Page 73 of Darkest Oblivion
“No!” I gasped, voice breaking, cheeks burning under the unforgiving chandelier light. My rolls, my stretch marks, every curve I had loathed—exposed and scrutinized.
“How long do you think you can hide from me?” His voice was soft now, dripping with possessive menace. “All of you—your flaws, your insecurities, every part of you—they belong to me. You are... my wife. Mine. And nothing will ever change that.”
He leaned down, lips grazing my navel, “This tummy...” His kiss was reverent. “It’s perfect. I could worship it all day.”
He traced the length of my stomach with careful lips, mapping every roll as if memorizing them. “Stop hiding, Penelope. Every inch of you belongs to me.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks, chest heaving with a mixture of shame and an ache I hated myself for.
His cruel gentleness, the way he adored what I despised in myself—it was torture. “You’re a monster,” I whispered, voice trembling.
Dmitri’s smirk cut deep. “Stop doubting yourself, milaya,” he said, mockery laced with earnest obsession. “You want this. I can see it, even when you think you hide it.”
I turned my head, fury burning, confused by the strange tenderness amid his punishment.
His face lowered again, breath fanning my core, sending shivers I couldn’t control. “So clean,” he murmured, obsession thick in his voice. “Your scent... it drives me insane.”
Then his lips found my clit, grazing it with agonizing slowness.
I bit down hard, muffling a moan, but the pleasure was relentless, building with every flick of his tongue.
He sucked harder, his teeth grazing the edges, driving me to the edge of madness.
“Dmitri!” I screamed, his name slipping out before I could stop it, my voice echoing in the room.
I didn’t care if Giovanni was nearby, if the walls themselves heard me. The intensity was too much, my body trembling.
His tongue slid inside me, exploring every inch with a hunger that felt like starvation.
My hips bucked involuntarily, the cuffs biting into my skin as pleasure coiled tighter, a pressure so intense it felt like I might shatter.
“Stop!” I cried, panic spiking as the sensation overwhelmed me. “I’ll... I’ll pee!” My voice broke, tears streaming as I fought to hold back, my body convulsing.
Dmitri chuckled against my core, the vibration sending another wave of heat through me. “Pee on me, milaya,” he taunted, his voice dark and teasing. “Let go.”
“No!” I sobbed, my hands instinctively reaching for his head, fingers tangling in his dark hair, urging him on even as I begged him to stop.
My body betrayed me, shuddering as the pressure broke, a wave of release crashing over me.
I gasped, my vision blurring, shame and pleasure tangling as I came undone, my body convulsing under his relentless touch.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured, his tongue lapping at me, licking every drop as if it were ambrosia. “It’s not pee, milaya. It’s your come, and it tastes as sweet as you.”
He kept going, drawing out every shudder until I was spent, gasping, my body trembling in the aftermath.
When he finally lifted his head, his lips glistened with my release, his devilish smile mocking my shame. “Want to taste how you feel on me?” he asked, his voice dripping with cruelty.
“No,” I spat, my voice weak but defiant. “Unleash me and go.”
“Is that what you want?” he asked, standing tall, his alpha presence towering despite the stitches straining at his side. “I could fuck you right now, milaya. You’d be my first, and I’d be yours. My cock aches for you.” His words were raw, almost pleading, but Dmitri didn’t beg—he commanded.
Yet there was a flicker in his eyes, a question, as if he wanted my consent despite his dominance.
“You’ve done enough,” I said, my shame easing but my defiance holding strong. “You got what you wanted.”
He smirked, “What? I haven’t done anything but make your secret fantasy come true, Penelope. You’ve always wanted this—wanted me.”
“No,” I lied, my voice trembling, but the truth burned in my chest. Before he’d become this monster, I’d dreamed of moments like this—his touch, his worship—but not like this, not bound and broken, not with my body laid bare and judged. “I didn’t want this.”
