Page 29 of Corrupting Camille
“You want to be split open, baby?” I murmur, voice a dark drag across her nerves. “You want this cock stretching that tight little hole? Making you sob into my sheets while I ruin you from the inside out?”
I let my gaze roam down her body like I’m deciding where to start carving her open.
“Beg for it. Tell me how badly you need to be filled. Tell me why you can’t fucking take another second without my cock inside you.”
She stays silent, just for a second. Just long enough to convince herself she has a choice.
Then I feel it, her fingers tightening on my wrist like she’s pleading. Silent. Fragile.
I smile. Slow. Vicious. And I start to pry her grip loose, finger by finger. Watching her shatter as she realizes I’m taking everything away.
Camille
The moment he pulls away, the warmth vanishes, replaced instantly by a bone-deep ache. Cold. Hollow. Painfully empty.
He sits back, fully clothed, utterly composed. Calm. Patient. Watching me, waiting for the exact moment I break.
He told me to beg.
He wants me to humiliate myself. To shatter my pride on the marble floor at his feet.
I swore I’d never become this girl…kneeling, ready to plead just for a taste of him, for one brutal touch from a man who holds my dignity like it’s nothing.
But here I am again.
Skin flushed, lace ruined, trembling with desperation, dripping, throbbing, raw and completely at his mercy. I’m so empty it hurts, the ache twisting and blooming, relentless and cruel.
Exactly the way he wants me.
Exactly the way he left me.
My throat tightens painfully, humiliation burning hot behind my ribs. My eyes sting with unshed tears, not sadness, but anger. Shame. Need so raw it cuts me apart.
Don’t do it.
Don’t you fucking dare, Camille…
But my body refuses to listen to my pride.
Slowly, painfully, I shift toward the edge of the bed, sliding my legs over until my bare feet touch the cold floor. I force myself to move, shaky knees bending until I sink down.
Onto my knees.
His gaze doesn’t flicker. Doesn’t soften. He just stares down at me, watching intently, silently, savoring every second of my defeat.
The silence is deafening. Punishing.
When I finally speak, my voice breaks, soft, fractured, humiliated.
“Please.”
Just a whisper, a single broken word.
He tilts his head, a predator studying his prey, dark eyes glittering with ruthless triumph. “Please what, princesa?”
My lips tremble, words choking painfully in my throat, humiliation scalding my cheeks.
His silence slices deep. Patient, controlled cruelty.
