Page 75 of Deviant

She glares at me for a second then drops her gaze, staring at the bubbles and I wait, expecting more fight back, more words, more bullshit.

When I realise there won’t be any more, I turn, grabbing a washcloth from the side and I slowly start rubbing at her skin. She gasps, shudders, physically recoils before it dawns on her that like everything I’ve done so far, she cannot escape this.

As I move between her thighs, she lets out a whimper of fear. I know she must be sore there. The medics had to spend more than an hour fixing the damage to her anus because she tore right through. It’s another reason why we’ve kept her sedated this past week. Better she wake half-healed than I have to deal with her tears along with everything else.

With one hand, I grab her injured leg and hoist it over the edge. It’s undignified, it’s wanton, the way she’s splayed open for me and she flushes with shame.

“Don’t.” I chastise as she moves to cover herself with her hand. I don’t know why she even bothers. I’ve seen every inch of her, tasted every part of her. There is no part of her body I don’t know.

She grits her teeth turning her face away, and she stares at the marble floor like she’s disassociating again.

And that pisses me off more.

I didn’t like that she played that card last week, I hated how she could just withdraw when it was meant to be a teaching moment. But now, with me, she thinks I’ll just let it slide? Did she learn nothing from her branding?

I rub the cloth, moving it down her pussy in a deliberate manner that has nothing to do with cleanliness.

“No,” she whispers so quietly I wonder if I’ve imagined it.

So I do it again, only this time I drag it back up, spreading her lips wider before I start circling on her clit. Oh, I know she hates it, I know in her head she’s fighting, but her hips are rising just enough, and the way she’s biting her lip tells me it’s working. I’ve trained her so well. And after all the pain she’s endured, she’s desperate for any bit of pleasure no matter where it comes from.

Her cunt wants more, her cunt is begging for it.

But doing this, forcing her so soon, doesn’t exactly fit with the new plan.

Just as she lets out what could be a whimper of need, I move on, I focus on her lower legs, on her feet. Her left leg might be out of action, but I knead my thumbs into the soles of her right foot. Again, she lays there, sullen and silent, but I can tell that she likes it. I can tell that she’s enjoying it.

Stubborn bitch just won’t admit it.

I’ll admit I was pleased that she didn’t come for them, that despite their best efforts, she didn’t perform. No, my pet performs for me and me alone.

After a few more minutes of taunting her into making some noise, I toss the cloth and pick up a jug. Her hair is still more whispers than a full head, but I pour the water over her anyway and then grab a small portion of shampoo.

She shuts her eyes, clenching her fists under the water, as though she doesn’t want me to see, and she tolerates my manhandling in more stubborn silence.

When I pull the plug, she looks relieved, as if I’d simply towel her down and be done with it. Only, I force her to stand on her good leg and then I perch her on the bath ledge while I rub some scented oil into her skin.

She hisses as I do it and I realise it’s probably making all those cuts on her skin hurt like hell. Well, tough fucking luck for that, after all, she’s the one who decided to jump out of a window.

When I reach the white plaster stuck on her chest, I pause. We both know what’s beneath it. We both know she’ll carry my family’s chest on her skin as a marker until the day she dies.

With a little teasing, I tear the plaster off. Beneath the skin is blistered, bright red, and angry still.

The instant the air hits her flesh, eyes dart to the mirror, to her reflection, and I see them widen in shock and pain as she sees what I’ve done.

I can feel her trembling, I feel how close she is to tears and yet her jaw tightens, and she doesn’t give me any further reaction.

“It’s an honour.” I state. “To bear my family’s seal like that.”

Oh, I know I’m goading her but how can I resist? She looks so magnificent right now, such a perfect, obedient pet. The complete opposite of what she was in Oblivion.

She refuses to take the bait. She simply drops her gaze, staring at the white marble beneath our feet. So I scoop her up, carry her back, and I return her once more to my bed.

Once I’ve stripped off, I clamber in beside her. Her body tenses, her breath stills, but there’s no other show of emotion. My little pet lays there, playing docile, but I know her mind is racing at a million miles an hour.

I doubt she’ll sleep much. I doubt she’ll dare too. Me, however, I know I’ll have the best night yet.

With a quick flick of the switch, I pitch us into darkness. And as I pull her body into mine, I set the scene for how our nights willbe from now on. That even in sleep, my body will still lay claim to hers.

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