Page 56 of Once A Villain

I slide my hand over her ass, bringing my palm down, a sharp crack filling the air. She lets out a cry, her body jerking, and I slap her again. She sobs, her shoulders contracting, and I slap her harder. I continue until her skin is bright red and she’s a sobbing mess. I’m not sure what I’m enjoying more. The look on her face or how her body reacts to the pain.

I walk to the side of the vanity, stroking my cock, still slick with our cum. Grabbing her neck, I pull her to the edge before forcing her chin up. She tries to pull away, struggling against my grip. My fingers dig into her jaw, she starts to protest, but I slide my cock into her mouth, silencing her.

Her lips stretch around my length and her cheeks hollow out. She lets out a whimper, and the sound vibrates through me. Holding her head still, I push in until my balls are pressed against her chin.

She gags and chokes, but I don’t let go.

Such a good girl.

The sensation is almost enough to make me cum. It’s fucking perfection. Her hot, wet mouth, her tight throat. Savoring her gag, I thrust again. Harder. Deeper. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and tears stream down her face.

She’s mine. Every inch of her. Every fucking part. And I’m going to take it all.

Snot, drool, pre-cum, and tears mix, running down her face. She’s a mess. A filthy fucking beautiful mess.

With a loud groan, I pump my cock one more time, and cum shoots down her throat. I force her head down, burying her nose in my pubic hair.

Pleasure rips through me, and my body jerks, my muscles spasming. She sputters while swallowing my cum. The sensation is intense, and I moan, thrusting deeper, forcing every drop down her throat.

She gasps and coughs when I finally pull out. Tears stream down her face, and I smile. She looks so beautiful, used, bruised, and bloodied—the perfect image of submission.

My little siren.

Her eyes roll back, and she slumps forward, her body teetering on the brink of collapse. I stand there, my gaze sweeping over her.

Slowly, anger creeps back in. This was her choice. Her decision. And I’m furious. I told her what would happen if she fucked another man. I warned her. And she did it anyway. But her cum and tear-stained, bruised, and broken body is something to behold.

I should end this now—rip the mask off, let her see who just fucked her. But I don’t. There’s a twisted satisfaction in seeing her like this—the rush, the power, the thrill of knowing I orchestrated it all, that she willingly walked into this—chose this.

I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do, but I’ll figure that shit out later.

Right now, I need to deal with this motherfucker who thought he could touch what belongs to me. I’m going to make this bastard suffer.

The masked man retrieves a knife,the blade glinting in the light. He slides it under the zip ties, cutting them free. My hands fall, wrists burning, and I wince.

Pushing off the vanity, I stand on shaking legs, my entire body throbbing with pain. The ache between my legs is excruciating. My jaw is sore, throat raw, lips swollen, and my stomach churns.

Tears continue to flow, and I can’t stop trembling. Bradley lies on the floor, blood pooling around him. The masked man who just fucked me, and Bradley, who tried to rape me, are in the same room. Overwhelmed, I step toward the masked man, wrapping my arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

He remains still, saying nothing. I bury my face in his shirt, clinging to him.

“Please don’t leave me,” I whisper hoarsely.

He hesitates, then slowly wraps his arms around me. Desperate for comfort, I cling tighter. His clothes muffle my cries. His grip around me tightens and when he strokes my hair, the gentle gesture makes me cry even harder.

Everything hurts. Everything. My body, my mind. My heart.

My knees buckle, and I collapse. He slowly lowers us to the ground, cradling me against his chest. Pain, humiliation, and the weight of everything crash into me. My tears soak through his hoodie, and he says nothing. Just holds me while I break apart in his arms.

We stay like this, wrapped in each other’s arms, until my tears subside and my breathing steadies. I look up, meeting his dark brown eyes behind the mask. He gently wipes the tears from my face, and I close my eyes, savoring the tenderness of his touch.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the words falling out before I can stop them. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

My throat tightens with emotion, and I trail off, unable to find the right words. He pulls me closer, and I bury my face in his chest. His hand moves gently along my arm, grazing over the bruises. Tears well up again as memories of the past week replay in my mind—the pain, humiliation, anger, and ever-present fear.

“I shouldn’t have messaged you. The people here...they’re dangerous. You have to be careful. I shouldn’t have put you in danger.”

His fingers trace the brand on my skin.

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