I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

The light that came through Rena’s curtains was the pale, noncommittal grey of early morning — not quite dawn, not quite day — and Nathan woke into it slowly, the way he woke into most things. Aware before he opened his eyes. Taking inventory.

He was in Rena’s bed. In Rena’s room. Which was exactly where he’d expected to be.

He turned onto his side.

She was still there.

He hadn’t entirely expected that.

Rena lay with her back to him — the sheet pulled up to her shoulder blades, blond hair loose and tangled against the pillow, the bare line of her spine disappearing beneath the linen. Still. Breathing. Present in a way that felt, for someone like Rena, almost defiant.

“I thought you’d certainly be gone by morning,” Nathan said, and the amusement in his voice was unhurried and genuine. “You, still laying next to me. Didn’t see that coming.”

Silence.

Long enough that he thought she might not answer at all — that she might simply pretend to be asleep and wait him out with the particular brand of aristocratic stubbornness she’d been deploying against him for three years.

Then:

“It’s my room.” Her voice was flat and precise and had clearly been waiting fully dressed behind her teeth. “And my bed. You’re the one who should have left.”

“Should I leave now?”

“Yes. Before anyone notices.”

Nathan looked at the ceiling for a moment. Then back at her rigid, carefully presented spine.

“You don’t want anyone noticing that you slept with me,” he said. “That I had fucked you quite strongly last night.”

The back of her neck went crimson.

He watched it happen in real time — the color climbing from her collar upward, staining the skin beneath her hairline, her shoulders pulling slightly inward with the particular tension of a woman being embarrassed against her will and furious about it.

“Yes. So leave. Quickly.”

She turned then — whether to emphasize the point or because she couldn’t manage the conversation with her back to him, he wasn’t sure — and made the tactical error of meeting his eyes.

She looked away immediately.

“And don’t forget your promise,” she said, to somewhere above his left shoulder. “I am coming with you to Tenebria.”

“I’m not taking you to Tenebria today.”

The stillness that followed had a particular quality to it. The stillness of a very controlled person receiving information they had not budgeted for.

“I’ll come back for you,” he said. “You need to wait—”

“What?!”

The single word came out dangerously level.

“You lied to me!” She pushed herself upright, sheet clutched to her chest, and the expression on her face was a remarkable mixture of outrage and something she was working very hard to keep off her face entirely. “I let you sleep with me and now you’re telling me—”

“I don’t remember making a specific promise about today,” Nathan said.

“Screw you!” The composure cracked cleanly down the middle. “I let you sleep with me because you were supposed to take me to Tenebria! That was the arrangement—”

“So you wanted me to take you somewhere private,” Nathan said, “so that when I was fucking you, none of your classmates would hear.”

The blush that hit her was catastrophic in scope.

“I— you— that is not—”

Her hand came up. Open palm, swinging for his face or his chest — she perhaps hadn’t decided — and Nathan caught her wrist with easy, unhurried precision. Her momentum carried her forward and he used it, pulling her toward him in one smooth motion, and Rena yelped — a short, startled “haa—!” — and fell against his chest with both hands flat against his sternum.

He didn’t give her time to organize.

His arm wrapped around her waist — that same arm, the one she had spent last night learning the weight and authority of — and he turned them, rolling until she was beneath him, and before she had processed the change in geography his mouth found hers.

“Hmmphff—!”

Her eyes went wide. Her hands pushed at his chest immediately, fingers splayed, and for two seconds the push had genuine intention behind it. Then his mouth moved against hers — slow, deliberate, unhurried — and the intention began to soften at the edges. His lips caught her lower lip and pulled, gently, and the small sound that escaped her through the seal of the kiss was not a protest.

“Haaa— hmmm~—”

Her pushing hands stopped pushing.

They stayed there — pressed flat to his chest — but the force behind them was gone, replaced by something more like gripping, her fingers curling slightly into his skin as Nathan kissed her with the same thorough patience he applied to everything, unhurried and complete, giving her lower lip his full attention before moving to the upper, before returning, before her mouth began responding entirely on its own without any directive from the woman it belonged to.

His hand moved to the sheet.

“Hmmpff—!”

She felt it go — the linen sliding away, the cool air of the room finding every inch of her skin at once — and she broke the kiss on a sharp inhale of objection that Nathan swallowed before it fully formed, his mouth returning to hers immediately, and Rena made a muffled sound of frustration that deteriorated rapidly into something else entirely.

His hand moved lower.

Found the inside of her thigh.

Rena’s legs snapped shut around it.

She pushed his chest harder — real force this time, genuine — and Nathan pulled back just enough for speech, his hand staying exactly where it was, caught warm between her pressed thighs.

“W…what are you doing?!” she asked

Nathan looked at her. Unhurried. Thoroughly unintimidated by the glare being directed at him from approximately eight inches away.

“I’m going to fuck you again, Rena.”

She flinched. The blush returned with full force, rushing up her face, and her eyes went dark with something that was trying to be fury and was being complicated by the heat that had started, against all reason and decency, pooling low in her stomach at the plain statement of his intention.

“You—” She collected herself. “It’s morning.”

“It is.”

“You can’t just—”

“I’m leaving soon,” he said simply. “I want to fuck you before I go.”

He said it the way someone else might say I want coffee before I leave — calm, practical, the most reasonable thing — and the sheer composure of it while she lay bare beneath him with her thighs clamped around his hand was its own specific category of infuriating.

His fingers shifted. Pressing gently between her thighs. Seeking.

“Haan—! No—! Stop—”

“What are you scared of?” His voice was quiet. Amused. His fingers found the soft heat of her and she felt his expression change against her cheek. “No one is going to come in.”

“They’ll— they’ll hear —haaahn—!”

The last syllable arrived because his finger had pressed inside her and found her already wet — embarrassingly, immediately, undeniably wet — and the moan that came with it was one she had clearly not intended to release at that volume.

Nathan stilled for a beat. Feeling her. The warmth and slickness of her around his finger, her walls already responding, already fluttering with recognition.

“Let them hear,” he said softly, against the curve of her ear. His finger moved. A slow, thorough stroke that found every nerve ending she had and addressed each one personally. “They’ll just know that someone is getting fucked. And if you don’t want them to know it’s you—” another stroke, deeper, curling— “then try to hold back.”

He rubbed her clit.

“Hhmm—HAAH—!”

The cry burst out of her at full, unguarded volume — high and bright and helpless — and her whole body seized, thighs snapping around his hand, spine arching, the orgasm arriving so quickly and completely that she had no architecture of resistance to offer it. Her feet pressed hard into the mattress. Her hands grabbed fistfuls of the sheet. A second shorter cry followed the first as the pulses moved through her — “haaahn—” — and then the long shivering exhale of someone who had just been thoroughly overruled by their own body.

The silence that followed was eloquent.

“See,” Nathan said. His voice was warm with satisfaction. “You’re already wanting it.”

“I…that’s not—” Rena’s voice had no structural integrity whatsoever. She turned her face into the pillow. Her ears were scarlet. Her feet were still flexed against the mattress from the aftershocks moving through her thighs in small, persistent waves. “That’s not what— you did that on purpose—”

“Yes,” he agreed simply.

She heard him move. Heard the sound of him — already hard, she registered that with a spike of something she refused to classify — stroking himself once, twice, and then his weight settled back over her and she turned her face from the pillow and looked up at him because she couldn’t not look and found his golden eyes dark and intent and focused entirely on her.

Her lips parted.

Her thighs, of their own quiet volition, opened.

She watched his face as he pressed forward — the slow press of him finding her entrance, still sensitive, still swollen from the night before — and the sound that left her was low and trembling and surrendering.

“Haaa—~”

He was warm. Impossibly warm. The broad heat of him pressing against flesh that remembered him now, recognized him, her body welcoming the intrusion with a slick and shameless ease that would have mortified her if she’d had the cognitive bandwidth to be mortified. Her walls stretched and her breath pulled thin and she gripped the sheets and she waited—

Nathan’s hips snapped forward.

“HAAHN—!!!”

The cry that tore from her throat had no ceiling and was enormous, filling the room and likely the hallway beyond it, and she knew it and she couldn’t stop it because he was inside her, fully, all at once, buried to the hilt in a single merciless thrust that drove every thought she had out through the top of her head and replaced them with pure, white, overwhelming sensation.

Her eyes found his. Blazing.

He looked back at her with those calm, dark golden eyes — and the corner of his mouth curved.

And Rena, despite everything, despite all of it, felt herself clench around him.

Which told both of them everything.

“You,” she started.

“Hold on,” Nathan said. And the smirk that crossed his face was the last thing she saw clearly before he moved.

“Haah— hmm—!”

The moan came out immediately — pulled from her on the first stroke, raw and unfiltered — and Rena’s hand flew to her own mouth with the speed of genuine alarm. Palm flat, pressed hard against her lips, catching the sounds before they could reach full volume and travel through walls and doors and into the hallway beyond.

Nathan saw it.

The smile that moved across his face was slow and entirely too satisfied and he did not stop moving, his hips finding a rhythm long and deep and deliberate, each stroke driving him through her still-sensitive walls with a thoroughness that made her eyes flutter and her knees tighten against his sides.

“Hmmpf— hmm~— hmmm~— hmmnn—!”

The muffled sounds leaked through her fingers anyway — she couldn’t stop them, could only muffle their edges — each one punched free by the moment his cock drove deepest, filling her completely, the thick head of him pressing against her innermost wall with a blunt, overwhelming impact that sent white sparks crackling through her vision. His balls met her flesh with each full thrust — a soft, rhythmic slap of contact that she felt everywhere — and the sound of it, indecent and frank and entirely real, made the blush on her face deepen past any color she’d worn before.

The sensation was too much.

It had been too much since last night and her body had learned nothing from the experience except how to want it more efficiently.

Her legs moved without her permission. Wrapping around his waist, ankles crossing at the small of his back, pulling him closer — deeper — and her hips tilted upward in a slow rolling motion that she absolutely had not authorized, meeting his thrusts with a fluency that her body had apparently developed overnight while her dignity was sleeping.

Nathan looked down at her moving hips.

His smirk widened.

His hand moved between them and his thumb found her clit.

“HMMPFFFHH—!!”

Rena’s eyes snapped wide open. Her entire body surged upward — spine arching clean off the mattress, head pressing back, every muscle pulling taut — as the orgasm detonated through her without warning or mercy, her walls seizing around him in hard rhythmic pulses, her muffled cry tearing through her sealed fingers at a volume that made her genuinely terrified for approximately half a second before the pleasure rolled over the terror and drowned it entirely.

Nathan groaned.

Low and pressed through his teeth. She felt him throb inside her as her walls gripped and squeezed, felt the effort of his restraint in the tight controlled rhythm of his hips not stopping, not slowing, working her through the clenching waves of her finish and out the other side without interruption.

He wanted more of her first.

His hand moved to her breast.

Large and warm, cupping her fully, his palm rolling against her nipple with a slow deliberate pressure that made her muffled sounds take on a new register — “haaa— hmm—! Haaah—” — the hand over her mouth growing increasingly decorative as her ability to maintain consistent pressure against it deteriorated. Her fingers slipped. Her palm rested sloppy and unconvincing against her own lips, catching maybe half of what was trying to get out, while Nathan’s hands on her body continued their methodical, thorough, deeply unfair campaign.

He let her nipple point against his palm. Pressed. Released. Pressed again.

“Haaah— hmm~—”

Her arm dropped.

The hand that had been covering her mouth fell to the sheets with the quiet finality of something that had tried its best.

Nathan felt the change in her — the last held thing releasing — and in the same moment his arm came around her back. Gathering her. Pulling her up against his chest in one smooth motion, her bare skin flush to his, her legs still wrapped around his waist.

And then he stood.

“Wh—” The sound she made was small and startled, her arms going around his neck on pure survival instinct, finding his shoulders and holding as she found herself suddenly upright, dangling on him, his cock still buried inside her and the change in angle sending a long shivering “haaa~” up her throat. She looked at him with wide eyes. “What are you—”

He carried her to the wall.

Pressed her back to it.

And thrust upward.

“HAAahnnn❤️—!”

The cry left her at full, unobstructed, completely unmanaged volume. The wall met her back and his hips drove upward and the impact of him from this angle hit something deep and devastating and her head fell back and knocked gently against the plaster and she didn’t care — couldn’t locate a single care anywhere in her entire body — because the sensation of him lifting into her, using gravity and his own strength to drive himself deeper than the mattress had allowed, was something that reorganized everything she thought she knew about what her body was capable of feeling.

“Fuck—” Nathan’s voice came out rough, pressed against her collarbone, his forehead dropping to her shoulder for a beat. “You feel— Rena—”

“Fuck, you are so good—” The words came out fractured and reverent and she felt them against her skin and something in her chest pulled tight and warm at the rawness of it.

He pulled back and drove forward again.

Pah! Pah! Pah!

The wall shivered. She felt the plaster against her shoulder blades vibrating with each thrust, the whole solid architecture of the room registering what was happening to her, and the sounds that left her now were entirely uncurated — arriving one after another without any filter between sensation and output.

“Haaahnn❤️! HAAAnn❤️! Yes…. so much— haaaa❤️!!”

She could hear herself. She was aware, with a distant, floating portion of her consciousness, that she was being very loud. That the syllables she was producing were not subtle. That anyone in the hallway—

“Hey— did you guys hear that?”

The voice came through the wall like cold water dropped down the back of her neck.

“Yeah— someone’s definitely getting nailed in there—”

“Who do you think it is?”

“No idea whose room that is but— damn— she sounds hot!”

Male voices. Multiple. Just outside the door.

Her classmates.

The blood drained from Rena’s face so completely she went visibly pale despite the flush — her eyes clearing with sudden, crystalline, horrified lucidity, the pleasure receding just enough for social terror to fit its foot in the door.

“W…wait!” Her voice came out strangled. “Stop…they’ll hear— stop…”

Nathan thrust deeper.

“—HAAAHNN❤️❤️!!”

The cry tore out of her loud and helpless and the voices outside went immediately quiet for half a beat and then erupted.

“Fuck, did you hear that—?”

“I’m hard—”

“Can we just open the door…”

The handle moved. Rattled. Held — locked, thank god, locked — and Rena’s eyes closed in a shaking exhale of relief that lasted exactly as long as it took Nathan to pull back and drive into her again.

“HAHNNN❤️!” Her voice cracked right after. Her legs tightened around his waist. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “They’re right… outside! They can!”

“Let them hear,” he said against her throat. His voice was low and rough and completely, infuriatingly composed. “Or don’t. But you’re not going to be quiet either way, Rena. We both know that now.”

She opened her mouth to object.

His hips rolled forward in a slow, grinding, devastating circle.

“God…” The word came out reverent and wrecked and nothing like an objection. Her head fell back against the wall. Her hips ground forward to meet him on pure animal instinct, chasing the contact, and the sounds outside the door said something about damn and lucky bastard and she could not bring herself to care the way she should.

He drove into her harder. Faster. The controlled patience of it gone now, replaced by something more urgent and honest — his breath coming rougher against her neck, the low sounds in his chest escaping with less resistance, his hands gripping her hips with a firmness that would leave marks she would look at tomorrow and not entirely regret.

“Haaahnn❤️! Haaahn❤️! Too deep!”

He licked a long slow line up the side of her throat.

She shattered.

“HYAAA❤️AHNN❤️!! Ho— hot—!! Hmmmfff❤️❤️!”

The orgasm tore through her in a wave that started where they were joined and radiated outward to the tips of her fingers, her thighs shaking so hard they slapped against his sides in rapid, helpless percussion, her walls clenching and seizing and her fluids running down in a rush that she registered with distant, burning mortification and absolutely nothing resembling the ability to address it.

Outside, someone said something. She didn’t hear it. She was somewhere else entirely.

Nathan’s arm tightened around her back. Pulling her hard against him, pressing her fully to his chest, burying himself to the deepest point she had — and then she felt him. The full-body tightening of a man at his limit, the grunt that came from somewhere below his sternum, rough and real and stripped of everything except the raw fact of it—

He came.

Hard. Deep. The heat of him flooding her in long, pulsing surges, each one drawing a broken sound from his throat that he pressed into her hair, his hips still moving through it in short, grinding strokes that wrung every last pulse out and sent corresponding aftershocks rippling through her still-clenching walls.

“Haaahn~— haaahn—~”

Rena let out small sounds now. Soft. The sounds of aftermath, of a woman who had been completely and thoroughly taken apart and was now collecting the pieces in no particular hurry.

Her head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Her legs were still around his waist but the tension had gone out of them — they hung there loosely, heels resting against the backs of his thighs, everything wrung out and exhausted and warm.

Her cheek pressed against his neck.

She could feel his heartbeat. Fast. Coming down.

Outside in the hallway, the voices had drifted — whatever entertainment they’d extracted from the situation apparently concluded, footsteps moving away, someone making a comment that dissolved down the corridor.

Rena exhaled. Long and slow and uneven at the edges.

Nathan’s hand moved to her hair. His fingers moving through the tangled blond of it in slow, unhurried strokes. Not talking. Just holding her against the wall with her feet off the ground and his hand in her hair and both of them breathing.

After a long moment he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“Wait a little longer,” he said quietly. His voice had come back to itself — low and steady and calm — but there was something underneath it now that hadn’t been there before last night. Something that didn’t fully close off the way it usually did. “Stay here. I’ll come back for you.”

She didn’t answer immediately.

“And when I take you to Tenebria,” he continued, and she felt the curve of a smile against her hair, “I’ll fuck you even better and longer and make sure no one will hear you.”

Rena’s fingers tightened in his shoulders.

Her face, pressed to his neck, was crimson.

Her heart, which had been performing athletically for the last hour, did something complicated and inconvenient in her chest that had nothing to do with any of the physical activity.