Page 54 of Lord of Pain
"Tell me what you're feeling."
"Every… every nerve in my body is on fire. My skin is like a completely different organism, every part of it is excruciatingly aware of the feel of those claws."
"Beg me to come, sweet Violet." I can see the lethal gleam of those steel tips, circling the most sensitive, vulnerable bit of me.
"Please," I gasp, "please let me come!"
That claw circles my clit one more time and very lightly taps the hood and a shriek rips out of my mouth as I come brutally fast. Violent, surging streaks of pleasure tear through me, I feel it everywhere, sweeping over my skin. He pinches my clit between two knuckles and twists it, dragging out my orgasm long past my ability to take it.
The first thing I can feel other than my pussy is a trickle of blood from my breast. I'm wet, my thighs are so soaked that is hard to know, but I'm praying it's come and not blood between my legs. I don't care, though. Nothing matters more than this feeling.
"No blood." Roman kisses me as I blink up at him lazily. "I only draw blood from you when permission is given." With a flick of his fingers, the claws drop with a clatter on the stone floor. "Your hole is so needy isn't it?" His grin is almost cruel as he runs his fingers along my wet center, but never pushing inside. "I can see your cunt pulsing desperately, wanting to be filled."
He twists his hand in a practiced motion that I've seen a dozen times when he's flipped his stiletto and- Oh, fuckit's in his hand. The glistening ivory handle is thick with a silver tip at the base of the knife, and holding the blade between his thumb and forefinger, he pushes it between my legs and inside me.
"Roman!" I gasp. "What are you –"
"Filling your greedy cunt," he says, watching the handle of his knife plunge in and out of me. "It's slippery with your come already."
I feel it, hard and utterly foreign, scraping along my wet walls and pushing deep. His biceps pulse and flex as he fucks me with his knife. I should be screaming. Instead, that shaky feeling of something surging out of my control is back, the hard thing inside me is yanking another orgasm from me. Electric spikes of pleasure from my center pulsing through my painfully sensitive skin and when he angles the base of his knife, rubbing it hard against me inside, Idetonate.
There's a low curse in Russian and I shriek as he drives his stiletto into the wood next to my head and shoves his cock inside me. Greedy, uncaring of my shaking body and mindless moans, just fucking me with his head thrown back, fingers tight on my hips.
"One more time, baby," he rasps. "You'll give me one more. I'm not going to stop until I feel it. I'll take it from you if I have to."
It's so shocking and filthy and unimaginable that I clamp down on his cock, screaming, trying to keep him inside me and with one last, stuttered thrust, my god of sex and pain comes too, his release burning through me.
***
Dushistaya fialka- Russian for sweet Violet.
Chapter Twenty-Three
In which Violet learns the awkward definition of “play crime.”
Violet…
The days pass by in a pleasant haze. Long summer nights spent in Roman's bed –
or in his 'playroom,' as he calls it - on the second floor. Based on what he does to me there, I think the term 'fun dungeon' is more accurate.
Iris and Rose's excitement about starting college is building, they're eagerly making more plans for the fall. More boxes and bags stack up and then disappear almost daily in their room.
One morning I glance into their room and stop short. "Wait. Where did everything go?" There are only two long boxes leaning against the wall.
"We rented a storage unit with a couple of the other girls who are going to be in our dorm," Iris says, filing her nails. "We're thinking about trying to pledge the same sorority that they are."She and Rose are lounging on the bed. "Take your shoes off," I scold her. "This bedspread issilk!"Pulling one of her sandals off, I hold it up, squinting at the label on the sole."Prada? Since when can you afford Prada sandals? Your trust fund is still frozen."
She snatches it out of my hand. "You look like you're about to start sniffing it. Creepy much?"
"We hit a couple of consignment shops yesterday with the guys," Rose says. "Relax! I thought you'd be pleased with our thriftiness."
"What consignment shop is selling Prada sandals on a college student's budget?" My phone buzzes, it's Larry. I drop the shoe on the floor. "We'll talk later," I call as I step out in the hall.
"There she is, ladies and gentlemen, our ghost director."
"Hey, Larry, is everything okay? I handled the city inspector and we went through all the issues from the report. Other than the sinks being too close to the fridge, he signed off on everything else so –"
"Are we going to talk about your man?" Larry interrupts.
