Venom & Ecstasy (Venom Trilogy #2)

by S Williams

  She doesn’t look up as she mops, probably not even noticing me.

  This is the way he wanted it.

  It’s a ghost town in here. Dead quiet. Eerily calm compared to the shitstorm that happened today.

  As I walk down the corridor that leads to the galería, I stop at the top of the marble staircase. Music is playing. A violin. It’s a slow song, dramatic enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  I take each step down with each chord struck, walking until I’m at the bottom and standing in front of the half-open door.

  The violin stops as I pull the creaking door open. My throat thickens.

  I walk in, heart racing now, steps measured.

  And then I notice. The room . . .

  It’s changed.

  His art supplies, they are nowhere in sight.

  It’s almost like a completely different chamber.

  Darker.

  Troubling.

  In the middle of the room there is a thick, black rail hanging from the tall ceiling. It extends all the way down, several feet from the floor, and I realize it has always been built in there. There is a slot in the ceiling that the railing most likely goes into.

  On each end are leather cuffs with silver chains connecting them to the rails. Built into the floor are chains, similar to the ones in the brown shed, but shinier. Thicker.

  A red light streams down from the ceiling, right on the spot the rails and chains are. They bounce off the marble floor, and near the staircase, where I notice he stands. The light barely shines on him.

  He’s there with a leather paddle gripped in hand. And on the flat of it is the word OBEY.

  My body swims with fear and adrenaline as I take note of his serious glare, the way his jaw ticks, his shoulders hiked with wrath. He looks mean and hard . . . he looks evil.

  I swallow the hard lump in my throat as I stop only a few steps away from the rail and cuffs. I thought surely he would take me to the bed, hate-fuck me, and then be on his way.

  But this? This means business.

  This is serious.

  He is going to teach me, whether I like it or not . . . and I’m ready.

  He doesn’t speak as he walks, purposely avoiding the red light, lurking in the shadows. He comes closer and closer, and soon I can smell his cologne. He’s a step away. I can feel his anger radiating off of his tan skin, burning beneath the shirt that’s unbuttoned at the neckline and chest, revealing his gold crucifix and the broad pecs beneath.

  “You know why you’re here, don’t you?” he asks, standing in front of me, tall, hovering. His voice is gravelly. Deep.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “You made it very clear why I’m here.”

  “Did I?” I can hear the jeer in his voice. “No, Gianna. I don’t think I have. See, I haven’t even gotten started yet with how clear I need to make myself when it comes to you.”

  I let out a ragged, thick breath as he circles me like a lion about to pounce on its prey. Calculating. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike. When he’s behind me, I feel him standing close—so close I can feel his breath on the nape of my neck. He pushes the braid aside, bringing it over my shoulder.

  “What you did, Gianna, is un-fucking-acceptable,” he grumbles, still close. “You would be fucking dead if it wasn’t for your father—if it wasn’t for how much I owe him. But since I can’t kill you out of my respect for him, I will make you pay instead.” He steps around again to face me. “I won’t be gentle with you,” he sneers. “Oh, no.” He squeezes my face tight between his fingers. “I am going to make you cry. I am going to make you scream and beg me for mercy. See, I tried being gentle with you, and you took advantage of it. You got a little freedom from me and turned right around and betrayed me. I told you I wanted to trust you, but that trust is long gone now.

  “So believe me when I say this will hurt, and I will not stop, even when I hear you screaming. Even when I see the tears rolling down this beautiful, angelic face of yours, I will keep going. Even when I see blood, I. Will. Keep.Going.” He finally lets go of my face, and I release a shaky breath. “I will show you just where disobedience lands you.” He points at the rails. “Get over there.”

  I steel my jaw, staring at the cuffs on the ends of it, the chains in the floor. I gaze down at my ruined wrists; the cuts that have healed but are somehow still sensitive. Being tied up again, it terrifies me. And not in the good way.

  “Draco, you should know that I—”

  Before I can finish, he’s gripped me by the braid of my hair and is dragging me to the cuffs and rails. I hiss through my teeth, feeling some of my hair rip at the root as my feet scuffle forward. He jerks away when I’m standing directly beneath the red light.

  His jaw is pulsing now, the paddle gripped harder in hand. He places it down on the table behind him and then returns, grabbing my forearm and drawing it up.

  Wrapping the leather around my wrist tight, he watches me with hard, dark eyes, buckling it in the process. He reaches for the other and does the same, still glaring me down, breathing heavily.

  When he bends down, bringing the cuffs on the floor around my ankles, gooseflesh crawls on my skin. The chains run over my feet, cold like ice, his fingers hot as he buckles each one down.

  And then he rises, steps back, and looks at me from head to toe.

  “You didn’t fight,” he notes, eyes broiling with desire. He’s still pinning me with those wicked eyes of his, taking steady steps back to get to the paddle again.

  “You can’t hurt me, Draco,” I tell him, voice scratchy, almost shaky. Because he can. He can hurt me so much and I can’t do a single thing about it.

  He picks it up with a small smile, gripping the handle of the leather paddle, examining it. “You think so?” he laughs. “I thought you fucking learned, niñita. I thought I’d finally—finally—gotten through to you. I see now that I was so wrong, and that you aren’t ready yet. You aren’t ready for me.” He tips my chin with the edge of the paddle. “If you are with me, this is how it will go. My queen will obey and trust me. She will worship me. She will side with me at all times and she will never fucking betray me. Tonight, I will make it so that you are more than ready, and so that you never pull something that fucking stupid behind my back, ever again.”

  20

  He circles me again with deliberate steps.

  When he’s behind me, I’m afraid of what he’ll do. My heart is still drumming against my ribcage, my wrists already sore. I try and move my feet but I can’t. I’m stuck—completely open and vulnerable to him.

  Sweat builds up on the nape of my neck. As he passes, I feel the breeze there, barely cooling my hot skin. My legs are spread just as wide as my arms. Soon, they’ll be tired.

  He finally stops walking, and I hear rustling. I glance over my shoulder, but he’s in the dark so I can’t tell what he’s doing. I hear steps again. I feel his breath, the heat of his body. He’s right behind me.

  A hand grips my braid and tugs back. Hard. I gasp as my face points up to the ceiling, at the red light beaming down on me.

  “I promised I wouldn’t punish you again. But if you don’t keep your promises, why should I?”

  “I never promised you anything,” I respond, breathless.

  “You promised to be mine. You accepted this life.”

  “Yes, I did. I accepted, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t have a mind or a will of my own.”

  He pulls my braid harder, a low growl scratching at his throat. He then presses his hard body against me, knocking me off balance. Fortunately, with the chains, it only causes me to sway.

  I feel something hard pressing into my back as he pushes in a little more. It’s him. He’s hard for me. He likes seeing me like this.

  “I seriously want to rip you to shreds, little girl,” he snarls, bringing his lips to my ear. “But you know what’s funny?” He drags a hand around and grips my throat tight. I almost can’t breathe. Almost. “We found your armless friend,” he
whispers, voice cold, taunting.

  Horror strikes me. My eyes grow wide, legs shaking now. “Where?”

  “He didn’t get far. And we knew he wouldn’t. He was weak. Hungry. Useless, Gianna. He was garbage, and you sacrificed your freedom for that trash.”

  “Was?” My voice breaks. “He’s dead?”

  When I get no response, I jerk my arms, but it only causes the chains to rattle. He pulls from me, stepping away and bringing back a cold draft. I twist my head to look for him. I can’t find him.

  “Draco!” I shriek. “You killed him!” Anger builds inside me, brewing. I feel it in my core, seeping through my pores. “He was innocent, and you know it! He couldn’t have hurt you! He was only doing his job!”

  SMACK!

  A shrill gasp floods the room after that smack. My ass stings, and I wince, squeezing my eyes shut.

  SMACK!

  SMACK!

  Two more. They sting so much. I ball my fingers into fists, jerking as much as I can, as if it will set me free.

  “STOP!” I scream.

  Another smack.

  And another.

  And one more.

  Each one is harder than the last, all in the same area. I will be bruised. It feels hot there. It hurts. I know it’s probably welted. Bleeding.

  Several seconds later and hands reach around me from behind, untying my robe. It falls open, revealing my naked front and he finally comes around to face me, jaw steeled, nostrils flared, the obedience paddle still in his hand.

  He’s shirtless now. Hard and toned.

  “You don’t call the fucking shots around here, Gianna!” he bellows. “You do not run anything, not even me! At the end of the fucking day, I’m the one they seek approval from, not you. I’m the fucking boss, and they all know it. You know it!” He reaches forward, cupping my breasts, squeezing to the point of pain. “You put me in this fucking position, you know that? I wanted us on the same page. I wanted us to move forward. I wanted to fulfill my promise to your father—make you mine. Make you happy here, however I could. But you fucked it up by setting him free. It doesn’t fucking matter if you believe him; I didn’t! And you ignored that cold hard fact and did what you wanted anyway!”

  He snatches his hand away, bringing the tip of the paddle up to press it down on my pebbled nipple. I cry out a little when the pressure builds, fists clenching again.

  “You’re a fucking monster, Draco! You will never make me happy,” I seethe.

  And for some reason, when I say that, he freezes. Just briefly. His eyebrows draw together and he studies my face. His eyes aren’t as hard as they were only seconds ago. They’ve softened a touch, as if my remark was a blow straight through the heart with the sharpest of daggers.

  He hardens again, though, straightening his back and stomping around me. I hear the paddle fall to the ground and he makes his way to a dark corner, returning with a sharp knife. He steps up behind me, bringing the edge of the blade to my throat.

  “Maybe I am a monster,” he murmurs in my ear, “but you’re the one addicted to them.” The edge of the blade presses into my throat. It’s so sharp, I feel a sting and when something hot spills down to my chest, I realize I’m bleeding. He pulls the blade away, and then I hear a loud rip as he cuts through fabric.

  My robe splits apart and he shoves each piece over so they’re hanging off my arms now. My entire back and front side is exposed. The air hits me hard, and I shiver from both the fear and the chill.

  One of his hands explores my ass, gripping and pawing. He circles each cheek, and I breathe harder when I feel his other hand come around after dropping the knife. He slides it around my thigh and then between, and when his thumb skims my clit, I buckle. The chains rattle, proving I liked that a little too much.

  He groans, still gripping my ass. A finger slides through my slit and then sinks inside me with ease.

  “Monsters like me turn you on, niñita. Monsters like me know exactly what you need to keep you in your place. You want me to treat you dirty? Fine. I will. You can be my filthy little slut in here and the queen that reigns beside me out there. You’ll get what you want. Didn’t I promise that?”

  My core clenches when he cups my pussy, but he pulls away in an instant and the sensation fizzles. I drop my head when I hear him walking again. He opens something and then returns.

  I smell coconuts, sweet and strong. His hands come to my ass again, but this time he spreads my cheeks apart, lubing the puckered hole.

  My asshole.

  He does so almost gently and my breathing grows tattered.

  “Draco, not there,” I plead.

  “Yes. Here.” He doesn’t stop lubing me, making sure it’s wet enough for him to slip right in. I start to yank and twist and he pulls away, grabbing my braid again to keep me still. I feel his warm breath on my damp skin again. He’s so close. Too damn close.

  His belt buckle jingles, there’s rustling, and then something hot and thick lands between the crack of my ass. It slides up and down with ease. He wraps my braid in his hand, tugging my head back and using the other hand to cup my breast.

  His cock keeps sliding up and down, purposely going past the back entrance. Teasing. Provoking.

  “You can’t,” I whisper, my eyes welling up with tears.

  “I believe I can,” he responds, still working up and down, lubing himself up as well.

  The flashbacks hit me.

  Trapped in the gray cellar.

  That big man with the bruised face and broken nose.

  In and out. Dry strokes.

  Screams and cries for help.

  All I needed was help.

  And the blood.

  Surrounded by so much blood.

  I was helpless then, and I’m helpless now. This time I really can’t fight. I’m strapped down. A hostage, all over again.

  “And,” he whispers in my ear, “I refuse to be gentle.”

  After he says that, he thrusts himself inside me. The galería is filled with a sharp gasp and a loud, heavy groan. The thrust is deep. He went right in. And when he’s in, he doesn’t stop. My braid is still wrapped in his hand, my face forced up. He releases a feral sound and his mouth comes down on the bend of my neck, sucking, devouring, as he strokes in and out of me.

  He pumps his hips with strong, full thrusts, still cupping my breast, and then slowly sliding the oily hand around my breasts and down to my pussy, one of his fingers landing on my delicate, aching nub again.

  My tears have fallen. They aren’t tears from distress. They are tears of something else. Something that I can’t describe. This isn’t as painful as the cellar. It’s familiar, but it’s not the same. And it’s like he knows it. Punish me by doing something he knows I will hate, but do it just so that I can’t resist. So that I can’t fight like I tried to do down there.

  Devour me. Take me. Own me.

  His way.

  He fills me up with each pull and drive and my fingers curl, my legs shaking when his finger slowly swirls around my clit.

  “You. Are. Mine. Gianna,” he says in my ear, still going. He releases the braid and uses that hand to clutch my face, his thumb purposely removing the tears. “I own you. You accepted me. And by accepting me, that means you will take me in any way that I see fit.”

  Eyes hot, I feel myself slowly unraveling. He’s still making loops on my nub, swelling me up. I hear myself panting and moaning as he pounds hard enough for me to truly feel him.

  In and out.

  Swirls and loops.

  My body rolls with heated desire, swimming with ecstasy and resentment. My tears come to a halt. I’m on the edge. I’m right there. So close.

  And I shatter. He doesn’t stop torturing me with his fingers or his cock in my ass. He’s still pumping as I cry out my pleasure, causing the chains to rattle repeatedly with the powerful orgasm, and for his groans to grow louder.

  And then I feel weak. So weak. My arms are tired, and I dangle, breathing in and out.

&nbs
p; He stops almost immediately, but I know he’s not done. Bending down, he undoes the chains around my ankles. When he rises, he catches my eyes, and I hold his gaze, despite how hot he looks with sweat glistening on his chest or how hard and thick he is right now between the legs.

  One arm is set free and it drops like dead weight. I catch myself just as he undoes the other arm.

  “Upstairs,” he commands.

  I look up, my feet moving before I can even process his words. I walk up the stairs with him following closely behind me. And then I crawl on the bed, on all fours, peering over my shoulder at him. His eyes spark with lust and he stalks forward, climbing on the bed and gripping the back of my neck.

  He forces my face down into the comforter, grinding his cock between the crack of my ass again. “You like when I treat you like this,” he says. A statement. Hardly a question. “You like it because you don’t think. You just do. You don’t want to think about the terrible shit you’ve done. But guess what, Gianna, there is no denying it. You did it. It happened. And you did it because that’s who you are. Don’t try and blame this on guilt. You’re in denial.”

  He pulls away and climbs off the bed, hustling down the stairs. I hear the water from the sink start up. About a minute later and he’s back. He flips me over and I sigh, spreading my legs for him. He’s cleaned himself up, I notice.

  “Just take me, Draco,” I breathe when he perches himself on his knees. My eyes are still damp with tears.

  His jaw clenches. He grips my hips and picks them up off the bed, balancing my ass on his upper thighs. He slides right in, slowly, deliberately, watching my eyes. My face. Watching me.

  “You need me, reina,” he says, thrusting so slowly, swelling up inside me. My legs wrap around him, my body greedy for more. The power. The ruthlessness. “With me, there is no one to fear. No one but me. You know that.”

  I don’t speak as I look into his hot brown eyes.