34. Aron
ARON
Before going to my rooms, I take a shower in the communal bathroom in one of the lower-level caves.
Grabbing my weapons, I leave my clothes in a bundle by the ladder—with luck, one of the eager newbies will take care of it.
I climb up the ladder with only a towel wrapped around my hips, held in place by the tactical belt.
“Where the hell have you been?” Riley’s irritated voice reaches me as soon as I push the door open.
“What fucking business of yours is it?” I snap at her, mostly to stomp on the warm, stupid feeling that comes out of nowhere to melt my insides. I really need to stop thinking with my dick.
“You asshole!” She stomps her foot. “You left me no food, nothing to do, no word when you’d be back ... I have needs!”
Needs I have no reason to give a shit about. Needs I should frustrate and neglect on purpose, if only the idea of catering to some of them wasn’t so fucking appealing.
“I’ll see to your damn needs.” My mouth crashes against hers, silencing her protests and complaints.
I grab her—roughly, my grip bruising—pushing her towards the bed. My towel slips from underneath the belt and slides to the ground.
“Aron, I’m serious...” Her eyes stray to my hard, precum-covered cock, a thick vein pulsing along its length.
“Shut up.” I shove her, and she lands on the covers, her legs splaying to the sides.
My T-shirt has hiked up her smooth thighs, and I can see her pussy. I lean over her with a guttural growl, tugging the fabric out of my way, my eyes glued to the glistening treat in front of me.
“Aron, I’m hungry,” she whines in a half-assed protest that I dismiss with a simple “so am I” before my lips close around her clit.
I suck at it in rhythmic tugs, grazing my teeth against it with controlled precision until I have her moaning loudly and bucking her hips, thrusting into my mouth.
Her juices dribble down my chin, my tongue plunging deep into her slit, and I’m completely overwhelmed by her.
All my senses are hijacked by her taste, her scent, the feel of her skin underneath my fingertips, the way she looks and sounds when she’s about to tip over the edge.
By the time I slip my fingers into her soaked cunt she’s ready to clench around me.
I know exactly the kind of pressure she needs, the tempo to make her shatter.
But I don’t give it to her. Instead, I tease her on and on, relenting anytime she comes close, until I have her writhing with soft, desperate cries.
“Why won’t you fuck me?” she mewls. “Please.”
“I will,” I assure her, squeezing her hips. “But I want your ass today.”
“What?” she gasps, the sleepy slits of her eyes ripping open.
Seeing that I’m serious, she bolts, backing away. “Why?” Hurt and confusion contort her features.
Everything inside twists and aches, things I don’t want to name threatening to split me apart.
“I told you that was agony for me!” The shrill accusation in her voice is enough to gut me on the spot. “I thought you liked making me feel good.”
“I do,” I admit, the words tearing from my mouth before I can stop them. “I’m fucking addicted to it.”
“Then why would you want this?” She shrinks away from me with each step I take until she’s crouching in the uneven rock corner.
“Calm down, Riley.” I reach out to touch her, but she lets out an unhappy cry, and I drop my hands—for now. “You know you’ll love it when I do it.”
“No.” She is shaking her head, her hair flying. “Please no.”
Why the fuck does it have to be so hard for me to see her this way? I shouldn’t give a shit, but instead every word, every tear and every broken breath cuts through me like a blade.
“Riley.” The warning in my voice is sharp and crystal clear. “Remember what I told you when I was in the chains? That I would make you ...?”
“Scream, cry and beg for you to stop.”
“All of which I’d what?”
“Ignore.”
“And I said I wouldn’t stop until?”
“Until you ruined me.”
“Then let me fucking ruin you.”
“I trusted you!” Her words are a knife to the gut—a knife she then proceeds to twist as more words pour out of her: “I don’t know why, but I trusted you in a way I’ve never trusted anyone. In a way I didn’t even know I could trust, not after everything.”
“Riley, just do as I say—”
“No,” she hisses, rage igniting in her eyes. “If you want this, you may as well rape me like he did. Go on then. Good luck telling yourself you’re the better man after that.”
Shame coils through me at her words, and I ball my fists.
“What?” she barks at me, throwing her arms wide. “If you want to hurt and humiliate me, why not go all the way?”
“That’s not why I want this,” I murmur.
“Then why do you want this?” she presses harder.
“Because of what you said. That rotten, pathetic piece of shit got into your head! He’s still in your head.
And I won’t have him there! Not anymore,” I roar, my fury ice cold and steadying, making me see everything with startling clarity.
“He doesn’t get to be in your head. You’re mine!
All of you belongs to me. So, the next time you think of someone fucking you that way, you won’t be thinking of him.
You’ll be thinking of me and how amazing it felt. ”
She goes very still, something serene settling in her eyes—an understanding, and her trust returning with it. And fuck me, that transformation is about the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Aron,” she says softly. “It won’t feel amazing. You’re huge. It’ll be torture.”
“No, it won’t.”
“There’s no way it’ll fit.”
“It’ll fit.”
“But Aron ... I’m scared.”
“I know,” I assure her. “Just get back on the bed, Riley.”
“Fuck!” She rubs her face, wiping off her tears. “I could kill you in your sleep, you know that, right?”
She takes a few tentative steps, walking around me like she’s scared I’ll pounce. I don’t. Not this time.
“You could try.” I shrug and kneel behind her, the mattress sinking under my weight.
I hoist her onto all fours. Her hips are trembling in my hands, and she’s whimpering, holding onto the covers so hard her knuckles turn white.
She’s drowning in my T-shirt. I slide it up over her hips slowly, savouring each newly revealed inch like I’m seeing her for the first time. Finally, she’s all exposed to me: not only her tight cunt—swollen and drenched in arousal—but the small, uneven ring of her other entrance.
I groan, my balls nearly exploding at the sight of her like this—on her knees and ready for me.
With vicious need shooting into my stomach, it’s hard to resist and not bury my cock in her ass right the fuck now.
I want to make her scream and sob. I want to use her and tear her apart for my own pleasure so fucking much I’m almost angry at her that I can’t do that.
But my piercing makes this a bit tricky.
I coat my fingers in her arousal, spreading it all around the area. Then I push my thumb into her sensitive opening slowly, teasing her clit and pussy with my other fingers, keeping her right on the edge without letting her fall over it. Her sweet cries and delicious moans are music to my ear.
I’m tormenting myself even more than her with every twitch and spasm of her slick, tight, greedy pussy, and with the way she clenches around my thumb before pulling it deeper, resisting and surrendering, over and over in a perfect rhythm.
I can’t fucking wait to be inside of her—I already know she’ll feel incredible. But she’s not ready for me yet.
I reach for the knife at my belt. I washed it in the shower earlier.
I drag the handle through the juices coating her pussy, getting drunk on the smell of her arousal.
Her body goes rigid, and she tugs at the covers.
But she doesn’t try to get away, and that token of trust and obedience is like a shot of pleasure rushing down my spine.
Slowly and carefully, I push the smooth knife handle into her ass. She jerks, and her muscles clench, which only pulls the handle deeper in, stretching her tight hole. I reach around and grab her to keep her steady, playing with her clit.
“What are you doing?”
“Preparing you.”
I pump the knife in and out of her, my pace deliberately unhurried at first before I go harder at it, twisting the handle inside her and circling her clit at the front until I feel her thrusting back.
She’s rubbing her sensitive bud against my fingers, chasing friction until my balls hurt, desire coursing through me like liquid rage.
I want to wreck her—both her pussy and her ass—and my self-control would stand no chance against these dark, relentless impulses if I didn’t want one thing even more than that: her willing surrender, her own depraved enjoyment. Her corruption.
I reach over, pulling the nightstand drawer open. I take the bottle of lube out only to find it’s practically empty. Shit. Lube isn’t so easy to come by these days, and I wasted the last of it on ... what was her name? Fuck it. I probably never bothered to ask her name.
Riley’s body tenses under me, fear radiating off her, palpable in every ragged breath. She’s guessed correctly that I’m not letting that empty bottle stop me. She thinks I’ll make her suffer. Good. The more scared she is, the wetter and tighter she gets.
“Well, Hotshot.” I pull my hand away and pat her hip. “There’s going to be blood.”
“What?”
She jerks and tries to crawl away from me, clawing at the sheets frantically.
“Stay where you are.” I roughly yank her back, leaving five red finger marks on each side.
“Don’t test my patience. I may have plenty of it for a good girl who’s scared, but absolutely fucking none for a bad girl who doesn’t do as she’s told.
Choose now which one you want to be. But don’t go blaming me if you then regret your pick. ”
She goes completely still on her unsteady limbs, head hung low, tremors running through her with each shallow breath.
She is a good girl. Always a good girl.