Page 42 of Cunning Lies
Finally, I let go. This time, she cracks, the sobs wailing through her. I’m not going to kill her right now, but she doesn’t know that. And yet, I love the tears. I love seeing her panic. It’s such a pure, physical response. I circle her, facing her once again.
“Last time I’m going to ask. You give me this answer, and we’re done,” I say quietly, soothing her cries. “Why did you lie?”
“For my family,” she says in a bittersweet tone.
That’s enough of an answer for now. I hold on to it.
“Good girl,” I say.
I pull her hips forward on the chair and turn off the vibrator. I finger-fuck her with one hand and massage her throat with the other like I’m getting her supple and ready to take my dick. The tears stream down as she lets go, convulsing and groaning like a madwoman, and I’m barely able to keep myself straight. I need to make her come; otherwise, neither of us will be able to do anything.
Another finger. Another. Three digits in and I’m curling against that sweet spot, forcing my fingers against her until she gushes like a waterfall, soaking the chair and me in that warm liquid.
It smells like pussy. Like sweat and sugar. I suck it in, satisfaction rolling through me. Then I cut the ropes. Vi stays seated, gawking down at me, her eyes half-closed, full of exhaustion and lust. My eyes gravitate to the indentations in her skin, red and sore from struggling against the rope. I rub them, working out the bruises.
I’m not supposed to take care of her like this. Not after we’ve played this game. I want her to know, without a doubt, who’s in control. Even if I have to literally strangle the truth out of her,she will obey me.
I stop massaging her. I stand and peer down at her.
“Clean up your mess, slut,” I say.
She blinks a few times, but finally, she uses the sleeve of her shirt to soak up the juices. But that’s not what I meant, and she knows it. I grab the back of her hair and wrench her down to the seat.
“Lick it up,” I growl. She doesn’t hesitate. She licks it up, and again, I’m jealous of her. I want that come in my mouth. I want to taste her. All of her. But I have to establish our power dynamic. She needs to know that it willalwayscome back to me. Her tongue and face smear across the mirrored surface, sloppy and wet, her harsh breaths fogging against her reflection, and she moans while tasting herself. Strain leaves my muscles, and I’m lightheaded with lust. My filthy little slut likes cleaning up after herself.
“Hurry up, cunt,” I demand. A primal urge, filled with anger, bubbles under my skin as my slutty girl licks up her filthy mess.
I don’t like this. This feeling. Thisdesire.This lack of control. My dick is so hard, I can barely keep myself contained around her.
She stands and blinks at me. A shiny clear liquid dampens her lips and cheeks, and she absently wipes it with the back of her hand. My chest stiffens. She was supposed to be someone to marry. A person to go to charity events with. To help me create the image of normalcy for the Samurai Corporation. Someone to entertain me until I was bored with her.
But she’s more than that. She’s my wife.
I grip the crown of her skull, my fingers entwined in her hair, and she melts into me. I kiss her, the sweetly tangy taste of her come coats her mouth like a drug, and desire swells inside of me. This isn’t enough. I needmore.
I got what I wanted: she’s lying for her family. I refuse to hold back now.
I pick her up by the hips, forcing her to straddle me, and I lay her down on the mirrored ground. I push up that skirt again and crawl down, sucking on her pussy lips. She’s slippery and tastes tangy and sweet and so fucking delectable that for a few seconds, I don’t care if it feels good. This meal is for me alone. I lick her like a beast ready to devour his prey.
“Kenzo, please,” she whimpers, “I can’t do it again. I can’t—”
But she pulls my head in closer, grinding on my face. She’s already so close. My greedy little fuck slut. That sweetness runs along my tongue as I explore her folds—every crevice, every sensitive piece of flesh. I lay on one of my hands, fisting my cock and humping the mirrors. I lift my head, locking eyes with her briefly. Her blue eyes are glossy, drowning in desire.
“Look up at the mirror, baby,” I say. “Watch as I devour your sweet little pussy.”
I suck on that bundle of nerves, swirling my tongue around it and she moans, arching her back, thrusting her cunt into my face, giving it to me. I hump my fist, growling into her pussy, and those vibrations send shivers across her skin. She moans and lifts up, pulling my free hand, until it’s closer to her neck. My little slut wants me to choke her as I eat her pussy?
It makes me burn. Burn with rage. Like a fucking wild fire. I don’t care if coming makes me more attached to her. Iwantto comewithher. I breathe cold air on her skin. She wriggles like a worm, and I want those words. I want to hear her admit to being a filthy little slut.
“What do you want, baby?” I ask.
“I—”
She’s red and embarrassed and I know what this is. She can’t say it. It’s too much to admit that she likes being held at the brink of death.
And I want her too much right now to force it out of her. I give her my words instead.
“You want me to choke you while I tongue fuck your pussy, baby?” I ask. “A good girl like you is supposed to hate something like this. A born-again virgin sold off to the big bad wolf. But let me tell you something,wife.” I sit up and fold the white rope in half, then hitch one end through it, making a ring. I slide the rope around her neck, and when I pull, it grips her like a leash. I yank her down as far as I can.
