My back slammed against the wall knocking the breath out of me. Something happened. Shifted in the air as he fisted the sweater and ripped it off my body leaving me gasping and in the next second, I was stark naked.
His palm connected hard against my ass cheek, and I whimpered. It hurt, but I felt myself growing even wetter without my permission. He spanked me again, leaning over to whisper in her ear. “Slut.”
I shut my eyes ignoring his dirty words. He wanted to break me, I knew it so. And he was angry.
His hand cracked against my ass again and this time, it was hard. “Whore.” Again, pain. He licked my ear. “You think I’m a saint and you could talk me into guilt?” Spank. I moaned in pain. “You are my dirty,” Another spank. “Little,” Slap. “girl.”
He spanked me even harder, and I choked out a small sob. His slaps were getting sharper, and I began crying in earnest. This only seemed to egg him on. He slid his hand down my ass towards my core, and down my inner thighs.
“I hear you crying, Fenochka, but your cunt is soaking wet. It’s running down your thighs. Let me show you…” He yanked my head up by my hair and shoved two slippery fingers inside of my mouth. “Lick yourself off my fingers and be a good girl.”
Still crying a little, I did as I was told because I had no choice but to lick them off. He was being extra rough and I didn’t know how to control him. He dropped my head back on the wall when he was satisfied and stroked my hair, his fingers slid over the wet slit of my womanhood.
“Yes, that’s it. Good girl.” His fingers swirled against my entrance, making me forget the pain of his spanking and dreading another thing. I was so used to talking back and didn’t even realise he was being gentle with me ever since he brought me to this damn island.
My legs were forced apart and his crotch pressed against me as if he wanted to destroy me in that very second.
His hand loitered near my vagina again and this time I felt the burn as his fingers stretched the parts of me he never had.
And just when I was about to cum, he pulled his fingers out, leaving me panting and squirming. “Pl-pl-please!”
“The fuck you begging for, Ptichka. My fingers or my cock?” His fingers rubbed just enough for me to get stimulated again, and it unsettled me more than his usual remorseless force.
“No, please, it’s… it’s too-ah!”
“Is this what you want?” His words dripped with disdain, but there was something else buried underneath, something unspoken and unsettled. “Do you even know? Or do you just like it when I take away your choices, when I decide for you?”
“I don’t-” I started, but he cut me off with a sharp spank on my womanhood making me screch, leaning in so close I could feel the heat of his breath against my ear.
“Of course, you don’t fucking get it, do you?” he hissed. His hand trailed lower, ghosting over my skin but never quite settling.
I shook my head, desperate to refute him, but the words wouldn’t come. He smirked, his expression a twisted mix of satisfaction and frustration, as though my silence confirmed everything he already believed.
“You’re so easy to ruin,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent. “But tell me, fenochka-why can’t I let you go?” He didn’t move, didn’t speak for a beat too long, his breathing ragged like he was wrestling with something unseen, something untamed. And to be honest I was fighting something too.
“You want me to take you against your will, don’t you?” His voice was sharp, slicing through the air like a blade. But his touch, still hovering over my skin, was uncharacteristically still. And my body ached.
I blinked, confused, thrown off by the question. Did I want him to stop? Of course, I did-or at least I thought I did. My lips parted, but no words came.
He let out a low, humourless laugh, stepping closer until his forehead nearly touched mine. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. You don’t know what the hell you want, do you?” His words were laced with venom, but there was a crack in the foundation, a vulnerability he couldn’t quite hide.
And that confused me.
“I-” I tried, but he cut me off as he fisted my hair and jerked my head back.
“Don’t,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me.” His other hand shot out and he pinched my nipple with a roughness that made my breath hitch. “You look at me like you hate me, like I’m the goddamn monster. But you don’t see the whole picture, do you, Fenochka?”
I flinched at his tone but his grip didn’t soften by a bit and his thumb brushed against my sensitive nipple. His eyes burned into mine like a storm of emotions I couldn’t name swirling in their depths.
“I could break you,” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes moved to my mouth and then to my eyes. “Snap you in half like a fucking twig and walk away without a second thought. That’s what everyone think I am. What you think I am.”
I didn’t respond. What could I say? The truth wouldn’t make this better.
“And maybe I am,” he continued licking his lips as intense hunger glinted in his eyes. He looked like salivating beast ready to devour his prey. “Maybe I should be.”
He dawdled in that moment and the heaviness of his words pressed down on me, suffocating yet strangely electrifying. His grip in my hair tightened, pulling me closer, leaving no room for retreat. The heat radiating from his body made the air around us unbearable, stifling, as though I were standing on the edge of a storm about to break.
And his hand moved to my heated core before cupping it.
I gasped.
He groaned putting his mouth on my neck.
“But you know what’s worse than being the monster they say I am?” he whispered menacingly against my neck making me tremble. “Holding back.”
His lips moved along my jawline, not quite touching like a tantalizing threat that left me shivering despite the warmth. “Do you even understand the restraint it takes, Fenochka?” he hissed. “To not take you when all I want to do is bury myself deep inside you, to leave you trembling and begging for mercy, knowing I could make you love every second of it.”
My breath hitched and my body betrayed me in ways I couldn’t control. His thumb brushed over my clitoris now as his other hand released my hair to trail down my neck, deliberate and lingering.
“But maybe I shouldn’t hold back,” he mused darkly, his gaze boring into me with an intensity that felt like fire beneath my skin. “Maybe I should stop pretending to be anything less than what I am-a man who takes what he wants. A man who enjoys it.”
I opened my mouth to speak, to protest, but the words dissolved before they formed. He smiled then, a crooked, cruel thing that sent a thrill of fear and something more twisting in my gut.
“That’s what scares you, isn’t it?” he said, tilting his head as if studying a puzzle. “Not me. But knowing-” his hand splayed against my lower back, pulling me flush against him “-what I’m capable of.”
I shook my head, desperate to deny it, but the movement was feeble. His scowl deepened as though he could read the truth in my silence.