Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

Punishment?

Staring up at the stalker, I question what the hell I did wrong. All I did was tear off a humiliating headband.

I can’t endure violence.

Not again.

I’d rather die than fall under the control of another sadistic psychopath. Samson always knew how to hurt me and avoid leaving visible marks. My shoulders stiffen, bracing for the blows that left deep, invisible bruises. Tears gather in my eyes, making them sting. The memories are too recent, too raw. Will he use his hands, his tools, or worse?

He stares down at me, his expression still concealed by the visor. Pressure tightens around my ribs, making my breath hitch. He doesn’t need to give out the orders—I already know what’s next.

Scampering on my hands and knees, I grab the fallen headband and slide it back into place. When he doesn’t react, I position my hands into paws, mimicking those anime catgirls.

He chuckles, the sound mocking and low. As he brings a hand to my face, I raise both hands to protect my face, and brace myself for the blow.

Instead of striking, he cocks his head to the side, like I’m a curiosity, and caresses my cheek. “Naughty little kitten has to do better to escape her punishment.”

Humiliation burns beneath my skin, making it prickle. I can’t fight this asshole, can’t flee, and freezing will only escalate my torment. There’s only one way he’ll be appeased.

Gulping, I fumble with the fastenings of his crotch guard and lower his zipper. His thick cock springs into my face, the head swollen and slick with precum.

Warmth floods my pussy, making the muscles tighten. I wrap my fingers around the shaft, its heat pulsing against my palm. I can barely fit my hand around his girth, but I grip tight, using the slickness at the tip to lubricate my strokes.

His breath hitches, a low moan vibrating through the air as I pump him with deliberate, teasing strokes.

“Good girl,” he rumbles. “You’re milking me so well.”noveldrama

The praise goes straight to my clit, which swells to the point of aching. I quicken my movements, making his cock jerk in my hand.

He breathes hard, responding to every squeeze, every twist of my wrist. All those times Samson made me practice with the dildo are paying off because I have this horny bastard shivering under my touch.

“Fuck. Dirty kitten wants her cream. You’re going to get it. All you can handle.”

My chest swells with a twisted satisfaction. For once, I have the power to affect him, to bend him to my will, if only for a moment. I glance up, taking note of the tilt of his head, the only indication he’s watching.

“You look so pretty on your knees, pumping me with those slender fingers.”

Heat pools between my thighs, and my clit pulses with the need for friction. I roll my hips in time with my strokes, desperate for release.

I hate myself for enjoying this so much. Despise the part of me that revels in feeling wanted. Pride and self-loathing battle for dominion in my psyche, yet my body still yearns for his touch.

The whole world disappears, and the cold dread gnawing at my stomach dissipates. The humiliation of being the daughter of a man who stole an entire law firm fades under the heat of the moment. I let go of my resentment toward Dad for breaking my engagement, Mom’s suicidal plan to murder Bossanova, even the ten million dollars of debt hanging over our heads.

All that matters is making this powerful man come.

His breathing quickens, his hips rocking into my fist, his thigh muscles flexing beneath his armor as he nears the edge. The shaft beneath my fingers throb, and I know he’s close to losing control.

“Naughty kitten,” he groans, his voice thickening with lust. “My filthy little girl is about to get her treat.”

My heart flutters. If I make him come, maybe he’ll spare my punishment. I move faster, my lips parting as my mind teeters over the edge between fear and submission. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pull back my shoulders, and brace myself for him to shower my face with warm fluid.

“Fuck,” he roars.

Just as he’s about to explode, he snatches back his shaft. My eyes snap open as he comes all over the floor. Thick, pearlescent streams shoot from his tip, splattering across the dark surface. The liquid glistens in the moonlight, each drop reflecting its glow with a shimmer, looking almost beautiful.

Rejection stabs me in the chest. I swallow back the sharp and bitter tang of disappointment. Inner shame trickles through the cracks of my mind, whispering why I wasn’t worthy of a pearl necklace.

A gloved hand cups my face. I turn away from the cum to find his cock still hard, still tantalizing, still glistening. A dark part of me rises to the surface, wanting him to tear off the duct tape, rip the panties from my mouth, and force me to take him down to the root.

If I’m already degraded, why not lose myself to ruin?

Leaning down, he brings the helmet to the side of my face and rasps, “Go on, little kitten. Lick your cream.”

I jerk back, my eyes wide. He wants me to do what?

Moonlight glints off his visor, and I swear he winks.

My stomach roils, the strange sensation settling in my pussy. Kneeling in front of him like a catgirl is bad enough, but licking semen off the floor? The thought makes my cheeks burn, and my throat thickens with a surge of emotion.

I hesitate, my mind racing. Do I dare defy him? Could I withstand his punishment if I refuse? The thought of what he might do terrifies me more than the act itself, but what about the consequences?

My heart clenches. One day, I’m lapping his cum off the linoleum. Next, he could make me do it before an audience of jeering men.

With a snarl, he grabs my hair, dragging me to the beginning of the stream, pushing my face into the mess. The warm, sticky fluid smears against my cheek, its scent making me moan. Gasping, I push back, but he’s too strong, too heavy, too determined to break my spirit.

“Finish your treat,” he growls. “Every last drop, you filthy little kitty.”

I shake my head, trying to protest, but I’m silenced by the gag. My tongue pushes against the tape, but it’s stuck fast. All I can do is whimper as his grip tightens in my hair, lighting up my scalp with sparks of pain.

A deep, belly laugh echoes through the helmet. My heart lifts. Maybe he was joking. Maybe all he really wanted was the hand job. Leaning down, he rips the tape from my mouth and pulls out the panties.

“Kittens can’t devour their cream when they’re gagged,” he says, his voice full of mirth. “Go on, little Ginny. Enjoy your delicious treat.”

I tilt my head to stare up at him, my vision blurring with tears. The question spills out before I can stop myself from making matters worse. “Why are you doing this?”

“Do you want me to parade you outside on a collar and leash?” he snarls.

Panic seizes my chest, my breath stuttering at the thought of being displayed like an animal in public. Without hesitating, I turned to the spilled cum and lower my head. My tongue darts out to take the first tentative taste. His release is salty, slightly bitter, but not as bad as I feared.

He crouches at my side, inspecting my progress.

I lick fast, hoping to end the humiliation. Maybe he’ll be satisfied, lose interest, and leave. Each swipe of my tongue feels like a battle—pride clashing with fear—but I drag it across the floor, desperate to finish.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snaps.

A heavy foot presses down on my back, forcing me to slow. “Savor it.” His voice is dark, demanding. “Appreciate the flavor of my cum. Relish in its taste. Show me how much you love it.”

A sob builds in my chest, but I force it back.

My body trembles, although I can’t tell if it’s out of fear or arousal twisting in my gut. Either way, the emotion is unwanted. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me shatter. I will myself to focus on anything—the coldness of the floor, the distant sound of a ticking clock—but the heat between my legs intensifies, clawing at my insides with every breath. It’s a sick fire I can’t extinguish. Sobs build in my chest, as heat and wetness pool between my thighs.

This is so depraved, so degrading. I hate every moment, but my traitorous body responds to the humiliation with a sick, twisted need. I’ve never been more aroused in my life, and the realization only deepens my shame. The wetness slicking my thighs makes me feel filthy, the heat throbbing deep inside a betrayal I can’t suppress.

He leans so close that the material of his visor cools my skin. “What sweet, little noises. Are you enjoying this, kitten?”

His words heighten my shame, yet I can’t hold back this forbidden desire. It courses through my veins like molten temptation. Each lick of the salty fluid brings with it a depth of arousal that makes the muscles in my pussy flutter. It isn’t just the act that gets me excited. It’s the way he watches me like I’m his own private show.

For the first time in years, I don’t just feel degraded but desired.

I shake off that thought, swallowing back the tears threatening to spill. This is all wrong. I shouldn’t enjoy being this creature’s plaything. The heat between my legs intensifies, and clenching my muscles does nothing to hold back a surge of need. It’s like being trapped in a vessel I can’t control. Even as I complete that thought, more arousal streams down my inner thighs, making me whimper.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” His voice is a low growl, laced with dark amusement that sends a shiver down my spine. “Look at you, so eager to please. Such a filthy little slut.”

I can’t let him see how much his words stir my inner darkness—a shadowed corner of my psyche I barely understand, a place steeped in shame.

“Answer me,” he growls.

“Yes.” My voice trembles.

His laughter is soft, mocking, a sound that wraps around my throat like a noose. “Eager little slut probably wants more.”

My breath hitches with the need to escape this torment, even for a moment. But there’s no getting away from the depravity that’s invaded my soul.

“Do you want to come, filthy kitten?” he asks, sounding almost tender.

Need claws at my chest, relentless and merciless, driving me to the edge of madness. There’s no denying how my thighs clench, aching for release. With a desperate jerk of my head, I nod.

He closes the distance, crouching near enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his huge form. Heat and musk and the salty tang of his semen takes control of my senses. I want to come so badly that if he leaves me in this state of need, I’ll die.

“Look at me.”

I whimper.

He grips my chin, forcing my head up until I meet his visor’s reflective surface. I can’t see his eyes, but I feel them burning through what’s left of my defenses, leaving me stripped and raw.

“You’re pathetic,” he murmurs, his gloved thumb stroking my jaw in a mockery of affection. “So desperate, so willing to debase yourself for a stranger. Is this what you’ve become? A whore who’ll do anything to get off?”

I choke back a sob, the truth of his words cutting deeper than any insult. I should hate him. I should spit in his face. I should recoil from his cruelty. Instead, I lean into his touch.

He pulls away, leaving me wanting more. Rising, he taps his thigh with a gloved hand. “If you want that orgasm, you’ll hump my leg like a good little kitten.”