Page 45 of Bloody Valentine

“Don’t,” I demanded, ready to turn around and go back to the chapel.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t imagine what you went through. The Divine are truly monsters to do that to their own king. I…I just…”

I walked over to her, pushing back my feelings of unease the closer I got to that damn board. My breath hitched, and I pushed Vivian to lean against what had brought me an overabundance of pain.

I took her mouth in mine, demanding that she feel pleasure in this hell. If only for tonight…I could give her this. I could offer her solace and safety.

I could allow peace for…myself.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what was hanging on the back of the rock wall. It was the scourge. The damn thing sat abandoned in the metal hook all these years.

With shaking hands, I broke apart from the kiss, leaving her breathless. I swallowed hard and forced myself to pick it up. It felt heavy in my hands, and I gripped the damn leather so tightly I could feel the burn as it cut into my palms.

Vivian eyed me cautiously as I approached her with the long, wispy weapon.

“Bend over, Little Virgin.”

She blinked and scoffed at me.

However, I spun her around quickly and bent her over the wood. Throwing her dress over her back, I lashed her ass in a loud crack that echoed on the walls before she could scream at me.

One time.

I needed this.

I needed to remember her cries instead of my own. Unlike the yardstick, I immediately kissed and licked the welt mark I had made. Her body froze under my tongue, and I leaned up to do it again.

Crack.

Another lashing across Vivian’s ass, and again, I massaged the mark and licked the swollen red area. My cock was hard as stone, but I ignored it.

It wasn’t about me.

It was about her.

The Valentines endured the punishments of their bloodline.

I moaned and slipped my fingers down over her slit, feeling the wetness there. She was enjoying this. For the first time, she wasn’t fighting me.

“Such a good girl taking your punishment, Little Virgin. I love it when you behave for me.”

She mewled and arched her back like a cat in heat. The urge to fuck her right here and now was challenging to ignore. Instead, I let the whip slash into her skin.

“Count,” I demanded, hitting her a little harder than the last.

She panted and tried to catch her breath. “Five.”

“Yes. That’s my good girl. My fucking Valentine. Keep going.”

Again the leather cracked down onto her ass, and she cried out a number.

This happened over and over until she was drenched for me, her little pussy glistening in the dim light of the lanterns around us. I pulled her up, needing that visual confirmation, while wrapping her wrists in the long black strings of leather.

She spoke to me with her gaze. Lust and desire walloped me as she bit her lip.

Growling with need, I picked her up using my foot to open the pillory.

I sat her down carefully, her legs resting in the notches my arms were in so long ago. I smiled at her beauty and tilted her body toward my pelvis. My pants were down in seconds, and I slammed into her cunt.

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