Chapter 13
I’m going to die now. Just like he said.
VALENTINA
“Why are you doing this?” I plead, my voice dry and cracked.
The pain in my ass levels me. My only saving grace is this feeling of floating in velvet shadows. Everything is a blur, except for Roman. He seems sharper than ever as he slowly drags the ends of the whip across my body.
“You will associate every touch with me, Valentina,” he says with excruciating intensity in his eyes. “Every spark of pain, every peak of pleasure, and ripple of desire. They are all mine to own and to unleash within you.”
My heart thunders, and I take a deep breath, preparing for the pain, for the oncoming torture.
A muscle bounces in his granite jaw. “I am destroying you tonight, maya Valya. Destroying you and remaking you.”
The proclamation is bone-chilling and soul-shattering.
He moves in, grips my hair, and yanks my head back to expose my neck. I gulp but cage a whimper.
“Do not ever try to dominate me tonight. If you do, I may not control my actions.”
All the hairs on my body prickle to attention from his words and the shadows deepening around his hooded eyes. He trails the whip down the center of my body.
“Once you learn to trust beyond the pain, you’ll feel something holy, liberating in a way nothing else can touch. Tonight, I will forge a bond so deep into your body and soul, no amnesia could ever hope to sever it.”
My pussy pulses, dripping more. Because I know he will whip me everywhere, including there.
“I’m not consenting to this,” I snap, but my mind reels, already betraying me, bending beneath the heat pooling between my thighs.
He drags the tip of the whip across my slick folds, and my hips roll toward him, desperate for more.
His voice drops, low and primal. “No. You’re not. And that’s what makes it real, Moya Koroleva.”
It is real. And raw. My anal rings continue to clench, releasing more of the stinging juices of the ginger root, mirroring the stinging needle-brand on my chest.
Roman begins to circle me like a predator. “I am not a safe man. I am not sane. I will punish you. I will hurt you in all the ways I know you crave, even if your mind refuses to admit it. Because I know what you need to come back to me. To remember. To surrender.”
He pauses behind me. “But I vow this—when I’ve bled you and broken you, I will also soothe and bind you. I will put you back together, piece by piece, until you know exactly who you belong to.”
The first strike lands like a tongue of fire—on my abdomen.
My body jerks against the bindings, a cry tearing from my throat. Not a scream of pain. It’s something stranger—raw and wild.
Another strike follows, the swell of my breast this time. Then a third.
He circles me and paints my back with the whip, everywhere but where my hands rest. Sharp and burning, each crack sears deeper. He’s right. I know it with no equivocation. I will always remember this. The pain brands itself into my very soul like a flaming ghost.
And still…the way he looks at me, the way he handles the whip, it’s like he’s writing something sacred on my body.
Roman steps closer, and I feel the heat of his breath against my back. A second later, his tongue follows the path of the whip, tracing the outline of the wound, almost loving. Tender licks that make me shudder harder than the pain.
And then it begins again.
There’s a rhythm to it now. A ritual. Pain, then mercy. Fire, then cool balm from his tongue.
He doesn’t strike in the same place twice. Every inch of my body becomes his canvas—hips, thighs, shoulders, the dip of my spine. The marks are delicate, even when brutal. The whip engraves fine red lines like calligraphy, electric, exquisite strokes.
He swings again.
The whip cracks upon my nipple. The pain radiates through my whole breast and makes my pussy itself cry out.
“Roman!” I screech.
But the whip comes down again. More force this time to my left nipple. I arch my chest, curling my shoulders, trying to avoid the pain, but it’s impossible.
“M-master,” I whimper in correction.
He pauses after the third strike, and I gasp as his lips close around one nipple, suckling with aching warmth that is soft but somehow strong. He licks circles around the inflamed bud, then stands with a devilish smirk, raising the whip again.
“Please!” I cry out as he lashes the nipple again.
My breasts throb. My legs shake. Even my heart seems to seize.
More strikes to my breasts, and heat rises, tingling all over my skin, pressure mounting. Sweat beads and rolls down my sides, mingling with the sting. My thighs are slick, my arousal dripping to the cold stone floor.
Each strike of the whip makes my body clench, tightening around the fiery ginger root until the burn is maddening. Agonizing. Devastating.
But also…tantalizing. The drugs blur everything.
Between his whipping and his licking, my body soars. My mind detaches. I float somewhere above myself, watching the way I writhe and gasp and moan. My voice doesn’t even sound like mine—it’s broken and beautiful.
I feel my skin swell. Raised. Red. Alive. I pant between moans.
Through it all, Roman never stops touching me with his eyes. Like he’s not just watching, but praying.
And then, the whip bites my pussy lips. I crash through the floating sanctum back to earth, back to the dungeon where everything sharpens, deepens, and scorches.
“Nonononono!” I screech through clenched teeth, shaking the ropes and chains. “God, stop, you fucking basta—”
Roman lashes my folds five more times until I apologize. And then, he lowers his body and drags his tongue in one slow swipe. A single, circling rub of his thumb on my clit has me keening until my cries echo off the dungeon walls.
“Let it be done. Please, it’s too much,” I rasp.
“Oh, I’m nowhere near done with you, Maya Valya.”
He turns, and my breath heaves and cleaves. I can’t see what he’s doing, but I hear the faint sound of something metallic. When he makes his way back to me, I widen my eyes. Shock stunts my breath at the sight of the toy. And his wicked smirk.
“This is a pussy spreader device.” He inches it near my labia, and I jerk in the restraints until he locks his eyes on me and warns, “Don’t struggle. Or the whip will seem like a feather tickle compared to your punishment.”
I whimper but work to obey, to submit. The tension doesn’t leave my body, forcing my thighs to clench as he fits the spreader along my pussy.
“The attached metal clamps allow me to spread the lips of your vagina wide.”
When he does, I choke from the stretching sensation.
It isn’t exactly painful, but it’s uncomfortable.
The clamps bite the hypersensitive skin.
And my clit, inner folds, and the vestibule are fully exposed to the cool air.
More arousal. More hypersensitive than ever, all my nerve endings vulnerable.
Roman positions the whip at my wide-open pussy. I widen my eyes and take a deep breath. He whips me. I scream from the three rapid-fire strikes. More severe and extreme. Like fire and ice, like tiny volcanic eruptions resonating in my core.
Six more lashes. His tongue licks my pussy between each three.
He kisses my wet labia, suckles, and mashes his tongue inside till he rims my opening.
Molten heat floods my center until the drips turn into a stream.
He drinks, his tongue flat and strong to torture my slit.
My pussy squelches, sucking on emptiness.
“You are such a beautiful, breathtaking sight,” he murmurs.
“This cunt creaming for me. Your pretty sphincter clenching around my ginger root. And most of all, these lips spread for me.” He traces two fingers along my wide-open pubic lips.
“Like a rosebud opening to a flush sunrise, lovely rose petals with dew glistening all over them. No greater form of erotic beauty than a woman’s intimate regions. Fuck, I’ve never been harder.”
Why do his words give me a twisted sense of pride? How can he find this beautiful? It’s raw, abusive, brutal. But also…powerful and all-consuming.
“Now, let us remove this.” He moves his fingers between my cheeks. “I have more plans for this sweet, little asshole. Much filthier plans.”
Fists clenched, sweat streaming down my body, I cry out as he slowly pulls out the ginger. In some ways, the cold air hitting my anus only seems to intensify the burning. He chucks it to the ground. One lick of his tongue to my anus, and my inner muscles flutter.
Until he spanks my pussy with his palm. And growls.
“You will not come, Valentina. Not without my permission. I warned you. If you fall apart without my command, this will all repeat. I’ll clamp your tits with electro-shock vibrators.
I’ll fix a sucker to your clit and pussy and an enema dildo and leave you here for the rest of the night. ”
My breath bursts. Heart hammering in my chest. No, please no.
“I will never claim to be anything more than what I am,” he says, his gaze fierce and penetrating.
“I am not a good man. That is not your fault, nor your burden to bear. You will never fix me. I won’t even allow you to try.
” He cups my chin with his other hand, and I swallow hard.
“But I am yours, nonetheless. And most of all, you are mine. Tonight, you will know it. You will take the truth until it sears into your very soul. Now, I will prepare this for my cock.”
The whip handle dips into my center. He rolls it around, soaking the tip. The hard leather painfully stretches my entrance. But it doesn’t last long.
Without warning, he shoves the handle of the whip into my back hole. I scream from the sharp, stabbing pain, the horrific pressure. He twists the handle, sliding it in another inch.
“Stop!” I shriek, body jolting, stomach cramping from the force.
He thrusts it in and out, going deeper. “Tell me what it feels like, maya Valya.”
“Like you’re rearranging my organs!”