Chapter 34
“Smiley face?” I growl. “Smiley face, my ass.”
ROMAN
Ifire.
Bullseye.
Of course it is. I’m at the top of my game—steady hands, breath held, perfect control. Years of training. The sound echoes in the chamber, and I savor the familiar scent of gunpowder.
I hit the switch to bring Valentina’s target forward.
And my vision turns red.
She’s laughing, giggling while covering her perfect mouth.
There it is. Her fifth damn target. Five. Not just bullseyes. Not just clean kills. No—a fucking smiley face. Shot perfectly into the center of the paper man’s skull. Two eyes. A curved mouth. A fucking cheeky grin staring me down.
She twirls. And then—like she’s in a damn movie—she blows across the barrel. A Makarov pistol.
My pulse slams through my veins. My fists clench. My jaw ticks. She’s a goddamn prodigy. A natural. And worse, she knows it.
“Smiley face?” I growl. “Smiley face, my ass.”
I launch forward. She squeals with delight, and I haul her up, one hard arm around her thighs, slinging her over my shoulder like the little brat she is. I don’t stop. She’s laughing too loud to resist, breathless and wild, until I reach the cruciform target.
That’s when I shove off the velvet wrap dress, reveling in her shriek.
It spills like blue blood down her back, puddling at my feet.
All that’s left is her black lace bra, her bare shoulders, her thong.
Her soft skin glowing under the low amber lights.
She’s still panting from laughter, from victory.
“Sore loser,” she croons, flipping her hair like a princess and biting her bottom lip.
“Гавно.” I slap her ass hard, and she yelps. “You are too smug. Too dangerous. And too fucking good with a gun.”
She blows a raspberry. And gets me hard and all the harder to punish her. I growl something darker in Russian, pressing my body to hers, pinning her wrists to the cruciform. Her giggle turns to a whimper, her eyes going wide as if she understands I’m not fucking around.
I kiss her neck like a punishment.
I will ruin her for that smiley face.
“What are you doing?” she gasps, trembling, as I stride toward the corner of the room—where my tool chest waits like an altar. Of course, I keep it well-stocked.
I return with more than just rope. Chains. Cold, heavy, and absolute.
“Your body listens better than your mouth,” I mutter, aggravated even though she’s done nothing wrong but be her beautiful, breathtaking self. “Maybe now…you’ll finally hold your tongue while you hold still.”
I shackle her wrists first—rough iron against soft skin—then her ankles. But it’s not enough. I need her completely immobile. I need her to feel it. To know I will protect her with everything in my being.
I fit the collar around her throat. She stiffens, breath catching. The chain connected to it snakes upward to the ceiling, taut and unyielding. She can’t kneel. Can’t run. Can barely breathe without my permission.
Perfect.
I step back, pulse a wildfire in my veins, and admire her. “I need you immobile,” I say. “Let us see how far you can obey in this position. No shuddering. No trembling. Not so much as a shiver.”
“Roman, what are you—” She gulps as I retrieve something else from my chest. “You’ve got to be fucking me.”
“That will come soon.” For now, I coat the instrument with lube and insert it into her anus. “Not just an electro-shock plug this time, moy zhena. It’s a spreader.”
She lurches as it slides in, tears burning her eyes from the pressure.
I rub my fingers along her center and whisper sweet praises in her ear as she takes the electro-spreader like such a good girl until it’s fully inserted, stretching her, preparing her for my cock.
More pressure, more pain than any other plug I’ve used.
“What is that?!” she asks, horrified at my next instruments.
“The pump and clit sucker will have your lovely pussy enlarged and red for me by the time I’m ready to fuck you,” I say while attaching the pump. “You will thank me for the high of an orgasm I will give you.”
“Nipples, too?!” she gasps as I fix them to her stiff buds.
“Naturally.” I smirk, remembering the dungeon when she was asleep. “This time, you will be awake.”
I return to the starting point. I turn each instrument to its lowest setting. The gentle buzz of the pump toys against her core and nipples mingles with the soft pulses of the spreader inside her pretty ass. She gulps once but doesn’t flinch. Not so much as a shiver. Not yet.
“Eyes on me, Valya,” I command, my voice low and unyielding.
Her tear-streaked gaze locks with mine—wide, vulnerable, but stubborn.
I take a slow breath, steady my hand, and raise my gun. The first shot rings out sharp and clear.
It thuds into the target—a clean hit—directly between her thighs, so close to her center I know the sting will echo deep inside her. She gasps.
The second shot hums through the air, and I nail the target just to the right side of her neck. Her eyes flutter, pain and surprise warring behind her mask of control.
The third bullet fires, landing just left of her neck. Her chest rises, but she keeps still, body locked tight.
I growl, voice low and dangerous, “Not a twitch.”
The vibrations from the toys intensify slightly, teasing her senses even as the bullets remind her of their stakes.
Another shot—grazing skin on the side of her shoulder. The warmth of blood blooming there is almost intoxicating.
“Roman!” she sobs, pain breaking through.
The spreader shocks her more, likely distracting her from the pain. Between it and the higher settings on the breast and pussy pumps, she shrieks, her thigh muscles clenching, a sweat coating her skin.
Before she can collect herself, I fire again—right between her thighs once more with burning precision.
“Fuck,” I growl, not because I missed, but because I nearly didn’t.
I step forward, savoring the delicious mix of fear and desire twisting in her trembling body. The cold chains bite, but beneath them, she arches toward me, betraying her raw hunger.
Her breath shudders, little gasps spilling out as blood trickles down the slope of her neck. “You’re an asshole,” she says, voice rough and vulnerable.
I grin—slow, wolfish—as I remove the pump and the clit sucker and trail my fingers along her slick folds, tracing heat and want.
“And you’re drenched for me.”
She lurches, a sharp hiss escaping her lips, utterly adorable in her defiance and surrender.
Fuck, I love the sight of her nipples in the pumps.
Her arms squeeze as tightly as they can, a wince, then a moan in her throat.
I’ve worked her into a frenzy. Goosebumps mingle with her sweat, and her feminine musk sends more heat, more blood surging to my cock.
Just as blood has been drawn to her buds from the vacuum suckers sealed over her nipples, swelling them.
I cock my head, admiring them and the blood trickling down her crown brand from where I intentionally grazed her.
I touch the site. She sobs from the pain. But I dip my finger in the blood, remove the suckers, and trail my finger along her engorged nipples. She hisses, taking in ragged breaths.
“So sensitive,” I murmur, rubbing her other nipple with the bloodied finger.
A flush spreads along her lithe throat and chest. Her breasts are heavy and full for me. I knead them, palms rasping against her fat nipples. She gasps before whimpering in need. I take her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers and give a tender pinch.
Valentina burns her eyes against mine. “You’re a sick, twisted fuck, moy muzh.”
“Cannot argue with the evidence.” I lower my head and take a nipple, teeth scraping, then nipping.
I press a button on the spreader, and she flinches as it shocks her again. Her hands have balled into fists, white-knuckled.
“Oh, fuckinggoddamit, Roman!” My wife sobs. “Please let me move.”
With a devilish grin, I smear a drop of blood across the brand like a seal.
“This is mine. You are mine,” I growl, pressing my palm to her chest. “Every beat of your heart, every drop of your blood—it all answers to me.” I lean in, close enough for her to feel the heat of my breath.
“If it takes pain to remind you…I’ll draw blood every damn day. ”
After she drags in desperate pants, I undo all the shackles but for the wrists. When she arches her neck, presenting her throat so beautifully, my cock throbs more. I take out my raging erection, then lift her to straddle me. She trembles.
“Roman!” she shrieks when I slam inside her, groaning at that tight, little pussy wrapped around me, sucking my cock like a goddamn vice. So hot from the pump. She clenches her inner muscles, betraying telltale pulses.
Oh, no, she doesn’t. I bite her nipple again, preventing her from coming.
“No.” Her voice cracks in protest.
I pound into her, every thrust activating the spreader shocks until she’s clenching her teeth around every gasp.
Gripping her throat, I growl the command, “Eyes on me, Moya Samotsvet. Or I’ll leave you here with the spreader shocking you the whole time.”
She locks eyes with me, those amethysts so watery, so lovely from the tears wetting her cheeks. I don’t stop fucking her. Long, slow, deep movements. God, she’s clamping around me so tight, her inner muscles squeezing, then loosening, and tightening again. Tormenting me. Fucking killing me.
Her pretty breasts bounce against my chest, so warm and supple, the inflamed rosebud nipples rasping against my muscles.
I pick up the gun. She blew across the barrel. Now, she will do more. “Suck,” I command her, placing the barrel in her mouth.
Whimpering, Valentina obeys, sucking the gun deep into her throat while I thrust into her. Once it’s good and wet, I drip lube on it, part her cheeks, then remove the spreader slowly.
“Roman, are you…? Oh, God!” she cries out as I position it at the entrance of her pretty, dark hole. “Ohgodohgodohgod!” she screeches when I push.