Page 122 of Risks of Temptation
I explode in her mouth. She doesn't flinch and sucks me until I'm dry. When it's over, I pull her up by the armpits.
I've wanted to kiss her all night. I want to tell her how proud of her I am for doing this fucked-up shit and excelling at it. I crave to get her alone and out of this room.
She glances at my lips, but it's too soon. I haven't broken her yet. Until she breaks and begs me until she's hoarse, I can't give her anything. And I need her to hate me again, or she's going to give in too soon.
I see ma belle. She knows I'm here. The situation required me to make sure she understood we are more durable than the evil in this room, and my love for her is unwavering. But now I must destroy her.
My stomach twists. I move her away from the President and to the wall. The restraints are already in place. I place her wrists and ankles in the cuffs. There are spikes on the insides. My stomach pitches some more, and I swallow down bile.
She will go to the whorehouse then be auctioned off if I do not do this.
He will own her and ruin her beyond repair.
I widen the bars above her head and at her feet. "Stop," she cries out.
No. Don't object, ma belle.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath as the room chants, "More."
"You don't order me around," I seethe in her face. I break my promise to her that if she ever told me to stop, I would. I click both bars one inch wider, and she wails. She's on her tiptoes, barely able to stand. And I see every piece of her trust for me shatter.
My heart pounds so fast, pain shoots through it. I slip my fingers under her collar, taking up any remaining room. "I am your Master. Say it."
She defiantly glares at me with tears in her eyes.
Good girl.It's too early for her to succumb.
I reach for my shirt and remove it then lean into her ear, kissing her neck, pushing my pulsing flesh against hers, inhaling her peaches and coconut scent.
I'm hard again. I shouldn't be from this. But I've never been able to resist the temptation of her skin on mine.
The devil is in me as well.
As much as I've tried to fight him, I've let him in. Restraining her against this wall, past the limit she's comfortable being stretched with spikes digging into her limbs is against everything I stand for. But showing any mercy before I break her will not be tolerated by the Global Leaders.
I shouldn't disrupt her hatred toward me. But I murmur in her ear while fisting her hair. "You must not object out loud again, ma belle. Every time you do, I will have to widen these bars. Don't do it. I don't want to hurt you any more than I have to."
She sniffles and her hot tears hit my cheek. "I hate who you've become," she adamantly whispers. "I will never submit to you or call you what you wish."
It's my strong ma belle. It gives me pride and rips my soul to hear her say it.
"You will beg me and desire everything I can give you," I say louder so the others hear.
She closes her eyes and shakes her head.
New music comes on. The tune isn't fast or slow. A woman with a lower octave voice sings about pain and tears, drowning fears. There's something sadistic and sensual about it.
The stage becomes crowded. I don't look at any of the acts taking place behind me. But ma belle sees everything. Their cries and grunts compete with the cracks of whips and hands hitting bare skin.
I wince inside at what is going to happen.
My lips and fingers travel all over her body. I avoid her mouth at all costs until she's sweating, whimpering, and trembling. I murmur in her ear, "Call me your Master."
She sticks her chin out. Her voice comes out, raspy. "No."
"Call me it, and I'll let you orgasm," I say, rubbing her clit.
"No."
