Page 65 of Poisoned Vows

“Come without touching yourself, Lilliana, and I won’t bring this belt down on your pretty little clit. Because when I do—”

“Nikolai,no—” she breathes out the plea, her head twisting around, those huge blue eyes looking at me fearfully. “You can’t—I can’t—”

“You can.” I snap the belt against her thigh again, and I see her back arch and hear her helpless moan. “Come for me,krolik. I know you can do it.”

“Nikolai,please—”

She’s not pleading for more. But that’s all I hear. I bring the belt up in quick succession, three times against her swollen pussy, the wet sound filling the room—and Lillianascreams, her knees buckling as she comes hard.

I drop the belt, the wet leather hitting the floor as I yank open my jeans, my cock barely out before I’m gripping her reddened ass and thrusting myself into her as hard as I can. It’s primal, animalistic, every rational thought in my head gone as I slam every inch of my cock into her, and her scream only fuels the lust pounding through my veins.

She feels so fucking good. Hot and wet and tight, still clenching and fluttering around my cock from her orgasm, and I know I won’t last long. The pleasure is indescribable, the feeling of her gripping me, the way she cries out with every thrust, her mouth open on a plea that ends with my name. I squeeze her ass, feeling the welted flesh under my palms, the memory of my belt striking her curves, the wet sound of it hitting her clit as she came apart—it pushes me over the edge faster than I’d hoped for.

My cock swells and hardens, erupting in her as I thrust into her once more, pounding as hard as I can. I fuck her the way I’ve always wanted to, hard and fast, still fucking her as I shoot spurt after spurt of hot cum into her, seeing it smeared over my cock as I keep fucking her until my erection starts to soften.

I pull out of her, panting, and she whirls towards me before I can catch my breath, as if she’d been waiting for the opportunity.

I don’t even have time to try to grab her before she flings herself at me, nails clawing across my face.

Lilliana

He lost control. I know he did. But so have I.

All of the emotions of the last hour and a half or so—the fear and anger and unwanted arousal, the pain and pleasure all knotted together that I didn’t want—it all comes surging up the moment I feel him slip out of me, and I spin around, flying at him like a furious cat with my claws out as I scratch at his face.

He dodges back, trying to evade my hand, but I don’t stop. I all but yowl at him as I attack, nails raking down his cheek, the other hand slapping at him as I come unraveled. A sound comes out of me as he tries to grab me, an inconsolable scream, and I see blood on his face, on his chest, where I’ve scratched him.

“Fuck you!” I scream. “Fuck you, fuck you! I told you I don’t want this! I don’t want to be your wife. I don’t want to stay. I don’t want any of this—”

The words trail off, tears running down my face as I slap at him again, nails raking down his arm. I’m going for his cock next, and I think he knows that, because he backs away from me quickly, fending me off as he goes for the door.

“I’ll talk to you when you’ve calmed down,” he manages, his hand fumbling for the lock, and I let out a strange, high-pitched laugh, feeling as if all my nerves are frayed at the ends.

“I never want to talk to you again!” I scream, and Nikolai backs up quickly, one hand up to keep fending me off as he opens the door the slightest bit.

I try to bolt. I’ve forgotten I’m naked, sore from the spanking he gave me and the way he fucked me afterward, his cum still dripping down my thighs. I’ve forgotten everything other than my need to get away, and I try to get through the door after him, my fingers nearly getting slammed in it as he yanks it shut, and I hear the sound of the lock behind him.

“We’ll talk later, when you’re calm,” he repeats through the door, and I scream again, slamming my fists into it.

“Fuck you!” I screech, and this time there’s no quip from him, no remark about how he’ll show me what it means to fuck him or anything like that. I hear his footsteps going down the hall, walking away, and I slam my fists into the door again and again, a mirror of the first night I spent in his father’s mansion, as I cry and scream.

I’ve lost all control, and I know it. The punishment snapped something inside of me, and I gasp as the sobs take over, and I collapse to the floor, crying harder than I’ve cried in a long time. I’m trapped. I’ve never felt so trapped, and now I know what Nikolai will do to me if I make him angry. What he can makemedo.

He made me come. Spanked me and whipped me between the legs with a belt, and I came for him. What’s wrong with me?

A small voice says that nothing is wrong. That I have a kink, that’s all. Something that I didn’t know about, because how could I, the way I grew up? I was never introduced to anything likethat. And there’s a countering voice that says that’s all well and good, but it doesn’t matter if it turned me on. The problem isn’t that I enjoyed it. It’s that Nikolaimademe enjoy it.

You held a gun on him. What did you think he was going to do if he got the upper hand? And how did you really think that was going to go?

I don’t know how long I sit there crying for. It’s dark outside by the time I manage to peel myself up off of the floor, and Nikolai hasn’t come back. I don’t know how long he plans on leaving me in here, or if he’s going to bring me food, but I haven’t heard his footsteps.

Slowly, I get up. My entire body aches, my ass raw and sore from the spanking, and I want a shower. I stumble to the adjacent bathroom, turning the water on as hot as I can stand it, and getting in, tears leaking out of my eyes all over again as the spray stings my abraded skin.

I wash every trace of him off of me that I can, until all of me is pink and feels faintly raw. I stay in the shower until the water runs cool, and I try to think of what I’m going to do.

I’d planned to run away. I hadn’t cared about hurting him, hadn’t planned on even shooting him, unless he stopped me. Which, of course, he had, and I still hadn’t managed to shoot him. But the point of it is that I don’t really want tohurtNikolai. I want to get out of here. And my best chance is still while we’re out here at the cabin, instead of back in the city.

Once we’re back in Chicago, I’ll never get away. There’s too much security around him all of the time—and doubtless will be around me too, when he’s not there—a doorman for his penthouse probably, layers of failsafes to get through to keep me from escaping. Out here, it’s just him and I.

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