Page 113 of Villainous Intent

He didn’t stop. The knife slid lower, parting the curls between my thighs. My body went rigid. Every muscle coiled tight, waiting for the cut, waiting for the pain. My mind screamed at me to move, to kick, to fight, but I was paralyzed by the overwhelming force of his will.

The tip was just above my clit.

“Please,” I whimpered but the knife continued down.

I screamed, the sound raw and terrified, expecting the steel to slice into me, but Cipher’s tongue replaced the blade. The shock of it, the switch from the icy threat of steel to the searing heat of his mouth, broke me. My knees gave out, and I would have collapsed to the floor if the chains hadn’t held me up, leaving me dangling and helpless.

Cipher’s tongue was a weapon in itself, lapping at my pussy. He moved up, abandoning my clit to drag his open mouth over me and up to the soft flesh of my waist. A sharp, bright spot of pain exploded as he bit me and I cried out with a moan as the pain only fed the desire.

A thud crashed through the haze of sensation. Then another one, this one sounding heavier.

It took my brain a second to process what I was hearing over the ragged sound of my own breathing. It was the sound of Cipher’s armor hitting the floor.

The heat of his body hit my back as he pressed against me, skin to skin, and the difference in our sizes became brutally apparent. He was massive. His chest was a wall of muscle against my shoulder blades, his thighs bracketing mine, and his cock⁠—

Oh god, his cock.

It was pressed into the small of my back. My breath hitched as his arm banded around my waist, locking me against him.

“You like the knife,” he murmured. “Let’s see how much.”

Something hard and smooth, the handle, I realized with a jolt, traced a line down my side. I shuddered, jumping at the contact of the cool metal against my skin.

He pressed closer and slid the handle down, parting my thighs with his knee to widen my stance. He dragged the cool material through the slickness between my legs, coating it in my arousal before he pressed the blunt end against my entrance.

I gasped and tensed.

“Relax,” he commanded. “Take it.”

I gave a half sob, half moan, shocked as he slid the handle inside my pussy. It was hard and unyielding, but my body clamped around it like it was starving.

He withdrew the handle almost completely, leaving me aching and empty for a split second, before sliding it back in. With every thrust of the knife handle inside me, he ground himself against my lower back. I could feel the wetness there increasing, his precum coating my skin.

“You like being fucked with a weapon, don’t you?” he growled. He twisted the handle inside me, the shape of it catching and dragging in a way that made my toes curl.

I couldn’t answer. I could only whimper, my head falling back against his shoulder as the pleasure spiked. I was drowning in it, in the scent of him and the feeling of being possessed.

Cipher’s free hand pinched my clit between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it and I screamed. My hips jerked back against him as my orgasm crested, a wave ready to crash through my body.

Then he stopped.

He ripped the handle out and released my clit in the exact same moment.

“No!” I shouted, thrashing against the restraints.

I felt the curve of his smile press into the skin of my shoulder right before his teeth sank in. He bit down hard enough to leave a mark, a sharp nip that made me whimper.

“You ran from me, Annie. Did you forget you’re being punished? You don’t get to come tonight until you beg for it properly. I want you sobbing for it.”

He didn’t give me time to argue before the handle was shoved back inside me, while his fingers returned to pinch and twist my clit. He established a brutal, relentless rhythm. He drove me up the steep incline of climax, only to snatch it all away right at the precipice.

Again and again, he ruined my release.

“Fuck you,” I railed at him, screaming as the emptiness swallowed me again. “Damn it, Cipher!”

I was furious, but the safeword remained locked in my throat. I didn’t want a truce. I wanted the punishment. I hated the denial, but the dark, twisted part of my brain thrived on his control. This is exactly what I had wanted when I agreed to be his.

A metallic clatter echoed through the room as he tossed the knife to the floor.