Page 13 of Violent Love: Viktor (The Caged Hearts Pet Play #5)

Viktor

The Pakhan was keeping Ania busy while I made my escape. The SUV was packed and ready. All that was left was my Suka’s crawl of shame.

My brothers were gathering outside. Andryúsha, Sergei, Pyotr, Abrasha, and Boris were the loudest, one filthy slur after another. Each one tried to outdo the rest.

I grinned as I passed, my strides growing longer. The outbuilding waited. So did she.

I opened the door. Still in her mask. Still wearing her shock collar. She slid off the bed and crawled to me without a word.

Her naked tits swayed with each movement. Tail in the air.

Obedient, yet ashamed, but all mine.

I clipped her leash and tugged. She kept her head down as we moved through the hall. At the front door, she lifted it, trying to look.

I didn’t stop.

We walked across the grass—no knee pads yet, no paws. She hissed through her teeth but kept crawling. The cheers started. Her head dropped again as we approached the SUV.

“Oi! Look at that fuckin’ tail wag!”

“Bet she’s dripping on the grass!”

“That’s his bitch now!”

“Take a bow, sweetheart! You’re the Bratva’s favourite bitch!”

Laughter cracked through the air like gunfire. Someone barked. Another snapped his belt like a leash. Her humiliation thickened the mood.

I paused. Turned her toward them. Gripped her masked face and forced it up.

“Let’s see that bitch’s tits!”

someone shouted.

“You heard him, Suka. My brothers want to see your tits,”

I said into her ear.

She raised herself up. Knelt on the grass. Laughter and whistles broke out as phones came up.

Andryúsha met my eyes with a slow grin and shook his head. Didn’t need to say a word. He was calling me a sick fuck in his head.

I let them have their fun as I opened the trunk. Everything I did served a purpose. One more strike to crush her spirit.

When I glanced at Natalya, I saw my brothers had given her a wide berth. Not for her sake—for mine.

No one would touch her.

I gave the leash a tug.

“Sorry, showtime’s over,”

I said as she lifted her head. “Climb in.”

Of course, they all lingered. Eager to watch her naked ass and freshly shaved slit disappear inside.

***

The house wasn’t far from the city—just enough distance to breathe. No appointments. No missions. No, watching my boss and his wife suck face every two minutes.

Tchaikovsky played low. My fingers tapped the wheel.

Closer to the property, closer to the edge. Anticipation began to seep through.

I wanted to ruin her body, mind, and soul. Break her open. Rebuild her from the marrow out. Make her mine in every filthy way.

But not dead inside.

Not hollow.

I’d seen that look too many times.

In the uprising. When Yuri’s men died screaming. When I slit throats, snapped spines, carved names into skin.

Their eyes always went flat in the end.

Not hers.

My little bitch would live.

***

Once I parked in the garage, I unloaded the SUV. Food supplies. Clothing. Toiletries. The rest—pretty outfits and torture instruments for my new bitch.

I checked the basement room. It was stocked with the basics. The metal door had two hatches: one at head height, the other low enough to slide food through.

I left her in the boot until I was ready.

When I hit the button, the hatch lifted slow. She was curled up on the grey carpet, her limbs tucked tight.Her head lifted—cautious.

I took the leash.

“Out,” I barked.

Through the black mask, her eyes widened. But she obeyed.

Crawled out and dropped beside my leg, naked and on all fours.

I led her through the garage, into the house, and down the corridor until we reached the basement stairs.

“You may walk.”

No hesitation.

I kept hold of the leash as she descended.

Her tail swayed with each step, and I fought the urge to yank it—

Remembering how incredible her tight little hole had felt wrapped around my cock. It would be a long wait for me, but it would be worth it.

At the bottom, I tugged her toward the correct door.

Her home until she was broken in.