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He captures one of her nipples with his mouth, suckling and biting gently, making her whimper. She digs her nails into his back, urging him on as he peels away her shorts and panties, leaving her fully exposed to his gaze. The sunlight streaming through the windows casts a golden halo around her, making her look like a goddess laid out for his worship.

He kisses a trail down her body, each touch sending shivers of pleasure through her core. When he reaches her pussy, he lingers, his breath hot and tickling. She can feel his smile against her as he takes in her scent. With a swift motion, he spreads her legs wider and dives in, his tongue lapping at her clit with a hunger that sends shockwaves through her body.

Her eyes roll back as he devours her, each stroke of his tongue sending her closer to the edge. Her hands find the edge of the table, as she tries to hold on to something, anything, as the world spirals away from her. She's lost in sensation, the only reality the feel of his mouth on her, the pressure building unbearably.

Ivy's hips begin to buck, her body seeking relief from the delicious torment. Vice chuckles darkly, the vibration resonating through her core. He knows exactly what he's doing to her, the power he holds in this moment. His fingers slip inside her, curling in a way that makes her moan his name.

He kisses her inner thighs, working his way back up to her pussy. He sucks her clit hard sending her over the edge. Shemoans out loudly as she throws her head back and her back arches. The anticipation is exquisite, her skin slick with sweat. His eyes meet hers, a silent question in his gaze. Ivy nods, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please," she whispers, the word barely audible.

Vice doesn't need any further encouragement. He pushes into her, the sensation of her tight, wet heat enveloping him driving him wild. He fucks her hard and fast, their bodies slapping together in a primal rhythm. The table groans beneath them, a testament to the intensity of their coupling.

"Oh, Vice," Ivy screams, her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy. She feels another orgasm building, the pleasure coiling tightly in her belly before exploding outwards in a wave of pure sensation. Her muscles clench around him.

His growl deepens, his movements growing more feral as he watches her come apart under his touch. His eyes gleam with satisfaction, his fingers digging into the wood of the table so hard it groans in protest. He's lost in the feel of her, the way she wraps around him, the way she gasps and moans his name.

He's never felt so alive, so in control, so utterly consumed by desire. Each thrust is a claim, a declaration of his dominance over her, over the very air they breathe. Her nails rake down his back, leaving trails of fire in their wake. It's a sweet agony that fuels his passion, driving him deeper, harder.

Ivy's eyes fly open, the pleasure so intense she can't help but look at him. Her pupils are blown wide with ecstasy, and for a moment, he sees something in her gaze that makes him pause. It's a spark of something more, a connection that goes beyond the physical. It's a vulnerability that he's never seen before, and it hits him like a punch to the gut.

Vice's rhythm falters, his mind racing as he tries to understand what he's feeling. But the need is too strong, the hunger too deep. He can't stop now. He slams into her, his teeth gritted as he watches her face contort with pleasure. Her body tightens around him, her legs locking around his waist as she cries out again.

Their climax is explosive, a symphony of passion that shakes the very foundation of the castle. The world around them seems to fall away, leaving only the two of them tangled together, bodies slick with sweat and desire. For a moment, he's no villain, she's not a prisoner, just two people caught in the throes of an all-consuming need.

But reality crashes back in, and with it, the stark reminder of their situation. Vice pulls out, his breathing heavy, and looks down at Ivy, sprawled on the table, her chest rising and falling with each gasp. He feels a twinge of something unfamiliar, something that scares him more than any battle or betrayal ever has.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks, his voice gruff, trying to reassert the power dynamic between them. "To be my whore?"

Ivy's eyes flash with a sadness in her gaze that he can't miss. "Is that all you think I am?" she says, her voice trembling slightly. She slides off the table, her legs wobbly from the intense orgasm.

Vice's eyes narrow, the question echoing in his mind. "What else could you be?" he challenges, his tone a mix of anger and confusion. He grabs his pants, tugging them up with a rough jerk.

Ivy slowly dresses, her eyes downcast. She doesn't speak. She pulls her shirt and shorts back on with trembling hands. She tries to hold back tears. The silence between them is palpable, thick with unspoken truths and the aftermath of their passionate encounter.

Vice watches her, his thoughts racing. He's used to controlling every aspect of his life, his empire, his desires. But with Ivy, he feels a loss of control that both thrills and terrifies him. He can't deny the connection that's grown between them, but he won't let it weaken his resolve.

"You know what you are," he says finally, his voice harsher than he intends. "You're my prisoner, my entertainment. Nothing more."

The words hang in the air like a sword, slicing through the tender moment they've just shared. Ivy's hands stills, and she looks up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of pain and anger. "Is that really all you want from me?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vice's jaw tightens, his eyes cold and unyielding. "You know the deal," he says, his voice harsh. "Don't pretend this is something it isn't."

A single tear trails down her cheek, a silent rebuttal to his callous words. He watches it fall, feeling something twist in his chest that he can't quite identify. It's not pity or guilt; those emotions are as foreign to him as the concept of mercy. No, it's something deeper, something that makes him want to reach out and wipe the tear away, to hold her and tell her that she's more than just a pawn in his game. But he can't. He won't.

Vice watched her closely, his expression inscrutable as he studied her troubled demeanor. “You looked troubled last night,” he said, his tone low and commanding. “Care to share what you're nightmare was about?”

Ivy crossed her arms defensively, glancing away. “It’s nothing,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Stepping forward, Vice leaned in, his dark smile forming like a predator closing in on its prey. “Oh, but I think you do. Secrets make you weak, Ivy. You’ll tell me.”

“No. Just leave me alone,” she shook her head, frustration mingling with fear.

His smile widened, a chilling gleam in his eyes. “You’re in no position to refuse. Tell me, or I can make you're time here a lot more… uncomfortable.”

Ivy sighed, feeling the weight of his gaze pressing down on her. “Fine. But don’t think you’ve won anything,” she muttered, reluctant to give in.

Leaning in closer, Vice's intrigue was palpable, his interest piqued. “Go on.”

Ivy’s voice trembled, the words struggling to escape. “It wasn’t a nightmare. It was a memory…” She paused, gathering her thoughts with effort. “From as early as I can remember, my mother used to lock me in the attic.”