I kneel behind her, and I push the fabric up until it bunches around her waist.
Bare underneath. The skin of her ass is pale and perfect and waiting for my marks, and I run my palm over her right cheek just to feel her shiver, just to hear the sound she makes when I touch her after everything.
“You were going to die.” My voice cracks, and I hate it, hate that she can still do this to me, make me feel things I buried twenty years ago in a church crypt. “You were going to make me watch you drink poison and then lie there paralyzed while your heart stopped. While I couldn’t hold you. Couldn’t save you. Couldn’t even close your fucking eyes afterward.”
“I’m sorry—”
“I didn’t say you could speak.”
She goes silent, and I can see tears tracking down her face, catching the firelight.
I slap her ass.
Raw ragged fury that’s been building since I woke up on that study floor with her hands on my face and the antidote burningthrough my veins. The crack of my palm against her ass echoes across the snow, and she jerks against the restraints, a sob tearing from her throat.
“That’s for the first glass.” I hit her again, same spot, watching the skin bloom red beneath my hand. “That’s for the second.”
“Fuck,” she gasps, and her hips twitch forward.
“That’s for making me lie there.” Another strike, harder. “That’s for making me watch you run.” Another. “That’s for every second I couldn’t fucking move while you decided if I was worth saving.”
I’m not counting. Neither is she.
I hit her until my palm burns and my arm aches, and she’s crying openly, her body sagging against the restraints, her ass crimson and hot under my hand.
I grab a fistful of her hair and yank her head back.
“Open your mouth.”
Her eyes go wide, but she obeys, lips parting, tongue visible, and I use my free hand to open my trousers and pull my cock out. I’m so fucking hard it hurts, have been since she walked toward me in nothing but my shirt.
“Tap my thigh twice with your elbow if you need air.”
She nods, and I push into her mouth. She chokes but takes me, lips stretching around my shaft, her bound hands straining above her head while I hold her skull and fuck her throat. “This is what helplessness feels like. You don’t control this. You don’t decide when it ends. You just take what I give you.”
She gags, and I pull back enough to let her breathe, then push forward again, deeper, until I feel the back of her throat, and her eyes are watering, and drool is sliding down her chin.
“That’s it.” I thrust again, slower this time, watching her face, watching the way her cheeks hollow when she sucks, the way hereyes flutter closed. “Take it. All of it. Show me you’re fucking sorry.”
She moans around my cock, and the vibration goes straight to my balls. I have to stop, have to pull out, because I’m not coming in her mouth. Not tonight. Tonight I’m coming inside her cunt while she’s so full she can barely breathe.
I reach into my coat pocket and pull out the plug I brough. The metal is cold from the winter air, and I warm it against my palm while she watches, her chest heaving, her ass still glowing red from my hand.
“This stays inside you.” I hold it in front of her face so she can see. “So you remember who owns you. Even when I’m not inside.”
“Roman—”
“Color.”
“Green.” The word comes out shaky but sure. “Fucking green, just do it.”
I spread her, run my thumb over her asshole and feel her clench, then press the tip of the plug against her and push.
She makes a sound that isn’t quite a word, something between a moan and a whimper, her body stretching to take it. The metal disappears inside her inch by inch while she trembles and gasps, and her fingers curl against the bark above her head.
“Good girl.” I sit it fully and tap the base, and she jerks, her whole body shuddering. “Now you’re not empty anymore.”
I line my cock up with her cunt, and I don’t bother checking if she’s ready. I can see she is, can see the wetness glistening on her thighs, can smell how turned on she is even through the cold air and the woodsmoke.
