Page 22 of Exposed (The Wellard Asylum #1)

D arkness comes over the asylum. The light is powered off in Violet’s room, and the surveillance cameras switch to night vision. Every once in a while, another guard, different from the one I had Oliver dispose of earlier, paces past Violet’s room, and her eyes flutter.

Finally, she closes her eyes.

I’m impressed she’s actually able to sleep. There must be relief in being back at the asylum, completely restrained and under my care.

After I pocket a case with two syringes, I head to Violet’s room. I nod at a different guard, and he continues his walk, monitoring the hallway outside of the individual rooms. He was once a patient here too until he was successfully cured and found his place among our ranks.

The Wellard Asylum isn’t up to today’s standards of care, which is one of the many reasons I’ve made my home here. Society puts too much pressure on normalizing civilians; on the other hand, I find with the right push, we can embrace our curiosities and flourish.

And Violet will find her truest self here.

In the hallway outside of her room, her sour scent fills my nostrils; my cock stirs to attention. The restraints must arouse the dumb cunt. I stop at the entrance to her room.

Though the moon is hidden from the window, soft light filters into the room, lighting Violet’s naked form.

Breasts no bigger than a handful. An average body.

Natural black hair at her roots, the rest of her locks dyed blonde, as if she dyed her hair to pretend she wasn’t a part of the family.

To hide who she was. To pretend she was normal.

The thought amuses me.

My boots tap quietly on the floor. Violet’s eyes open, instantly locking on mine. Fear widens her pupils, her breath caught in her throat.

A grin spreads across my lips.

“What?” she panics. “Why are you here? Don’t?—”

I reach through the cage bars and brush her silky cheek with my fingertips; the woman falls silent.

I want to scar every part of her, to permanently mark her so no one in this world can ever question that she’s mine.

At the same time, I want to savor her, to worship every inch of her that reflects our shared blood.

“You’ve had so much stress, sweet one,” I say calmly. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you stopped fighting and embraced your new life?”

She bites her lip, seeming to consider it, but then the poor cunt looks away. Tears bead her eyelids, and after a few moments, those first drops fall. I scoop them up with my finger and lick the salty liquid off of my skin.

I love the taste of her sorrow.

I unlock the top of her cage and open it. “Are you ready for your first lesson?”

I graze my knuckles along her neck and breasts. Heat blooms in my chest, spreading down to my cock. Arousal flushes through my system.

Violet’s body reddens.

“You’re eager to learn, aren’t you?” I ask.

Her chin jerks, a refusal to admit her desires, but we both know her truth.

I remove my clothing. I’m a toned man, and my exterior is patterned with scars from years of experimental sadomasochism.

The shallow knife wound over my heart from when she attempted to stab me in the cemetery has already begun to scab over, forming a purple cap.

I’m tempted to keep digging at it until it forms a scar.

My long cock bobs between my legs, the wound on the tip oozing a light green pus.

Purple, engorged veins loop around my shaft, and tough white patches of callused skin patch the length from scarring and overuse.

I admit, my length is quite different from the typical man’s, but I embrace that part of myself.

I crush my shaft; threads of pain thread through my spine.

Violet gazes at my cock, my abdomen, my neck, my eyes. I climb into the cage, sit on top of her, and pin her shoulders underneath my knees. It must be excruciating to have my weight on top of her; the metal cage must be digging into her skin.

She can refuse me all she wants. Her words don’t mean anything.

I own her.

“Now, imagine I’m your father,” I say. “You can pretend, can’t you, Violet?”

“Are you insane?” she cries. It’s obvious from her tone she knows the truth. She knew it before she even stepped foot on the asylum grounds. She raises her voice: “Fuck you, you fucking?—”

I slap my hand over her mouth. Her eyes widen, her pupils incredibly large. My dick bounces between us, engorged with blood and the need to fuck the life out of her.

“Don’t talk to your father like that,” I warn with a frown. “If you want the ability to talk, then you will speak nicely to me.”

Her eyes fill with water, but her venom swims to the surface too, ready to tear me open.

I welcome it.

Surrender falls onto her frame, and her body sinks into the metal bed. I grind my ass into her lower half. I want her to endure my entire weight.

“Answer my question,” I say in a low voice. “Who am I to you?”

“My father,” she whispers.

“I think you can do better than that.” Her bottom lip trembles. I wink at her. “Try again, my love. Who am I to you?”

Her tongue darts across her bottom lip. “My daddy,” she cries.

Hunger ruptures my self control. I want to taste her need. More importantly, I want her to taste me.

“Good girl,” I murmur.

I spit, letting a glob of saliva drop onto her face. The bubbled liquid trickles over her cheek. I slide my flattened palm over her, smearing my spit. She shudders, her shoulders hunching, then she twists her neck to avoid my saliva.

I grab her chin and force her to open her lips. Her tongue stretches out instinctually, and I laugh. She can’t even deny it: the bitch is ready for my spit.

“You are such a greedy, nasty thing,” I say. I spit directly onto her tongue. She swallows it, her eyes glazed with lust. “Who did you get that from? Certainly not from me. You must have gotten it from your whore mother.”

Rage flashes across her expression. “Fuck?—”

I slap her cheek, stopping those words.

“What did I tell you about speaking to your father that way?” I snarl.

I spit on her tongue and shove her mouth back.

She licks her lips, sucking in my saliva.

I turn around and scoot my ass higher on her form until I’m positioned with my face toward the door and my ass sitting on her drenched face.

Then I rub my asshole back and forth over her like an infected dog wiping its ass on the carpet. Her small nose tickles my opening.

That is a physical feature she got from her mother. My sweet one doesn’t have my distinctive, curved nose.

I let my full weight rest on top of her. The tip of her nose burrows into my asshole, teasing me. She squirms, suffocating underneath me.

“Such a youthful thing. So vibrant. So full of life,” I say.

“I can take that all away from you right now by staying where I am. Suffocating you with my ass.” I squeeze the wound on the head of my cock, then stroke the brittle scars on my length.

Pain and pleasure pulse through me, creating a unique friction.

The bitch wriggles, and I chuckle to myself.

I love having her fighting for her life underneath me.

“I won’t kill you,” I say softly. “Not yet. That’d be too easy for you, my love. ”

I lift my ass. She gasps deeply, sucking in as much oxygen as possible. The desperate little twat.

“Stick out your tongue and lick my ass,” I command. “If you do well, I’ll let you cum.”

“Wait—”

I lower myself again, and this time, the eager cunt knows better.

She sticks out her tongue, her wet flesh flicking across my ridges, stabbing in and out of my ringed muscle.

I groan; the tension dances along my nervous system, every blood vessel expanding with warmth.

I beam as I ride her face. There’s nothing quite like forcing a strong woman to tongue-fuck your filthiest hole.

Come to think of it, there are a few worse things than being forced to tongue-fuck a stink hole, and with every passing day, I’ll force Violet to do more of these horrid things. No doubt, the bitch will love every second of it.

I lift up. A slight moan slashes through her lips.

“Daddy loves using his precious one like this,” I tease. “Does it feel good knowing I finally want you?” I reach behind me and slap her cheek. She grimaces, her lips open, ready for more. I smirk. “You haven’t been of use to me for decades, but now, I can finally use you however I want.”

“Please—” she cries.

I lower my hips again, resting my ass on her face. I bend forward and rub my finger between her pussy lips. Her sopping need drenches my fingertips.

“Ah, such a whiny thing, and yet your body knows it needs this,” I say wistfully. “If your mother was here, what would she think of you like this? A used-up cunt thrusting her tongue into Daddy’s asshole.”

Violet bucks her hips forward, and I laugh hard. The bitch can deny it, but her cunt knows it wants this. I dig my fingers into her pussy, curling them toward her tender spot.

“Such a filthy fuck hole,” I murmur.

But I want more.

I lean down and taste her nasty twat while she’s forced to take my cock in her mouth.

Using the crib sides as leverage, I slam my cock down her throat while I lick her dripping folds.

She gags, choking on my long length, and I groan as her ripe taste coats my tongue.

I suck in every drop. She’s a wanton cunt who needs to be fucked by her father, who gets off on knowing how wrong it is.

And that fulfills me.

“You, my sweet one, are completely and utterly rotten.” My thumb circles her clit. “You’re filthy.”

She gargles on my length. I keep going harder, deeper, punishing her throat, teaching her that I own her, that she never truly owned herself. Her body has no choice. The bitch doesn’t even use her teeth on me.

All it will take is a few lessons from her dearest father, some conditioning in her brain, a few punishments and rewards, and all of her mental resistances will disintegrate too.