Alexia’s POV
Mature Content Warning
I hated him.
I hated that despite the cruel, rciless way he touched — my body still responded. That even as my heart cracked, humiliated and bruised, my thighs parted when he commanded, my breath hitched when his fingers curled just right.
God, I hated that I wanted it.
Hated myself more for how much I needed it.
My reflection stared back at — disheveled, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. Mascara streaked down my face in ugly black rivers. I was wrecked already, and he was just getting started.
His hand twisted tighter in my hair, tugging my head back until my neck ached. The cold marble counter pressed into my hips, unyielding, unforgiving. Just like him.
"You don’t get to look away," he snarled against my ear, voice dripping with venom and heat. "You’re going to watch every second of this. See what you’ve beco."
I whimpered, biting down on my lip to keep from sobbing. His hips slamd into mine, every thrust brutal, relentless.
I should have fought. Should have begged him to stop. Should have hated every second.
Instead, my body welcod him, grinding back against him instinctively, even as sha flooded my chest like ice.
He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t kind.
He broke .
"You made beco this," he hissed, driving deeper, forcing my body to accommodate him, to surrender.
Tears burned my eyes. I wanted to deny it. Wanted to scream that I wasn’t the monster he rembered.
But when his palm cracked across my ass in a vicious slap, I sobbed and arched back for more.
Pathetic.
"Say it," he ordered, voice cold as iron. "Say what you did."
"I—I was cruel," I gasped, the words tasting like blood and ash in my mouth. "I—I hurt you. I hurt Mira—"
The grip on my hair tightened painfully, jerking my head so my tear-soaked face was pressed right up against the mirror.
"Look at ."
I did. And what I saw there made sothing inside shatter.
A broken girl. A ruined woman.
I was no princess. No goddess.
Just his.
"You stripped of my na," he growled, the thrusts growing harder, crueler. "My dignity. You made nothing."
I sobbed, a pitiful, gasping sound, but he didn’t soften.
He wasn’t here to save .
He was here to ruin .
And I — in all my sha — let him.
"I didn’t know," I whimpered. "I was just—"
"Just a spoiled little monster," he snapped.
Another slap across my already burning skin. Another wave of sickening, humiliating desire flooding my core.
"Say it."
"I was a spoiled monster!" I cried, voice breaking into a scream as his hand cracked against again. "A cruel, selfish brat—I didn’t see you as human!"
The words spilled out, ugly and raw. Each confession was a dagger to my pride.
But worse—so much worse—was the way my body throbbed for him even as he punished .
"And now?" he demanded, slowing the brutal pace just enough to make ache, to make chase him with a desperate arch of my hips.
I hesitated.
Pain exploded across my ass again, and I scread.
"Yours!" I cried, sobbing openly now. "I’m yours—I’m your wife, your punishnt, your—whatever you want to be—"
I ant it. God help , I ant it.
"That’s right," he said, a cruel smirk curling his lips.
But there was no forgiveness in his eyes.
Only retribution.
He leaned down, breath hot against my neck. His teeth grazed my skin, sending violent shivers racing down my spine.
"Now beg not to stop."
Humiliation burned hot and thick in my throat.
But I wanted him.
Needed him.
"Please," I whispered, barely able to force the word out. "Please don’t stop."
He chuckled, a dark, vicious sound, and drove into harder, faster.
I scread.
My nails raked across the counter, searching for sothing — anything — to hold onto as he battered into like a force of nature.
My body betrayed completely, clenching around him, desperate for every brutal thrust, every cruel slap of skin against skin.
He yanked my hair again, pulling back into the arc of his control.
"Look at you," he sneered. "A royal princess, spread open for the slave you once spat on—and you’re fucking loving it."
I moaned, the sound ripped from , raw and broken.
I hated how true it was.
Hated how good it felt to be nothing in his hands.
To be ruined.
To be his.
He turned suddenly, spinning around so my back was against the mirror and my chest was pressed to his.
I gasped as he lifted my thigh and ramd into again, no warning, no rcy.
I was nothing but a receptacle for his rage. His revenge.
And I wanted it all.
He gripped my breast roughly, squeezing hard enough to bruise, and my body reacted shalessly, hips rolling, back arching, mouth open in a silent, wrecked moan.
"You rember now?" he rasped into my ear, his teeth scraping my skin. "This is how you made feel. Powerless. Filthy. Like I was nothing but an object for you to command."
My head lolled back, tears leaking freely now.
I rembered. Oh God, I rembered.
The throne room. The cold gleam in my eyes. The way I’d treated him like dirt beneath my silk shoes. The way I’d laughed as he bled for .
"I—" I whimpered.
His hand tangled in my hair again, jerking my head back cruelly.
"Say it."
"I made you fuck them," I choked out, sha crashing through like a tidal wave. "Because I was jealous. Because I thought—"
Another brutal thrust, stealing the air from my lungs.
"Because you thought she was your rival," he spat. "My sister. You had her executed for touching ."
Sobs wracked my body.
I tried to turn away, to hide.
But he wouldn’t let . His hand gripped my chin, forcing to stare at myself.
The ugly, shaful truth reflected back at .
"I didn’t rember," I whispered brokenly. "I swear—I didn’t know. Not until now."
"You don’t get to forget," he hissed.
And then his fingers were between my thighs, ruthless, skilled, making cry out, my hips bucking helplessly against him.
My body loved the punishnt.
Even as my soul withered inside .
He spun again, throwing onto the bed. I landed in a heap, hair tangled, mascara staining the sheets.
He spread my legs without ceremony, without care, and entered again.
Slow. Deep. Unrelenting.
Each thrust carved another piece from , each stroke branding as his.
"You want forgiveness?" he asked, voice rough and bitter.
I nodded frantically, desperate.
"Then take it all," he snarled. "Take the pain. Take the sha. Feel what I felt."
I did.
I felt it in the burning stretch of my muscles, in the bruises he left on my hips, in the way my heart cracked open with every vicious thrust.
I gripped the sheets, clawing at them as if they could save .
But nothing could save now.
He flipped again, dragging to the edge of the bed, and entered from behind, one hand wrapped around my throat.
Not enough to choke.
Just enough to remind : you are mine.
I sobbed, body giving in completely.
"I’m sorry," I whispered brokenly. "I’m sorry for everything. For what I did to you. To her. I—I didn’t know love then. I only knew power."
"And now?" he growled, driving into with a punishing thrust.
"I don’t know," I gasped, barely able to breathe. "I only know this. You. Pain."
He laughed.
A cold, cruel sound.
"Good," he said. "Because this is all you’re going to get from ."
No kisses.
No kindness.
Only ruin.
He pulled out again, grabbed my wrist, and yanked off the bed. My knees buckled, but he didn’t let fall.
He shoved down onto my knees.
"Open your mouth."
I obeyed instantly, sha thick and burning in my chest.
He slid into my mouth roughly, no gentleness, no care.
Thrusting deep, making choke and gag.
Tears stread down my face.
My hands clutched weakly at his thighs, but he didn’t slow.
He used .
Fucked my throat like I was nothing.
And I — broken, desperate, lost — let him.
He finally pulled back, letting collapse to the floor.
A ruined, shattered thing.
"You still think you’re in control?" he sneered.
I couldn’t even lift my head.
"I never was," I whispered hoarsely. "Not really."
He grabbed again, forcing to face the mirror.
"This is what you look like now," he said coldly. "Not a princess. Not a goddess. Just a toy. Mine."
I reached out, touching the reflection.
I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at .
"I hate you," I whispered.
But even as I said it, my body ached for him.
I hated that I loved him.
Hated that I needed him to break again and again.
"Good," he snarled. "Hate ."
He spun around and bent over the vanity again.
"Beg ," he ordered.
"No," I whispered.
A brutal slap across my ass.
Again.
And again.
Until my sobs turned to screams.
"Beg."
"Please," I cried brokenly. "Please... hurt ."
He shoved into again, harder than before, claiming with every brutal thrust.
I gave him everything.
My pride.
My dignity.
My soul.
And when he denied release over and over, dragging to the edge only to tear back — I realized:
I was his.
Fully, completely.
Forever.
Reviews
All reviews (0)