He looks down at her, his eyes roaming over her body, taking in every line, every curve, every inch of her.

"You're mine," he mutters, his voice rough and strained. "Mine to do with as I please. Mine to claim, mine to possess. Say it."

She's speechless for a moment, her mind clouded with desire and need. But then finally she speaks, her voice a ragged whisper.

"Yours," she says. "I'm yours."

The word, the sound of her telling him that she's his, drives him wild. It's like a switch being flicked, the possessive, primal part of him taking over completely.

He positions himself at her entrance, his body tense with barely restrained need.

"Mine," he growls, his eyes boring into hers. "You're mine, and I'm going to make you never forget it."

He presses into her, his body claiming hers in one swift, hard thrust.

He can feel her, tight and hot around him, her body trembling with need, with desire.

He lets out a ragged moan, his body taut with tension, his mind spinning with the sensations coursing through him.

"Mine," he mutters, his voice guttural, animalistic. "You're mine. I'm going to claim every single inch of you

He begins moving, his body driving into hers with a feral, almost primal need. He's rough and demanding, his hands gripping her hips tightly, holding her in place.

He looks down at her, his eyes darkened with desire, possessiveness, and a hint of something darker, something primal.

"Say it again," he mutters, his voice strained. "Say you're mine."

She can barely speak, her body consumed by the sensations coursing through her, the primal need building with each of his powerful, demanding thrusts.

"Yours," she gasps out. "I'm yours."

He growls in response, his body shuddering at the sound of her words, at the feeling of her beneath him, submitting to him, giving herself to him completely.

He continues moving, harder, deeper, his body and mind lost to the primal need to claim her completely.

"You're mine," he mutters, his voice a ragged, guttural sound. "Mine to take, to mark, to claim. You belong to me, body and soul. You will never belong to anyone else."

He quickens his pace, his body moving with a raw, animalistic fervor. He's rougher now, almost feral, his need for her overwhelming.

He leans down, his mouth finding her neck, biting and sucking at the soft skin there. He wants to mark her, to leave his claiming on her, to remind her that she's his.

His hands grip her hips tighter, holding her in place as he drives into her with brutal, possessive thrusts.

He can feel her body responding, her breaths coming in sharp gasps, her moans growing louder and more unabashed.

He can feel the tension building within her, can see the way her body trembles, the way she's nearing her peak.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice deep and authoritative. "I want to see your face when you come. I want to see you completely undone by me."

She looks up at him, her eyes meeting his, her expression a mix of need, desire, and surrender.

He can see her teetering on the edge, so close to the precipice, and he can't help but push her further, demand more.

"Come for me," he whispers, his voice rough and demanding. "Come for me and prove who you belong to."

Her body obeys, her walls clenching around him as she reaches her peak. Her face twists in ecstasy, her breath catching in her throat, her body shaking with release.

He continues to thrust through her orgasm, his body prolonging her pleasure, demanding more from her body, more from her submission.

He leans down, his mouth at her ear, his voice a rough, possessive whisper. "You're mine," he growls. "Mine to take, mine to claim, mine to possess. You will never forget that."

Her body slowly comes down from the high, her breaths ragged and unsteady, her body trembling in the aftermath.

He continues moving, his own need still unsatisfied, his body demanding more.

"Again," he mutters, his voice low and possessive. "I want to feel you come again. I want you to forget that you ever belonged to anyone else but me."

He moves his hands, grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his waist, pulling her tighter against him, his body still moving, the friction between them almost overwhelming.

He looks down at her, his eyes burning with desire, with possession.

"That's it," he mutters, his voice a ragged whisper. "That's where you belong, wrapped around me, submitted to me completely."

He begins moving again, his body claiming hers in a more intense, possessive way, his hands gripping her legs tighter.

With her ankles locked around his waist, he's able to move deeper, harder, his body taking and claiming hers with each powerful thrust.

He leans down, his mouth finding the soft skin of her neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive flesh, marking her as his, leaving his claiming on her body.

Her body responds, her back arching, her head thrown back in ecstasy. The new position allows him to hit a deeper, more intimate spot, drawing out sounds of pleasure from her that she didn't even know she was capable of making.

He can feel himself nearing his own peak, the pressure building within him more intense than ever before, fueled by her submission, her surrender, her complete devotion to him.

She's unable to form words, her body consumed by the pleasure he's giving her, her mind lost to the sensations coursing through her.

She responds with soft gasps and moans, her body trembling with need and desire, her body clenching around him as she approaches the edge again.

She's barely coherent, her body and mind overwhelmed by the intensity of her release, the pleasure almost bordering on pain.

"Yours," she manages to gasp out, her voice ragged and hoarse. "I'm yours."

He lets out a guttural moan as he reaches his peak, his body shuddering as he releases himself inside her.

He holds her tightly, his body trembling with the intensity of his orgasm, his mind reeling from the feeling of her body wrapped around him, submitting completely to him.

For a moment, there's just the sound of their ragged breathing, the room filled with the scent of sex and sweat and claiming.

"Mine," he mutters again, his voice rough and possessive, as he holds her tightly against him.

She's completely spent, her body limp and shaking in his arms, her mind foggy with pleasure and submission.

He keeps her close, his hand gently stroking her hair as he catches his breath.

For a moment, they just lay there, their bodies intertwined, their breaths slowly returning to normal.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and rough.

"You're mine," he mutters again, his voice a possessive whisper, as he looks down at her. "Completely and irrevocably mine."

The situation is indeed insane - a political marriage, a claim of possession, a demand of submission.

And yet, here they are, bodies intertwined, breaths mingling, minds in turmoil.

The power dynamics are clear now. The Duke has claimed his political bride, has asserted his dominance over her, has demanded her submission. And she, in her own way, has given herself over to him completely.

He holds her in his arms, feeling her body relax into his, a sense of possession and ownership washing over him.

Love was never a part of the equation, after all. This is a political marriage, a union driven by the need for a political alliance.

But as he feels her body against his, her breaths slowly returning to normal, he can't help but feel a stirring within him, a flicker of something he hadn't anticipated.

The room is filled with the scent of sex and sweat and claiming, the air thick with the weight of what they've just done.

The Duke continues to hold her, his body encircling hers, his presence completely enveloping her.

And in that moment, there's a strange sense of peace, of safety even, in being held like that. It's as if, in his arms, she can forget about everything else, forget about the world outside the door, forget about the responsibilities and expectations that come with her role. She's just a woman, a woman who belongs to him.

Adonis finds himself bound, not just by the contract of their marriage, but by her submission and love.

He never expected to feel this way, to have his heart stirred by this woman who was betrothed to him for political reasons. But here he is, holding her in his arms, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar sensation of protectiveness and affection.

And thus, their story takes a turn for the unexpected, transforming their political marriage into a union of love and possession.They find happiness together, raising children and forging a bond that goes beyond the confines of their initial arrangement. They learn and grow together, their love and commitment solidifying over time.

It's a journey filled with challenges and obstacles, but also moments of tenderness, passion, and understanding.The Duke learns that he can possess and adore someone at the same time, that the two are not mutually exclusive.And the woman, who was once a pawn in a political game, finds herself loved, cherished, and protected, wrapped in the safety and security of a possessive love that knows no bounds.

(First story ends)