Page 65 of Violent Love: Viktor

I checked the timestamp.

If I was lucky, I’d catch her in the act.

That dirty little ass was mine.

I resumed the video.

???

I unlocked the door carefully. All that sensory deprivation had backfired—she had excellent hearing now. I hated seeing her anxious. Even after ten days at home, she still woke from nightmares. She was still adjusting—pushing back in the only way she knew how.

But this?

This was blatant fucking insubordination.

She sat on the kitchen floor, legs tucked under her, nibbling the end of the cucumber like a rodent beside her fucking dog bowl.

My cock twitched.

She blinked up at me, lips glossy, not a trace of shame on her masked face.

“Oh,” she said, holding up the cucumber like it was a peace offering.“I got hungry.”

“Go upstairs,” I said, proud of how calm my voice sounded.

“Yes, Master.” Her tone was soft and sultry.

I watched her crawl away, tail high and proud, her bare pussy glistening from the cucumber she’d just violated herself with. She took it with her.

I followed, shrugging out of my jacket and tossing it on the bannister before working on the buttons of my shirt.

We reached the bedroom.

“Lie on the bed.”

“Woof.”

I unbuckled my belt and left it on the bed.

She placed the cucumber on the nightstand and climbed on. My fingers paused at my waistband as I took a moment to look at her. The mask she wore was soft leather—her favourite. The gold in her collar glinted in the afternoon sun.

She didn’t lie straight. No. Her body was in a perfect X-shape.

Open.

Complete surrender.

Unashamed.

A proud pet.

This was her purpose. Her safe space. What I created.

“Did you have a nice day, pet?” I asked, unbuttoning my trousers.

She shook her head.

“I missed you, Master,” she whispered.