Page 80 of Terror Tuesday

When she shatters beneath me once more, whimpering from overstimulation, my restraint snaps. Her body slumps from utter exhaustion, but I hold her up by her hair so she’ll look at me. As her eyes roll back into her head, I sneak a glance outside. It’s nearing daybreak now. Sun rising steadily.

“You’ve earned a reward, my Monarch,” I rasp roughly, yanking her trembling, spent body up higher toward the head of the bed. Her wrists remain bound, her wide, glassy eyes dazed as I angle her face exactly how I want it.

“My cock in your throat.” Pinching her cheeks together, I force her tongue out and command. “Open.”

She parts her swollen lips obediently, saliva already coating her chin. I unleash a string of spit inside. Before she can even swallow, I sit up and shove my cock in deep, forcing her head against the headboard with every punishing thrust. The quivering of her throat as she gags makes my spine tingle. Fuck, it’s amazing, her reluctance. Her obedience. Her servitude. My fingers twist in her long, dark hair, giving it a tug until she can look at me.

“Who controls your breathing?”

She murmurs around my girth.

“That’s right. And who do you belong to?”

Her eyes lock onto mine—half terrified, half worshipful—as I use her mouth exactly how I want. Exactly how she needs.

Exactly how she fears she deserves.

“Me.” Shoving in again, I hold myself until she panics and writhes against the belt before I draw back and allow her another breath. I do it again. And again. And again.

“Hopefully, I’ve bruised you badly enough, you’ll remember for days whose cock is the only one you suck.”

My balls clench with the need for release. Despite the pleasure of the sensation, I’m not looking at this as a way to get off. No.

This is her punishment.

“You’re going to swallow all of me,” I warn, feeling the brutal wave of my eruption building. “Every last drop, like the perfect, filthy whore you are.”

She nods as more tears of humiliation fall across her face.

With a hushed grunt, I shove toward her gag reflex and spurt everything I have inside her, leaving her no choice but to swallow it all. My spit. My cum. My soul.

Slowly, I pull out, savoring the wet, ruined mess I’ve made of her beautiful, used lips. She gasps for breath, coughing and sputtering, the evidence of my claim glistening down her chin.Strands of her rich brown locks cover her face. This time, I leave them.

I prefer her like this. She’s disheveled and broken, but utterlymine.

The distance collapses as her chin lifts beneath my touch. Close enough to taste the hesitation in her shaky breaths. Her eyes, glassy and rimmed red, can’t quite meet my face. Her expression is filled with exhaustion, and something deeper. Something she hates herself for feeling.

“Consider yourself blessed, my Monarch,” I whisper, tone a brutal contrast to my thumb tracing her lower lip, smearing my cum and her spit across her bruised skin. “Not every god takes the time to discipline his disobedient followers personally.”

Standing, I swiftly tuck myself away, adjusting my mask back into place. She writhes pathetically against the restraints, humiliation radiating from every exhausted muscle.

“You’ll stay here exactly like this—naked, dripping, and exposed,” I command. “Because this is exactly what you deserve. When someone finally comes to find you like this? I want you to recall the taste of my cum. Feel me bruising your throat. Understand whose cock it was you begged for.” I pause, smirking beneath the mask. “And remember the price you pay for letting anyone else touch what’s mine.”

“No, please don’t leave me here for them?—”

“They need to see what a slut you are for me.”

Her lips wobble, fresh tears streaking down her reddened face as she twists her wrists against the belt. But I’m already backing toward her balcony doors, the first rays of dawn glinting off the shattered glass around my boots.

“But next time, Olivia?” I promise, turning to leave, “I won’t be so merciful.”

twenty-two

It’s notthe soreness in my body that wakes me up sobbing for the tenth time in a week and a half.

Though, yeah. My wrists still ache from being tied to the headboard.

I miss my friend.