Page 18 of Violent Love: Viktor (The Caged Hearts Pet Play #5)

Natalya

The shower made me feel clean again, but the grime, grease, and hair down the shower drain. My ears pricked up at his voice. There was a warning in them—I must listen to his command. I shivered thinking about the basement. The cold grey room had become comfortable, but I wanted to be with my Master.

He had a mask in his hand. It looked softer, and the ears were smaller.

“Kneel.”

I moved to my knees.

He stepped behind me. The mask’s leather brushed my cheek. It smelled new. Chemical. Animal. The kind of scent that lingered in collars and leashes.

I froze.

Not from disobedience. From something deeper—fear. A flicker of the girl still trapped inside me.

“Good suka,”

he murmured, then slid it over my face.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

I gasped. My hands twitched, but I didn’t lift them. I didn’t dare. The snout gripped my mouth. The eye mask flattened against my lids, sealing off everything—no light, no shapes. Only pressure.

Then came the laces.

He began tightening them. Slow. Steady. Each pull drew the mask closer to my skull, pressing into the hollows of my eyes and the curve of my jaw. The leather creaked. My breath bounced back at me from inside the muzzle. Hot. Shaky.

Panic climbed my throat.

I whimpered and shifted, chest heaving. There was no room to move. No space to see. Just the hum of blood in my ears and the slow, final tug of the buckle at the base of my neck.

Locked in.

I couldn’t breathe properly. Couldn’t see. My tongue pressed against the inside of the snout, against the zip that caged it. I whimpered again, louder this time.

He didn’t speak. He just slid his arms beneath me—one under my thighs, the other behind my back—and lifted me with ease.

I melted into him.

I didn’t know where we were going until my back met something soft. Something warm. Not the floor. Not the mat. A bed.

He laid me down.

My breathing slowed. Still ragged, but quieter. I stayed still, waiting. Blinded. Plugged. Masked. But warm—and with him.

“What a pretty little bitch I have,”

he mused, and his fingers drifted from my collar downward.

I held my breath.

Then he touched me.

His palms slid over my breasts, slow and heavy, stroking them before curling around the flesh. I panted behind the mask as his grip tightened, fingers digging in. The pressure sent a shiver down my spine.

I arched for him—offering myself, desperate for the pain.

It came.

Sharp. Bright. Enough to make me gasp.

He pinched my nipples hard, rolling them between his fingers before twisting. I cried out, the sound muffled by the leather. My body trembled. And still, I pushed closer.

Craving more.

He let go.

The absence of his touch made my body jolt like a wire snapped. I whimpered behind the zippered mask—barely a sound. My lips parted uselessly, sealed shut, breath warm and trapped. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t beg. Just lay there, blinded and waiting.

Then—heat. His mouth. It closed over my nipple and I arched.

A sharp nip of teeth. A soothing lick. My hands gripped the sheets as my back bowed toward him, offering more, offering everything. I gasped into the leather, writhing under his attention.

His mouth dragged to the other side, sucking, biting, worshipping and punishing all at once. I could feel every movement through the plug buried inside me—every twitch of my thighs set it off. I moaned, silent and desperate.

I turned my masked face toward where I thought he was, aching to show him I wanted more. That I needed him. My cunt throbbed with emptiness, slick already dripping down my thigh.

He stopped again. My whole body went still.

Then his voice. Low. Teasing. Cruel.

“You want more?”

I nodded hard. Once. Twice. My chest rose and fell like I’d been running.

“Prove you can suffer in silence.”

My breath hitched. I swallowed down the urge to whine. I clenched the sheets and held still.

His weight shifted. A warm hand slid down my belly. Slower than before. Torturous. It skimmed between my thighs—just the outer folds. He didn’t press in. He didn’t claim. Just… hovered.

I whimpered again, this one broken, pleading, but he said nothing.

The touch disappeared.

Gone.

He moved off me entirely. The space beside me turned cold.

I lay in darkness, heart pounding, soaked, aching, stuffed full—but empty.

The only thing I could do was wait.

And want.