warmed her bare feet like a lover’s breath, a sunken tub carved from a single block of onyx big enough for three, shelves of artisanal soaps scented with rare orchids and ambergris that cost more per ounce than most people’s monthly rent.

Steam already fogged the mirrors slightly, softening the edges of her reflection as she stepped under the shower.

She twisted the gold-plated faucet, and water cascaded down in a warm, relentless torrent—multiple jets from the walls and ceiling enveloping her naked body like a liquid embrace, hot and pounding against her pale skin until it flushed a deep, aroused pink.

Amber tilted her head back, letting the streams pour over her face, matting her long, raven black hair to her shoulders and back in slick, glossy strands.

Water traced rivulets down her neck, pooling in the hollow of her throat before spilling over her full, heavy breasts something she inherited from her mother just like her entire hot body Phei loved so much—her tits that still bore the faint, silvery trails of dried drool from that night, now washed away but remembered in every sensitized nerve.

Her nipples hardened instantly under the spray, stiffening into aching, dark-pink points that begged for a pinch, a twist of his teeth.

She gasped softly at the memory, the sound was like a confession.

Her hands—trembling just a little, as they always did now when she thought of him—rose to trace her own body, starting at her collarbone, her fingers ghosted over the smooth expanse, dipping into the subtle indent where his lips had once pressed a possessive kiss, marking her not with bruises but with memory.

But lower, on the swells of her breasts, the marks were real and there in faint red welts from the chains that had rattled as she arched, tiny pinpricks where her own nails had dug in during those denied orgasms.

She cupped her tits gently, feeling their lush, pendulous weight spill over her palms, thumbs circling the areolas without touching the nipples—teasing herself as he would, building that slow, torturous burn.

The water made her skin impossibly slick, amplifying every sensation, her breasts heaved and bounced softly with her quickening breaths, nipples scraping against the warm air currents stirred by the steam, sending sharp jolts straight to her untouched core.

“Gods,” she whispered, voice barely audible over the pounding water, but it vibrated through her core.

She imagined his hands there instead—large, rough from whatever mortal labors he hid behind that dominant gaze, squeezing her tits until they spilled over his palms, thumbs flicking her nipples hard enough to make her yelp.

In her mind, he growled, “These are mine too, princess. Look how they beg for me.”

Her thighs clenched involuntarily, powerful and toned from years of disciplined grace, a fresh throb blooming between her legs, but she didn’t dare go lower. His order echoed like a brand: No touching. No relief. You’ll drip for me until I say otherwise.

Her hands slid down her ribs, tracing the toned, flat plane of her stomach—smooth and taut, the subtle definition of muscle flexing under golden skin flushed from heat and arousal.

Water gathered in the shallow dip of her navel before spilling lower, tracing the faint pink lines where the red silk ropes had bitten just enough to leave their claim.

The marks wrapped around her hips like delicate, filthy tattoos, reminders of how he’d tied her thighs wide, forcing her perfect round ass up in perfect presentation, her virgin hole fluttering open for the camera.

She reached back, palms gliding over the full, plush globes of her ass—still sensitive, still carrying the ghost-sting of the paddle’s cracks that had made her mound swell and her ass jiggle with every impact.

Fingers dug in lightly, kneading the firm-yet-yielding flesh, feeling it yield and bounce back under her grip.

In the mirror’s foggy reflection, she watched her ass ripple under her own touch, water cascading down the deep, shadowed crack in glossy, relentless streams—pouring through the cleft like liquid silk, teasing her perineum and kissing the tight, winking ring of her asshole before dripping lower.

The water parted her cheeks slightly as she flexed, mimicking the way slick had dripped there that night—thick, messy rivulets from her denied squirts, coating her asshole in shiny, obscene layers.

She spread her ass cheeks just a fraction wider, not enough to expose fully, but enough to feel the warm jets kiss deeper into the crack, teasing the forbidden pucker until it fluttered involuntarily.

A whimper escaped her lips, hips rolling instinctively as memory flooded of his thumb circling her asshole while the dildo head popped shallowly in and out of her entrance, stretching her lips thin, forcing cream to froth at the base.

“Show me how you gape for me,” he’d rasped, and gods, she had—her hole fluttering open after each withdrawal, pink inner folds quivering, slick strings bridging the gap.

Her pussy ached now, untouched and throbbing, lips swelling and parting slightly under the relentless spray, clit swollen and peeking from its hood like a desperate, glistening pearl.

She could feel the heat building, slick welling up despite the shower’s camouflage—thick, glossy strands mixing with the water, dripping down the insides of her toned, trembling thighs in betraying rivulets that traced every curve and muscle.

But her hands stayed away, tracing instead the tops of her thighs, fingers ghosting over the faint red blooms from the paddle’s strikes, the skin still tender, sending jolts straight to her core. She squeezed her thighs together hard, ass cheeks clapping softly under the water, trying to grind without touching—anything to ease the pulse in her clit.

Imagining his hands, soft, strong, gentle yet insistently parting her thighs wider than the ropes ever could, one finger—no, she cut the thought short.

He wouldn’t tease but he’d claim. In her fantasy, he stepped into the shower behind her, his hard body pressing against her back, thick, veined cock nestling hot and heavy between her ass cheeks, sliding up and down the crack as water poured over them both.

“Miss me, princess?” he’d growl, one hand wrapping around her throat possessively, the other cupping her mound without entering—just pressing, feeling her throb against his palm. “This cunt weeps for its owner.”

A sob bubbled up, her body trembling now, knees weakening as another wave of arousal crashed through her.

Her hands roamed higher again, pinching her nipples this time—hard, twisting just enough to make her gasp, tits bouncing with the motion, water splashing off them in arcs like her denied squirts had that night.

This has been her ritual everytime since that day.

She leaned against the cool marble wall, the contrast shocking her heated skin, ass pressing back as if chasing his phantom thrusts, cheeks spreading slightly so water flooded deeper into the crack, teasing her asshole until it clenched and fluttered.

She slid down the wall slowly, until she was sitting on the heated floor, legs spread wide but hands fisted at her sides.

Water pounded her directly now—jets from above and sides hitting her breasts, her toned stomach, her thighs, teasing the edges of her mound without mercy.

Her pussy lips parted further under the pressure, clit exposed to the warm rivulets that mimicked fingers but weren’t—slick gushing out in response, mixing with the flow, pooling beneath her jiggling, perfect round ass in a filthy, reflective puddle that mirrored the steam-fogged lights.

She imagined him watching, his voice low and commanding.

“Look at you, princess. Dripping like a whore in heat, but obedient. Good girl. You’ll come only when I say—when my cock finally stretches this virgin hole wide, kisses your cervix, fills you with thick ropes until it overflows down your crack.”

Her head thrashed, hair whipping wet strands across her face, a muffled cry escaping as her body spasmed—thighs quaking violently, ass cheeks rippling and bouncing against the tile, tits heaving with ragged breaths.

No touch, no release—just the building denial, the marks burning under the water like brands, her core clenching desperately around nothing… wetness of her juice jetted in a short, involuntary arc—hot, messy—splashing her inner thighs, but she clamped down, denying even that small mercy.

Tears mingled with the shower, vulnerability crashing over her like the waves: she was his now, marked, aching, waiting.

And in that sinful surrender, she whispered his name—”Phei”—knowing the real ruin was yet to come.

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A/N: I hope you didn’t for a second think, we’d leave our Amber… also, you take on this chapter?