Epilogue

Q Mercer

~Twenty years ago~

Silence was my friend. Always had been. Probably always will be.

Somehow, the air carried me, killing any noise I made, turning me into a shadow. I moved with stealth—a ghost—a phantom. Never a peep—never a sound.

My parents lost me for two days once, and I never left the house. I disappeared inside the huge, rambling mansion we called home, drifting from room to room.

Stealing food from the kitchen and camping inside giant, unused fireplaces.

Secrets were hard to keep hidden from a silent, inquisitive eight-year-old. I saw the truth of what went on, and it made me sick to my stomach.

My mother knew, but did nothing, preferring peach schnapps and Baileys to my father. And my father preferred slaves to his wife.

I was five when I first heard the screams. Guttural calls for help, full of distress and heartache, followed by a horrible groan of pleasure and ecstasy.

That was the first day I slipped into the forbidden room, and watched my father beat and rape a girl. Her ass blazed red as he pumped into her from behind.

My little heart raced. I knew I shouldn’t see this. I didn’t understand it. Something bad was happening, but I was too naïve to know. But, on some level, I knew exactly what it was.

My father hurt a woman who didn’t want to be hurt. She hadn’t been naughty like I was sometimes. All she did was cry and curl into a ball. Yet my father beat her with fists and whips.

Enjoying her cries, he turned into a purple-faced baboon with pleasure.

The scene scarred my brain for life, irrevocably changing me. I went out of my way to be kind and gentle to every living thing.

The cook caught me, time and time again, feeding birds, mice, and other woodland creatures.

My mother fell more and more in love with fruity-smelling alcohol, leaving me motherless, with a rambling drunk.

All while my father amassed a stable.

He already had a stable full of cars: Bugatti, Audi, Ferrari, and Porsches. He owned a barn full of thoroughbreds and world cup racers. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted humans. Girls. ~Possessions.~

On my eighth birthday, he brought home his twelfth filly. She kicked and screamed, until he punched her so hard she passed out. A full wing of the house was barricaded for his new acquisitions.

No member of staff was permitted.

But I knew secrets he didn’t. Hidden passageways in the walls—no lock could keep me out.

I watched from air ducting and wall cavities. My stomach twisted as I saw sick, foul acts committed against fragile women.

Rather than suffer boyhood excitement, a thrill of shame coated my life. I wallowed in guilt. My own flesh and blood ruined lives of others.

Stealing their freedom and turning them into broken belongings.

I never loved my father, but day by day, my hatred for him grew. I hated that he’d created me. I wanted nothing to do with him. I wanted him gone.

On my thirteenth birthday, I broke into the stable while my father wasn’t there.

The girls all looked up with red-rimmed eyes and fright. I didn’t know why I went. To offer sympathy? Comfort? It seemed so stupid, standing there.

I offered to bring them anything they wanted—to steal food from the kitchen, anything to take that hopelessness from their eyes. But they wailed and hid; running from a scrawny thirteen-year-old boy.

Their fear stank, and I couldn’t stand to be there any longer. But I owed them something, anything—it was my father who ruined them—it was my place to make it right. “Please.

“I don’t mean to hurt you.” My balls hadn’t dropped; my voice sounded as high as their whimpers for help.

Not one of the girls came near me that day, but I saw their bruises, the shadows under their eyes, the haunting emptiness in their souls. I couldn’t stay away.

The next day I returned and uttered the one word I swore I never would. The word my father used a lot. “~Esclave~, obey me.”

Immediately, the girls stiffened, dropping to their knees. All twelve bowed, long hair, all different colors, kissing the ground.

That was the day I learned the word broken. They were broken. Completely. And I couldn’t stand it.

With one command, they were mine, and I hated their weakness as much as I hated my father for creating such miserable creatures.

I ordered, “Crawl to me.”

Sounds of skin rubbing against carpet as the circle of naked slaves obeyed.

“Stop.”

They did. Immediately. Total obedience.

Standing in a circle of women, I made a vow. I would help them. No one should be broken beyond repair. No other human had the right to steal their life.

I would become their savior, and rehabilitate them back to sanity.

Three years passed before I got hold of an untraceable gun. Boarding school in London allowed me to mingle with rich, bored kids with mean connections.

Criminals hung around the wealthy like flies to rotten meat, and I took advantage.

I earned a reputation for being closed off and angry, when really, I plotted constantly how to bring my father to justice. My family’s reputation preceded him and people feared me.

Feared my power, my own legacy of a ruthless tycoon.

I did nothing to disillusion them. Fear was a powerful weapon—I knew. I saw how fear ruled my father’s women.

Two weeks later, school holidays came around. I traveled home on the train with my leather-bound suitcase, a heavy black gun in my waistband.

I hated going home. There was nothing there for me. Only the undying need for vengeance.

My mother had died a year before from alcohol poisoning, leaving me vacant. She was my mother, but never paid attention to her only son. I wasn’t bourbon or shiraz, therefore I wasn’t important.

Mrs. Sucre welcomed me home, and I holed away in my room, cleaning my new possession. Staring at shiny brass bullets, I welcomed anger and rage.

At two in the morning, I went hunting. Night was my father’s playtime. I knew where to find him.

I sneaked with the silence, fingers tight around the new purchase.

The whimpers of girls punched me in the chest. ~Soon. Soon you’ll be free~. I knew they’d thank me for what I was about to do. My own sanity would thank me.

Soon, I wouldn’t have to live with guilt that I allowed my father to continue hurting so many innocent women.

My father never heard a thing.

I moved right beside him while he fucked a girl, holding her pigtails like handholds; his old man ass wobbling with every thrust. My lips curled in distaste and I snarled.

The girl’s tears set fire to my stomach.

I raised the gun, testing the weight. My hand was dry—not sweaty or nervous. My heart even and sure.

“Enjoy your last fuck, father. It’s the last you’ll ever do.”

My father, Mr. Quincy Mercer the First, stopped mid-thrust, face bright red, jowls trembling.

“What are you doing in here, you little shit? Get out. I told you this part of the house was forbidden.”

Girls all around the room, tied up in horrible positions, started to cry. Some with their necks bound to ankles. Others hanging from the ceiling upside down.

Tears flowed, but light slowly glowed in their eyes. Hunger, revenge, freedom, infected each like wildfire. Smashing the shackles of brokenness.

I didn’t say another word. What was there to say? I squeezed the trigger.

The red spray was a gruesome firework. My father’s brains splattered over the girl he still impaled on his cock.

She screamed and scrambled away, wiping her face with shaking hands.

The entire room rippled with darkness. I flexed my arms, standing in the center, breathing deep.

My father’s reign was over. I was the new owner of the Mercer Empire. At sixteen, I inherited all his belongings, including the stable of women.

For a brief moment, my cock stiffened at the thought of carrying on my father’s legacy. It would be so easy to violate a girl who was bound, unable to move or stop me.

I could lose my virginity to a slave. I could do whatever I wanted. A ruthless tycoon, just like my old man.

But as I stood, with my mind overflowing with darkness, I knew I could never walk that path.

I wanted it too damn much. I ~craved~ the feel of submission. I ~drooled~ for a woman sucking my cock under duress. I ~hated~ myself with vengeance.

I was my father’s son, after all. Somehow, the moment I killed him, his evilness shot into me. I wanted to put a bullet in my own brain as I knew I’d never be free from the monstrous urges.

Needing to run, I quickly freed the women and brought them clothes from my mother’s old things.

The girls accepted what I gave. Keeping their eyes downcast, mouths closed.

That night signified a new beginning. For all of us.

A year later, my rehabilitation of the twelve women was complete. Some girls left immediately after I freed them. I gave them money and sent them back to loved ones.

A few remained, needing psychological help. I admitted them to the local hospital, footing all the bills.

I didn’t need to lie about how the girls became that way. Everyone knew my father and his sick tastes. He supplied many a sick fuck in the village with toys.

Renting them out for thousands, not caring some never came back alive.

I’d been painted with the same brush, even though I resisted the beast inside. I wanted more than anything to keep those girls locked and chained, and subservient to my desires, but I never caved.

Always fighting. Forever struggling.

The last girl to leave was a sheik’s daughter. She’d been a gift for a lucrative property deal in the east. Captive for six years, she felt some sort of sick loyalty to me for freeing her.

The night before she left, she trapped me in my bedroom. The girls were allowed free reign of the house, slowly acclimatizing to freedom once again.

She closed the door, signifying what she wanted with one click of a lock.

I tried to refuse her. I tried to push her away. She didn’t owe me anything, most of all her body, but she took control and made me do things my father would’ve been proud of.

I lost my virginity, not in sweetness and tenderness, but with spanking and degradation.

The moment it was over, I loathed myself. I kicked her out, put her on my private plane, and sent her home. I couldn’t stand to see her. She reminded me how far I’d fallen.

How alike I was to the one man I hated the most.

The following years were torture. I needed a release, but normal sex didn’t cut it. I needed violence to get off. I needed the feel of complete submission of ownership.

My blood was tainted, and I’d never be free.

Then the bribes started. As I grew my father’s empire to worldwide domination, people wanted property favors. A building here. Special grants there.

I had friends in powerful places and men gave me presents. My father’s reputation preceded once again, and instead of gift baskets, I received slaves.

It started slowly, one a year. Then two. Until, finally, I became the king of accepting trafficked women for a business deal. It cost a fortune to accept, and I didn’t touch a single one.

They arrived, broken, trembling, sometimes drugged, sometimes completely damaged. I became a father, brother, friend to them.

Most recovered, but others… some I couldn’t save.

I enlisted the help of the local police. Together, we worked tirelessly. They made me an exemplary citizen for my ‘charity’.

Then Suzette arrived. She had bite marks all over her body. Hair shaved, cigarette burns, and broken fingers. I promptly hired a mercenary to return the favor to the men who broke her.

It took six months before Suzette spoke a word. Another six months before she let me be in the same room with her.

Slowly, she started working around the house, throwing herself into housework, as if she could become invisible as a staff member and not the slave she’d been. And I let her.

It helped. Her skin went from pallid to rosy, her eyes lost the panicked hue, and slowly she stopped jumping whenever I appeared, moving with silence.

When I asked if she was ready to go home, she refused. She threw herself at my feet, begging to stay. She had no one to return to, and professed her love for me. She wanted me to love her.

Take her however I wanted. But I couldn’t. I never could. I couldn’t resort to using broken women. I would never find myself in the aftermath.

Instead, I used professionals. Played out dark fantasies with women who gladly accepted ten thousand euros for a bit of pain. It never satisfied.

It left my throat coated with dissatisfaction, but that was my sacrifice. I would never touch a slave again.

Suzette became fundamental to helping other girls heal. She befriended them, and they found their way back to happiness quicker.

Our little team worked well for years. I focused more on property than saving women. I expanded the company into Southeast Asia, Fiji, New Zealand, and Hong Kong.

Then my world flipped upside down.

~Esclave~ fifty-eight arrived.

The moment she stumbled across the threshold, all those dark needs roared and raged inside. I wanted to throw myself down the stairs and take her then and there. I fucking wanted, wanted, ~wanted.~

She was different.

She wasn’t broken.

For the first time, a slave came to me spitting and alive. Intelligence blazed in her eyes and my cock stirred, unable to be controlled.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop, and hated her almost as much as I hated myself.

I finally met a woman with fire and passion matching my own, and all I wanted to do was break her. I wanted her to be mine in every way humanly possible.

I was a sick, sick bastard and would go to hell for what I fantasized.

After twelve years of battling the beast, it sprang from its cage and refused to go back. The lifetime of urges couldn’t be refused.

They overtook, held me hostage, and I fell into the role of master so effortlessly, as if it was the true me. The real me. ~The monster.~

She was mine.

~Present~

She shook her head, looking into my black soul with dove-grey eyes. ~“Nous sommes les uns des autres.”~ We are each other’s.

Two emotions fought for space in my chest. The beast lurched forward, ready to take her up on the offer to debase and hurt, while the other wanted to gather her gently and lavish every penny I had.

After everything I did. After what Lefebvre did… my heart raced. ~That fucking cock-sucking bastard.~ Black anger gathered again at the thought of him raping her.

I wanted to dig up his unmarked grave and dismember him piece by piece. A single gunshot was too good for that asshole.

But Tess survived. She forged stronger and shone brighter. She never broke.

I pressed against her again, hissing between my teeth at the burn in my cock. I wanted to fuck her so bad, but I needed to tame other urges, too.

~“Nous sommes les uns des autres,”~ I repeated, kissing her deeply. Her soft groan sent my sanity spiraling out of control. How did I manage to send her away?

Kick her from my room after she let me whip her to the point of drawing blood? I’d been a bloody saint with willpower of an angel.

I sacrificed everything, because I refused to break such a perfect woman. A woman who pranced into my life with spark and fire, threatening to burn my very existence to the ground.

“I can’t believe you came back,” I murmured, heart galloping, still unable to believe the blood oath we made. I smeared residual crimson on her throat, whispering fingers across her collarbone.

My eyes dropped to the tattoo on her wrist. Holy fuck, what was she trying to do to me? She spoke to the darkness inside, and despite her fear, stood up to me.

I wanted to pummel her into the ground to make her obey, but her rebellion was also my undoing.

I’d never be free of her.

Tess Snow.

Tess ~esclave.~

Mine.

All mine.

~I can’t wait any longer. She came back on her own terms. It’s my turn now.~

I stood, shoving my cock into my trousers, wincing at how fucking hard it was. Damn woman cast a spell on me.

Tess blinked, watching with those intoxicating Bambi eyes, begging me to fuck and hurt her.

I groaned. If I did this, there would be no going back. She would become everything I needed. I had to trust in her vow. The promise she would be strong enough.

I hoped to God she was right because I gave up fighting.

The monster roared, beating his chest, salivating at the thought of what was to come.

I was done and she was mine, in every sense.

“Come.” I grabbed her tattooed wrist, jerking her from the library. Stalking through the foyer, her little pants sent lust into a realm of insanity. Fuck, I needed her. To scream and writhe and~ bleed.~

What sort of man needed to make a woman bleed? Not a sane one.~ I’m infected. Poisoned. Destined for hell.~

I slammed my fist against the hidden door beneath the stairs, taking violence out on the wood panel.

Tess flinched, but didn’t move away.

I raised an eyebrow as the door opened, giving her one last opportunity to admit she made a huge mistake. Not that it would make any difference. I wasn’t letting her go again. Willing slave or not.

The beast preferred unwilling, because I was sick. So sick.

~“Je suis à toi,”~ she panted.

I gritted my teeth. Fuck, yes, she was mine. No one else’s. She was lucky I didn’t hang and quarter the stupid boy she went home to. Idiot. Sleeping beside her every night—touching her.

Couldn’t he see the unique treasure he had? My chest swelled with pride. Tess left him for me. She was too much for a boy. She needed a man with a demon inside.

I didn’t think I’d ever find a female beast with contorted desires like mine.

But she found me.

My back rippled with tension as I dragged her down the stairs. The lights clicked on automatically, illuminating the dark teak bar, pool table, a music recording studio, and sauna.

Tess didn’t say a word as her eyes fell on the pool table, chest pumping. Goddammit, I loved touching her that night.

I’d been so ready to rape her, to try and get rid of the sickness inside in one swoop, but she fought too much, made me too hot. I wanted the agony of dragging out the suspense.

I wanted to torture myself with the insanely painful urge to fill her with my cock.

I was rather proud of my strength that night. If I had raped her—who knows if she could’ve handled everything else I did to her.

Tess bumped into me, unable to tear her eyes off the table. I wrapped tight, imprisoning arms around her, growling. “Remember my fingers inside you, ~esclave~?

“Even then, your body knew you belonged to me.”

She shivered, tight and tense, but malleable and feminine at the same time. “Are you going to finish what you started that night?

“Take me over the pool table?” A pink tongue darted between her lips, tempting me beyond belief.

Fuck, I could barely stand, my cock ached so hard.

“No. I have another idea.”

She sucked in a breath, pulse strumming in her wrist where I held.

Rational thoughts smashed the horny beast to the side. I panicked. How the hell would this happen? How could I hurt her and then…not? Would the insane urge to beat the shit out of her ever leave?

~I’ll constantly have to watch what I do, how hard I do it.~ I could never resort to being my father. Never.

I spun her, trapping her against my chest, rubbing my cock on her belly. “Your skin is too flawless. I want to scar it.” I squeezed my eyes closed.

I sounded like a sick fuck, but shit, the thought of marking her permanently did insane things to me.

She wiggled, thrusting hips against my thigh, riding me, deliberately driving me crazy. So brave, so stupidly brave. “You’ve already scarred me. You just can’t see it.”

I sucked in a breath. Images of her soul ripped to shreds because of what I did made me flinch.

Forcing the thoughts away, I grunted, “Just so we’re clear, I’m your master and you’re mine… you’re ~esclave~. I’m going to hurt you.

“I’m going to fuck you, and when we’re done, I’ll try to give you what you want. I’ll try and talk, or chat, or whatever you want me to do.” I sighed heavily, tensing as blackness claimed me.

“But I can’t promise I’ll be able to.” Trying to be semi-human, I demanded, “Do you still want to do this? Knowing I might not be able to do anything but take and take. Until you can’t give anymore?

“Until I wring you dry?”

She nodded, biting her lip, face tight with need. “Oui, maître.” Grey-blue eyes hot, full of sex and yearning. She bowed her head, blonde curls hid her face; a dominant thrill shot through my body.

The freedom she granted—to allow my darkness to mix with hers—was indescribable. I wanted to crush her to death in an embrace, and never let go. I wanted to fuck her so hard she broke in my arms.

I wanted to kiss her brow and nurse her back to health once I hurt her. I wanted so many things. So many things I never thought I could have.

I couldn’t stop staring. She arched up, pressing soft, breakable lips against mine. “Maître, punish me. I deserve to be punished for fucking another man while I was away from you.”

What. The. Fuck?

My body slammed to a halt. My world spun with brimstone and hell. I wrapped fingers around her throat. “You~ dare~ admit that?

“Are you suicidal?” I squeezed until true fear popped into her eyes, and it fed me. Shit, it fed me. The fear, the fragility. A delicate bird I could wipe from existence so easily.

Horror tempered my rage; I forced my fingers to relax. ~Get a grip!~

“Not suicidal, but close if you don’t touch me. I’m on a knife edge needing you, Q.”

Hearing my name on her lips ignited the fuse I tried so hard to stop from exploding. I was done holding back. No more talking.

Grabbing her hair, I dragged her to the crystal bar in front of the pool table. I wasn’t in the mood for games. I was in the mood for alcohol and getting wet.

I pressed her over the bar, revelling in her moans, her cries, her sexy pants. “You’ll be sorry you said that, esclave. You want to see how dark I’ll go? Well, you can’t.

“Not until you prove your promise. Not until I trust you’re strong enough.”

I wrapped my fingers around the base of her skull, placing her cheek against the cold granite countertop.

She writhed, pressing her ass hard against me. Goddammit, this woman.

“Does it make you jealous? Do you want to wipe away the memory of him with your cock? Because I want you to. I need you to. Q… please…Q.”

Holy shit, who was this little animal? Did I create her, or was she always this twisted? My skin sparked with tingles. Emotions I never experienced before exploded. Happiness.

True, unbridled happiness.

I shook her for good measure. “I’m so fucking jealous of that boy. I was jealous of Franco flying with you back to Australia. I was jealous of Suzette for earning your friendship.

“I was even jealous of myself when I fucked you. Fuck, yes, I’m jealous. Insanely jealous.”

Her mouth twitched. “Good. I’m happy.”

Shaking my head, I grabbed the back of her gray dress—the same dress I bought her—and ripped it down the back. She trembled as the loud snarl of fabric echoed.

Once it was destroyed, I splayed it open, exposing her back, ass, and thighs.

My palm twitched, and I couldn’t stop it. I spanked her. Hard. Probably too hard, but she cried in such pleasure, my cock jerked and I almost came.

Instantly, her white flesh bloomed red with a handprint. I groaned, caressing her, wanting more, always craving more.

When I froze, trembling with the urge to go too far, Tess looked over her shoulder. “One smack? That’s all you feel I deserve?”

I literally couldn’t take it. I hit her. So. Damn. Hard. My palm fired and stung. Tears sprang to her eyes, and I ground my cock against her ass, throbbing with unshed cum.

Needing to give my hands something to do, I opened the minibar below and pulled out a vintage bottle of icy champagne.

Ripping off the gold foil and popping the cork, I shuddered with so much pent-up need, I couldn’t think straight.

Tess watched, tears glittering on her cheeks and eyelashes. Her face pressed obediently against the counter, not saying a word.

Once the sharp tang of alcohol filled the space, I gave her a tight smile, then upended the expensive champagne all over her back, drenching her hair, making her shiver with bubbles and chill.

Tess moaned, writhing, hips bucking for mine. I growled, swigging the last dregs as I thrust against her red slapped ass.

Grinding, rocking, I wanted to do so much to her, but my need to come took all control out of my hands.

~She wants to see how dark I’ll go~. We had a future to look forward to, full of sin and debauchery. I would teach her the meaning of blackness, initiate her into my world.

A thrill shot up my legs and into my belly. A future. Together.

My mind raced, unable to stay on one concise thought. She gave me everything so willingly, on a platter of sex, ready for the taking. In return, I owed retribution from her kidnappers.

I wanted to lay corpses at her feet and prove I may be a monster but I was ~her~ monster.

A beast who would turn savage on those who wronged her.

Ducking down, I tore the white G-string off with my teeth, dragging an eager tongue up the side of her back, lapping over ribs.

Her ribs were virgin, no tattoos, unlike mine. It’d taken four years to get it exactly right, adding more and more birds as I saved more and more slaves.

The fact Tess inked herself with a bird told me how deep she already went. How much she wanted me. ~All of me.~

The taste of her and champagne fogged my brain. I needed more.

Slamming to my knees, I grabbed her ankles, spreading her legs with force. She slipped, hands gripping the countertop. “Q… God, yes.”

Her voice vibrated through me, sending lust into overdrive. I stood back up, yanking my tie off in one swipe. Her eyes widened. “No, don’t gag me. I’ll be quiet.”

I cocked my head, glaring. “~Obéis, esclave~.” Obey. She closed her eyes, parting lips slightly, allowing the material to bind her. With the two ends behind her head, it felt like reins.

Controlling her completely, ready to be ridden into a frenzy.

Tying the ends quickly, I resumed my position between her legs. Her exposed cunt above dripped with wetness and champagne. It was the most delicious sight I’d ever seen.

Groaning, I licked the bubbles, tracing them up her inner thighs.

She bucked, spreading her legs even more.

Fuck, she tasted amazing. Soft and smoky and hinting at orchids and frost.

When I flicked a tongue over her clit, she spasmed, moaning, tears oozing. I dug my fingers into her thighs, keeping her steady. My cock ached in the confines of my pants.

I wanted to shove it inside her.

But first, I wanted to lick and drown in her taste. Without warning, I spurred my tongue into her slit. She screamed, muffled by the gag, inspiring me to lick harder.

The sharp tang of champagne drowned in her powdery sweetness. Nectar just for me. A mind-blazing aphrodisiac.

I wanted to bite, to brand, to rape.

I lost track of time as I worshipped her pink flesh. Who needed time when everything I needed was right here. I never wanted to eat again unless it tasted like Tess.

But my cock wept with pre-cum, throbbing with urgency to replace my tongue and fuck. Games would have to come another day. When I wasn’t about to spurt like a fucking schoolboy.

I stood, breathing hard, wiping Tess’s juice from my chin. Fumbling with my belt, my eyes widened as violence took me over. I yanked the leather from the loops, weighing it in my hands.

With lust-heavy eyes, Tess looked over her shoulder. Her lips were split and grimaced thanks to the gag, cheeks ruddy red with passion.

I folded the belt in half, palming the metal buckle. I slapped my palm, wincing at the sting, loving how she panted harder.

I cocked my eyebrow. “Is this punishment enough for fucking another?”

For a moment, she paused. I expected a no. A whimper, a plea to run. Instead, with a sharp blue glint in her eye, she shook her head coyly.

She cocked her jaw, body language asking me to remove the gag.

I didn’t want to, but obliged.

After I untied it, she sucked in a breath as I lay the drenched tie on the counter. For a millisecond, she didn’t speak, intoxicating me with her pants. Then that sexy, dangerous glint appeared again.

She snapped, “Don’t fucking think about whipping me, you monster. I told you, I don’t want this. Let me go.”

Oh. My. Fucking. God. Denial. Rape. Anger. Delicious delirium.

My eyes snapped closed and the beast raged to life. “Fuck, ~esclave~. I told you not to tempt me.”

My hands curled around the leather, snapping it tight. This perfect woman was about to get the whipping of her life. Then I’d fuck her. Hard.

She let me do unthinkable things to her. She gave me everything I needed and more. She fed both the man and beast, and she would never be free again. She was in my cage, and I would never open the door.

She was the key. The key to my happiness.

Patting her ass, I raised my hand. The moment of anticipation had us both shivering out of control.

I struck.

The belt whistled through the air, connecting with her champagne-damp skin with a loud ~smack.~

She moaned and bit her lip, squeezing her eyes tight.

My hips jerked on their own accord, fucking air as I struck again and again. Never in the same place twice, I decorated her ass with stripes of red.

I couldn’t get enough oxygen; my chest rose and fell with every pummel.

I lost control and hit too hard, a small trickle of blood welled. She yelped, moving her ass away, but I held her still. “I’m not done with you yet, Tess. Ten strikes for running.

“Ten strikes for leaving. And ten strikes for coming back to the monster’s den when he willingly set you free.” I hardly recognized my own voice; it was so thick with need.

“Too many. I can’t do that many.” Tears dripped, and her entire face was grief-stricken.

“You’re the one who wanted dark. I’ll give you dark.”

And I did.

Thirty pieces of dark.

Thirty strikes of delicious temptation that made my life seem cosmically bright compared to the black I lived in.

Tess screamed and sobbed, but beneath it all was an undercurrent of sexual need. Her wetness trickled down her thigh, thicker, creamier than the champagne. She may hate it, but she loved it.

Once the last kiss smacked her perfect ass, I dropped the belt, and in the same second, undid my fly, pushed my pants down, and pulled out my throbbing cock.

“Spread,” I ordered, pushing her lower back, bending her to my will.

She obeyed, whimpering as my cashmere blazer rubbed against sore skin.

Then she wasn’t crying anymore.

I plunged so deep, so fast, her feet left the floor, and she slid on the champagne-wet counter. “Oh fuck, yes,” I grunted.

Her back arched as a delighted scream erupted from her. I wrapped an arm around naked breasts, holding her upright. My hips dug into hers, trying to possess every inch.

My cock was hungry, desperate, already rippling with the urge to fill.

~She’s so tight, so wet.~

I slid in and out, thrusting deep until my balls slapped against her.

“Oh, God, I’ve missed this,” she cried. “Missed you. Missed the pain.”

“Shut up and take it, ~esclave~.” I thrust, twisting her nipple, biting her neck. My jaw trembled with the urge to draw blood again. I went wild for her blood. It was the best drug.

The elixir of the beast inside.

Her hot, whipped flesh burned my lower belly; I couldn’t think of anything else but fucking her. I lost control. Spreading my stance, wrapping fingers around her hips, I gave myself over to darkness.

“Take me, Tess.”

“I’ve already taken you, ~maître~.”

I pounded into her, beyond caring her hipbones collided with hard granite, or knees bruised against cabinets. All I focused on was pleasure.

She cried out, thrusting back, urging me to go harder, ~harder.~

I couldn’t breathe as a sharp band of release throttled my cock, demanding to spurt into this amazing slave. This woman who turned my world upside down. This woman… the key to my undoing.

I growled like a feral beast as I gave myself over to pleasure. Sensation exploded from my thighs, up my balls, and into my cock.

I thrust like a monster with only seconds left to live, filling her with come, marking her, making sure she knew who her master was.

The moment I spurted, she clenched around me. “Fuck, yes, Q. Oh, God. Give it to me. I want you. I want all of you.” She came and came, fisting, milking, tearing every drop of come I had to give.

I spasmed and twitched as overbearing intensity replaced hot-arching pleasure, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop rocking inside her. I never wanted to leave her hot, dark wetness.

It was where I belonged.

She went floppy, breathing like a tormented blackbird. My legs grew weak and wobbly. I pulled her into my arms, heading to the floor in one jumble of sweaty, champagne-sticky bodies.

She laughed as I laid her on my belly, protecting her nakedness from the cool tiles. Even though depleted, my cock never softened and every wriggle fired new life into it.

Would I ever get enough of her? Would I ever show her how dark I could go?

She went to pull away, but I lassoed my arms tighter. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I thought I was crushing you.” She wiggled her ass, sending sparks into my balls. After a month of not having her, she wouldn’t get away that easily.

I gently smacked her belly, aware her ass was beyond punishment after the belt. “You think I’m done with you, ~esclave~?” I nuzzled her ear, licking softly. “I’ve only just begun.”