Page 15 of Violent Love: Viktor

I don’t know how long it had been since I’d eaten. Hunger had become a dull, empty ache—like everything else.

“Is that how you address your Master?”

“Sorry, Master,” I said automatically, voice flat. Broken.

He picked up a brush.“Turn around. Kneel.”

I obeyed. The bristles dragged gently through my wet hair, down my back. The touch wasn’t painful.

Which meant I didn’t trust it.

“My bitch has such pretty hair,” he said, lifting the heavy strands and letting them fall.“Bark for me.”

I froze.

“B-bark?” I whispered.

His hand closed around my throat.

So I did.

“Woof…woof. Woof.”

He chuckled. His hand slid down to my breast and cupped it.“Again.”

“Woof…” I barked again, voice trembling.

Then pain. Sharp and white-hot. He pinched my nipple hard.

“Argh!” I yelped.

“Bark,” he snapped, twisting harder.

I kept barking—nonsensical, humiliating—until he finally let go. I was sobbing now, my body shaking. He gently rubbed the aching nipple, like he was comforting me.

But it wasn’t comfort. It was cruel.

His other hand joined in. Both palms massaging, tugging, teasing my breasts until—

Until my body backstabbed me.

I could feel my nipples harden under his touch. My skin responded to the warmth, the rhythm.

And he noticed.

Of course he did.

His hands turned rough again, squeezing both breasts brutally. I whimpered, gasped—but he wanted the reaction. Needed it.

“Do you want more?” he asked, voice low and thick with heat.

I hesitated. Just a breath. Just long enough for my heart to skip.

Then I swallowed.

Because there was only one answer.

“Yes, Master,” I whispered—too afraid to lie.