Diego
I swing open the door to the private room wide and bring Vanessa inside, carefully placing her on her feet so I can examine her body. I was pleasantly surprised when she didn't throw up after putting a bullet in that piece of shit's head, but it's evident that she has mentally withdrawn.
I anticipated her attempt to escape, but once I saw that one of Viktor's men got their hands on her, I lost my shit. Originally, I hadn't intended for her to take a life, but observing the fight drain out of her, I recognized it as a necessary act. I refuse to let her surrender like that. The responsibility to break and rebuild her is mine alone. Those Russian fuckers would only dismantle her, both mentally and physically, until she becomes nothing more than a hollow shell.
Today's events proved that we have a lot more work to do. We'll be getting married in just a short while. After that, we'll be spending two weeks on my private island. The idea of leaving my territory fills me with anxiety, but I trust Leo to manage things efficiently in my absence. Besides, our marriage will be all over the media. Viktor will back down and disappear for a while until he finds another reason to be threatened by my power. And when that time comes, I'll be ready to destroy him once and for all.
A potent blend of anger and desire courses through me. My bride has undoubtfully earned herself a punishment, but I'll ensure that she'll still be able to sit down when I'm through with her.
Vanessa stands before me, still dressed in her wedding dress, looking even more stunning than I could have envisioned for this special day. I want to tear that dress off her and fuck her until she's so deliciously full of me, I'm damn near in her womb.
"This punishment will hurt," I growl, circling around her like a beast closing in on its prey. "And you will take it because you've been a very bad girl today."
She looks ahead, her gaze distant. But she nods absentmindedly. "Yes, Sir."
Intense and unyielding rage pulses through me. She should be present with me, but instead, she's ensnared in the shadows of her own mind.
No.
Fuck that.
I will bring her back to me.
"Turn around." She complies with my simple command, and I impatiently unzip the dress, nearly tearing the zipper off. Images of fucking her in my enemy's blood makes my dick harder than steel; however, I understand it will take her time to embrace the darkness within me. Today, she caught a glimpse of it, and look at what happened.
She's not ready, but she will be soon.
"And don't think I don't know about you exposing yourself to my men," I growl in her ear. "You'll be punished for that too."
"Yes, Sir." She shivers as the cool air grazes her naked back but otherwise remains still. Her breathing is steady, as if she isn't reacting to me at all, and I don't like that shit one bit.
Once the dress pools around her feet, I reach down and tear off her white, lace panties, not having the patience to remove them any other way. Fortunately, she isn't wearing a bra because that would've been torn off as well.
I palm her ass, rubbing each cheek with small, deliberate movements. Still, there's no response. I circle back to study her face. She gazes back at me, her eyes haunted, reflecting profound trauma.
Out of everything that has happened since the night I claimed her, her responses have always been laced with anger and defiance, nothing like what the fuck this is. Suppressing the unsettling feeling in my chest, I silently move towards the couch nestled in the corner of the room, beckoning her to me.
"Bend over my lap, Mascota," I command, my voice firm. She complies with mechanical precision, her movements devoid of emotion, as if she's merely following a programmed directive. The room is filled with a hollow silence as she assumes the position.
Wearing nothing but her collar, her juicy pussy is seated right over my semi-hard dick with her ass right in my face. "You've earned yourself five spankings. Count and thank me for each one," I instruct with a stern tone.
"Yes, Sir," she replies in the same robotic voice.
Using my other arm (the one that isn't healing from the gunshot graze I received the other night), my hand comes down on her ass. SMACK!
"One. Thank you, Sir."
SMACK!
"Two. T-Thank you, Sir."
SMACK! I put some force behind the third one, causing my hand to sting.
She yelps, her ass writhing against me, causing friction against my aching cock.
"Three. Thank you, Sir."
She's panting now, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest revealing the physical toll. The struggle to hold back tears is evident in the quiver of her breath. She's trying to resist me, but I will break her. My hand descends once more, delivering a sharp impact that reverberates through the room.
SMACK!
This time, she cries out, a merging of pain and pleasure evident in her voice. "Four. Thank you, Sir," she whimpers.
Finally!
SMACK! Another sharp impact, and this one seems to shatter the barrier in her mind, releasing a floodgate of emotions.
"Five," she sniffs through tears, her voice a vulnerable whisper, "Thank you, Sir."