Page 17 of Corrupt: XXX Vadim 2
“I can’t be a mother,” I tell him, jumping right to the heart of the matter. “Helping you keep her is as far as I can go. No more. I can’t. You know why. Please respect that.”
His expression falls flat, and it’s a double-edged sword. Some of the lust churning my thoughts to mush dissipates—but in return, guilt descends like a sucker punch. The man has me tied to a bed, but the idea of disappointing him alarms me more than anything else. Maybe because he’s being open for once, hiding nothing from me.
Not even his pain.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He turns away, shielding his expression, and I strain my binds, my legs flailing.
“Wait! Don’t go!”
He leaves anyway, slipping through the doorway without a second glance. Before I can even panic, he’s back, and in his hands is an object that makes my eyes go wide.
And my stomach drops right through the floor.
“No,” I whisper, in panicked horror. Flailing, I strain at my binds to no avail, my voice rising in pitch. “No… Don’t.”
Heedless of my pleas, he stalks forward, brandishing the object that makes me gasp, partly terrified, partly…excited. It’s a silver dildo, similar to the remote-controlled one. But larger. Longer. Thicker.
I clamp my knees together as he advances toward the bed, shaking my head.
“No. No. Vadim!”
The bastard doesn’t wrench my legs apart like a brute. He caresses me instead, smoothing his fingers up and down my hip, barely touching my skin. Over and over. The gentleness with which he does so is such a startling contrast to the intent etched within his hungry features that my brain doesn’t know how to process it. A part of me lurches into his touch while the other fixates on that damn silver toy.
“I won’t hurt you,” he swears, his voice a persistent, soothing hum. “I will never hurt you.”
And I believe him, even as he lowers that toy between my legs.
“Look at me,” he commands. When I do, I almost can’t breathe at the intensity I find in his gaze. He eyes me like I’m something more than just beautiful. Cherished. Desired. My thoughts spin again, threatening to scatter.
But when a cool, firmness nudges my lower lips, I balk.
“Vadim, please…”
Pressure. Pressure. Thick, filling pressure.Shock robs me of my voice as my head rears back. Deep down, I know that he’s using the toy, easing it inside me bit by bit.
“So beautiful,” I hear him grate as my muscles relax to adjust. “So wet for me. Trust me, beautiful. I will never hurt you.”
Because he wants to kill me instead.
This toy is deadly. I can sense the subtle differences from the last one the second he breaches me with the rounded tip. After a few days, the shape and feel of his cock are etched into my brain. How it stretches me pleasurably. The friction he can achieve with just one stroke.
And this toy…
It’shim.In almost every fucking way.
“Yes,” he says in response to my puzzled expression. Gently, he smooths the hair from my face and leans over me, trailing his lips along my sweat-slick forehead. “Another custom request,” he adds near my ear. “You ask for pleasure, I aim to deliver.”
He shoves his hand—driving in the toy in the process—and my brain goes on hiatus. Too much. Too fast. My eyes roll, my breaths shallow as my body conforms to the foreign object—familiar, yet different. Nothing in the world could ever serve as a substitute for him, and in so many ways, the toy feels worse. The pressure only heightens the lust throbbing between my legs. My inner muscles clench in vain, demanding the real thing. It’s sadistic.
It’s torture, beyond kink.
It’s exquisite.
“D-Devil,” I whisper as my senses reassemble, and I realize his intent. Drive me insane.
“Angel,” he praises, still petting my dampening hair. “So beautiful. Tell me you’ll stay with me. That I can give you what you need,oui?”
