Lying on Miguel's bed, with his arm still wrapped around me, my body was a map of sensations: pain, pleasure, exhaustion. But something inside me remained lit, a spark that I couldn't extinguish. I had savored submission, and although my Alpha pride struggled to resurface, the truth was undeniable: I wanted more. Miguel knew it, saw it in my eyes, in the way my breathing accelerated when he touched me. But that possessive look of his, charged with jealousy towards Lucas, warned me that he wasn't willing to share.

"Sleep a little," he said, his voice low but authoritative. "You're going to need strength."

I didn't argue. I closed my eyes, but sleep was brief. I woke up with him on top of me, his hands holding my wrists against the mattress, his hot breath on my neck. The moonlight filtered through the window, bathing his face in shadows. He didn't say anything, just kissed me, a clash of lips and teeth that left me breathless. His jealousy was still there, fueling every movement.

"You think this is over, don't you?" he whispered, biting my ear. "No, Diego. I'm going to engrave myself on you until you can't think of anyone else."

The New Session

He lifted me out of bed and took me back to his private room, where the air smelled of leather and wax. This time, there was no cross or table, just a suspension harness hanging from the ceiling, black ropes gleaming under the red light. He pushed me towards it, tying my wrists and ankles with precise knots, leaving my body suspended a few centimeters from the floor, vulnerable and exposed. The tension in my muscles was intense, but anticipation was even greater.

Miguel moved around me, slow, deliberate. From a metal box, he took out a lit candle, the wax dripping onto his hand without him even flinching. He leaned the candle over my chest, and the first stream of hot wax fell onto my skin, eliciting a hiss from me. The heat burned, but solidified quickly, leaving a piercing sensation that made me arch. He continued, tracing lines of wax on my torso, my thighs, approaching my groin dangerously. Each drop was a challenge, a reminder of his control.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, his tone mocking as he let wax fall just above my navel.

"No," I panted, my voice trembling but determined.

He smiled, setting the candle aside and taking a bamboo cane. The first blow landed on the back of my thighs, a sharp pain that made me grunt. He didn't hold back, alternating precise blows between my legs and back, each impact sending electric shocks through my body. My skin burned, but my excitement grew, betraying me with each moan that escaped my lips.

Then, he approached, his fingers tracing the fresh marks on my skin. He took out a small bottle of oil and poured it onto my entrance, his fingers sliding inside me, opening me with a torturous slowness. Each movement was calculated, pressing exactly where he knew would make me lose...