Page 34 of Penance

Waist height, just like I like her.

“It’s beautiful,” Mercy whispers, her voice small.

She looks around the room, and I can see the tears glittering in her eyes.

I can see the happiness.

I need more.

I need her to feel something deeper.

“Yes,” I agree, though I’m looking at her, not the kitchen. “Beautiful and useful.”

When she realizes that I’m watching her, she catches my eyes and quickly looks away, her cheeks staining red with blood.

“A beautiful castle, fit for a princess,” I say, leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on her lips. She pushes in to me, hard, and I can feel the heat behind her lips, behind her desperation.

Is it because she’s happy or because she’s horny?

Maybe something else.

“Now,” I say, and a hand finds her shoulder, firmly pushing her back until she lays across the counter. “Panties off.”

She looks shocked, staring up at me with wide-open eyes, but she doesn’t wince or deny me. Instead, she spreads her perfect legs and reaches down, pulling up the silk and hooking her thumbs around the red lace beneath.

I barely see a moment of hesitation in her.

She’s desperate for me.

“Look at that,” I chuckle. “What a good girl.”

“Draco,” she says, her voice a husky rasp and her breath growing deeper, faster. “What are we—”

I silence her with a look, drinking in the way she immediately falls quiet, trained perfectly, just like I’d planned it.

She knows what I’m going to do, and she still doesn’t pull away. She does exactly what I ask her, but does she do it because she’s an eager little dog, or because she’ll do anything for me?

I guess we’ll find out.

The lace straps pull down her thighs and catch at her knees, and I’m already getting hard by the time I see her step out of each side, careful not to catch the delicate fabric with the rough heel of the pumps I picked out for her.

I step between her legs, forcing them to apart, fingers digging into the soft meat of her thighs as a rough pull drags her forward, until her ass teeters on the edge of the counter.

I reach down and grab her panties, catching her eyes as I place them to my nose and suck down a deep inhale.

I hear her breath catch when my tongue darts out and swipes across the wet patch she’s left behind for me.

I roll them into a ball and stuff them in my pocket.

“Hands up,” I tell her, gathering my tie in one hand, and then her supple wrists in the other. I bring them together and hold them there, wrapping the tie around once, and then twice, tight enough that maybe it will jog her memory, but not tight enough to hurt.

I want her to remember the night that drove her into my arms.

I want to remember the first night I fucked her while looking into her eyes.

I want the thought in her head and the tension in her muscles.

I tie them in a soft ribbon and then kiss each and every one of her fingers before leaning over her and pinning her hands above her head.

She should remember that.

She doesn’t look scared, and I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting that.

She looks a little unsure, but that’s as deep as that rabbit hole goes.

I can’t decide if I like that or not.

My other hand finds the top button of her dress, popping it open, and letting my fingertip play across the top of her perfect tits—tits that will soon be swollen with milk and feeding my child.

Another button slips free under my fingers. The scarlet bra looks like a puddle of fresh blood across her chest.

Beautiful.

I lean forward, pressing my lips to the side of her throat.

I can feel muscles tense, and sinew pull tight, showing me that even as bad as she wants this, her faith has been driven deep, and she still thinks it’s wrong.

I can feel her jugular pulse against my mouth, the blood flowing like a river just under the surface of her skin.

My tongue traces the line of her windpipe, tasting salt and fear.

My teeth scrape gently—just enough to make her gasp—and she arches up to me despite her fear.

My hands move to the remaining buttons of her dress, working methodically down the front, until she’s exposed for me. I slide my body down hers, pressing my lips to exposed skin, tasting her, marking her.

Reaching up, I grab one cup of the bra and pull it away, and her nipples are already hard and swollen for me. I pull one into my mouth and suck, swirling my tongue around it, gently at first, and then with a sharp bite to remind her who she belongs to.

I allow my free hand to slide lower, over the silk, down to where her thighs meet. She’s wet—not that I expected anything else. She’s dripping for me. Maybe I’ll hire someone specifically to wipe her cum off this counter when I’m done with her.

“Remember what I told you earlier,” I whisper. “You’re not allowed to cum without me.”

“Mhmm.”

“And what does that mean?”

She swallows, hard, and I feel it click in her throat.

“I-I don’t—”

“If you touch yourself?” I say, pushing past her folds and drilling my fingers into her throbbing pussy. “I will know, and I’ll have to punish you.”

“P-punish me… h-how?”

I chuckle, and I make sure it’s deep and dark, and I curl my fingers against her spot while I do it.

“Oh, that’s a surprise,” I tell her, pushing harder. She squirms. “But it doesn’t matter, because you’re gonna be a good little girl and do what you’re told, aren’t you?”

She whimpers, biting her lip, and I watch in real time as her eyes roll.

“How do you want me to fuck you?”

The whine that slips from her lips isn’t an answer, but I let her have it, for now at least. I trail my lips down her neck again, following the line of her collarbone, then lower still.

I capture her nipple again and she arches towards me, so hard I worry that she might hurt her spine.

When she’s squirming, and I can feel her pussy fluttering around my fingers, I pull away with a pop.

“Come on Mercy,” I growl, pulling my fingers out slowly, and then adding a third when I push them back in. “How do you want me to fuck you?”

The sight of her like this—half-dressed, disheveled, trembling—ignites something primal in me. I want to fucking make her bleed. I want to bite her until she screams.

“Draco,” she gasps. “We shouldn’t—”

“But we are,” I interrupt, pressing harder, rolling my palm against her clit. “Now tell me what you want me to do to you or I’m gonna make you walk back home with my cum allover your pretty face.”

Her head falls back, eyes closing as conflict plays like a movie across her face.

“I-I want you t-to…” she pauses, swallows again, and I watch as she closes her eyes before she speaks again.

Out of sight, out of mind maybe?

“To what, Mercy?”

“Use your… mouth?”

“You want me to lick your little pussy? Hmm?”

She nods, maybe a little harder than she meant to.

“Say it.”

She whimpers, shaking her head.

“Come on, Mercy.”

My hand becomes a death grip on her thighs and she groans.

“I w-want you to…” She stops again, breathing hard. “Lick my pussy, Draco.”

I drop to my knees and bury my face between her thighs before she can even react. She arches against me, grinding her beautiful cunt on my mouth, and I find her clit and latch onto it, sucking hard enough to make her whine and buck.

Good.

I want it to hurt.

I want her in pain when she cums for me.

Her muffled screams fill the kitchen, bouncing off the bare walls and high ceiling. It’s like music to me. It’s like we are cleansing our new home from its previous evil with the intentions laid out by her screams.

“Mine,” I growl against her, feeling her body clench around me. I fuck her with my fingers, watching her pussy throb and clench, and the rivers of her desire that run down the back of my hand. There will be a puddle on the floor by the time I’m done with her.

Her legs wrap around my neck, drawing me deeper, her body betraying her even as she gets closer and closer.

The heels of her shoes dig into the webbing between my shoulders and neck, and it’s painful, but it’s got my dick leaking in my boxers.

I feel her muscles tensing, breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

I swipe her with my tongue again, softly, and then rip my fingers out of her.

“Not yet,” I tell her. “Not until I say you can.”

A sob escapes her, and I can hear the frustration.

She sounds so angry.

Have I ever heard Mercy truly angry before?

“Please,” she begs. “Draco, please! Please, please, please.”

The irony of her begging for her own corruption feeds something dark within me.

I dive back in, finding her clit and working it with my tongue softly, and then harder, and I can feel her desire running down my chin and dripping onto the floor.

My fingers find her entrance and slide inside again, and I work them against the spot that’s so easy for me to find.

She gasps, and I hear her skull rap against the countertop when she tosses her head back. Her fingers find the edge and grip hard, and I watch as her knuckles fade to white, and her hands shake.

I increase my pace again, driving into her hard, faster, until she’s shaking. My free hand finds her throat, applying just enough pressure to restrict her breathing—another layer of control, another sign of dominance.

I pull away from her, but increase the movement of my fingers, pushing hard just behind her pelvic bone.

“Now,” I growl. “Cum for me now, Mercy.”

Her body obeys instantly, contracting around me as she cries out, the sound raw and primal.

I capture it with my mouth, consuming her pleasure as if it’s my last drink as a man lost in the desert.

She soaks my mouth and chin, her cum dripping down onto the front of my suit and down onto the perfectly waxed tile.

Stunning.

I stand and pull her up, wrapping her around my waist, and Mercy collapses against me, trembling with aftershocks. I hold her against me, feeling her heart racing, her breathing ragged.

“Look at that,” I soothe her, running my fingers through her hair. “But I’m not done with you yet.