Page 51 of Executing Malice

“Tell me again how there is nous,” he threatens with words wrapped in steel.

It takes a heartbeat of a second to realize his meaning, but I’m given zero chance to explain when he pulls out his phone.

My mouth opens. I think to apologize. Maybe to explain. But the second his thumb taps the screen, the toy buried deep inside me ignites.

Not slow.

Not enough to ease me in.

It’s on full. It kicks on with a force that seizes my lungs and locks every muscle in my body. My cry is a scream that echoes through the silence. It’s the sound of desperate torture as my hips jerk violently off the floor.

“Say it,” he taunts over my thrashing. “Say you’re mine.”

“Please...” I sob.

The helmet hides his expression, but I can see the sharp rise and fall of his chest. I can hear the shallow pants behind the visor. He’s enjoying the torture. Enjoys watching me beg and come apart.

“I ... I didn’t mean it,” I whine as the hum reverberates off my already swollen clit.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

I can’t even remember what he asked. There is nothing but white noise blaring between my ears as the threat of an orgasm is forced down on me. As it claws closer.

I try to clamp my thighs closed, hoping to shift the tail off my sensitive nerves, but he’s there, knees forcing mine wide so I can’t move. Can’t breathe. The toy screams against my walls and I feel it throughout my entire body.

“Say it,” he growls again, lower this time, with a deadly calm that leaves no room for disobedience. “Say you’re mine or I’ll make you cum until you pass out.”

“I’m ... I’m yours. Yours,” I choke out, tears running down my temples to soak into my hair.

My voice breaks with the first wave. That sharp cusp that has my heels digging into rough carpet. Shame and pleasure coat every inch of me as I stare up into my own face reflected back at me. See the raw pleasure and desperation as he lifts his phone again and nudges something on the screen.

I scream.

I wail as the toy kicks up a whole other level of brutality.

The orgasm tears through me like lightning. The sharp violence is pure punishment as I convulse under him, legs trembling, back bowed. Every nerve fried. The tremors never stop. Neither does the toy or its owner.

“Not enough.”

I almost don’t hear him, but I feel his cruelty when the toy doesn’t stop and I’m caught back up in its torture.

“No...” is all the plea I can manage when the next climax crashes over me without warning.

I don’t even realize it’s happening until my scream catches in my throat. My vision whites out. My legs spasm and my body tries to crawl away, but he won’t let me.

My clit feels bruised. It throbs with an agony that has me weeping.

“Please ... please, it hurts,” I sob, words slurred and broken.

“How do you think I felt when you hurt me, Leila? When you broke me.”

I try to ask, but I’m caught in another wave. It coils inside me and I feel the hot rush of heat pooling beneath my thrashing hips. Feel it slickening my thighs as my body fights the overwhelming assault.

“Please ... please, stop...!”

The orgasm hits before I can finish begging.

Then another.