16
Tristan Broussard
I’mthe product of a thirty-two-year-old man raping his sixteen-year-old sister. That thought doesn’t leave my mind on the drive to thehotel.
Maybe that’s why I’m the way Iam.
Emma Lia and I enter the front door of my hotel suite, and she doesn’t take two steps before I grab her, pushing her back firmly against thedoor.
I take her mouth in a hard, brutal kiss, using my grip on her jaw to hold her in place.My lips smash against hers, my teeth nipping her lower lip, and then I roughly push my tongue into her mouth. It’s only the first way I plan to invade her body tonight. The first way that I plan to hurther.
She groans and the sadistic savage living within me delights in her response to the pain. But he wants more. And he gets it when I taste the metallic coppery flavor of her blood in mymouth.
“What is the safe word,bebelle?”
“Rouge,” she whispers into mymouth.
“Say it when you reach your limit. And trust me, you will reach your limit tonight.” Her body tenses against mine. “Are youafraid?”
She nods. “Yes.”
Her fear wakes the darkest, most predatory piece of me—the broken fragment inside that has the desire to conquer and devour her. The fury and hurt and shame I feel about my creation burns white-hot, fueling the fire of my dementedcraving.
“But I’m also excited and eager to see how far I’m able to go for you,” sheadds.
“Metoo.”
“I want to make youhappy.”
“And you do, bebelle. Every day.” Releasing her jaw, I take a step back. “Bedroom.Now.”
“Yes,Master.”
“Take off your clothes and lie on your back in the center of thebed.”
“Yes,Master.”
I go to the wet bar while Emma Lia prepares for me, and I pour a whiskey, my intention being to drink enough to take off the edge. But one drink doesn’t do the trick, so I pour another. And then another. I down six generously filled glasses, and with my senses and disturbing desires dulled, I feel that I am able to go to EmmaLia.
She’s just as I commanded—naked and lying in the center of the bed. I never wondered if she’d be any other way. Mon bebelle obeys my directions flawlessly. Her obedience heightens my lust, my desperate hunger to possessher.
I take off my jacket and toss it over the chair in the corner, going to work on my tie next. “Bend your knees and spread your legs. I want to look at your pretty littlepussy.”
I toss my tie to the chair and work on the buttons of my shirt. “Touch yourself. Rub your clit with your fingers… in a circular motion the way you likeit.”
She watches me undress, her eyes on mine, while her fingers circle herclit.
I break eye contact with her and go to the drawer where we keep our sex toys and apparatuses. I choose the nipple clamps, rope, and spreader bar. I have something special in mind. Something very specialindeed.
I climb onto the bed and bind her wrists to the bed frame. “Not tootight?”
“No.”
She studies the movement of my hands as I fasten one of the black leather cuffs of the spreader bar around her ankle. “I’ve been wondering when we were going to usethis.”
“Just been waiting until the time was right.” I close the buckle of the second cuff and grip the bar in the center, pushing her legs toward her head and bending her body in half. “And the time isright.”
I lower her legs to the bed and move up her body, dragging my lips over her soft, smooth skin until I reach her chest. I pull on one of her nipples and roll it between my thumb and index finger. I want to suck it into my mouth, but I don’t. The slick moisture of my saliva will cause the clamps toslide.
