Page 45 of Twisted Obsession
“Ahh…” I muffled the sound against the comforter, burying my face in the cool fabric. A euphoric mixture of sensations erupted within me, a cataclysmic surge that resonated through my body, its echo vibrating in my ears, a symphony of pleasure and pain.
“Always so ready for me.” The room echoed with his husky whisper.
The bite of his leather belt licked my flesh three more times, each strike a brutal kiss, each kiss a symphony of pain and pleasure. I screamed into the mattress, the sound muffled against the cool cotton as my body writhed beneath his. Agony bloomed across my skin, yet something else stirred within me—a dark, desperate heat that turned me into a trembling, crying mess. I was a contradiction, a pathetic creature who wanted this torment to end yet found myself shamelessly pressing against his hand, seeking relief from the insistent ache within.
Dmitri’s fingers, slick with my own desire, delved into me once more. I felt myself coming undone, crumbling like a ruined temple beneath his touch. My inner walls clenched around him, and I sobbed with relief when he thrust his fingers deeper, granting me the friction I’d craved since the first lash of his belt.
His voice was a low, resonant growl in my ear, “Disobedient whores don’t get to come.” His lips pressed against my shoulder, a tender kiss that belied the cruelty of his words.
Abruptly, he withdrew his fingers, leaving me empty and aching. With a swift, powerful motion, he flipped me onto my back. The soft comforter beneath me felt like sandpaper against my raw flesh, and I winced, but my pain went unnoticed as he used the strings from my swimsuit to bind my wrists to the headboard. The thin fibers dug into my skin, a harsh contrast to the cool, smooth bedding beneath my fingers.
“I have been patient with you, Lara,” he murmured, his voice a velvet threat. “But defying me will only result in breaking that stubbornness out of you. Eventually, you will learn to obey me.”
His words should have meant nothing, but they sliced through me, tensing my muscles into taut, rigid lines. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block him out, but he was everywhere, his presence inescapable. His fingers danced over my slick folds, tracing my most intimate places before plunging into me once more.
“Your body is burning for punishment,” he rasped.
I shook my head violently, denying his words, but the protest died on my lips as he brushed my hair aside and claimed my mouth. With my eyes closed, his kiss consumed me—his breath, his scent, that dangerous mix of woods and cashmere that filled my senses and left me reeling.
He spread my legs wide, securing them to the footboard with the remaining strings from my swimsuit. The rope bit into my ankles, holding me open and vulnerable. He settled betweenmy thighs, his massive frame a prowling beast, all corded muscle and brutal strength. I felt small beneath him, like he could snap me in two with a mere flex of his hips.
Every shift and movement against my skin created an intense, burning friction, a sensation that was both unbearable and yet tinged with an unwelcome pleasure that coursed from the stinging welts across my skin straight to the core of my desire.
I held my breath, watching as Dmitri lowered his pants with deliberate slowness, releasing his impressive cock. When it was only partially erect, it was already a sight to behold, but now, fully hardened, it stood proud and intimidating, its surface alive with pulsing, angry veins. A shiver of fear mingled with anticipation coursed through me.
Dmitri’s grip was firm and unyielding as he clasped his engorged cock, his hand moving with a roughness that suggested a deep, simmering anger—whether directed at himself or at me was unclear.
A glistening bead of pre-cum slid languidly down his shaft, and I found myself unable to tear my gaze away, my teeth biting into my lip as my heart thudded in my chest, my thighs instinctively clenching in response.
He had truly broken me. At this moment, all my thoughts were consumed by the overwhelming desire to feel him deep inside me, despite the tumult of emotions swirling within.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Lara?” His voice was low and commanding, laced with a dark, unrestrained lust that seemed inseparable from the shadowy depths of his nature. For Dmitri,pleasure and pain were intricately entwined, one unable to exist without the other.
I was not like him; I was a simple woman with simpler desires. Yet, despite the protests in my mind, I didn’t shake my head. I should have told him to leave me alone, to never touch me again, to release me from this hold he had over me.
Still, I remained ensnared by the sight of him, the way his muscles flexed and his tattoos rippled with each motion of his hand, the way his eyes glinted and shifted from a stormy gray to something darker, more primal.
I longed to understand the effect I had on him. Did my punishment bring him closer to caring for me, or did it deepen his hatred?
“Do you want me to ram my cock into that tight cunt of yours until you scream?”
I averted my gaze, certain that he could discern the embarrassment flaming across my cheeks, painting them a hot, revealing crimson.
“You are going to let me fuck you raw like a good whore,” he growled, his voice a low, primal rumble. “You are my wife, and you will bear my child.”
A scream lodged in my throat, trapped behind gritted teeth. This was beyond fucked up. Yet, beneath my mortification, a dark desire stirred. I found myself silently imploring this man, this beast who had striped my ass with his belt, to take me. My body ached with a need so intense it was painful.
Dmitri’s large, calloused hands gripped my hips possessively, his knee forcing my legs apart. I felt the hot,smooth head of his cock nudging at my entrance, a promise—or a threat—of what was to come.
A sharp gasp escaped me as he dragged his length along my folds, pressing against my clit in a burst of sensation before retreating, then returning.
Down. Rub. Down. Up. Each movement was a torturous tease, a spark to the kindling of my desire.
“Dmitri.”
“What,kukolka?” he murmured, his voice a low, husky drawl.
“Please,” I begged, my voice barely a whisper.
