Page 21 of Violent Love: Viktor
I was naked. On my knees. Holding his foot like a sacred object. Like it mattered.
I kissed the top of one, then the other. My lips barely brushed his bone.
How long was enough? Would I be punished for doing it wrong?
He rested one foot in my lap.
“Who’s going to put my socks and shoes back on?” he asked, like we were discussing the weather.
I swallowed down bile and slid the sock back over his foot, the fabric tight and warm in my shaking hands. The silence stretched. It was heavy and watchful. I forced myself not to look up.
“Turn around and face the bed,” he said.
His tone was unreadable.
I obeyed slowly, dread thick in my gut.
“On your hands and knees.”
I dropped forward, spine locking tight as my skin prickled. His footsteps moved behind me. Then—
His hands gripped my hips and dragged me backwards. My knees scraped along the floor, but I didn’t make a sound.
I stared at the mattress. Braced.
“Spread your legs.”
I obeyed.
A cold object pressed between my ass cheeks, and I gasped.
“Every dog should have a tail,” he murmured, his voice calm as death.“Fight it all you want. This is going inside your asshole.”
I jerked, glancing over my shoulder.
He held a black silicone tail, sleek and curved.
“No—” I started, but his hand clenched my ass and pushed the tip against my tightly clenched hole.
Pain bloomed as it breached me. I whimpered, fingers curling into the floor.
It slid deeper, stretching me, claiming space inside my body that had never been his to take. When it finally popped into place, I sagged. Shaking.
The worst was over.
Or so I thought.
He tapped the base of the tail, and something flicked. A faint vibration pulsed deep inside me.
My eyes flew to the mirror-polished tile. The tip of the tail was wagging.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
This wasn’t a toy. It was a ritual.
A violation meant to turn me from woman to pet.
To become his property.
