Page 43 of Cruel God

With slow strides, I approached her, my eyes locked with hers. Spit started to drip down the side of her mouth as she struggled to swallow with the ball gag in her mouth. I ignored it, pretended like I didn’t have the urge to take that damn thing out of her mouth and shove it up my father’s ass.

Drenched in darkness and blackened with sin, I lifted the whip, dragging the leather down the side of her pretty face. “You know what’s about to happen? A simple nod will suffice.”

She nodded, but all I could focus on while staring at her was the faint dusting of freckles she had across her nose. I hadn’t noticed it before because I had never gotten the chance to see her this close without her face being covered in blood as it was the day X had signed his death warrant.

“After tonight, you belong to me.” But, hidden between my hardened words was a promise. “After tonight, I own you.” It was a vow of protection only the two of us understood.

She closed her eyes for a second, and I couldn’t be sure if it were fear or relief.

“Nod if you understand.”

Again, she nodded.

“From here on out, you will refer to me as Master and nothing else, understood?”

Another nod. God, she was perfect.My perfect little pet.

“Remember, boy,” my father uttered from behind me. “You will never own her until you’ve broken her.”

Jesus Christ. Wasn’t she broken enough? She had spent years in this hellhole. There wasn’t any more of her left to ruin. But even though she was compliant and agreed to everything I said, I knew my father wouldn’t be satisfied unless I had the whip mark her body as mine. The evil fucker needed me to sign my name on her flesh with the blood I would draw from her back.

A few leisurely steps and I settled behind her, deciding to take my time to admire her. The perfect arch of her back. The tempting curve of her hips, her ass firm and fucking tempting.

My cock twitched, and I hated that I got hard while staring at her bound and entirely at my mercy.

“Is this what you want?” I asked from behind her. “Nod your head if you want me to mark your body while I claim you as mine for the first time.”

Another nod, but this time it was less convincing—hardly noticeable.

We had barely started, and already the room began to smell like vile lust and sex. Somehow, seeing her like this reminded me of the day my father had me tied to a chair and forced to watch a girl get raped and killed. The day I shit myself because something inside me broke.

I could feel the blood in my veins become toxic, the thump of my heart behind my ribs turning wicked and cold. Anger simmered inside me, rage and guilt starting to boil. I knew if I had to lose myself tonight, the girl whose smile had been my antidote against the darkness for so long would bear the brunt of it.

Lifting the whip, I breathed out before it sliced through the air, the first strike on her back causing the chains to rattle as she arched her back.

“Who is your master?” I cracked the whip, the sound of the second lash on her bare skin causing my ears to ring. “Who owns you?” The third blow fell, and I could feel the darkness consume me as Hope moaned around the ball gag. I could feel the wickedness take control as so many women’s faces flashed before me. All the pain, the agony—blood and torture.

I rushed forward and loosened the gag from her mouth, throwing it to the floor. “Answer me,” I demanded and took a step back.

“You are…master.”

Jesus Christ. Her voice. It was fucking beautiful. So soft, gentle, almost angel-like—and it reached for my wildly beating heart. And hearing her call me master sent a wave of euphoria through my insides—something I had never felt before. I couldn’t describe it. It just felt fucking right.

“That’s right, boy. Strike her until the only word she can utter is master.”

I glared at Victor, and I wished it was him that hung tied in chains so I could whip him relentlessly until I had extracted every last drop of blood from his body.

Another whip, another ruthless display of dominance, followed one after the other. I had counted every lash, committed every cry, every scream to memory, knowing that the sounds that came out of her would haunt me for the rest of my fucking life.

Sweat started to bead at the back of my neck, Hope’s head hanging down. Twelve lashes, that’s how many marks there were on her back with some that had cut through her flesh.

I dropped the whip, breathing rapidly. God, I hated myself. I despised what I had become. I became him. Victor Cain.

Why?

Because while I stared at her limp body, blood dripping down her back, her screams and violent sobs still ringing in my ears…my cock was fucking hard. It ached to be inside her. It throbbed with a need to fuck her. Marking her skin wasn’t enough. I wanted to mark her from the inside by creaming her pussy with my cum—something I had been fantasizing about for so long.

I wanted to slip my dick so deep into her she’d scream with pain and pleasure.

---