Page 27 of Twisted Obsession
My vision blurred with tears, the room swimming before me. Knowing I had no choice but to obey, I parted my lips, my body trembling with fear and humiliation.
“Wider,” he demanded, his grip on my hair tightening, sending a sharp pain shooting through my scalp.
Afraid, I gasped, my breath hitching in my throat.
He thrust in, his shaft pushing my tongue down as he slid into my mouth, the intrusion foreign and invasive. My nails dug into his upper thigh, desperately trying to pull my head back, but his grip was unyielding.
He tightened his grasp on my hair, forcing my head forward, pushing my mouth down on his thick length. The musky scent of his skin filled my nostrils, making me gag. “Have you ever had a cock down your throat,kukolka?”
I shook my head back and forth as the tears cascaded down the side of my cheeks.
His cock pushed at the back of my throat, causing me to choke, spit dribbling out of the corners of my mouth.
He thrust his hips again, harder, again and again, each time pushing deeper and deeper. My throat burned, and my jaw ached from the brutal assault.
“Open your throat. Stop resisting me,” he growled, his voice a harsh command.
The vise around my throat finally gave way. In that moment, Dmitri thrust forward, his length sliding down my throat like a sword into its sheath.
“That’s mykukolka, take it deep,” he growled, his voice a dark rumble like distant thunder.
A perverse sense of pride welled up within me, a twisted response to his grim praise. It churned in my stomach, a sickening sensation that was equal parts revulsion and satisfaction.
His hand, broad and powerful, cradled the back of my head, pushing me forward. I clawed at his pants, my nails digging into the dense fabric, desperate to break free. But it was no use. Inch by agonizing inch, his massive cock slid deeper, cutting off my air supply.
My lips stretched taut around his thick girth, straining to accommodate him as I fought for breath. The tip of my nose brushed against his muscled abdomen, the crisp hairs tickling my skin.
My throat burned like a wildfire, raw and aching.
He held me there, suspended in torment, for what felt like an eternity. Tears carved trails down my cheeks, and I screamed, but all that escaped was a pitiful whimper, a mere shadow of my desperation.
His hand left my head, only to snatch up my own and wrap it around my throat. I could feel the ridge of his shaft through the delicate skin, a harsh intrusion that didn’t seem physically possible.
When he finally pulled out, bright stars exploded behind my eyelids. I leaned my head forward, resting it against his crotch as I choked and gasped for air, my lungs burning for relief.
“Please. No more,” I begged, my voice a broken whisper, a shred of sound clawing its way out of my ravaged throat.
His hand tangled in my hair, gripping tightly as he lifted my head until my watery eyes met his steely gaze.
Chapter Fourteen
Lara
He rose, looming over me, and for a fleeting moment, I dared to hope he would release me from his grasp. With one hand still entwined in my hair like a serpent and the other clasping my arm in a vise-like grip, he hauled me to my feet and bent me over the expansive dining table, flipping me onto my stomach like a ragdoll. The cool, polished wood pressed against my cheek as he roughly lifted the hem of my dress, the sound of tearing fabric echoing through the room as he ripped away my delicate lace panties. I lay there, face down and exposed, my ass bare to the cold air, as he forcefully spread my legs apart.
“I’m not even close to being finished,” he growled, his voice a dark, velvety promise laced with menace, sending a shiver down my spine.
Seizing the moment, I attempted to escape, my fingers clawing at the table as I crawled away from him like a wounded animal.
His hand wrapped around my ankle like a shackle, pulling me back toward him with a harsh tug. A sharp, stinging pain radiated through me as he delivered several punishing blows to my ass, the sound of his hand meeting my flesh echoing through the room like a gunshot.
He flipped me over onto my back, the cold wood of the table a brief, merciful respite for my heated skin. Dmitri spread my legs once again, his eyes burning into me.
Despite his earlier intimacies, I felt a wave of humiliation and exposure under his intense, unyielding gaze.
He reached into his pocket, retrieving a small, gleaming knife. With a flick of his wrist, he slid the blade down the front of my dress, the fabric parting like butter under a hot knife, leaving me even more exposed. Not satisfied, he repeated the motion with my lace bra, the cool air kissing my now naked flesh.
He placed his broad, flat palm on my bare stomach, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “I wanted to do this properly on our wedding night, but apparently, you need to be reminded of who owns you.”
