She'll lose her innocence to one monster to be saved from another.
This city has its claws out for my Kitty.
Keeping her alive is my number one priority.
But she's not making it easy.
She's headstrong, spoiled, and sassy, but I'll do what's necessary to protect her.
I'll break her down.
I'll make her scream.
She'll beg forgiveness.
And she'll promise obedience.
But in the end, I know she won't be able to stop herself from defying me.
When she resists?
That's when the fun begins.
His voice is thick with lust. His touch is as carnal as it is disciplinary. I know when a man wants me. I can’t even see Vicious right now, but I can feel his gaze right at the core of me.
He slaps me again, but it doesn’t hurt, because he’s already turned me on and once I’m aroused, pain just becomes part of the overall sensation, something to be absorbed and welcomed and enjoyed. I lift my bottom up for him, encourage another slap, and I receive one just as I silently ask.
Sometimes he lectures. Teaches a lesson. Right now all I hear from him is his rough breath as he squeezes, slaps, plays with my bare ass, caressing the same cheeks he belted earlier.
“My bad little kitty broke the rules,” he murmurs to himself. “What am I going to do with you?”
I stay quiet. That’s the safest bet. I know that this could turn at any moment and become something entirely different. Lust and discipline are intimately linked where Vicious is concerned.
His hand returns to the soft motions which feel far too nice to be his final goal. He’s going to make me pay for disobedience, I know he will.
I feel a spreading sensation as two hands find my cheeks. One cheek each, spreading my bottom open for his gaze. He holds me there like that, looking at my two little holes. I am glad I am facing away from him. It saves me some of the humiliation of being inspected so very intimately.
My lower muscles are clenching in hope. I want to feel him touch me there. He has built tension and desire and heat and just a hint of pain and I need him to relieve it.
“If you had been a good girl,” he drawls casually. “I would have given you my cock.”
A blush races across my skin.
“I would have fucked you,” he says, matter of factly. “I would have put a condom on my dick and I would have filled your little cunt up to the brim with it. It’s what you want, isn’t it, Kitty?”
Fuck yes it is what I want. It’s what I’ve been craving, either consciously or subconsciously since we met. I want him inside me. I want to feel him surge between my thighs and stretch me. I want to be filled with him.
But I know he’s not going to give me that. Not now. He’s going to keep me on the verge instead. His fingers drift down under my clit and play with the soft skin just above it. This man knows how to tease. He’s avoiding touching the places I so desperately need touched. He’s making me squirm and writhe in hopes of having even the tip of his finger brush against my clit.
“Answer me, Kitty.” His voice lowers, takes on a more authoritative tone.
I bite my lower lip and I stay silent. I can’t tell him that I want him that way.
A harsh slap bursts across both my cheeks. He has pulled his hand away from the center of my pleasure and he has slapped me hard enough to make me shriek. Hot burning tingles run like fire across my ass and the ache sinks in deep.
“Yes, or no, Kitty,” he growls, his voice thick with that devil-lust.
It's just as well Loki Renard became an author because other career paths proved disastrous. She was once thrown out of someone's house for trying to sell them citrus based cleaning product, and her brief brush with corporate life ended when she wrote profiles for her fellow employees likening them to various feral animals then attempted to negotiate the idea of not coming into the office and getting paid anyway. Perhaps if she'd had the dedication to slug herself in the face a la Fight Club, things might have turned out differently.