Page 11 of Violent Love: Viktor (The Caged Hearts Pet Play #5)

Viktor

She was exquisite—every whimper, every tremble, every clench. I wasn’t done with her mind or her body. Not even close.

The more I rubbed her slick pussy, the deeper I fucked her ass, her tight virgin hole hugging every inch of me like it was made to be broken.

“Yes, that’s it. Give me this tight little virgin ass,”

I crooned, thrusting hard enough to jolt her forward.

She cried out—a choked, panicked sob that twisted into a moan the moment I shoved two fingers into her dripping cunt. A perfect contradiction. Her body loved my cock in her asshole. I could tell with every twitch and gasp.

The old me would’ve been satisfied with taking her from behind, using her until I got my fill. But this wasn’t about release. Not anymore. I needed to see it. I needed her to know it was me—Viktor—fucking her into ownership.

I wanted to look her in the eye while I ruined her.

She clenched tighter around me as I picked up the pace, fingers working her cunt as my cock claimed her ass. Her moans wavered—confused and broken—but I didn’t give her time to think. I gave her sensation. Overload. Submission.

When my balls finally slapped her ass, I knew she’d taken everything.

I released her throat and slowly pulled out, watching her stretched, abused hole quiver before snapping closed again.

“Get on your back,”

I ordered.

She rolled over, hair tangled over her breasts, her eyes glassy and dull. I brushed her hair aside and pushed her legs up until she held them open, obedient now, broken in the way that mattered.

I ignored her soaked pussy and slid back into her ass. Her muscles gave way easier this time. I grinned.

Rubbing her clit, I delivered a light slap that made her hiss.

Her gaze drifted to my chest—to the tattoo: the skeletal figure of death parting my ribs with black wings and a decapitated head in its grip. She blinked, dazed, but I saw the recognition spark in her eyes.

Excellent. Let her see who owned her.

I shoved three fingers into her pussy, watching her eyes widen. She began to mumble, barely coherent, but I caught the word please again and again—music to my ears.

I fucked her slowly, shallow thrusts in her ass while my fingers curled deep inside her cunt, feeling her clench and squirm.

First time or not, she was adapting beautifully.

As soon as I felt her begin to open for me—wet, stretched, wanting—I pulled my fingers from her pussy and shoved them into her mouth. Her lips parted in shock.

“Taste how much you love my cock in your ass,”

I whispered with a cold smile.

She sucked them—hesitant at first, then steady—tongue curling over the slickness. She kept her eyes on mine. Not a flinch. Not from the scars, not from the sin.

When I slammed into her, a choked scream burst from her throat.

I pulled my fingers free and slapped my palm over her mouth.

Then reached for the remote.

The shock collar’s control felt solid in my hand, its weight humming with promise. I pinned one of her legs down, locking her body beneath mine, and fucked her with deep, brutal thrusts. Flesh slapped against flesh. My sweat dripped onto her chest.

“Yes, like that, Suka. Take me in your ass. Feel how I fuck you wide open.”

Her cries turned to sobs, to moans, then back again. And when the pleasure hit her—when she came hard, her ass clenching like a vice around me—I pressed the button.

Her entire body jolted. Her eyes rolled back. And still—still—she came again.

I growled, hips pistoning, body surging with power as I fucked her through the aftershocks. Her nails dug into my shoulders, her body twitching under me. She wrapped her arms around my back like she needed the contact, needed me.

So I gave her all of me.

“Yes,”

I panted, feral, lost in her. “Take your Master’s cum in your ass.”

I pulled back just enough to see her fucked-out expression—dazed and blank—and drove into her one last time as I came with a roar, shooting thick, hot ropes deep into her guts. Her abused hole milked me greedily.

My serpent tattoo brushed her cheek as I leaned over her, still pumping the last drops inside.

She didn’t flinch.

She stared into my eyes, like she was trying to understand me. Or claim something back. But she wouldn’t. Not now. Not ever.

“I take it you like your new collar?”

I asked, smug.

“Yes, Master.”

Her voice was thin. Her lips tight. But no wasn’t in her vocabulary anymore—and we both knew it.

“That was the lowest setting,”

I murmured, settling over her.

She went still. Her eyes flicked to my chest, lingering on my scars, but there was no revulsion there—just quiet, watchful curiosity.

I didn’t like it.

“I’ll book you in with the doctor,”

I said, smirking when her throat bobbed. The fear returned. Perfect.

I looked down at her pale, bruised breasts, her nipples peaked and begging. I bent down, sucking one into my mouth, grazing it with my teeth. Her moans grew hungry. Her body started to move with mine.

I kept going. Kept teasing. Switching pain and pleasure until her nipples were swollen, glistening, and flushed with red.

When I pulled back, her cheeks were pink, her chest heaving.

“You’re my pet now, Suka. Don’t forget that.”

I pulled out of her, cum and lube dripping down her thighs and onto the sheets. I grabbed her tail plug and shoved it back into her gaping asshole.

A reminder.

For both of us.

Of what she was now.

***

I pulled the latex dog mask from the bag and held it above her head like a crown. Except this wasn’t a coronation. It was the final desecration—a grotesque parody of identity.

Day by day. Piece by piece. I was unmaking her until nothing human remained.

She didn’t flinch when I slipped it on, the silicone snout forming over her mouth and nose, stealing her breath and name in one smooth motion. Her pale green eyes blinked from the holes, wide and uncertain, but it didn’t matter.

The mask was part of her now.

I adjusted the ears, touched the glossy snout, and admired how it completely erased her.

Click.

I clipped the leash to her collar.

“Are you ready to see the doctor now?”

I asked, keeping my voice light. I’d explained the rules already—no talking. No standing. No hesitation.

She barked. A muffled, pathetic sound through the rubber muzzle as she dropped to all fours without prompting.

My cock stirred. Her tail gave a hopeful little wag.

“Good girl,”

I whispered, tightening the leash until her head tilted up.

Then I opened the door.

Let them see.

Let them all see.

She wasn’t mine in name. She was mine in form. In function.

A thing.

A pet.

Exactly as she was meant to be.

And now it was time for her first walk.