Hook #3
I slide the steel across her tongue, watch her gag on the taste of herself, her tears spilling harder as I hold her jaw firm. She licks it clean because I don’t give her a choice. Because there’s never a choice.
When I finally pull away, I trace the curve of the hook across her cheek, smearing her own taste into her skin like a brand.
“You’re signed in blood now,” I murmur, voice low and ragged. “Paper burns. Glass shatters. But scars—scars last forever.”
Her body trembles beneath me, her eyes glassy, broken, but still burning. That fire will never go out.
I don’t want it to because war tastes sweeter than obedience.
Every time she spits hate at me, I’ll carve it deeper into her until she realises the truth.
She isn’t mine because of paper.
She isn’t mine because of blood.
She isn’t mine because of ink.
She’s mine because I made her this way.
Her body is limp, trembling, a wreck of sweat and blood and broken glass—but when I lean over her, when my weight presses her deeper into the mattress, something shifts. Her thighs twitch. Her hips lift just enough to brush mine.
I go still.
Her eyes are half-closed, lashes wet with tears, lips trembling. But she moves again—small, slow, deliberate—grinding her hips against the hardness she knows is waiting for her.
My smile spreads sharp and feral.
“Look at you,” I murmur, dragging the hook under her chin, forcing her face up to mine. “Bleeding. Bruised. Still aching for me.”
A whimper claws up her throat, but her hips roll again, bolder this time. She presses against me, desperate, hungry, filthy. The papers crumple under us, ink and signatures smearing into her skin as if she’s signing herself over with every movement.
I grip her hair and yank her head back, my teeth grazing the pulse hammering in her throat. “You hate me so much, little star? Then why does your body beg like this?”
She shudders, her nails digging into my shoulders, dragging me closer instead of pushing me away. Her thighs clamp around my hips, grinding harder, rubbing herself against the rigid length of me through my trousers. Each roll of her hips is frantic, ruined, furious—and mine.
I pin her wrists above her head again, shoving them into the splinters of the shattered mirror still caught in the frame. Blood beads where glass bites, but she doesn’t stop moving. If anything, she grinds harder, her breath ragged and broken, sobs tangled with moans she can’t choke back.
“That’s it,” I snarl, grinding back against her, rutting slow and brutal. “Fuck yourself on me. Make yourself my signature.”
Her cry splits the air. She bucks under me, her cunt slick and desperate, soaking through the thin barrier of fabric. I slam my hips down, letting her feel every inch of what waits for her, not giving it, not yet, just tormenting her with the shape of it.
“Say it,” I growl, the hook dragging between her breasts, cold and merciless. “Say who you’re grinding on. Say who you belong to.”
Her hips buck wildly, chasing friction, chasing ruin. Her eyes burn up at me, defiance crumbling under the weight of need.
“You,” she gasps, voice breaking. “Fuck—you.”
My laugh is savage, ripped straight from my chest. I grind down harder, making her sob, making her thrash, forcing her to ride the edge of humiliation and hunger.
“That’s right,” I snarl, teeth against her ear, biting hard enough to mark. “Mine. Signed in blood. Sealed in your cunt. Every time you grind against me, you write it deeper.”
Her body jerks, helpless, raw. She moans my name again, louder this time, louder than her sobs, louder than the silence that used to choke her.
I let her ruin herself on me.
I let her grind until she’s soaked and shaking, until her body betrays her a second time, until she cums again—harder, filthier, screaming for me while her blood stains the papers beneath us.
When she collapses, limp and trembling, I drag the hook slow up her stomach, smearing her release across her skin, marking her with every inch of it.
“You’ll never escape me,” I whisper, pressing the steel against her throat, gentle but unyielding. “Because you don’t want to.”
Her body collapses for a moment, trembling, twitching, breath catching like she’s drowning in her own ruin. But then her hips twitch again, small, involuntary, still searching, still needing.
Pathetic. Beautiful. Mine.
I slam her wrists harder into the headboard, glass biting deeper into her skin. Her cry breaks raw in her throat, but her thighs spread wider. Welcoming. Begging. The bloodied pages stick to her body like second skin, every thrust of her chest smearing ink across her.
“You want it?” I growl, grinding slow against her soaked cunt, the head of my cock straining against the fabric between us. “Say it. Say you want me to fuck you.”
Her lips tremble, torn between hate and hunger. She shakes her head once—weak, trembling—but her hips roll up hard against me. Her eyes close like she can hide the truth there, but her body keeps betraying her.
I grip her chin hard, forcing her to look at me, hook pressed under her jaw until her pulse hammers against steel.
“Say it,” I snarl, grinding harder, cock straining, dragging against her swollen clit. “Or I’ll carve it into you.”
Her breath catches, a sob tearing loose. Then the word: broken, ragged, unwilling and desperate all at once.
“Fuck me.”
My laugh rips out savage, feral. I tear my trousers open, shove the ruined lace aside, and slam into her in one brutal thrust that knocks the scream from her chest. Her nails rake bloody trails down my back as her body seizes around me, tight, wet, choking me in heat she pretends she doesn’t want.
I drive into her harder, deeper, punishing every inch. Glass crunches beneath the bed with every thrust. The papers smear between us, her back grinding them into the sheets, my cock hammering her down into proof she’ll never escape.
She sobs and moans in the same breath, sound breaking into filthy gasps every time I bottom out.
“Louder,” I growl, teeth scraping her ear. “Let the whole house hear how my little contract sings when I split her open.”
Her cry cracks, raw and ruined, my name splitting from her lips like prayer. Her hips meet mine now, wild, frantic, desperate for every brutal thrust. She hates me, hates herself, but her cunt strangles me like it was made for this.
I drag the hook down her stomach, pressing until the cold bites her skin.
Lower, lower, until it presses against her clit while I fuck her hard and merciless.
She screams again, back arching, body jerking in overstimulated ecstasy, tears streaking her face as she comes around me, gripping my cock with every violent spasm.
I don’t stop.
I grind through it, savage, forcing her body to take every inch until she’s sobbing, begging, clawing at me with nails that break against my skin.
“Say it,” I snarl, slamming deeper, faster, the hook grinding her clit raw. “Say you’re mine.”
Her head thrashes, hair wild, blood streaking her cheeks, but the word rips free anyway, hoarse and broken:
“Yours!”
My roar splits the silence, feral, guttural, and I drive into her one last time, spilling into her with a violence that makes her body seize around me, locking me inside her.
My teeth sink into her throat as I grind her down into the ruined papers, the hook still pressed between us, our blood and sweat soaking the proof of what’s always been written.
When it’s over, she collapses beneath me, shaking, ruined, marked. Her chest heaves, her lips tremble, her eyes burn even through tears.
I don’t move. I keep her pinned, cock still buried deep, hook still pressed sharp against her clit, my breath ragged against her skin.
“Lesson learned,” I whisper, voice wrecked.
Her eyes flutter closed. She doesn’t answer. But her body… her body clings to me like it already knows the truth.
And that’s enough.
For now.
Her body sags under me, limp and trembling, her breath a jagged rattle against my chest. But her cunt still grips me, tight, desperate, as if even in ruin she refuses to let me go. My cock twitches inside her, spent but throbbing with the satisfaction of victory.
I don’t pull out.
I don’t give her that.
Instead, I shift the hook, drag it slow between her thighs, smeared with blood and cum, pressing against her swollen clit until she jolts beneath me, a broken sound tearing from her throat.
She shakes her head weakly, eyes glassy, lips mouthing no even as her hips twitch, betraying her again.
“Shhh,” I croon, my voice rough, cruel. “Lesson isn’t over.”
I pull the hook up, glistening with her release, with mine, with the proof of what I’ve done to her. The sight makes me feral all over again. I grip her chin hard, force her mouth open, and slide the steel across her tongue.
“Clean it.”
She gags, tears spilling hotter as the taste floods her mouth. She tries to turn away, but I hold her steady, my fingers digging into her jaw until it aches. She licks because she has no choice, licking herself off me, swallowing my claim with every shuddering breath.
When I finally pull it away, I smear the wet curve across her cheek, painting her in filth and proof.
“Good girl,” I whisper, pressing my cock deeper inside her, grinding slow just to feel her sob beneath me. “Signed in blood. Sealed in your throat. You’ll never escape me.”
Her eyes flutter shut, tears streaking through the dirt and blood on her face. But that fire—that fucking fire—still burns there, buried under exhaustion and shame.
Perfect.
I don’t want obedience.
I want war.
I want her to fight and break and rebuild, over and over, until all that’s left is ruin carved in my name.
I let go of her chin and grab one of the bloodied pages from the bed, press it against her chest, over her pounding heart. My hook drags a thin line through her skin just above it, shallow enough not to kill, deep enough to sting, enough to bleed.
The paper drinks it in, red soaking into her name until it looks like the truth it always was.
“There,” I murmur, leaning close, my breath hot against her ear. “Signed properly. In blood. Now the contract’s real.”
Her sob breaks silent against my shoulder. Her body shudders around me, weak, destroyed, but still alive. Still mine.
I press a kiss to her temple—mocking, gentle, cruel—and whisper the only words that matter:
“Lesson learned.”
And I stay buried inside her, hook resting against her throat, until her trembling finally stills into sleep.