19. The Victor’s Punishment

The Victor's Punishment

Titus

It's not enough. 1

It's never enough.

The harder I fuck her, the more out of control I feel. Every inch I sink into her should calm my rut, but instead, it's gasoline on a fire. My palm, still stinging from my last slap, aches to slap her wet flesh again, the sound of the sharp crack the only thing that provides an ounce of relief to this festering turmoil and flame for revenge.

"Chin up, beautiful. We're just getting started." Ecker brushes his cock against her lips then trails his fingers over the scar on her neck. "Who did this to you?"

"Fuck you," she snarls.

He only laughs in response. "Now, give me your mouth while he fucks your sloppy mess of a pussy." His voice is smooth, smug, and confident. His clear control only makes me feel more out of control.

My skin feels like it's on fire, my mind stuck on a path of complete destruction. I feel myself snap along with my final shred of restraint.

Break her. Break her. Break her.

Blood for blood.

Blood thrums in my ears . . . Blood? Out . . . I can't think straight, my mind a white-hot haze as I try to recall my incomplete thought . . . Out for blood—

Sinclair's startled scream followed by Ecker's measured voice jolts me from the mental haze. "Put the glass down, man."

Confused, I look down to find the neck of an old wine bottle in my fist. The water that was in it pools on the ground with the shattered remains of its body. The jagged edges of broken glass press into her hammering pulse.

"Blood . . . for . . . blood . . ." My voice is twisted and coarse. I sound more like a beast than a man. "She . . . hurt . . . Bishop . . ."

"I know, brother. I know." His hand tentatively wraps around my fist on the bottle neck. "And she's paying for it, right now."

"I-I didn't know it was to the death," she pleads. "I wanted you to fail, not die!"

"Doesn't . . . matter." I exhale angrily through my nose, my jaw and neck full of tension. My hand shakes under Ecker's as I fight the urge to press just a little harder and open up that soft, milky skin.

Blood for blood.

"It's not enough," I growl low and deadly.

Somehow, I'm able to tear my gaze away from the point where the sharp glass digs into her skin. I find her eyes. They are deep pools of blue . . . not gold . . . They should be gold . . .

Something about the realization that she's no longer in heat pulls me back from the edge because it's not . . . right.

"No. You don't get to leave." I drag the bottle down the center of her chest, leaving a pink scratch but not breaking the skin. I begin slowly pumping in and out of her pussy and feel her immediately respond, her inner walls gripping me on every backstroke.

"If I have to suffer this torturous desire, then you do too—you will feel the pain of being ours, of craving what you hate most. Pleasure that burns." I trail the glass between her breasts, feeling Ecker's watchful eyes on me—making sure I don't go too far.

"Lust so crippling . . ." I dig the sharp edge into one of the lines of her ceremonial carving. "It makes you want to tear yourself apart." She hisses as I cut into her skin and shallowly trace the arch of one petal.

There's a cold smirk in my tone. "I'd much rather tear you apart."

There's no doubt reopening her partially healed wounds hurts, and yet gold begins to return to her steely eyes. I can't help but laugh.

"I get it now. All this fighting, rebelling, it's what gets you wet, isn't it? You're slut for pain, huh?" She swallows thickly, and I feel the satisfaction of being right. "That's good because I have a lot to give."

"No—ahh." She winces as I press my thumb into the fresh cut.

"Don't forget my cock is inside you." I drag my thumb through the beading crimson, so transfixed by the sight of her bleeding chest I almost forget what I was saying. Almost. "I can feel what you refuse to admit."

I meet her gaze and see a new truth in it. Now a steady glowing gold, her eyes follow my tongue as I wet my lips before they curl into a half-smirk. I don't look away when I alpha growl, "Grab the back of your knees. Spread yourself wide and accept your punishment."

The crease between her brows deepens as she is compelled to follow my orders. Her chains rattle as she holds herself open, her pussy red and puffy from being spanked. It looks so good swollen and wrapped around my cock.

Too good.

I'm tempted to pull out so I can feast on her, suck her clit until her legs tremble the way her bottom lip does. Because despite all this rage and adrenaline still dominating my rut, there's this prickling urge to taste her, to make her feel good.

But I remember the way the rut played with my mind at Captain Cross's. I was ready to remove my armor until she found a chink in it. I can't trust these soft emotions while in rut. They're too easy to get swept away in, to forget what we almost lost tonight, who we almost lost.

So, I lean into what I trust, the feeling that's as familiar as my own heartbeat: bloodlust.

My knuckles whiten around the wine bottle as I continue to slice along the lines of the larkspur blossom. I gather the weeping blood with my thumb again, then spit on her pussy. She gasps quietly, her mouth falling open, and I realize something is missing.

"Fill her mouth," I tell Ecker. He turns her face toward him with a wicked grin.

"That's it," he mutters hoarsely as she lets him slide his dick between her lips.

I move my thumb, wet with her blood, between her legs. Using her blood and my spit, I swirl slick circles over her clit.

She garbles a moan as Ecker wastes no time hitting a brutal pace. One of his hands knits in her hair while the other plays with her tits, slapping the pillowy flesh, pinching and tugging her nipples.

She grinds her hips forward and arches her back, desperately trying to fuck me back as I thrust into her and rub her clit.

With her finally giving in, everything becomes a frenzy, a desperate pounding of flesh as we all chase a seemingly insatiable arousal.

"Such a filthy little thing, taking both our cocks like a well-trained whore," Ecker says through gritted teeth. He rubs his hand over her sternum, smearing the blood there. "I'd like to see you just as covered in our cum so everyone knows what a dirty omega we have."

Primal fire dances in my stomach at the thought of her coated with our cum, wearing our scent.

It makes me want to claim every part of her.

I drag two of my fingers down her chest. I can feel her heart hammer under them for those few seconds. I pull my hand away, but her cuts weren't that deep so there's not enough blood. I tear at the bandage covering a knife wound on my arm. Ripping the material away makes the gash start bleeding and I swipe up that blood too.

I take my bloody fingers and circle her puckered back hole. Her protests are immediate but muffled with Ecker still fucking her mouth. I press against the tight ring of muscle, wetness from her cunt dripping down her crack and easing my entrance.

My dick twitches and throbs in her cunt as I breach the last part of her I've yet to claim. She begins struggling in the chains, her upper body twisting as I sink one knuckle, then another into her.

Despite her resistance, Ecker keeps her head clamped between his palms so he can unforgivingly thrust to the back of her throat. There's something devilishly erotic about the way her cries are swallowed down before she can ever breathe them to life.

We have her stuffed so full and completely at our mercy.

It strokes every alpha instinct in me, and as long as I focus on the dominance, I'm able to keep the other weaker, softer instincts at bay.

I pump my two fingers in and out of her ass while fucking her pussy, and finally, finally, I feel that itch for retribution truly being scratched.

"I should make you take my cock in your ass too. I'd fuck you bloody. And with my brother's cock down your throat, you won't even be able to scream."

The thought is like lava through my bloodstream, scalding, smothering, and there's nothing I want more than to make her burn to ashes with me.

1. Play "Ghost in a shell" by Savage Ga$p, KAMAARA, SXMPRA