Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
My balls draw tight. Her lips are stretched thin around me, the noises she makes only spurring me on. I can last for a long time. Practice makes perfect. I can drag this out until she faints. I give her two more breathing reposes before I let myself go, aiming my cock deep and shooting my load down her throat. Her delicate white neck convulses as she tries to swallow with the intrusion in her throat. I spend every last drop, not sparing her before I pull out.
She sags in my hold, her chest heaving as her small body sucks in air. I don’t let her go down. I keep her up by her hair. Using the long, silky tresses, I wipe my dick clean. Then I go down on my haunches, putting us on eye level.
Tilting back her head, I make her face me. “The choice, little flower, is always yours.” I kiss her ravaged lips. “One punishment down. One to go.”
Only then do I release her.
I go to the bathroom and shut the door. I need a shower. I strip and turn the water on the hottest setting I can handle. I let the burn scald me until fire rains over my skin.
I’m a depraved man.
I’ll defile my little flower’s body many times yet to come.
Chapter 15
Zoe
Hunched over, I catch my breath on the floor. My shoulders rise and fall rapidly with the air I try to suck in quietly, but I can’t stop the loud panting completely. It’s the sound of my humiliation. The warm tears blurring the pattern on the carpet is the sight and the carpet burns on my knees the feel. The taste is a lingering afterthought in my mouth. This is the portrait of degradation.
As oxygen feeds my lungs, the harshness of my breathing evens out. It turns from a perverse fight for air and dignity to searing anger that flares my nostrils and curls my shoulders outward like the edges of a piece of paper furling in a flame. Sitting back on my heels, I wipe the saliva from my chin. I still feel Maxime in the stretch of my lips and in the little tears in the corners. I still taste him on my tongue. The message was clear. My behavior has consequences. Play nice and be treated in kind.
My pride won’t let me.
I want to hurt Maxime like he’s hurting me. I want to insult him and crush him in every way I can, even as I give him my body. He just showed me he won’t let me. He won’t let me use him as a punching bag to gain the satisfaction of extracting some kind of revenge. He wants everything. He’s not happy only with my body. He wants me to give it with a pretty please and a kind thank you. That’s why he wants me to like the house and the food. He wants me to adapt, accept my fate, and give my body freely in return for his protection.
He’ll make it as good for me as I make it for him.
Rationally, I know all of this, but my pride is a monster and my anger a dragon that live in my chest. They breathe fire into my soul until I’m blind to anything but the flames burning in my gut.
Fixing my gaze on the bathroom door, I push to my feet. I keep the target in sight as I move forward with balled hands and shoulders rolled inward. I grip the handle and fling the door open, stepping into the steam.
Maxime’s body is a blurry image, an apparition in the fog through the glass. His back is turned to me, his head tipped back and big hands with bruised knuckles brushing over his skull. He’s huge. His body dominates the space, but I don’t miss a beat. I yank the shower door open.
He spins around, his gray eyes widening as he takes me in. Before the shocked expression on his face has vanished, I draw back my arm and slap him hard enough across the face to make his head fly sideways. Turning his face back to me, he touches his fingers to the imprint of mine on his cheek.
The fight leaves me with the outlet of violence. Just like that, the fire burns out. I’ve never been a physical fighter. I never wanted to be, not after my father, and shame and disappointment replace the anger, becoming the new monsters in my chest.
He doesn’t give me a second to process what I’m becoming. Fast like the lash of a whip, he strikes out, grabbing my neck and arm and jerking me inside the shower. The breath leaves my lungs with an oomph as my back hits the tiles. Fear finds the front seat in my chest now as he stares at me with a clenched jaw and retribution burning in his eyes.