Page 33 of Stalking Ginevra

Heat floods my veins, and my mind spirals. Body moving on autopilot, I crawl to the hideous object. Wrapping my fingers around the tip, I drag myself back to my stalker.

My gaze fixes on the misshapen crotch of his armor. He’s getting off on my degradation, and there isn’t a thing I can do to stop him. The moment I object, he’ll threaten Martina.

With a rough grip on my shoulders, he forces me to turn. The air shifts as he moves closer to my ass and kicks my legs apart. Cool air swirls around my most intimate flesh, making me shiver. When he rubs the metal tip against my pussy, I have to swallow back a moan.

“Who needs lube when you’re so soaked?” he says with a dry chuckle. “My eager little slut.”

Cringing in place, I pant hard, letting the tip of that infernal plug graze my swollen clit. What the fuck is wrong with me? I hate this, but my body can’t get enough.

“That’s my dirty girl. Always slippery, always wet.”

For the next several minutes, he teases every contour of my pussy, dragging me to the edge with filthy praise that ignites both shame and desire. My breath quickens. My thighs tremble. My heart wants to smash its way through its cage and hide in the bathroom. This torture is exquisite.

Tears stream down my cheeks as he brings the butt plug to my anus. I turn around, pleading with him to at least use a toy without this ridiculous tail.

I want to tell him I’m a nice girl. From a good family. Who stayed a virgin until my second engagement. But all my attempts to communicate fail through the panties stuffed down my throat.

“You think you’re a good girl?” he asks as though reading my thoughts. “Your purity is only a facade. Degradation is your kink. Humiliation is your vice. You crave the powerlessness, yearn for the pain. And I plan on drawing out this sweet torture until you admit you’re mine.”

He’s wrong. I would never belong to such a depraved creature. But as he pushes that metal toy through my tight ring of muscle, we both groan loud enough to wake Martina.

The plug slides into my anus, stretching its walls, making every nerve ending come alight with fire. He takes his time, drawing out the torture until my pussy clenches with hunger. It’s lonely, empty, wanting his fingers, craving his cock.

“Pretty little kitten loves her tail,” he says with a chuckle.

My heart twists, bleeding out the final dregs of my pride. Despite my body’s betrayal, I can’t deny the truth. I loathe myself for how I’m reacting, for how every nerve sparks with shameful pleasure.

When the plug is in place, he grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me up to sitting. Pain lances through my scalp, making me wince.

My eyes are still closed when a headband slides through my hair. From the weight of it, I can tell there’s something attached to the plastic. I reach up, finding fluffy ears.

I bite down on the sodden panties, my nostrils flaring. All I need is a pair of furry paws, and this masked motherfucker will turn me into a catgirl.

Shaking my head, I yank off the headband and toss it across the floor. This is where I draw the line.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he snarls. “Because bad little kittens get punished.”

THIRTEEN

GINEVRA

Punishment?

Staring up at the stalker, I question what the hell I did wrong. All I did was tear off a humiliating headband.

I can’t endure violence.

Not again.

I’d rather die than fall under the control of another sadistic psychopath. Samson always knew how to hurt me and avoid leaving visible marks. My shoulders stiffen, bracing for the blows that left deep, invisible bruises. Tears gather in my eyes, making them sting. The memories are too recent, too raw. Will he use his hands, his tools, or worse?

He stares down at me, his expression still concealed by the visor. Pressure tightens around my ribs, making my breath hitch. He doesn’t need to give out the orders—I already know what’s next.

Scampering on my hands and knees, I grab the fallen headband and slide it back into place. When he doesn’t react, I position my hands into paws, mimicking those anime catgirls.

He chuckles, the sound mocking and low. As he brings a hand to my face, I raise both hands to protect my face, and brace myself for the blow.

Instead of striking, he cocks his head to the side, like I’m a curiosity, and caresses my cheek. “Naughty little kitten has to do better to escape her punishment.”

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