I grind through it, savage, forcing her body to take every inch until she’s sobbing, begging, clawing at me with nails that break against my skin.
“Say it,” I snarl, slamming deeper, faster, the hook grinding her clit raw. “Say you’re mine.”
Her head thrashes, hair wild, blood streaking her cheeks, but the word rips free anyway, hoarse and broken:
“Yours!”
My roar splits the silence, feral, guttural, and I drive into her one last time, spilling into her with a violence that makes her body seize around me, locking me inside her. My teeth sink into her throat as I grind her down into the ruined papers, the hook still pressed between us, our blood and sweat soaking the proof of what’s always been written.
When it’s over, she collapses beneath me, shaking, ruined, marked. Her chest heaves, her lips tremble, her eyes burn even through tears.
I don’t move. I keep her pinned, cock still buried deep, hook still pressed sharp against her clit, my breath ragged against her skin.
“Lesson learned,” I whisper, voice wrecked.
Her eyes flutter closed. She doesn’t answer. But her body… her body clings to me like it already knows the truth.
And that’s enough.
For now.
Her body sags under me, limp and trembling, her breath a jagged rattle against my chest. But her cunt still grips me, tight, desperate, as if even in ruin she refuses to let me go. My cock twitches inside her, spent but throbbing with the satisfaction of victory.
I don’t pull out.
I don’t give her that.
Instead, I shift the hook, drag it slow between her thighs, smeared with blood and cum, pressing against her swollen clit until she jolts beneath me, a broken sound tearing from her throat.
She shakes her head weakly, eyes glassy, lips mouthing no even as her hips twitch, betraying her again.
“Shhh,” I croon, my voice rough, cruel. “Lesson isn’t over.”
I pull the hook up, glistening with her release, with mine, with the proof of what I’ve done to her. The sight makes me feralall over again. I grip her chin hard, force her mouth open, and slide the steel across her tongue.
“Clean it.”
She gags, tears spilling hotter as the taste floods her mouth. She tries to turn away, but I hold her steady, my fingers digging into her jaw until it aches. She licks because she has no choice, licking herself off me, swallowing my claim with every shuddering breath.
When I finally pull it away, I smear the wet curve across her cheek, painting her in filth and proof.
“Good girl,” I whisper, pressing my cock deeper inside her, grinding slow just to feel her sob beneath me. “Signed in blood. Sealed in your throat. You’ll never escape me.”
Her eyes flutter shut, tears streaking through the dirt and blood on her face. But that fire—that fucking fire—still burns there, buried under exhaustion and shame.
Perfect.
I don’t want obedience.
I want war.
I want her to fight and break and rebuild, over and over, until all that’s left is ruin carved in my name.
I let go of her chin and grab one of the bloodied pages from the bed, press it against her chest, over her pounding heart. My hook drags a thin line through her skin just above it, shallow enough not to kill, deep enough to sting, enough to bleed.
The paper drinks it in, red soaking into her name until it looks like the truth it always was.
“There,” I murmur, leaning close, my breath hot against her ear. “Signed properly. In blood. Now the contract’s real.”
