“Now come.”
I fuck into her mercilessly, my cock stretching her open with each punishing thrust. Her whole body is shaking as I break her from the inside out.
She tries to fight the orgasm clawing through her, but it’s already ripping her apart.
Her cunt spasms around me, and I shove my thumb deep into her ass. Her scream is ragged, her walls clamping down, and I come with a brutal snarl. Filling her until I feel it leak from her, dripping down her thighs, proof of her complete fucking ownership.
She trembles as I pull out. My thumb slips free from her ass, her body collapsing into itself.
I uncuff her ankles first, then her wrists. She curls into herself, shaking, breath ragged, cum spilling from her cunt. The bruises on her skin bloom like fucking art.
She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever destroyed.
Everything hurts. It hurts in a way I didn’t realize was possible. My wrists are raw, circled in angry red lines. My ankles throb. My throat burns. I’m sore in places I forgot existed.
And yet, even now—after everything—I still want him.
I expect him to leave. Just like last time. He got what he wanted. Used me like he promised he would. I’m just a broken toy now, aren’t I?
But then his large hands wrap around me and pull me into his chest. I flinch, bracing for more. More pain. More sick pleasure. More of that twisted, chemical need he lights in my blood. But all he does is pull me closer, his fingers gently brushing through my hair.
“Little one,” he whispers in my hair. “Arlo.” His tongue drags down my shoulder, and he kisses my cheek.
I don’t understand what’s happening.
And then I’m crying.
I turn in his hold, pressing my face to the hard heat of his bare chest, and I sob. Ugly, broken sobs that wrack my wholebody and tear out of my throat. His hand never stops, still stroking my hair, the other arm locked around me.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.
So why do I feel safer here than I ever have?
I bury my arms around his neck and cling to him, crying into his skin like I’ll dissolve if I let go. And he doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t mock me. Doesn’t say a word.
I don’t know who I am anymore. What I’m doing. What he’s turning me into.
“You don’t have to stay.” I sniffle, hating how weak my voice sounds. “You got what you wanted. You can leave.”
His chest rumbles with a sound I don’t understand. Not quite a laugh.
“This is my room too, kitten.”
I look up at him, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. His ice-blue eyes are locked on me. He lifts his hand to my face, dragging a rough thumb across my cheek. He catches a tear with his mouth and kisses it.
“Fuck. I love your tears.”
His lips softly brush mine before his mouth drags lower, across my jaw, down my throat, tongue ghosting over the bruises he left behind.
“Why do you enjoy hurting me?”
“Because you like it. Don’t you?” He kisses another tear away, softer this time. “You fucking melt when I break you. You breathe when you stop fighting. So tell me, kitten…why doyoulike it?”
I can’t answer. I don’t know. The truth twists inside me, heavy and sick.
