Page 29 of Violent Love: Viktor (The Caged Hearts Pet Play #5)

Viktor

The krolik was testier than the Pakhan. I’d say fucking crazy, but both of them would kill me. It made me wonder if she’d return to her senses once she had the baby. The thought of a child in the house made me smile. The Pakhan’s son or daughter, no less. I’d be their godfather.

I didn’t know if I could ever be any kind of father.

We’d just gotten back from a meeting when my phone buzzed.

I smiled when Suka’s name popped up.

Tapped her message.

And froze.

The camera was shaky, but there was no mistaking the cucumber sliding in and out of her pussy.

“You’ve just gone white. What is it?”

Abrasha asked.

I paused the video, glancing up from my phone.

“Now you’re going red. What is it? Is there a problem with the terms we negotiated? The Pakhan won’t be happy.”

I ignored him. The video was over a minute long. I hadn’t even made it ten seconds.

“Drop me home first.”

Abrasha could inform the Pakhan about the meeting.

“Oh-ho. It’s like that, is it?”

the clown said.

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.

“I saw from your message,”

I said, my voice as dry as the Sahara. “Did you cum?”

She shook her head again.

Couldn’t.

“Whose pussy is that, Suka?”

I asked, kicking my trousers off.

“Yours, Master.”

“Did I say fuck yourself with a cucumber this morning before I left?”

She shook her head again.

“You said find a purpose.”

She shrugged.

“Yes, I seem to have forgotten what a greedy girl you are,”

I said, pushing my boxers off.

Her eyes were glued to me, and she nibbled her lower lip.

“Did you eat?” I asked.

“The cucumber. But it tasted funny.”

Despite myself, I fought the urge to laugh.

How could I be angry? I was the one who created her habits.

She sucked my cock every single morning like her life depended on it. I’d give her what she wanted.

I dragged her by the ankles, yanking her down the bed like the disobedient little bitch she was. Then I climbed over her, knees planted beside her shoulders, cock heavy and hard above her face.

“Open up, Suka,”

I growled, slapping the tip of my cock against her lips. “Show me how fucking starved you are.”

She opened wide. I didn’t wait. I shoved my cock straight into her mouth, tilted my hips, and planted my hands on the bed. No mercy. I was ready to pound her throat until she cried.

“If you’re so hungry for cock, take it all,”

I snarled, pressing down.

Her throat stretched to take me, the head of my cock locking in place. She gagged, choked—music to my ears. I didn’t let her adjust. I drove my hips forward, rough and fast, until her head bounced off the bed from the force.

“You don’t touch my pussy,”

I growled, my cock slamming into her throat again and again. Her muscles clamped tight around me, trying to catch up with my pace, but I didn’t slow down.

I jackhammered into her, balls smacking her soaked chin. Her throat softened, finally taking every brutal thrust. And when I bottomed out, I ground down into her masked face, rotating my hips, cock buried to the root.

“Fuuuck,”

I groaned, the heat of her throat gripping me like a goddamn vice. “You feel so fucking good.”

She moaned around me, the sound wet and desperate.

Right—she still needed air.

I took my time—fucking her slow, fast, ferocious. Pausing only when the need to cum crept too close. By the time her mask was smeared in spit and filth, I pulled out.

“Since you’ve already seen to your cunt,”

I said, climbing off the bed, “turn around and give me your asshole.”

She was still gasping for air, but obedient. She flipped onto her stomach, arms limp, legs parted.

I grabbed my belt from the floor, folded it in half, and snapped it once—loud and sharp.

SNAP.

She hissed, but didn’t cry out. A red stripe bloomed across her left ass cheek.

I rubbed my mark, watching her flinch beneath my palm.

“I bet your cunt’s dripping like a bitch in heat,”

I murmured, sliding my hand between her thighs.

Didn’t even reach her pussy—her inner thighs were soaked.

What the fuck was I going to do with my filthy little slut?

I raised the belt again.

SNAP.

The belt landed again—harder this time. Right cheek.

She jerked forward with a whimper, her fingers clutching the sheets. But she didn’t move. Didn’t beg. My good girl knew better.

“You want to act like a needy little bitch,”

I growled, raising my arm, “then I’ll treat you like one.”

SNAP. SNAP. SNAP.

Each strike echoed through the room, overlapping with her ragged breathing. Red lines bloomed across her skin like ribbons of shame. Her thighs trembled.

“You touch my pussy without permission again,”

I said, bringing the leather down across both cheeks, “and I’ll leave you plugged and gagged for a fucking week.”

She moaned into the mattress—high, broken, soaked in humiliation.

I crouched behind her, spreading her ass with both hands, admiring my handiwork. Her hole was twitching, tight and untouched. Her cunt was a mess—slick and swollen, proof of how much she loved this.

“Look at this greedy little hole,”

I muttered, pressing a lubed finger to her asshole. “Still hungry, even after you fucked yourself like a desperate whore.”

She shivered when I pushed my finger in.

“You know what’s next.”

I twisted my wrist, opening her up. She keened when I added a second finger.

“You think a cucumber makes you bold?”

I leaned in, lips brushing her spine. “Wait until I stretch you with my cock. You’ll forget your own fucking name.”

I reached for the lube again.

“Count for me,”

I ordered, lifting the belt.

She whimpered, “Yes, Master,”

just as I brought it down again.

SNAP.

“One.”