Chosen by the Beast Alpha

Chapter 54: Chapter 54

Lena’s POV

The transformation began. His black claws retracted, reverting to human nails. His fingers straightened one by one, no longer twisted and gnarled. His fangs, too, shrank back into place.

By the time he stood before me, he had returned—no longer monstrous, though the edges of his pupils still burned with a lingering crimson.

His muscles were taut, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that felt restrained, volatile.

"...Dominic?" I whispered.

No answer. His rationality hadn’t fully returned, but the way he looked at me was wrong. Dark. Hungry. Undeniably carnal.

Suddenly, Dominic’s left hand seized the back of my neck, twisting me around like a kitten. My face nearly collided with the stone wall. Forced to tilt my head back, my throat arched taut.

His grip loosened just enough to slide forward, rough palm pressing against my windpipe.

"Look," he commanded, forcing my gaze ahead. All I could see was the crack in the wall, damp moss, and the faint mist of my own breath.

His other hand tore at my shirt. Buttons scattered, hitting the ground with tiny clicks. Cold air rushed over my skin. My breasts spilled free from my bra, nipples hardening instantly from the chill, sensitive and full.

One hand still at my throat, the other closed over my left breast, squeezing hard—kneading like dough. Pain shot through me, and a muffled whimper escaped my lips.

"It hurts—"

"Good." He released my breast only to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to my left buttock. The crack echoed. White-hot pain flared, and I lurched forward, nearly smashing into the wall—but his grip on my neck yanked me back.

"Stay down," he ordered.

His hand left my throat, pressing instead against the back of my head, shoving my face into the cold stone. My palms braced instinctively against the wall, fingers clawing into the crevices. Behind me, he loomed, forcing my hips up, my back arched.

His cock pressed against me. The tip was scorching hot, like a branding iron, grinding back and forth at the entrance of my vagina. It was already wet—not because I wanted it, but because my body had betrayed me, secreting moisture from fear and something else I couldn’t name.

"Before I push in," his voice was low, edged with command, "say you want it."

I bit my lip.

His hand came down hard, landing on my right buttock with a sharp crack. The sting burned like fire.

"Say it."

"...I want it." My voice was barely a whisper.

"Louder."

"I want it!" I nearly shouted.

His hands gripped my waist, thumbs digging into the hollows, fingers sinking deep into the flesh of my hips. Then he thrust inside.

No hesitation. One brutal push, all the way in. The pain of being stretched open whited out my vision, as if I were being split in two. He was too big—the head of his cock dragged over every ridge inside me before slamming against my cervix. A helpless sound escaped me, echoing in the empty basement.

"Fuck—too deep—"

"Shut up." His grip on my hips tightened as he began to move. Each thrust pulled out until only the tip remained before driving back in to the hilt. The concrete wall was cold and rough against my bare skin, my breasts flattened against it, nipples scraping painfully with every brutal snap of his hips.

After dozens of punishing strokes, he suddenly stilled. Still buried inside me, he bent forward, one hand reaching around to pinch my left nipple between his fingers and tug. At the same time, his other hand slid between my legs, fingers finding my clit.

"Rub it," he ordered, pressing my own fingers against the swollen bud. "Let me hear you."

My hand trembled, but I obeyed, circling the aching nub. The slickness of my arousal coated my fingertips, each movement drawing out sticky, shameful noises.

"Mm... Ah..." Moans escaped my throat.

He started thrusting again, faster and deeper. My fingers were still rubbing my clit—triple stimulation, my vagina filled, my cervix pounded, my clit teased—until my legs began to weaken. Inside, my walls clenched—once, twice—then came wave after wave of uncontrollable spasms.

"I’m close... I’m gonna come..." I heard myself cry out.

He didn’t stop. Instead, his hands gripped my waist, lifting me off the wall. My feet left the ground, my entire weight now resting on his cock buried inside me. He carried me, turning, and pinned me against another wall.

At this angle, he went even deeper. My back hit the surface, my legs wrapped around his waist, my walls tightening around him from the suspension, drawing a low growl from his throat.

His hand closed around my neck—thumb pressing against one side of my windpipe, fingers curling around the other. The pressure hovered right at the edge of suffocation and consciousness. Blood rushed to my face, my ears buzzed, darkness creeping at the edges of my vision. But at the same time, my insides convulsed harder, climax after climax surging up my spine like electric currents.

"Fuck... You’re squeezing me to death..." His voice was hoarse, his thrusts losing rhythm, turning raw and relentless.

His other hand slid from my waist down to the cleft of my ass, a finger pressing against my entrance—not pushing in, just applying pressure. The unfamiliar sensation made my walls clench violently, my womb pulsing in response.

"Ah—!" I cried out, tears spilling from the corners of my eyes. "So good... So good... You’re so big... Fuck me... Harder..."

With a groan, he buried his face in the crook of my neck. His cock swelled inside me, the head pressing against my cervix as hot spurts of cum flooded in—so much that it overflowed, spilling out with each thrust, dripping down my thighs.

Even after he finished, he didn’t pull out. His cock remained hard, still lodged inside.

He lowered me from the wall, my feet touching the ground—but my legs gave out, knees buckling. He caught me by the arms, dragging me toward the window.

The basement had a small window, iron bars welded into the frame. Outside, the night sky was a deep blue, a full moon hanging large and round, its pale light spilling in, illuminating his sweat-slicked chest and the marks scattered across my breasts.

"Turn around. Grab the bars."

I obeyed. I was too far gone now. My fingers curled around the cold iron, gripping tight. He stood behind me, one hand pressing against the small of my back, bending me forward. The other hand slid between my legs, two fingers pushing inside, stirring the cum still leaking out before withdrawing.

"Not done yet," he growled.

His hands gripped my waist as he thrust back inside—no gentle easing this time, just one deep, brutal stroke that buried him to the hilt. My fingers clenched the iron bars, my body jolting forward with each impact, breasts swaying, nipples scraping against the rough stone windowsill.

Moonlight spilled over my face. Beyond the window, I could see the snow-covered ground, the dark silhouette of distant trees, the cold, unfeeling fullness of the moon. Behind me, his body burned hot, his cock driving into me again and again, each thrust grinding against that exquisitely sensitive spot inside, sending sharp, almost painful waves of pleasure through me.

"Mmm... ah... ah..." Coherent words were beyond me now—only broken moans escaped my lips.

His hand slid forward, fingers wrapping around my throat as he dragged my upper body back against him. My spine arched, pressing flush against his chest, my head tilting helplessly over his shoulder.

Now I could see his profile—the tense line of his jaw, his parted lips, sweat trailing down his neck. His eyes were half-lidded, lashes casting delicate shadows under the moonlight.

"Look at me," he ordered.

I forced my eyes open, meeting his gaze.

"Say my name."

"Dominic..."

"Again."

"Domin—ah—!" He slammed into me, deep and merciless, the collision against my cervix sending pain and pleasure spiraling together, my teeth nearly sinking into my tongue.

"Tell me you want it."

"I want you... I want you... Dominic... fuck me... fuck me harder... you’re so good... so big... I can’t take it... I’m gonna break..."

A new wave of contractions seized me, fiercer than before, like something detonating inside. My vision whited out, the moon’s edges blurring. I heard myself crying—not from sorrow, but from the sheer overwhelm of sensation, the body’s helpless release when pushed past its limits.

His hand moved from my neck to my breast, pinching the nipple and tugging sharply. The other hand slid downward, fingers pressing against my clit with rough, relentless strokes.

Attacked on three fronts, my body arched as if struck by electricity. My vaginal walls clenched violently around his cock, squeezing it tight—then a rush of warmth surged from deep inside, spilling out with each thrust, soaking the space between us.

"You squirted," he said, a hint of surprise in his voice.

I couldn’t respond. My entire body trembled, my fingers barely clinging to the iron railing.

He kept fucking me. Without pause. This time, he lasted longer—how much longer, I couldn’t tell. The moon outside the window seemed to have shifted slightly in the sky.

Had I come three times? Four? I lost count. Just when I thought it was over, he shifted positions, dragging me back into that mindless whirlpool of sensation.

Finally, with a low growl, he came for the second time. His release flooded me, the excess spilling out, dripping down my thighs onto the cold concrete floor.

He pulled out. My grip on the railing slackened, and my legs gave way—first my knees hit the ground, then my elbows, until I collapsed completely onto the unyielding cement.

I heard his breathing, ragged at first, then gradually steadying. He gathered me into his arms, and I weakly buried my face against his neck.

"Lena? Lena?"

I heard him call my name, but his voice grew distant, my consciousness slipping further away.

In the end, I couldn’t answer him.

I blacked out.

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