Page 32 of Violent Love: Viktor (The Caged Hearts Pet Play #5)

Natalya

The dream was delicious. His bearded face scraped against my collar, moving down to my breasts—which I pushed up, begging. Always begging for more.

“Master,” I sighed.

He sucked my nipple. Hard.

My eyes flew open, but everything was pitch black—until my vision adjusted to the hint of moonlight cracking through the blinds.

His mouth widened as he licked over one breast before switching to the other. It felt different. Rough, yes—but urgent.

“My sweet fuckpet.”

I smiled at his words, but it vanished the second he resumed torturing me.

“Get on your hands and knees. I want to fuck that pretty pink cunt from behind. Fuck you like the hot little bitch you are,”

he growled.

Oh, he didn’t need to ask me twice.

I twisted around, and he shifted back, giving me room to get into position.

We’d already fucked in the living room and the bedroom before he left. He’d gone to see the Pakhan’s baby and came back like this.

But who knew what went on inside his head?

I’d simply enjoy the ride.

***

Dasha became so attached to me. I was just as bad—begging Master to let her sleep with us—but he insisted he only wanted one pussy in the bedroom. I couldn’t decide if that was sweet or not.

He’d been different since Ania and the Pakhan had their daughter. Then he told me he was Ayla’s godfather.

The man was cold, cruel, and violent—yet he melted at her name.

He still meted out my punishments, and I still encouraged them with my dirty messages, photos, and videos. He took care of every craving, every filthy thing I wanted to try.

He drew the line at the rainbow dildo up his ass.

Actually, he got pretty fierce about the suggestion.

I had to wonder if he liked the idea.

He certainly loved my tongue up there.

I glanced at Dasha rolling around in the litter tray.

“Not like that, Dasha,”

I murmured, digging a little hole and setting her rump on it.

She clung to my hand, then attacked me with her tiny talons of fury.

Litter training was a work in progress.

“Bad girl,”

I scolded gently.

Dasha’s bowls on the floor caught my eye.

My mind drifted to Borki.

I thought of Master’s voice.

Open, he’d said, again and again.

While my stomach growled. While my cunt throbbed.

Food.

Water.

Cock.

Reward.

I hadn’t understood it at first—just obeyed because I didn’t know how not to.

But it was a pattern—a rhythm.

Conditioning dressed as care.

Now I was feeding Dasha the same way.

Small portions. Regular intervals. Gentle correction when she got it wrong.

Keeping her close. Dependent.

She meowed when I left the room.

I used to cry when he left me, too.

Still did, sometimes. She was soft. Helpless. Easy to train.

So was I.

I stared at her little twitching tail as she sniffed the water bowl. My chest tightened with something I couldn’t name.

Had he known this would happen?

Had he given her to me so I’d see it?

So I’d understand what I was?

Or was this just how love looked now?

Maybe obedience wasn’t such a bad thing. Not when it meant someone loved you enough to train you.

I reached down and scratched behind her ear. She leaned into it with a sleepy purr. Just like I curled into Master’s side every night, seeking warmth, comfort—belonging.

We weren’t so different.

Two creatures made to be kept.

Twin souls.

His and his alone.