Read Online The Executioner by Suzanne Steele - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Suzanne Steele
Ads: Link
fucking nailed the intentions of a predator. I can’t believe it. I truly am impressed. Not only that, but now my dick is rock hard. She stirred something in me writing that shit and now I’m ready to play.
I make my way to the bed, jerking her up by a handful of hair and dragging her down into the basement. Since she seems unable to stand, I’m careful not to let her head bang on the steps when she lands. Her nude body scrapes across the concrete flooring and I lift her up, attaching her arms to the chains hanging from the rafters.
I make my way over to the wall and push a button on a winch until she is standing on her tip toes with her legs dangling.
“What did I do? Why the fuck am I in trouble?”
I make my way over to her, glaring at her as I place one finger over her lips and whisper, “Don’t. Fucking. Yell. At. Me. I. Don’t. Like. It!”
Her head shakes up and down to signify her understanding as tears stream down her face.
I lean in rubbing my face in her hair and taking in the scent of watermelon. She smells like the high dollar products she uses—and fear—she smells like fear.
“I can smell it on you, the scent of prey. It excites me. Such a good girl, you nailed it on the last writing that you did. I’m so fucking pleased with you.”
I lean back, looking into her face, and I can see the pleasure she gains from receiving my praise. My fingers clench around her chin and she whimpers in pain. I can feel my cock jump.
“A writer, a good writer, shows and doesn’t tell. I’m going to show you what you wrote, Vixen.”
I make my way over to a cabinet that holds tools, or toys, however a person will choose to describe the implements I am using. She is struggling to look behind her and the chain shows no mercy, causing her to swing and twist in circles. Her eyes widen when she sees the choice I have made.
“I want to hurt you, baby girl.”
She bites her bottom lip and, for reasons unknown to her, agrees to let me have my way. Not that it would have mattered, she’s mine to do with as I see fit.
I forcefully grab the back of her neck, pulling her into my face and hiss, “I will never let you go. Do you understand me?”
“I don’t want to go,” she whispers as if talking to herself.
The first strike causes her to scream out in agony. By the fifth, she has given in. I remove her body and gently lay her on the floor. She winces as her tender ass scrapes against the concrete.
I make my way between her legs and scoop my arms beneath her upper thighs, licking over her soaked slit. My tongue explores every fold and crevice, gently taking in each new discovery of her feminine essence. Over and over, I rack her body with pleasure until I get up and remove my pants. For the first time, I gently make love to her.
“You’re so perfect, Vixen. You were molded and hewn from birth to be mine. You fit me like a glove, you know me, you understand me, and for the first time in our lives, we are bonded. Bonds like this aren’t broken. They remain throughout time in the portals of eternity. They are what love stories are made of.
Kansas
His words wash over me like warm, enticing reassurances which resonate with me make me believe that I am wanted. He slowly pushes deeply within me, exploring depths known to no other.
His face is mask of intensity that speaks of danger and an obsession that lies within him for one woman—me.
I reach up and touch the scar that only adds to his dangerous good looks and his temple tics in recognition. I am his, I belong, and I finally found one who is worthy of me. We are knit together down to our souls and it is true…our connection will remain through the portals of time, going down in history as unrelenting love. I know this because I will document it in literature—words that stand out as a beacon to others who crave what we have managed to attain. This is real, this is raw, this is a dangerous obsession, and this is what others deem love. For the two of us,
I make my way to the bed, jerking her up by a handful of hair and dragging her down into the basement. Since she seems unable to stand, I’m careful not to let her head bang on the steps when she lands. Her nude body scrapes across the concrete flooring and I lift her up, attaching her arms to the chains hanging from the rafters.
I make my way over to the wall and push a button on a winch until she is standing on her tip toes with her legs dangling.
“What did I do? Why the fuck am I in trouble?”
I make my way over to her, glaring at her as I place one finger over her lips and whisper, “Don’t. Fucking. Yell. At. Me. I. Don’t. Like. It!”
Her head shakes up and down to signify her understanding as tears stream down her face.
I lean in rubbing my face in her hair and taking in the scent of watermelon. She smells like the high dollar products she uses—and fear—she smells like fear.
“I can smell it on you, the scent of prey. It excites me. Such a good girl, you nailed it on the last writing that you did. I’m so fucking pleased with you.”
I lean back, looking into her face, and I can see the pleasure she gains from receiving my praise. My fingers clench around her chin and she whimpers in pain. I can feel my cock jump.
“A writer, a good writer, shows and doesn’t tell. I’m going to show you what you wrote, Vixen.”
I make my way over to a cabinet that holds tools, or toys, however a person will choose to describe the implements I am using. She is struggling to look behind her and the chain shows no mercy, causing her to swing and twist in circles. Her eyes widen when she sees the choice I have made.
“I want to hurt you, baby girl.”
She bites her bottom lip and, for reasons unknown to her, agrees to let me have my way. Not that it would have mattered, she’s mine to do with as I see fit.
I forcefully grab the back of her neck, pulling her into my face and hiss, “I will never let you go. Do you understand me?”
“I don’t want to go,” she whispers as if talking to herself.
The first strike causes her to scream out in agony. By the fifth, she has given in. I remove her body and gently lay her on the floor. She winces as her tender ass scrapes against the concrete.
I make my way between her legs and scoop my arms beneath her upper thighs, licking over her soaked slit. My tongue explores every fold and crevice, gently taking in each new discovery of her feminine essence. Over and over, I rack her body with pleasure until I get up and remove my pants. For the first time, I gently make love to her.
“You’re so perfect, Vixen. You were molded and hewn from birth to be mine. You fit me like a glove, you know me, you understand me, and for the first time in our lives, we are bonded. Bonds like this aren’t broken. They remain throughout time in the portals of eternity. They are what love stories are made of.
Kansas
His words wash over me like warm, enticing reassurances which resonate with me make me believe that I am wanted. He slowly pushes deeply within me, exploring depths known to no other.
His face is mask of intensity that speaks of danger and an obsession that lies within him for one woman—me.
I reach up and touch the scar that only adds to his dangerous good looks and his temple tics in recognition. I am his, I belong, and I finally found one who is worthy of me. We are knit together down to our souls and it is true…our connection will remain through the portals of time, going down in history as unrelenting love. I know this because I will document it in literature—words that stand out as a beacon to others who crave what we have managed to attain. This is real, this is raw, this is a dangerous obsession, and this is what others deem love. For the two of us,
Similar Books
