Chapter 46
“I will possess you. I will hurt you until I have all of you.”
ROMAN
Her screams have only begun.
Something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.
Inspiration hits, and I warn Valentina not to move while I rip down the decorative ceremonial chains on the walls at the back of the church.
Her eyes go wide, and she tries to scramble off the altar, slipping on all the blood.
I have to say, she’s gorgeous. Like some she-demon risen from the bowels of hell, soaked in the blood of a thousand demons.
Before she can get off the altar, I seize her, planting her front down on the stone before binding her with the iron chains. Her legs spread. One look at Anton’s raw lash marks on her back has my chest hardening. Today, I’m opening the wound—so I may give her new ones.
“In this chapel, the old world is rendered to ash at our feet,” I proclaim. “We have taken our justice, our revenge. We have taken the purest freedom and right to sin, to descend. And now, we will rise. The past burned away. The future is ours.”
“Roman,” she whispers, swallowing hard.
A muscle thunders in my jaw as I trace one finger along her spine, reveling in how she shivers. Other than a little whimper, she doesn’t make a sound. She doesn’t so much as twitch. Such a good girl.
She knows what’s coming. She knows who I am.
I am the inventor of her wildest dreams and sweetest nightmares. I know how to make her weep with the delicate balance of torture before she sings from utter rapture.
No shields or armor tonight. No walls. Everything stripped apart, pressed down, shaken together, an outpouring of blood and fire and wrath. My love for her is brutal and violent. Obsessive. I will worship her as devastatingly as I afflict her. Hatred and love will clash like strangers on a bender.
So, I do not hesitate before cutting down the bell tower rope, hardly disturbing the chimes in the process. Strong rope. Not too thick and not too thin.
“Roman, what are you doing?” she moans, straining her neck to see.
I take my place behind her and slowly drag the rope across her back, caressing her skin with its touch. “Not Roman. Master, now.”
She takes a deep breath. As I do.
I raise the rope like a fire whip. The moment she softens, I bring it down in a hard strike on her ass. Her yelp gets me harder.
Crack! I strike the other side of her plump, firm buttocks. I swing again and again, not stopping until they are red and chafed. I move onto her back, opening the marks. She shrieks and sobs through her tears, wetting the altar.
Heat simmers under my skin, the blood swarming to my cock.
Once tremors rack her body, reverberating along her back and bottom like a fine-tuned instrument, I adjust her, turning her over until she is face up. She spits at me. I tilt my head with a predatory grin.
“Brace yourself, Moya Koroleva.”
Without hesitation, I shift the chains. I loop them once around each full breast, tightening, securing until her tits are plumped, her nipples like little, rosy stones, ready for the degradation.
As I circle her, she clenches her thighs and her hands before softening. No protests. No struggles. No walls. Only surrender.
I fist her hair and yank her mouth to mine, crashing hard, stealing the breath from her lungs. “I will protect you, Valentina,” I say above her lips. “I will possess you. I will hurt you until I have all of you.”
Her eyes are glazed, lashes blotted with tears as she opens her mouth to say, “You have all of me, Master. So take it all.”
Take it all back.
I lower my mouth to her perfect breasts. She heaves so much, the chains strain, tightening and plumping those ripe tits more. I bite her nipples, pulling and elongating them to collect more cries until those pebbled buds are red, angry, and sore from my teeth.
When I lift my eyes to hers, I practically feel her gaze burning into my soul.
“Asshole,” she spits, trembling, and I chuckle darkly at the wetness dripping from her center.
“Oh, you should be far more concerned over your asshole, Maya Valya.” I smirk and take the rosary beads, savoring the hints of fear in her eyes. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, so sexually frustrated, my needy, little slut…” I part her cheeks.
At first, she clenches her anus, but all it takes is one sharp pinch on her lovely welted bottom.
“Ow! You goddamn bastard!” she groans and heaves, but after she wears herself out a little, she practically melts into the stone.
Slowly, I slide the rosary inside her dark hole, one bead at a time. Not too deep, not too many, considering there are fifty-nine. She moans the whole time, working hard not to squeeze too much.
I will use the other object soon.
For now…I unleash the rope whip upon her body. I slap it against her pussy again and again until the lips grow red and bloated, and sopping wet.
Her hisses, the way her cheeks heat, how she spits fire, they all get me so fucking hard, I know I’m going to lose it unless I do something drastic. And…it’s about goddamn time.
So, once I’ve whipped every inch of her exquisite flesh, once I’ve left my red imprints all over her body, once her nipples are swollen and inflamed as rubies, I bring the rope down with a single strike—right on my cock.
“Roman!” Valentina cries out, all her pain suddenly forgotten as her eyes migrate to the core of my masculinity.
Her eyes fill with tears. But I don’t stop.
She knows why. The pain centers me, grounds me.
She shares it, and she will help me reclaim from the trauma done to us.
After three solid hits to my dick, it’s still throbbing like a son of a bitch.
So I advance right to my wife’s side. She lifts her chin, arching her throat as much as possible, her eyes on my length. Gagging for it.
A flick of her eyes to mine, locking on. “Mine,” she snarls, staking her claim, opening her mouth. Everything I am will always belong to her.
So, I don’t hesitate. Gripping her hair, anchoring her in place, I slam my cock all the way to the back of her throat. A desperate sob breaks free, but she swallows me down, her throat tightening.
I give her the control, surrendering to her, granting her power. She bobs her head up and down, sucking, licking, eating.
I touch her everywhere. Fingers trailing down the curve of her throat, one thumb on the thrumming rhythm of her pulse, hands cupping her exquisite breasts. Fucking love the sight of them bound in the chains.
I’m close enough to lower my head. I sink my teeth around one taut bud while pinching the other, tormenting her. She squeals, her teeth scraping my hardness, but in a delicate way.
I pull out—and whip myself again. I sink into the dark trauma, then plunge back into the wet heat of her mouth, her impossibly tight throat constricting around me, healing me.
I repeat the process for the necessary amount of time. Because I counted those moments, the seconds that bled into minutes during the excruciating pain of the bitch who split me apart, the bitch lying down only several feet away, her tongue cut out, knife righteously shoved up her innards.
And when the clock runs out and the last grain of sand falls, my balls explode.
I hammer my cock so deep into Valentina’s throat, but I come out at the last second and ejaculate all over her face and chest. She coughs from the vast amounts of cum in her mouth, but she still licks her lips, consuming every drop she can.
I rub my cum along her stiff nipples and watch her breath hitch, her violet eyes heady beyond those lowered lashes, so tantalizing.
“Roman, Master, please.” She tries to buck, squeezing her thighs in a desperate “fuck me” gesture.
“Almost, Moya Samotsvet,” I assure her and take my place between her spread legs.
Digging my fingers into her thighs, I will remind her how I am the only man to make her scream with the wildest abandon.
I breathe in the scent of her feminine arousal.
Copper-tainted from the blood all around us.
The pink flesh around her hole is so taut as I ease my tongue out to trace its outline in a slow, delirious torture.
She drips more, her muscles clenching with the need to be filled. I lap at all that sweet, seductive cream oozing from that cleft. My mouth is feverish as I lick along her succulent lips. I won’t edge her too long. Not when all night was spent building up to this point.
Stabbing my tongue as deep as I can into her cunt, I lick at the soaked, hot flesh and groan, knowing she can feel it vibrate in every inch of her pussy. At the same time, I toy with the rosary beads, sliding them in and out. Her moans and cries fill the air like desperate prayers.
Finally, I pump two fingers into her, press down on her G-spot, and flick my tongue to her distended clitoris.
Her whole body trembles. I twist my fingers and circle my tongue around that nub of her feminine pleasure until she unravels so beautifully, so divinely, shattering in waves of pleasure. Her screams echo through the chapel.
So high and loud, I imagine the whole manor could hear her. Even the ghosts in the dungeon.
I retrieve the last object. The one that sends a shock wave of tremors through her. I touch my fingertips to her labia, soaked in all her warm fluids. My desire for her is mad, ravenous.
And in that moment, I plunge the antique cross into her sopping, wet center, impaling her on the sacred silver. Her chest expands. Her breath flees in a series of ragged gasps. More tears flow, but she does not scream. God, she undoes me.
“So fucking beautiful,” I tell her, holding onto the top of the cross, thrilling in her pussy sucking the cross. Magical.
With every second, her pubic lips blush, growing puffy and bloodshot.
The sound of her cunt squelching is a whole chorus.
“Such a dirty slut. Look at your pretty pussy, so fucking glorious, sucking upon this cross, gushing all over it. And your pretty tits in those chains, so fair and white from the pressure, but with those flushed nipples.”
“Oh, God! Get it out, Roman!”
Grinning, I lower my head and circle and rub and stab at her engorged clit with my tongue again and again.
Fucking her with the cross, in and out, stretching her opening, her inner walls.
I push three more rosary beads inside her ass.
Her pussy quivers and trembles, swelling and pulsing beneath my mouth as she floods my face with her fluids in a series of back-to-back climaxes.
Until she’s giving me soft, little, breathless whimpers.
Finally, I rise. The cross still stabbed in her, chafing and burning her insides.
Locks of my bloodied-blonde hair fall upon her cheeks as I purr silky and dark above her ear, “Tell me how much you want to milk my cock inside your sloppy, filthy pussy, drowning me in your cream and not this gods-damn cross. Beg me, my Jewel. Beg your King to ruin you.”
I’ll fuck her down to her soul, cut it open, and leave my scar, so she never remembers my brother’s, and she will always remember mine.
Eyes burning, teeth clenching, Valentina seethes, “Fuck me, Roman. Fuck me hard. No holding back. Fuck me so deep, I’ll feel you shatter my soul.”
“Who do you belong to?” I growl.