Primal Eclipse
Shadows clung to the edges of the high-rise suite like forgotten secrets, the city lights below pulsing with a distant, indifferent rhythm. Marcus stirred on the king-sized bed, his body slick with sweat that wasn’t entirely his own. The air hung heavy with musk and regret, the kind that seeps into your bones. Beside him, Elena’s side was cool, empty—a void that mirrored the hollow ache in his chest. She was gone, off to that godforsaken tech summit in Vegas with her new boss, Victor Kane. And it was all his doing.
He’d begged her. Whispered filthy encouragements into her ear just hours before her flight. “Let go, baby. Unleash that primal hunger you’ve been hiding.” The words tasted like ash now, but they’d spilled from his lips like gospel, fueled by the invisible chains Victor had wrapped around his soul.
Jump to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Chapter 1: Fractured Dawn 🔥
The memory hit Marcus like a freight train as he dragged himself to the bathroom mirror. His reflection stared back—disheveled brown hair matted, stubble shadowing a jaw clenched too tight. At 38, he still carried the lean build of his days as a freelance photographer, but lately, the lines around his eyes told tales of erosion. Erosion from a marriage that had cooled like yesterday’s coffee.
Elena, his wife of seven years, with her fiery red curls and curves that once drove him wild. She’d landed the gig as executive assistant to Victor Kane three months back. Victor: tall, chiseled, mid-40s predator in tailored suits, owner of a sprawling cybersecurity empire. Marcus had seen the photos—Victor’s smirk screaming conquest.
But it started with her. Not Elena. Sophia.
Flashback clawed its way in: that rainy Tuesday at the downtown studio. Marcus hunched over edits when the intercom buzzed. “Visitor for you, Mr. Hale. Says it’s urgent.”
Sophia glided in like smoke—raven hair cascading to her waist, olive skin glowing under the fluorescent hum, emerald eyes locking on him with predatory gleam. Twenty-eight maybe, hips swaying in a crimson sheath that hugged full breasts and an ass sculpted for sin. “Heard you’re the best in the city,” she purred, voice like velvet over gravel. “Mind if I pick your brain? Over drinks?”
Flattery hooked him. Elena’s touches had grown perfunctory, her sighs more duty than desire. Sophia? She laughed at his jokes, brushed his arm, made him feel seen. One drink turned to three at a dimly lit lounge smelling of aged whiskey and leather. Texts followed, innocent at first. Then her apartment invite: “Help with lighting setup for my portfolio?”
Idiot. The door clicked shut behind him, and there she stood—naked save for lace garters framing her shaved mound, nipples pierced and erect. “Touch me,” she breathed, primal need cracking her facade. Marcus’s cock twitched despite the alarm bells. Loyalty screamed; lust roared louder.
Their bodies collided on silk sheets. Her slick folds gripped his shaft as she rode him, nails raking his back, moans echoing off bare walls tasting of salt and sweat. He thrust deep, primal grunts escaping, her walls clenching in rhythmic waves until he exploded inside her heat. Ecstasy blurred the wrongness.
Guilt crashed post-climax. He fled, vowing silence. But Victor called next dawn, voice silk-sheathed steel: “Sophia’s my specialist. Video’s crystal. One word to Elena, and your life’s ash.”
The Price of Secrets
Marcus paced the marble floor now, heart hammering. Victor’s “deal”: skip work, head to a secluded cabin in the woods Friday eve. “Educate yourself on Elena’s needs,” Victor chuckled. Photos sent—three vixens: Brooke, raven-tressed domme; Jade, athletic blonde; Lexi, curvy brunette. All smirks promising torment.
By noon Friday, Marcus arrived at the cabin, pine-scented air thick with isolation. Brooke greeted him, thigh-high boots clicking. “Strip, pet.” They bound him lightly first, teasing until desperation built. Then the razor: legs, chest, balls smooth as glass. Makeup next—heavy liner, crimson lips. Finally, the cage: cold steel snapping around his flaccid cock, key dangling from Brooke’s neck.
“Feel that ache? That’s denial. Women crave depth you can’t give.” Jade’s fingers traced his lace panties, his length straining futilely. They paraded him in heels, forcing chores—scrubbing floors on knees, the wood rough against skin, scent of lemon polish mixing with their arousal as they lounged topless, pussies glistening from mutual fingering.
Night fell with wine and whispers. Lexi’s hand slipped under his skirt, pinching his caged balls. “Beg for release.” He did, voice breaking. Laughter rippled. Sleep came fitful, cage pinching with every stirring dream.
Chapter 2: Veiled Humiliations 💋
Saturday dawned misty, birdsong mocking his prison. Brooke yanked him awake. “Maid service, bitch.” Fishnets, micro-skirt, corset cinching his waist till ribs protested. He minced to the kitchen, heels wobbling, cooking eggs that sizzled with grease pops, aroma clashing with floral perfume they smeared on him.
They ate leisurely, making him kneel, feeding scraps from fingers slick with juice. Jade’s toe nudged his cage. “Throbs, doesn’t it? Imagine Elena’s neglect.” Truth stung—bedroom sparse, her peaks half-hearted yawns.
Afternoon: makeovers. They painted nails slut-red, styled a wig in tousled waves. Photos snapped relentlessly, flashes blinding. “Smile pretty. Victor loves souvenirs.”
Evening brought massages. Brooke prone, skin oiled and warm. His hands kneaded her shoulders, down to ass cheeks parting for view of puckered rosebud. She moaned low, grinding back. “Deeper.” His cage wept pre-cum, denied. Jade and Lexi watched, fingering each other lazily, wet schlicks filling air heavy with pussy tang.
“You’re one of us now,” Lexi cooed, pinching his nipples till they pebbled. They stripped to nothing, bodies a feast: Jade’s pert tits, Brooke’s pierced hood, Lexi’s heavy breasts swaying. Showers together—steam fogging glass, soap suds sliding over curves as he washed them, tongue ordered to lap stray droplets from thighs tasting of salt and musk.
Cracks in the Armor
Marcus’s mind fractured. Humiliation fueled odd arousal; cage confined, mind roamed free. Primal urges bubbled—wanting to claim, yet owned. They sensed it. “Tomorrow, the real lesson,” Brooke hinted, eyes gleaming.
Night two: bound to bedposts in satin restraints. They edged him verbally—describing Victor’s cock, thick-veined monster reaming Elena’s throat. Fantasies twisted real as fingers probed his virgin ass, prostate milked in dribbles around the cage. Sleep evaded, body screaming.
Chapter 3: The Beast Unleashed
Sunday eve sealed his fate. “Shave again, doll.” Tub water scalded, razor whispering over skin. Fresh corset in black lace hugged his form; micro-dress barely covered caged bulge. Makeup severe, lips glossy for sin.
Blindfold descended, world black. Stairs creaked under heavy steps. Fabric ripped away—blindfold gone. There: Rex. Towering brute, 6’5″, bald, tattooed torso rippling like coiled pythons. Cargo pants tented hugely. Grin feral. Doorway blocked escape.
“Girlfriend time,” Brooke purred from shadows. “Feel the primal invasion women endure.”
Horror iced Marcus. “No—please.” But Rex advanced, meaty paws gripping shoulders. Broke no resistance. Skirt flipped, panties shredded. Rex’s zipper rasped; cock sprang free—nine inches veined monstrosity, mushroom head drooling.
“Suck it, slut.” Rex’s bass rumble vibrated air. Marcus gagged as girth stretched jaws, salty pre coating tongue. Throat bullied, balls smacking chin with wet slaps. Gurgles escaped; tears streamed. Girls cheered, phones recording every violation.
Rex hauled him up, bending over bed. Lube cold on hole; fingers scissored roughly. Then pressure—blunt head breaching ring. Burnt like fire, primal roar tearing from Marcus’s throat as inches invaded. “Fuck, tight virgin pussy,” Rex grunted, hips snapping. Prostate crushed; unwanted bliss sparked, cage leaking profusely.
Pounding relentless: skin slapping symphony, Rex’s sweat dripping, musky balls scent overwhelming. Girls fingered themselves watching, moans blending. Marcus broke—primal surrender, pushing back, begging “Harder!” Cum erupted from Rex, flooding bowels hot and thick.
Collapsed, used, Rex’s seed trickling down thighs. Victor’s video arrived via text: “Tell Elena to fuck me raw. Or this goes viral.”
Shattered Reflections
Post-assault haze: tenderness unexpected. Girls cleaned him, lotions soothing raw flesh. Brooke whispered, “Now you know power’s flip. Push her to Victor—save yourself.” Guilt warred with liberation’s ghost.
Chapter 4: Twisted Plea 🔥
Home by midnight, legs shaky, ass throbbing reminder. Elena packed, Vegas flight dawn. Las Vegas: neon inferno, summit schmooze-fest. Victor’s domain.
She arched brow at smooth legs. “Swim training,” he lied, voice cracking. Bed shared last—her hand brushed cage hidden under PJs. Odd glance, but fatigue won.
Pre-dawn kitchen: coffee bitter, tension electric. “Babe,” Marcus croaked, heart pounding. “Victor’s intense. Primal alpha. Give in if he pushes. Rekindle that fire we lost.”
Elena’s eyes widened—green pools storming. “What? You’re pimping me out?” Shock, then curiosity flickered. Their sex had waned; his inadequacies gnawed her unspoken.
He dropped to knees, hands on thighs. “Watch.” Unzipped, freed softening cock. Told all—Sophia, cage, Rex’s ravaging. Explicit: “His cock split me, primal domination flooding every nerve. Felt alive, broken open. Victor offers that to you.”
Tears, rage, then… heat. Elena’s nipples tented silk robe. “Prove it slut.” Forced his face between legs. Tongue delved slick folds, clit throbbing under laps. She ground, cumming with gasps tasting her tangy flood.
“Fine. I’ll fuck him. But you’re mine to toy with now.” Cage clacked back on.
Farewell Thrusts
Airport drop: her kiss lingered, tongue primal promise. “Watch the videos Victor sends. Learn.”
Marcus drove home, phone buzzing. First clip: Elena in limo, Victor’s hand under skirt.
Chapter 5: Vegas Inferno 💋
Day one summit: texts from Victor. “Your wife’s cunt weeps for me.” Marcus stroked futilely in cage, imagination raging.
Night: video drops. Penthouse suite, chandelier glow. Elena stripped slow, red curls wild. Victor’s body godlike—eight-pack, cock curving thick upward. She knelt, lips stretching obscene around girth, gagging slurps filling audio.
“Choke on it, pet.” Victor growled. Marcus watched, primal jealousy twisting pleasure. Elena deepthroated, saliva ropes dangling, eyes watering devotion.
Bed: Victor flipped her, ass high. Cock speared pussy—no condom—wet squelches as he railed. Her screams: “Fuck, so deep! Primal beast!” Tits bouncing, ass rippling. She squirted, sheets soaking, body convulsing.
Marcus came dry, cage cruel. More days blurred: poolside throatfucks, balcony ass-fucks—Victor’s tongue rimming her rosebud first, then pounding till prolapse winked. Elena bloomed, texts to Marcus: “His cum fills me better than you ever could 🔥.”
New Equilibrium
Return eve: Elena strutted in, marked—hickeys, stretched holes. “Kneel.” He did. She straddled face, Victor’s seed oozing—salty, thick. Lapped clean as she detailed: double-teamed by Victor and execs, gangbanged primal frenzy.
“We’re his now.” Cage stayed; new dynamic locked. Marcus submitted, primal eclipse complete—darkness birthing strange light.
Chapter 6: Eternal Chains
Weeks on: routine shifted. Elena radiant, fucking Victor weekly. Marcus prepped outfits, cleaned cum-soaked lingerie smelling of leather and lust. Cage occasional release—milked by her heels grinding balls.
One night: Victor visited. Suit shed, commanded Marcus suck while Elena rode reverse. “Taste your wife’s alpha.” Primal circle—husband rimming Victor’s ass as Elena creamed cock. Orgy peaked: Victor barebacking Marcus anew, Elena tribbing above, juices raining.
Afterglow tangled: bodies spent, scents mingling—sweat, cum, perfume. Elena kissed Marcus soft. “Love you still. This… frees us.” Victor smirked triumph. “Mine to share.”
Marcus drifted, no regret. Primal truths unbound chains once thought iron. Dawn broke, possibilities endless in surrender’s glow.
