Chapter 17 Rosalia #2
“I immobilise them, punish them with the cane until the skin on their ass breaks open, and then…then I take what I want from them, as long as I want, and however I want. And only when they scream for me to stop because they feel like dying, I choke them until there is no more life in them.”
My hand snaps around her throat.
She gasps.
Her chest heaves up and down.
“Well,” she says lusciously.
My core burns. I haven’t been this aroused in my entire life.
She brings one leg around me, pulls me closer. Her clit presses into my leg, and she rolls her hips against me.
“I’ve been a very filthy whore,” she says. “You should show me my place, or is it all just talk?”
It is the one thing that pushes me over the edge.
I let go of her throat, slap her face, hard and lean away from her.
I grab her by the hair and pull her with me. She stumbles, I don’t care. I lead her down into the catacombs, only we take the room to the left this time instead of the little torture chamber to the right.
I throw her into the room, and she lands harshly on her knees.
She gasps heavily, on all fours.
I grab her hair again and pull her in an arch, leaning down.
“You will plead and beg me to stop,” I whisper darkly.
“But there is no stopping. There is no safe-wording yourself out of this. You take it, and there will be no complaints. If you bleed, you bleed. If you become unconscious, I will not stop. I don’t care.
You are a toy meant to be used and have no other worth to me. ”
With that, I let go of her.
I grab a choker from a drawer and slide it onto her neck.
I pull, harsh.
She screams and gags.
Exactly as she should.
I slap her ass.
“Argh,” she screams.
I slap again, so hard she is thrown flat onto the floor.
She grunts.
It brings me a satisfaction I had yet to feel in my life.
“Kneel,” I say and pull her up. She has no chance to fight me on this one, so she kneels. The chain digs so beautifully in her skin.
I still have the gun in my hand.
“You wanted to suck,” I say. “Suck.” And with it, I hold the gun in front of her mouth.
She opens her mouth and takes it in. Her lips close around it, and she pushes it in until she gags. My own juices are dripping from me at this point. I believed I had met all the craziness in the world already, but this woman, holy mother, I am going to be a sinner.
Her eyes do not break the gaze into mine as she slides her lips up and down over the barrel.
I bite my bottom lip as I watch her.
It is the thrill.
She is high on the train of thrill, and I am going to ride it with her.
The next time she has it in fully, I let go of the choker chain, grab her head around the back and push the gun in further. So far, her teeth hit the trigger guard.
She gags. Nearly vomits. As she should. She tries to fight me, but there is no getting away. I count to ten, and then I let go, pull the gun out and throw it on a drawer.
She gasps and falls forward on her arms.
I open my blouse.
“Crawl on the bed,” I order her.
She looks up, her eyes burning with fire, and right this moment, I know it.
I know I have found my match. Because after all that happened, she does not crawl.
Instead, she kneels, gets up, head slightly tilted, a smug grin on her face, walks to me, grabs my face with one hand, and kisses me. Provoking me.
Her lips meet mine, and I am ripped apart. Desire is consuming me, but I cannot let her. I cannot.
I grab her throat, my nails digging into her skin, and push her away. Slowly. Controlling. Dominating. I drag her over to the bed and throw her on it.
“Next time you try something like this, I will fix you and have you fucked nonstop for 24 hours with the fucking machine in all your holes.”
She giggles darkly.
“You laugh now,” I say. “Death will feel preferable. You will be so dry your holes will bleed and rip apart with every thrust.”
She giggles again.
“You know what,” I say, “I am giving you a taste.”
I walk over to the drawer, get a strap on, take the biggest dildo I have in girth and length, take ropes, a spreader bar and walk over to her.
I throw everything next to her on the bed. She lies on her belly, presenting me her ass. She’s begging for it.
I smack it.
She moans in the sheets.
I climb onto her and sit down on her back like a rider on a horse.
I make a sling of the rope and put it around her wrists—then, I pull. It closes forcefully around them.
I stand on the bed and slip the end of the rope through a ceiling hook. And pull her up. Just enough so she can kneel.
Next, I take the spreader bar and fix her legs in the leather cuffs.
I take a quick look at my work before I spread the bar.
She arches and grunts.
It hurts, exactly as it should.
I slide down my trousers but leave the underwear on. Strap-ons can be a pain, and a bit of fabric in between is always good.
“Suck it,” I say and hold the dildo for her to lubricate. She stares at it with big eyes.
“I said suck, I am not repeating myself.”
She opens her mouth, and it barely fits in there, only half of it in length, and the corners of her mouth stretch.
She might finally realise what she has gotten herself into.
I move it in and out of her mouth, forcefully, until it’s wet enough. Slip it in the strap-on and position myself behind her ass.
I grab her hips so the spreader bar isn’t interfering with my plan.
“Good girls get a warm-up,” I say. “Filthy whores don’t.”
And with that, I thrust into her.
She screams.
She whimpers.
She pleads.
But I hammer into her.
Again and again and again.
“Stooooop!!!” she screams. But there is no stopping. I told her. She agreed to it. And she has to deal with it.
Only that her screams touch me somewhere.
I thrust more into her, but it brings me no more joy.
It causes me to feel more hollow.
“Nooooo!” she screams again, and I hesitate.
“Please! Stop!”
I stop.
I don’t want to.
But I have to.
I try to force myself, but my body resists.
My mind needs to win.
Needs to force her.
Break her.
But I can’t.
I pull out.
“Please,” she breathes out. “I’m—“
But whatever it is, it dies in a heavy silence.
Tears drop onto the bed’s latex cover. They sound like canon blasts in my head.
I don’t know what is going on within me.
I remove the strap; I need to get rid of it.
My thoughts race, and yet, I cannot grasp a single thought. It is the first time I would like to run. Run far away.
But I cannot. I cannot just leave her here.
I brush back my hair.
Merda!
It takes me a deep breath before I bend down to remove the spreader bar.
She does not move.
I loosen the ropes and let her down slowly.
She has no body tension whatsoever.
I sit next to her and remove the ropes around her wrists.
Her eyes are open; she seems to be conscious, but they are empty, just as when I found her in the masseria.
A stitch in my chest.
An uncomfortable sensation washes through me, like a void collapsing my insides.
I am at a loss as to what to do.
Me. Rosalia Vittare.
So I just lay down next to her, so that our faces are at the same height.
I cup her face.
I place a kiss on her forehead. And when I look at her again, she has her eyes closed.
All I wanted was to destroy her. And now that I have, it feels like I have killed my own soul.