Page 110 of Cruel Deception
My breath hitches, my mind fracturing under the weight of his command, my scars exposed, my vulnerability raw.
Yet, I nod, consenting, driven by guilt for shooting him and a desperate need to prove I’m more than his slave.
He moved toward the far wall. Flicked the switch.
Darkness swallowed the room.
“You don’t get light anymore. You don’t get to watch my face. The front of you ruins the illusion. It turns me off.”
I broke.
I didn’t sob. Didn’t cry out. I just crumbled inside. Quietly. The last of my dignity flaking off like dead skin.
“Open your mouth.”
I obeyed. Because I couldn’t fight. Because part of me thought—maybe if I obey, he won’t hate me as much.
He gripped my hair. Forced me to take him deep.
“Good girl,” he said softly. “Swallow every inch like the slut you pretend not to be.”
His hand guides my head, firm but not forceful, a Dom’s control that demands submission but doesn’t break me.
My tears mix with the act, my heart splintering—part shame, part desire, the line blurring as I surrender to his will.
“Suck like the desperate little traitor you are.”
I choked on the tears. On him. On everything.
But I didn’t stop.
Because some twisted, broken part of me wanted to be claimed.
He pulled out of my mouth, his eyes dark with hunger,, saliva dripped from my lips. I wiped it with the back of my hand,
He lifts me to the bed, the chains clanking.
“Turn around,” he says, voice like velvet over broken glass. “I’ll take you from behind. In the dark.”
It lands like a slap.
Not just the command—but what it means.
A rejection wrapped in seduction.
He doesn’t want to see me.
Doesn’t want to face the scars.
Only my back. My silence. My surrender.
That’s what he wants.
My body shakes, but I do it—I turn.
Face down, the silk sheets brushing my cheek like a mockery of comfort.
It’s cruel.
