Page 170 of Villainous Rise

I stepped back and swung.

The crop bit into the sensitive flesh of her upper thigh with a vicious snap. Annie screamed, a raw, piercing sound that tore right through me.

I dropped the crop and immediately slipped my fingers inside her cunt. I pumped hard, grinding the heel of my palm against her clit, forcing her body to translate the pain into pleasure. Her scream dissolved into a shattered moan as her muscles clamped down around my fingers.

“Look at yourself,” I growled, my free hand gripping her jaw to force her gaze to the mirror again. “Watch your face when you take my fingers, even while your ass is on fire. See how your tits bounce every time I fuck into you?” I grabbed her breast with my free hand, kneading it, pinching her nipple. “The woman in the mirror isn’t the woman who stood with Valor tonight. She’s mine. All mine.”

I wanted to pick the crop back up and flay the memory of the Alliance right out of her, but I loved her. That undeniable truth forced my hand to slow its brutal pace.

“Talk to me, Sparks,” I commanded, keeping my fingers buried inside her. I needed to hear her voice, even though I had absolutely no intention of stopping until she gave me our safeword.

“Make me forget,” she sobbed, her head falling forward between her strapped arms.

I withdrew my hand and retrieved the crop. Then I went to work. I painted thin, angry red lines across her ass and thighs. Each strike was an erasure of that fucker’s touch. She took the punishment with desperate gratitude, crying out with every snap of the leather. She pushed her hips backward, straining against the leather cuffs, silently demanding more.

She may play the perfect Keeper in the daylight, but suspended in my rig, she was my creature.

I smiled and stepped around to face her, her eyes tracking my movement. Standing naked in front of her, fully hard and aching, I watched her chest heave. Her breasts flushed with the deep color of her arousal, nipples pulled into tight, desperate peaks.

“Watch,” I commanded, making sure her gaze was locked on the mirror’s reflection.

I drew my arm back and carefully snapped the crop directly between her spread thighs, letting it smack against her pussy.

Annie let out a shattered, high-pitched scream that dissolved instantly into a filthy moan. She writhed, caught in the blinding intersection of pain and pleasure. I inspected the crop’s tip under the red lighting. It glistened, coated in her slickness.

“Again!” she begged.

I delivered three more strikes in quick succession. Her cries turned jagged, the room echoing with the sharp crack of leather and the frantic rattling of her restraints.

She was unraveling, her body trembling uncontrollably. She pushed her hips forward to meet every blow, enslaved to the sting. Tears fell down her face but I heard the change in her breathing, that telltale hitch that meant she was reaching her limit.

I couldn’t wait any longer. My control was fucking wrecked, my cock painfully hard. I needed to be inside her.

I dropped the crop and gripped her hips, positioning myself. She was so fucking wet I slid home immediately.

Annie screamed, a sound of pure, perfect surrender.

Her cunt gripped me like a vise, hot and slick and so fucking tight.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” I growled, digging my fingers into the flesh of her hips, my thumbs pressing into the fresh welts I had just painted across her skin, making sure she felt my brand in every single nerve ending.

I pulled back and rolled my hips forward again, setting a rhythm that had her crying out with each thrust.

“Tell me again,” I demanded, my voice rough as I drove into her. “Tell me you’re not fucking mine.”

I slowed my thrusts to a grind, making her feel every inch.

“Look at us.” I gripped her throat, forcing her attention where I wanted it. “Look in that mirror and tell me you don’t belong to me.”

Annie’s tear-streaked face turned toward our reflection. Her eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide with pain and pleasure and need.

“I lied,” she sobbed, the words breaking on a gasp as I rolled my hips. “I lied. I’m yours.”

“Again,” I growled, tightening my grip on her throat.

“I’m yours,” she cried out, her voice cracking. “I’m yours, Cipher. I’m yours.”

She kept repeating it, the words tumbling out between sobs and moans, a desperate litany of surrender. Each repetition drove straight through me, feeding the monster that demanded her complete capitulation.