I lay down on my bed as he got up, standing at the edge of the bed, facing me. His eyes darkened as he saw me lying there in my lingerie, with my wild hair fanned around on the bed. "My angel," he groaned.
He removed his suit jacket and dropped it to the floor. Next, he unbuckled his belt, the sound echoing in the silent room. With a deliberate motion, he tossed the belt aside, the metallic clang making me shiver. He relished my fear, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You like that, don't you?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
I didn't answer, my silence confirming his suspicions. He chuckled, his voice low and menacing. "Good girl."
He shed his pants and boxers, his erection standing tall and proud, a defiant symbol of his dominance. He pulled me up towards him and turned around, sitting on the edge of the bed. He then pulled me onto his lap, forcing me to straddle him. With a predatory gleam in his eyes, he retrieved the gun from my garter and put it in my mouth. "Adam, please, don't," I pleaded, my voice trembling. But he was unmoved.
"Ride me, baby girl," he commanded, his voice rough. "Satisfy me."
I was terrified, my body frozen with fear. His grip on my waist was the only thing keeping me steady. "Don't you dare ," he warned, his voice low and dangerous.
"Yours," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
With trembling hands, I began to move, my clothed pussy sliding against his hard length. "I'm running out of patience," he growled. "The longer you take, the longer I'll make you wait."
"Please, Adam," I begged, my voice filled with desperation trying to speak. "Don't do this."
He ignored my plea, his eyes fixed on me. "You'll beg for more," he promised.
I quickly slid my panties aside and plunged myself onto him, the sudden invasion making him groan. I moved as fast and as deep as I could, trying to appease him. His other hand found its way to my butt, squeezing and massaging it. "Faster," he demanded, while spanking me hard on my butt as his voice roughening.
I tried to increase my pace, feeling his length deep inside me, hitting my G-spot with every thrust. I moaned in pleasure, but it was short-lived. He leaned down and captured one of my breasts, his teeth sinking into the delicate flesh.
He tore away the lace of my bra and began to suckle my nipple, his tongue swirling around it. My hands, wrapped around his neck for support, pulled him closer, hoping he would forget about the gun. But he was relentless, he removed the barrel from my mouth but pressing it underneath by chin forcing me look up. He savored the taste of my flesh, his tongue dancing across my nipple, his teeth nipping at it. "This is for my pleasure, not yours, princess," he growled. "Faster!"
His hand reached down and tore my panties, a sharp pain shooting through me. He removed the gun pointed at me and pulled me closer, his erection pressing deeper into me. "They were getting in the way of my pleasure," he said innocently, ignoring my pained expression. "You won't need them anymore."
He flipped us over, pinning my hands above my head. He began to thrust into me with a brutal force, and inserted by ripped panties in my mouth muffling my screams. I was on the brink of climax, my body aching for release, but he denied me. "You won't come today, for the whole ceremony and at night session when we reach our home." he whispered in my ear. "You'll be so close, but you won't be allowed to release. This is my punishment for you."
With each thrust, he drove me closer to the edge, but he held me back, torturing me with anticipation. Finally, he released his seed deep inside me, his body convulsing with pleasure.
He pulled out of me and rolled off, leaving me panting and spent. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his body still warm from passion. "You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and possessive.
His warmth enclosed me as he patted my head rhythmically, almost soothingly. To an outsider, it might have looked like two lovers basking in the aftermath of passion, but this was far from romantic. This was me, trembling and coming down from the terror he deliberately stoked in me. He played with me-his amusement evident. Gently, he removed my panties from my mouth, his fingers brushing my lips, and said softly, "Get ready. Your evening dress for the afterparty is in the cupboard."
I didn't reply. I couldn't. My throat was dry, and my mind still reeled. Instead, I turned stiffly toward the mirror. My reflection made my stomach twist-a purpling hickey blossomed on my neck and another lower, barely hidden on my chest. My anger bubbled up, but I swallowed it. This wasn't the first time he had done this, leaving his marks before an important event, parading me like a trophy. Marked and claimed. My fingers brushed over the bruised skin, and I bit back a curse.
I opened the cupboard and pulled out the dress he had chosen for me. Of course, it was extravagant-a pristine white gown with long sleeves and a square neckline adorned with glittering diamonds. It was backless, scandalously so, and the slit climbed high enough to leave little to the imagination. I gripped the fabric tightly and glanced toward him. He was lounging on the bed, already dressed in a tailored black suit, the epitome of power and elegance. In one hand, he toyed with his gun, spinning it idly as he watched me with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
"Don't stop," he murmured, his voice low and commanding.
I wanted to argue, to tell him to give me privacy, but I knew it was pointless. Instead, I adjusted my bra and stepped into the dress. His gaze didn't falter, drinking in every movement. His audacity made my skin burn. "You're enjoying the show, aren't you?" I muttered under my breath, my tone sharper than I intended.
His lips curled into a smirk. "You're the one making it a show. Maybe if you didn't move so slow..."
I glared at him through the mirror but kept my mouth shut. After slipping into the dress, I began fixing my makeup and hair, undoing the mess he had made. My hands shook slightly as I smoothed my foundation, added lipstick, and pinned back a few strands of my disheveled hair. All the while, I felt his eyes on me, unwavering. The scrutiny was suffocating. To him, I wasn't a person-I was a possession, a piece of art he enjoyed breaking just to admire the cracks.
"You're quiet," he noted, his tone almost teasing. "Not going to complain about the dress? Or do you like being put on display?"
I met his gaze in the mirror, my voice laced with defiance. "Do I have a choice?"
He chuckled darkly. "You always have a choice. It just depends if you're willing to face the consequences."
I didn't respond. Instead, I focused on finishing my hair, carefully concealing my frustration behind an impassive expression. When I was finally done, I turned toward him. My silence spoke volumes, and he understood. Without a word, he rose from the bed and strode toward me, the gun still in his hand.
Stopping just behind me, he placed the gun on the dresser and leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "You're forgetting something," he murmured.
I hesitated, my throat tightening. "Jack..." I whispered, barely audible.
He smirked at my reflection. "Say it properly," he ordered, his voice soft but dangerous.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to look at him. "Please, Jack," I said, hating how small my voice sounded.
"Please, what?" he pressed, his tone mocking now.
"Please let me..." I faltered, my fingers clutching the edge of the dresser for support. "Let me wear something underneath. This... this dress is-"
"Perfect," he interrupted, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "You'll wear it as it is." He reached out, brushing a thumb over the bruises on my neck, making me flinch. "These," he said, almost admiringly, "are part of the outfit."
I trembled, my voice barely a whisper as I pleaded, "Can I please wear something underneath it? The slit is too high to cover anything."
He turned me around, his eyes glinting with mischief. As he knelt down, he spread my legs wide, pushing the lower part of the gown aside. His tongue darted out, laving at my clit, still damp from our earlier encounter. I arched my back, my body convulsing as he devoured me. I clutched the chair, my moans echoing through the room. He intensified his assault, sucking me dry.
"Adam... I'm close," I gasped, my voice thick with desire.
He paused, his eyes locking onto mine. "The slit is for my convenience," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "So I can play with you whenever I want. No, you can't wear anything that will come between us." He pinched my clit, a surge of pleasure shooting through me. "But there is something else you can wear that will make me very happy."
He produced the egg-shaped vibrator, the one he had confiscated at the beginning of our relationship. Without hesitation, he inserted it into me, the vibrations sending shivers down my spine. He pulled me up and turned me around, exposing my ass. With a firm hand, he spanked me five times on each cheek, the sting bringing tears to my eyes.
He pulled me close, burying his face in my hair. "Look how good you look with me," he murmured, his voice filled with possessive love. "With my marks covering your body." He kissed one of his marks, a shiver running through me.
I blinked back tears, frustration boiling within me. He buried his face in my hair, inhaling deeply, as if it was the most intoxicating fragrance he’d ever encountered. “Look at you,” he whispered, his voice velvety but edged with possessiveness. “Look how good you look with me, with my marks decorating your body… hmm, sweetie.” He tilted my head slightly, brushing my hair away as his lips found the bruised skin on my neck. I shivered in his embrace, my body betraying me as I meekly nodded. Tears threatened to spill over, frustration clawing at me from the inside—the constant denial, the torment.
Noticing my trembling, he chuckled darkly, the sound rumbling against my back. “Oh, come now, sweetness. No need to cry,” he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. “The night is still young. You’ll have to bear with me through the entire ceremony. Torturing you… just as you did to me this morning.” He gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his piercing gaze in the mirror. “And tonight, in your new home… our bedroom…” He smirked, trailing his fingers down my arm. “That’s a different story. I won’t let you rest. I’ll test your patience—like you’ve been testing mine for the last year.”
His tone turned darker, more threatening. “Now I’ll show you what it’s like to mess with Adam Black.”
Before I could process his words, I felt the sudden buzz of the vibrator against me. My knees buckled, but his strong arms held me in place, his grip unyielding. “Let’s play a game,” he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my neck. I whimpered, my nails digging into his forearm as I clung to the edge of the dresser for balance.
“Since you love playing so much,” he continued, his hand sliding over the fabric of my dress, cupping my breasts possessively. The combination of his touch and the vibrations made it nearly impossible to think straight. My body was at war with my mind—I couldn’t give in, not again. My hands clutched his arms, seeking some semblance of control, but it was futile.
“Jack is downstairs waiting to talk to you,” he said, biting down on the tender skin of my neck, eliciting a gasp from me. “Here’s the deal.” He pulled back just enough to look at me through the mirror, his expression dark and calculating. “If you can avoid talking to him, I won’t turn this on again. But…” He let the word hang in the air, smirking at my trembling form. “…if you do talk to him…” He paused, chuckling cruelly as he increased the vibrations, making me whimper. “…I’ll count the number of minutes you speak to him. The viberator will be turned on for that number of minutes, at an interval of every half hour. If you talk to him twice, the intervals time shrinks—from half an hour to twenty minutes—and the punishment minutes increases.”
He leaned in, his tongue tracing the shell of my ear. “And if you touch any man who isn’t family…” His voice dipped, a warning laced with danger. “Then it stays on the entire time. Got it, love?”
I could only nod, too overwhelmed to speak, my breath uneven as the vibrator mercifully stopped. He turned me to face him, his smirk unwavering. “And don’t forget,” he added with a chilling smile, “you’re on orgasm denial. So, be very careful.”
He stepped back, his absence leaving me trembling. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I reached for the glass of water on the dresser. The cool liquid soothed my throat, but my mind was racing. At least Jack was safe—for now. Adam knew about our bond, knew Jack was like a brother to me. If he truly had an issue with him, Jack wouldn’t be alive. But Adam was cruel; this wasn’t about Jack. This was about tormenting me, breaking me in the most calculated ways.
After fixing my hair and smoothing out the dress, I turned to find Adam watching me, his hand extended. “Shall we?” he asked, his tone deceptively gentle. I hesitated, but I placed my hand in his. His grip was firm, his control absolute.
Before we left, he paused by the door. “Take one last look,” he said softly, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “You don’t know when you’ll see this room again.”
I glanced around, my chest tightening as I took in the familiar surroundings. This was my space, my sanctuary—and now it felt like I was leaving it behind forever. Swallowing hard, I nodded, and we walked out hand in hand.
To anyone watching, we were the picture of a perfect couple in love. No one would suspect what had just transpired behind closed doors. Adam’s mask of charm was firmly in place, his smile dazzling as he led me through the hall. But inside, I was a storm of conflicting emotions—fear, anger, frustration, and a faint flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could survive this night unscathed.
As we descended the stairs, Adam leaned in close, his lips brushing against my ear. “Smile,” he whispered. “You wouldn’t want them to know how much you’re falling apart.”
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