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When he pulled out, he slapped my cheek again, only a light touch. “Such a pretty mess,” he said, stroking my hair. “You’re learning.”

He dragged me back onto the bed, pinning me on my back. He straddled my chest, cock pressing against my lips again. “Beg for it,” he ordered. “Beg for me to use you.”

I shook my head, defiant. “No.” I couldn’t take it anymore.

His eyes darkened. He grabbed my breasts, squeezing hard, nails digging crescent moons into my skin. I gasped.

“Say it,” he growled. “Or I’ll hurt you.”

I glared up at him, stubborn. “No.”

Something snapped in his eyes. He reached for the knife on the nightstand, the one he kept close, always ready. My heart stuttered.

He pressed the flat of the blade against my stomach, cold and threatening. “You think I won’t?”

I didn’t answer. I was trembling, but I wouldn’t give him what he wanted.

He pressed harder, the edge biting into my skin. “Say it, Starla. Beg.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, anger burning through the terror.

The knife pressed in, a thin line of pain blossoming over my skin. Blood welled up.

He leaned close, breath hot in my ear. “You’re mine. I can do whatever I want to you. Don’t ever forget it.” He dragged the blade up my ribcage. I whimpered, body curling in on itself.

“Please,” I sobbed, the fight draining out of me. “Please, stop.”

He tossed the knife aside, grabbing my face in both hands. Tears streaked my cheeks. He kissed me, bruising and rough, tongue forcing its way into my mouth.

“There you go,” he purred. “Was that so hard?”

I was shaking, every nerve on fire. The pain, the fear, the twisted pleasure—it was all too much. I hated him. I needed him. I wanted to disappear. I wanted to be seen.

He rolled me onto my side, spooning me from behind, his cock still hard against the mess of my thighs. His hand found my cunt, rubbing in slow, torturous circles.

“You’re going to cum for me again,” he whispered, voice soft, almost gentle. “You’re going to show me you can be good, even after I hurt you.”

I didn’t want to cum again. My body was overstimulated and tired. Everything ached. I just wanted to sleep for a long time. Tears blurred my vision. I shut my eyes and shoved my face into the pillow.

He shoved his cock inside of me while he rubbed my clit. I screamed into the pillow. It felt as if there was a fire burning below with how badly the friction burned. The cut on my side was leaking blood, I felt it seeping down my flesh. Every time he thrust into me, it sent jolts of pain up my side.

His fingers worked me, relentless, pushing me toward the edge. I tried to hold back, but my body betrayed me. Shame flooded my cheeks, heat building low and fast.

“That’s it,” he crooned. “Let go. Show me you’re mine.”

I sobbed, the orgasm ripping through me. He held me close, murmuring praise and filth in my ear.

“Good girl. My perfect bluebird. Mine.”

He pushed me over onto my stomach and grabbed my hips. He yanked me up. My ass was in the air, face shoved into the sheets,

“Your ass is so nice from this view, fuck bluebird.” He rubbed my ass then smacked it. I winced. He smacked it again, then again. He teased the head of his cock against my entrance while continuously smacking my ass.

I just wanted it to be over.

He finally shoved in and fucked into me. One hand held my head down, the other held my hip. I felt his cock tearing me apart. My ass bounces against him, and each time it does, he smacks the edge of my ass.

My whole body stung. I screamed and cried into the pillow. His body slowed down finally, and I felt his cum spilling into me.