Naomi
He shoved me over the bed's edge, his hands rough on my back, and I felt my breath forced out as he yanked down my shorts and panties in one quick pull. The cold air hit my bare skin, and I gasped, feeling so exposed and small, my heart pounding hard. Tears started stinging my eyes right then, I was thinking, oh gosh, no, please don't do this, I just wanted to hide like a kid under the blankets.
He raised his hand, and the first slap came down hard on my ass crack, it burned like fire spreading deep, stinging so much I cried out and tensed up. The shock twisted my stomach; I felt the shame hit worse than the pain, like he was breaking me on purpose. Ahh, it hurt bad, hot tears streamed down my cheeks as I sobbed inside, feeling worthless and trapped.
Then he slapped again, faster and harder, no stopping. I screamed at the impact, my body shaking with each one, sobs taking over as the agony blurred everything. His cold voice droned about demons, but I could barely hear it, each hit made me feel more powerless, my skin throbbing hot, throat raw from crying. Heck, I was begging in my head for it to end; the humiliation coiled tight in my gut, making me feel like I was dissolving.
His grip tightened on my arm, yanking me off the bed rough, and my knees slammed down on the cold floor, my bound hands twisting behind me, the belt dug into my wrists like sharp teeth, sending fresh stings up my arms. My ass still burned from the slaps, but a new dread filled me, cold and sick in my stomach. I looked up through blurry tears, chest heaving, watching as he towered over me, eyes gleaming with cruelty. I felt terrified, like a cornered animal.
The zipper sound was loud, and he shoved his pants down, his thick cock springing out— I gasped inside at the size, heart racing frantic with terror. I clenched my jaw tight, teeth grinding, trying to resist what I knew was coming. But he smirked, wiped a tear from my cheek gentle at first then smeared it rough, his fingers digging into my face until my jaw popped open in pain. My lips parted against my will, tears spilling hot—I was helpless, panic rising.
He thrust in suddenly, and I gagged hard, my throat squeezing around his girth, no ease, just him pushing deeper forceful, filling my mouth. He fisted my hair, holding me steady as he rocked harder; I choked on breaths through my nose, the tears and sheer pressure making it impossible. I felt used, my trembles and gags ignored, his groans built for his pleasure only. That murmur about demons twisted the shame deeper; saliva and tears dripped down my chin as his thrusts pounded, grip yanking pain. I wanted to fight back, but I was pinned on my knees, fear and disgust churning inside me like a storm.
He snapped faster, tensed up, and groaned deep—hot, bitter rush flooded my mouth, he came inside my mouth and he held me there to swallow or choke, his body shuddering with pulses that marked me. My eyes squeezed shut, a sob catching in my throat—the taste lingered foul, seeping into me. He pulled out,
He zipped up casually and stepped back. I collapsed forward awkward, bound hands fumbling, curling in on myself, tightly. Sobs wracked me hard, tears pooling on the cold tiles—I felt wrecked and humiliated, like discarded trash. He glanced down cold, no softness, just satisfaction, then walked out, the door clicking shut like a cage locking.
Silence wrapped heavy around me, pain throbbing everywhere; wrists raw, skin burning, throat aching with that gross aftertaste. Disgust mixed nauseating resignation coiled in my stomach, twisting at how dirty and used I felt inside—like something slimy I couldn't get rid of. Alone, I sobbed harder, the weight crushing my soul; I was broken, hollow, wondering how I'd ever feel clean again.
Xavier
She whispered I was a demon—damn, she nailed it right about who I am. I watched her defiance flicker out as I told her the truth from me: no mercy in my world for her, no second chances bullshit from what I decide.
She'd gone too far that time against me, questioning my decisions like she could challenge me, defending the maid like she had a voice over my rules. Fuck, I was over her attitude toward me, her disobedience wearing me down day after day with her actions on me.
The backtalk she gave me, the glares she shot at me, they all screamed she didn't know her place with me. Time to fix that for her. I smiled cruel at her, stepped closer to her; her fear stirred something dark in me, blood humming already through my veins.
I unbuckled the belt slow for her to see, drawing it through the loops with a hiss at her; she gasped horrified by what I did, stumbling back to the wall—trapped by my move. "Done being lenient with you," I growled at her, frustration hot in my chest for what she caused me. "You're nothing but trouble."
I grabbed her wrist iron-tight from my hand, bruising it on her skin; she thrashed wild against my hold, but it was nothing to me, pathetic fight from her. I spun her around for my control, slammed her face to the wall by my force—her muffled cry jolted straight to my cock from hearing her.
I yanked her hands back behind her for me, wrapped the belt tight around her wrists from my grip, leather biting her skin for my satisfaction. She winced as I pulled harder on her, buckle digging into her; click sealed it for her from me. Helpless now because of what I did to her—no more bullshit from her to me. Her tears streaking down her face? Fed the sadist in me, craving the break I was giving her.
I bent her over the bed's edge for my purpose, shoving hard on her body, her breath knocked out in a gasp from my push. Yanked her shorts and panties down rough from my hands, exposing her quivering ass to my eyes. "No, please," she whimpered to me, voice cracking for my ears, that plea fueled my fire in me.
I raised my hand over her, slapped down hard on her, crack, pink bloomed on her skin, her body jolting under my strike. Rush hit me: pure power from what I was doing to her. Her pain was my high from inflicting it on her, humiliation my reward for her suffering. Demon? She'd feel the hell I delivered to her.
Another slap from my hand, harder on her, for every defiant word she threw at me. Her screams turned sobs under my rhythm on her body, skin reddening like my brand on her. "Attitude ends tonight for you," I chanted in my head.
God, her shatter under me, raw sobs from her mouth, tears soaking the sheets by my doing, lit me up inside me. My sadism was control for me, the sweet fuck of breaking. She endured now from what I forced, no fight left in her, my cock throbbed hard at her reactions. Tired of her shit against me, the constant pushback she gave me? Hell yes for what it did to me. But this, her whimpers as I dragged the pain on her? They were bliss for me, stroking the need in me to crush her deeper with my power.
I yanked her off the bed rough from my grip, forcing her to her knees, a soft thud on cold floor was heard, bound hands twisting behind her, whimper as belt dug raw into her from what I tied. Her eyes lifted blurred with dread at me.
Beautiful, her fear killed her attitude toward me, thrill surged through my body, my cock straining because of her vulnerability. I unzipped my pants and I shoved pants down on me, and out sprang my hard cock to her view—thick, veined girth pulsing with need. Her eye widened at my size.
She clenched her jaw, stubborn last disobedience from her. I smirked at her, thumb wiped her tear gentle then smeared rough on her face. My fingers dug into her face from my hand, pressed her jaw until pain forced it wide open, her lips parted unwilling for me, tears hot from her eyes.
I thrust in deliberately causing her to gag, a sweet sound from her mouth, as throat constricted tight on my dick. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and rocked deeper into her mouth, filling her completely, the girth stretched her throat as controlled her for my pleasure.
Her hands strained useless behind her, as I ignored gags from her and trembles in her body. I groaned at her dishevelled sobbing figure, saliva-tears drip from her chin and eyes filled with shame of what i was doing to her. All of that filled me with ecstasy, her chokes amplified my pleasure, I was a sadist forcing submission in her. I'm fucking tired of her disobedience, her fucking attitude, since her family couldn't instill the values of a mafia wife, my wife into her, I'll just have to do to myself.
My pace quickened and my dick I swelled in her mouth. I groaned deep as my cum flooded her mouth, I held her there for a moment forcing her to swallow before pulling out. Without another glance at her I pulled up my pant, zipping them up and walked out of the carefully crafted blue cage, locking the door behind me.
I'm gonna leave her there, to stew in her own disgust, her shame and humiliation. If I want a proper wife i gotta break her in myself. And I will, I will break her, shatter her, destroy her and rebuild her in my image. I will mould her into the wife I need her to be, the wife I want her to be.
**
The lock clicked into place with a sound of finality, a sharp punctuation mark on the scene of chaos he had just created. Xavier stood in the hallway for a moment, his back to the door. He could still hear her, even through the thick wood and insulation of the house. The sound wasn't loud, but it was a specific frequency of despair, a muffled, gut-wrenching sobbing that was slowly quieting down into exhausted, hiccupping whimpers.
He began to walk, his steps measured and calm, the rage that had fueled him now cooling into something far more dangerous: a crystalline, analytical clarity. He had expected to feel a sense of satisfaction, of victory. He had punished her. He had reasserted his dominance. He had shown her the consequences of defiance. Yet, as he moved down the hallway, a single, irritating thought kept surfacing: It wasn't enough.
The punishment had been a reaction. A brutal response to her insolence. But it was just a bandage on a bullet wound. He had treated the symptom, not the disease. The disease was Naomi herself, the person she was when she arrived.
The softness, the misguided loyalty, the foolish belief in mercy and second chances. That was the core of the problem, the source of her defiance. You couldn't beat that out of someone in a single, violent episode. It was too engraved.
He stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his study. The sun was higher now, glinting off the glass and steel of his empire. He had built this from nothing, with strategy, with foresight, with a complete and utter lack of sentimentality. He had never once tried to repair a crumbling structure; he always demolished it and built a new one from the ground up, stronger and to his exact specifications.
And that's what he had to do with Naomi.
The realization settled in his mind with the chilling comfort of a perfect equation. He had wanted a compliant wife, a beautiful, quiet asset on his arm. He had thought acquiring her was the hard part. He was wrong. Acquiring her was just the first step. The real work was making her. He would have to break Naomi down completely, piece by piece, until nothing was left of the girl who defended maids and cried for her sister. He would have to systematically dismantle her past, her loyalties, her very personality, until she was a clean slate.
And then, and only then, could he begin to build her back up. He would build her in his image. A wife who understood the rules of his world. A wife who was an extension of his will, beautiful, obedient, and utterly devoid of the weakness that had caused so much trouble this morning.
He turned from the window, a faint, cruel smile touching his lips. The sobbing from the bedroom had almost completely subsided now. Good. The demolition phase had begun. He would give her a day or two to marinate in her pain and humiliation. Then, he would go back in. Not with anger, but with a plan. The project began now.