Page 46 of Brutal Vows

Gasping for every breath behind the gag, I arch my head back as shudders tear through me from the inside out—each trembling convulsion exposing my vulnerability to his unwavering, wicked gaze.

“Your loyalty is to me now, Gia.” His tone is both a seductive command and a grave warning, ensuring that I understand the price of betrayal. A keening wail escapes my throat as the riding crop, poised just above my clit, activates again—each sharp jolt sending a crescendo of vibrations through my swollen nub, instilling an almost unbearable mix of pain and erotic delight.

He continues in this relentless cadence—shock after shock, until my body becomes a writhing tapestry of tremors on the floor before him, my mind screaming for mercy even as every fiber of my being craves more. In this dangerous dance of torment and seduction, I remain ensnared by his dominion—a willing sacrifice to a perverse hunger that consumes me entirely.

Twenty-Five

If I wasn’tcertain before that there’s a room reserved for me in hell, I am now. Gia is slumped over, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat from her recent climax. My body is thrumming with desire, my erection straining against the tight confines of my briefs, desperate to be enveloped in her warmth. The air is heavy with her scent, a musky sweetness that stirs the primal instincts within me.

She’s a virgin, yet I’d been unable to resist the pull of her allure and punished her as if she were a practiced temptress. If I don’t get my face between her legs soon, I am going to lose it. I want to lap at her cunt while she moans and begs me to stop and then when she is in the throes of her orgasm, I want to rip through her maidenhood and feel the warmness of her innocence coat my cock.

I place the riding crop gently on the table beside me. My hand reaches for her face, releasing her gag before cradling her cheek with a tenderness that contrasts sharply with the intensity of her punishment. I brush a soft kiss on her forehead, and she responds with a quiet, contented sigh,nuzzling into my palm like a kitten seeking comfort. Kneeling, I reach between her parted legs to unfasten the metal spreader bar that held her open, allowing her freedom of movement once more. My fingers work quickly to untie the ropes at her wrists, and I tenderly massage the skin where the bindings left faint pink marks.

Sliding my hands beneath her arms, I lift her effortlessly, laying her gently on the bed’s cool, crisp sheets. I allow a moment to take her in, memorizing the picture she makes. Searing the image into my brain for another time.

Gripping her knees tightly, I force her thighs apart with deliberate urgency, barely registering the soft, hesitant sound that escapes her lips. My eyes lock on the glistening contours of her pink, wet heat, the slick texture driving me nearly over the edge with raw desire. Aware that every second for her is a plunge into the unknown, I let instinct override any need for gentle guidance.

I hoist her legs over my shoulders, positioning her so that my heated mouth finds its mark on her trembling center. The instant my tongue glides along the moist curves of her inner folds, her body arches and convulses beneath me—a desperate, shuddering cry of my name rippling through the charged air.

Hungry for more, I continue to explore, my tongue dancing skillfully as it teases her sensitive clit. Each flick and swirl sends ripples of frantic pleasure across her body until her fingers curl around the back of my head, a silent, fervent command for more.

“Vitali!” she pleads, her voice thick with need and urgency.

My focus shifts to the pulsing, throbbing nub of her desire. I trace delicate circles with my tongue, then draw itin slowly, savoring the taste while her hands grip my hair, each tug intensifying the exquisite sting along my skin.

“That’s it,piccola cerva,” I coax, in a low, husky murmur as I lap at her with a relentless, rhythmic insistence—one designed to keep her teetering on the brink of maddening pleasure. I want her to be lost in the throes of need, uttering her cravings without a single word.

Her transformation is immediate. Gia’s breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps; her earlier exhaustion evaporates as fervent desire takes over.

“Please,” she begs between spasms, her eyes brimming with unshed tears that shimmer with every desperate plea. I read every subtle sign from the soft tremor in her limbs to the rapid flush of her skin and seize her alluring, inviting curves in a firm, guiding grip, pulling her even closer. In response, her hips rock in a primal rhythm as if pleading silently for more of the irresistible storm I’ve unleashed.

When her thighs begin to tremble, I double down. With a sharp nip on her tender, swollen nub, I spark another surge of overwhelming sensation that sends her spiraling into a fierce new climax.

“Dios mio,” she cries out, her body bucking wildly—the heat of her desire forcing her inner depths to press insistently against my waiting face. I savor every moment, every pulse of her pleasure, until her frantic rhythm slows and finally collapses into an overwhelmed stillness.

Not wanting to give her time to think through what we’ve just done, I swiftly pull down my briefs and climb over her, coaxing her legs wider apart as I strip away the last barrier between us. Without missing a beat, I shift my weight, so the hard, swollen head of my arousal presses insistently against her inviting entrance. I run the tip slowlyover her slick folds, each careful pass coating it with the evidence of her desire.

“Wait—” she starts, her soft protest muffled by the overwhelming moment, but I don’t pause. With deliberate force, I push the wide head of my shaft past the taut ring of muscle guarding her intimacy.

A soft cry escapes her as her body tenses in the effort of accommodating me, stretching to welcome my thick presence. In a low, commanding rasp mingled with tenderness, I murmur, “That’s it,mio moglio. Take my cock.”

Her response is a tentative moan as she shifts her hips, struggling against the intense pressure of being taken so decisively. I continue with slow, measured thrusts, gently but firmly opening her to me, my calloused fingers anchoring her by the waist as if clinging to the only lifeline in a raging storm. The moment the head of my cock brushes her delicate maidenhood, her body stiffens in a mixture of vulnerability and desire, a silent testament to every unspoken need.

“Vital—” she begins, uncertainty lacing her voice, but I ignore it and draw back for just a breath before unleashing the violent thrust that seals our union. In that charged moment, I break through the paper-thin barrier of her resisting flesh with surprising ease, a surge of need and dominance colliding in raw, unfiltered truth.

Gia’s scream pierces the heady tension, her hands frantically pushing at my chest as tears trace hot paths down her skin. I murmur soft, soothing words in Italian, wrapping her trembling body entirely within mine. One arm clasps her waist securely, while my other wanders intimately between us, stroking her sensitive heat and eliciting shudder after shudder of desperate, palpable pleasure as I continue to thrust.

“I’ve got you, Gia. I’m sorry, little deer. It will fade soon. I promise.” My voice is a gentle murmur in the dimly lit room as I brush a stray lock of hair from her damp forehead.

She whimpers again, her fingers clutching the sheets tightly as she struggles to push through the sharp, unfamiliar sensations of her first time. Her head falls back against the sheets, and I seize the opportunity to trail light, tender kisses along the vulnerable column of her throat, feeling the faint pulse beneath her skin.

Twenty-Six

“You’re doing so well,my good girl. So good,” Vitali coaxes, his voice low and husky as he strokes my hair.

“Please, come.” I arch my back, pleading softly, even though the searing sting of his initial force has dulled into a throbbing heat that still lingers. “Please, it’s too much.”

“It’s not too much, Gia. Fuck, you’re tight,” he growls as he drives into me once again, his hands grasping firmly at my hips, pulling me closer so that every movement sends fresh tremors of pain mingled with unexpected pleasure deep inside. “Jesus, you are made for me.”

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