Page 20 of Sinister Promise

"Stop fighting it,moy kotyonochek. Give in. Learn to take all of me, to crave it, and you just might survive this night."

Hatred flashed in her eyes, but as her lips stretched around me, I witnessed that spark of defiance transform into defeat, acceptance, then fear and panic as she struggled to breathe.

For a moment, she truly believed I would end her life this way.

An intriguing method of execution, but the risk of biting was too great.

"Good girl," I praised, and something new flickered across her expression.

It vanished instantly, but I caught it.

She responded to praise. Another reason not to kill her.

Women who craved praise often flourished under degradation as well. There was a delicate psychology to breaking someone like Alina.

Praise to create the need for approval, then the withholding of it to intensify desperation. The hunger for validation became its own restraint, more effective than any rope.

A delicate balance, but one that promised entertainment and trainability.

I withdrew a few inches, just enough for her to draw breath through her nose, but not enough to grant control.

"Show me what you can do,moy kotyonochek. Suck my cock."

She hesitated.

My hands tightened in her hair in warning.

Her cheeks hollowed and her tongue gently massaged the underside of my cock.

"Mm, I think you can do better, beautiful."

Her mouth felt impossibly soft and warm, the velvet of her cheeks against my flesh overwhelming.

She rocked forward and back tentatively, uncertain of her approach. With my grip on the back of her skull, she moved her entire body to slide her mouth along my shaft.

It was exquisite, but insufficient.

I needed harder. Faster. Rougher.

I needed to watch her struggle.

With one sharp thrust, I pushed to the back of her throat again.

She wasn't prepared.

She nearly toppled sideways, clutching my thighs to steady herself.

I showed no mercy.

I took her sweet mouth harder, forcing my cock deeper.

The muscles in her throat contracted against the invasion, creating a tighter grip.

Fresh tears streamed down her face.

Her eyes glazed as survival instincts triggered resistance.

Her hands pressed against my thighs, her head strained to withdraw.

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