The hook slides lower. Cold. Merciless. I trace the edge against her wet cunt, teasing, circling, threatening to split her open. Her scream catches in her throat, torn between terror and want.
“Please—” she gasps, voice shredded.
I bare my teeth, cruel and hungry. “Please what?”
Her lips tremble. No answer.
I drag the hook slow and deliberate, parting her folds with steel. Her entire body jerks, a sob tearing free, her hips bucking against me in a betrayal she’ll never forgive herself for.
“God, look at you,” I snarl, grinding the blunt curve against her clit until her cries turn high and broken. “You’re bleeding,you’re crying, and still your body begs for me. Say it. Say you’re mine.”
Her nails claw the sheets. Her eyes squeeze shut. Her lips part.
“Never,” she whispers.
My laugh is dark, guttural, brutal.
“Then I’ll fuck the truth into you.”
I press harder, rubbing the hook mercilessly against her, dragging her closer and closer to the edge she swore she wouldn’t fall from. My other hand clamps around her throat, squeezing just enough to make her see stars. Her screams turn to gasps, her body thrashing helplessly under mine, but her hips grind against the steel like a sinner begging for hell.
“Say it,” I demand again, voice sharp as a blade. “Say my name or I’ll carve it into your skin.”
Her sob shudders through her chest. Her thighs quake. Her body betrays her again, spasming, desperate, aching.
“Hook,” she chokes, barely audible, voice breaking on it.
The sound detonates inside me. I slam her down into the bloodied sheets, hook grinding her clit in brutal circles as her cry splits the silence wide open, her orgasm tearing through her like a confession.
I hold her there, trembling, ruined, sobbing under me, steel still pressed to her cunt, my hand around her throat, blood staining every inch of her body.
“Good girl,” I snarl, panting against her ear. “Lesson learned.”
Her tears mix with sweat and blood, her body limp and shaking, but her eyes—fuck, her eyes—still burn with fire.
Perfect.
I’m not done teaching.
Her body jerks beneath me, every tremor an aftershock of what I forced out of her. Her breath comes shallow, ragged, chestrising and falling in frantic rhythm, the sound torn from her throat like a prayer she never meant to give me.
I don’t let her rest.
Not yet.
The hook lingers between her thighs, sliding slow, deliberate, cruel, rubbing her raw until her hips twitch in overstimulated spasms. She whimpers—soft, strangled, trying to turn away—but my hand tightens around her throat, keeping her pinned, forcing her to ride the edge of pain and pleasure all over again.
“You thought smashing glass made you free?” I growl, dragging the steel up, slick with her ruin, until it rests against the soft curve of her stomach. I press just hard enough to dimple the skin, not enough to pierce. “Freedom doesn’t exist for you. Not in paper. Not in blood. Not in screams. Only in me.”
Her eyes flicker open, glazed with tears, but still burning. That defiance hasn’t died—it never dies. It just makes me harder.
“Fuck you,” she whispers, voice shredded.
I laugh—dark, guttural, sharp as the steel tracing her skin. “Already did.”
The hook catches on her breast, snagging her nipple, tugging sharp enough to make her cry out. I lean down and bite the other, teeth sinking until she gasps, until she arches into the pain she swore she’d never crave. Blood beads where my teeth break skin. I lick it clean, slow, savouring.
Mine.
