by Bella J.
The warmth of his breath caused my skin to burn, but for some sick, twisted reason…I liked it. I liked the feeling of fear mixed with the heat of eager anticipation. How could one like something that extracted fear? Something that woke trepidation deep within the core? Had this warped world finally claimed my mind? Had I finally faded away within the evil, to become it?
“Well, well, well.” He sounded amused. “My little doe. No panties?” His palm traveled down my spine—slowly, gently. “Let me guess,” he slapped my ass, “you’ve never worn panties before.”
He was right. I was never allowed to wear any sort of underwear. Master V liked my pussy open and ready for him whenever he wanted it. He referred to panties as a hindrance, something that prevented him from taking what was his.
Antonio slapped my ass again, and I only squeezed my lips together. Compared to the pain I’d experienced in the past, I welcomed the burn of his palm against my skin.
“I have to admit, Doe, you not wearing panties is making my cock ache like a motherfucker.” And then he pulled my hair, forcing my head back, and I gasped. I heard the zipper of his pants, my body rigid, yet electrified. When I felt the head of his cock against the flesh of my ass, I shuddered.
“You feel that, Doe? You feel how hard I am?” His grip on my hair tightened. “I’ve been this fucking hard for you since the moment I found you in that motherfucking container.”
My mind was reeling, my insides coiled tight. With the fear that swirled in the pit of my stomach was a gnawing hunger as well. I felt it all the way down my spine, throbbing between my legs. Fear and passion. Pain and pleasure. It was the ultimate contradiction.
As he nudged the head of his cock between the slit of my ass, I whimpered. But it wasn’t panic. It wasn’t dread. It was need and he heard it too. He felt it too.
“Do you like that? Feeling my cock against your ass?”
I bit my bottom lip, pinching my eyes closed. Then he jerked my head back even further, sending a wave of pain through my skull. “Answer me!”
“Yes. Yes, I like it…sir.”
His grip eased and I felt his cock slide up and down against my skin. “You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t like it, Doe. A woman like you should be afraid to be touched. You should be afraid of being used. Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
“I am.” I swallowed hard. “I am afraid of you, but my body isn’t.”
He let go of my hair, dropping his hand down my front, dipping in between my legs. The feel of his finger gliding through my slit earned a wicked moan from my lips.
“All this time I forced myself to stay away from you in fear that I might hurt an already broken doll. But now, your body is telling me I had the right to claim you all along.”
Rhythmically, his fingers moved through my inner lips, spreading the wetness of my depraved desire all around my flesh. Men had made me feel dirty and worthless so many times before. But never had any of them made me feel dirty and alive at the same time. Not like Antonio was making me feel now.
Dirty. Needy. Beautifully corrupted.
His fingers swirled around between my legs. “I’m the devil, Doe. You saw the true me from the start, didn’t you? That’s why the slave in you was so drawn to me.”
I leaned my head against my shoulder, relishing the way his touch buzzed through my body. “If you’re the devil, then I walk through hell willingly.”
“Fuck.” He thrust hard, pushing his cock between my legs, and I felt his length against my swollen flesh. “If you knew the darkness that lurks within me, you wouldn’t dare to tempt me so. Do you know what I was doing before I came here? Before I decided to bring my whip to your room?”
I shook my head, trying to smother soft moans of pleasure as it traveled from where he touched me, right up my spine.
“I was torturing a man, slicing my blade through his flesh,” he pressed his thumb against my clit, “and I watched as his blood spilled on the floor, loving the brutal sight so much it made my cock twitch.” He pushed his hard cock in between my ass cheeks, the tip reaching my opening. “And because he wouldn’t give me the answers I sought, I cut out his motherfucking tongue before I put a bullet in his skull.”
I moaned out loud when his finger moved hard and fast against my clit, the gruesome images he painted for me working beautifully in contrast with the pleasure he forced into me.
“Do you want to know why I did it, Doe?”
Again, I only shook my head while I struggled against the pleasure which threatened to explode. But then his hand was gone, cold air assaulting my sensitive, swollen flesh.
With warm lips against the skin of my neck, he whispered, “For you. I did it for you.”
My heart stopped, and I forgot how to fucking breathe. “I don’t understand.”
“Your old master wants you back. Vadik wants you back…badly.”
I shuddered at the mere mention of his name, then felt Antonio’s hands wrap around my wrists above my head, leisurely brushing across my skin as they moved down my arms. “He wants you back so badly, he even shot my future brother-in-law.”
“Lorik?” Oh, no. Karina. Poor Karina. That was why she seemed so worried earlier. She knew. “Is he—”
“Alive, for now.” Fingertips traced down my sides. “But here’s the thing, Doe. I’m not giving you back. There’s no way in hell I’ll let you go. You’re a temptation too bittersweet for me to deny, and I would gladly torture and kill every motherfucker who dares to try to take you from me. You’re my beautiful, broken girl now.” He placed soft, subtle kisses on the backs of my shoulders. “In fact, I’ll enjoy ripping people apart for you, killing for you.”
Whether I was a masochist or just plain sick in the goddamn head—but his words and the images of him torturing and killing for me set my entire body on fire, the burn threatening to incinerate me. It seared the insides of my veins, aching with a hunger so intense it was starting to consume me. But it felt liberating, safe. And why wouldn’t it? For someone like me who had been broken, the prospects of a devil avenging my ruin were poignant and powerful.
I heard the sharp tear of fabric, the clattering of buttons on the floor…and then the slice of a whip before it cracked against the ground.
“I’m a sadistic fuck, Doe. And I denied myself the pleasure of controlling your pain for so long. But tonight, I realized I no longer have to, because you were mine all along. You were mine from the first moment you called me Master.”
The whip cut through the air, and when I felt the burn of the leather against my back, a scream ripped from my throat.
“There it is.” Ecstasy laced his words. The heat of desire I felt mere seconds ago was ripped from me with a single lash. My skin burned, my mind a broken place with nothing but endless shame. I was back there with Master V, in my cell, all alone, broken and tainted. Gone was the hope. Gone was the anticipation of pleasure instead of pain. And gone was the likelihood of me ever surviving my new master unscathed.
“Do you want to hear my story, Doe? Do you want to hear the story of how I fucked up everything?”
I sniffled a cry, tears burning the back of my eyes.
“Her name was Rachel. A beautiful, strong, rich, powerful woman who controlled her own empire. And all she wanted was a few hours of no control. A few hours where she could trust someone enough to hand over all control to him so she could escape.”
I swallowed, fighting against the burning flesh of my back. He began to pace behind me.
“For months, everything was perfect. We gave each other what we needed in the most powerful way. I had her trust, her devotion, and she had my admiration. And also my word to never hurt her beyond what her body could endure.”
With steadied breathing, I listened to his every word. I wanted to know. I needed to know what demons he carried inside him.
“But besides being a sadistic bastard, I’m also a possessive fuck. She knew that. She fucking knew that, but still she…Jesus Christ.”
The regret coa
ting his words was strong enough to send an ache straight through my chest, slamming against my spine.
“I found out that she was seeing someone else. A different dom. It fucked with my head so bad, I didn’t know how to deal. To think that she put her trust in someone else, that she trusted another man the same way she did me…fuck!” He roared, and the leather of his whip crashed against my skin. I bit my lower lip, tasting blood. I felt the burn through to the bone as his whip charred my flesh.
“She gave another man control, Doe. The same privilege of letting him make her body his playground.”
Even though I was trying to keep my mind strong enough to carry me through the pain, I listened. I listened to his every word.
“That night, I watched her get fucked by another man. I was there, standing on the other side of the one-way mirror, watching with a bitterness that grew stronger and stronger with every thrust that motherfucker gave behind her. It felt like someone had sliced my heart out of my chest.” Another lash across my back, and it sent me swinging from side to side as I arched my body in a bid to get away from the bite of the leather.
“I hated her. I hated him. I hated the ache I felt gnawing away at my chest.”
The torment in his words turned to sadness. And for a moment, I forgot about the pain on my back, rather concentrating on his. His pain. His heartache.
“The images of him touching her, fucking her, the way her face showed every ounce of pleasure his cock forced into her gave birth to a beast inside me. And that night when I entered the room with her, that beast took over. I saw nothing but visions of red and pain, while all I heard was her screams and wild panting of pleasure while she creamed his cock. It turned me, Doe. And now all that’s left is this monster with a craving for control, a need to inflict pain. Do you see? Do you see now why I had tried to warn you all this time?”
“No!” I yelled. “No! That’s not true. She hurt you. She broke your heart.”
He snorted. “I wasn’t in love with her, Doe.”
“It doesn’t matter. What you had with her was a commitment. She was yours, and she tainted it by allowing another man’s touch.”
I had to get through to him. I had to get him out of this rage he was currently in, or I wouldn’t survive it. My mind was already closing in, starting to compartmentalize the pain. And I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to push back any of these memories. It was too precious. The kiss. The dance. The pleasure he gave me. It was the only good I had to hold on to, and he needed that as well.
“You’re not a monster,” I whispered, then heard him let out a half-hearted laugh.
“You’re not only a beautiful, broken girl but also a naïve one.”
Another lash, and another. Tears escaped, streaming down my face while pain threatened to steal the memories. The moments shared with a man who, like me, had been done wrong.
“Red…red…red.” He kept on saying it after every lash.
“Stop, please,” I pleaded. My shoulders burned, the muscles in my arms aching.
“Red…red…”
“Stop, Master. Please, stop!”
And then it ceased, silence falling around us. My breaths came out loud and labored, my body exhausted. More tears, and then…
“Doe? Jesus, Doe.” I felt his hands around my wrists, and the next thing I knew, I fell, collapsing right into two strong arms. “Doe…oh, my God. Doe, I’m so sorry. Jesus. Fuck!”
Together, we sank down to the ground, his arms clutched tightly around my body.
“Please forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
Within seconds, my hands were free, and I felt his lips on my forehead.
“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry.”
Something warm and wet fell down my neck, and I managed to open my eyes, only to see the sorrow in his, tears slowly trickling down his face. “I didn’t want to hurt you, Doe. I swear to God I didn’t want to hurt you.”
I’d never been given a reason to believe anyone before—especially the men who had hurt me in the past. But right now, right here, I believed him. It was in his eyes, in the way he stared down at me with such an immense amount of remorse, it split my heart in two.
I reached out and palmed his cheek. “It’s okay.” I let out a breath. “I won’t let her hurt you again. Rachel. Never again.”
Dark brows furled together as he searched my face, searching for permission. And I granted it by pushing my lips against his, our kiss drowned with the salty tears of our pain. Of our grief. He might not have gone through a life of abuse and unfathomable pain, but everyone’s pain was their own. Everyone’s cross, to them, was the heaviest. So who was I to say mine was heavier than his?
Just like me, he was broken too.
He was my pretty, broken doll.
Chapter 21
Antonio
When it came to control, there had always been a fine line separating me from keeping my shit together and losing it completely. Tonight, I lost it completely.
After we almost had a repeat of Pearl Harbor down at Boston Harbor, which landed Lorik in the hospital fighting for his life, I played the part of a sadistic psychopath by torturing a Russian fuck to death.
Then, as if the red of blood and smell of death warped my mind into a frenzy, I chose to forget all the reasons I had to stay away from the one person who had become my greatest temptation simply by breathing. Doe. The slave girl. My beautiful, broken doll.
It was the bloodlust, the absolute greed and selfishness of a depraved man which drove me to grab my whip and storm to her room with only one goal in mind. To dominate.
She didn’t fight me, playing the part of the perfect submissive. Of course, she would have. She’d been trained and beaten into perfection—the perfect little slave girl who singlehandedly ruined my self-control. Like a hurricane, she stormed into my life without warning, and it was clear she would leave everything in ruins. With her tiny frame, scarred body, and obedient nature, she had the power to wreck me, to destroy me, and leave nothing but bitter ashes behind.
When I tied her arms and hung her from the four-post bed, tearing the dress off her body, my most primal instincts took over. And the moment I felt how wet her pussy was for me, my cock wanted into that piece of glistening heaven, hard and heavy with merciless thrusts.
How could she want me? How could a broken girl like her feel anything other than contempt when a man like me wanted to use her body for his own pleasure? How could she desire my touch and feel something other than complete and utter fear when bound and vulnerable? Did she not see how naïve she was? That she was playing with fire, and the chances were she was going to get burned? By me.
I had to let her see. I had to let her realize that if she had seen anything but utter darkness in me, she was wrong. She was so very wrong. I was a monster. A madman who had the power to rule an empire, and the iniquity to ruin a fragile little thing like her.
When the whip lashed against the skin of her back, her screams resounding around me, I loved it. I loved it so fucking much, I wanted to tear out of the skin I wore—the skin which hid who I really was. I wanted to finally break free and be the monster I knew I had always been.
But her cries also transported me back to the night when my wickedness came within inches of ruining my life. I was there. In that room with Rachel hanging in the reverse prayer position, tied by ropes I had knotted around her body. It took me fucking hours—hours my hands spent working those ropes while my mind replayed the scene where another man had his cock in her. Scenes where she posed for him, submitted for him, giving him everything she had given me. For hours, the rage simmered until finally, it erupted, and I lost control just like I had with Doe…until she brought me back. She pulled me from the nightmare of my past with one simple word.
Master.
When I heard her say that word, reality came crashing down like a mountain slide of regret.
Now, here I was, on the ground, flat on my fucking ass while clutching her in my arms. God, she was perfec
t. Everything about her was perfect—even her brokenness. Perfectly broken, and beautifully ruined.
While I felt her lips on mine and tasted her sorrow, that was when I realized why…why I was so determined to keep her. To never let her go. Because she was the innocence my soul lacked. She was the light my darkness craved. Ever since she stormed into my life, she gave me another reason to breathe, another reason to have a fucking heartbeat other than this pointless pursuit of power and control I had been on my entire goddamn life. I was breathing for her. I woke up in the mornings with a determination to keep her safe, to protect her.
Her. It was all her.
“I’m sorry, Doe. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Shhh.” Her palm remained on my cheek.
I touched my forehead to hers. “I can’t even think what I would have done—”
“Don’t. Please, sir.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Don’t call me that. Don’t call me sir.”
Her beautiful dark eyes met mine. “What should I call you?”
I moved her hair over her shoulder, exposing her beautifully scarred ear. “Call me Antonio.” And then I kissed her again. Lips so warm and soft, untainted—it was all I needed. All I wanted. Each and every kiss she was willing to give me.
Our tongues moved leisurely, dancing like lovers—tasting, savoring, claiming. There was no amount of power in the world that would make me tear my lips from hers. I poured every ounce of regret into that kiss—sorry for what I’ve done to her. Sorry for hurting her, for breaking the little trust she had invested in me.
“Antonio,” she whispered, the sound of my name on her lips causing my heart to swell.
“Wrap your arms around my shoulders. I need to take care of you.”
I stood, carrying her in my arms before gently laying her on the bed. When she winced from the pain of her back touching the sheets, I cursed. “God, I’m sorry.”
