Leo stepped back from the table, as he looked down at Belladonna.
She was draped over the table, panting. Her chest heaved against the tight corset of her ruined maid uniform.
Her face was a mess right now. She was flushed red, her lips were swollen from his fucking, and her eyes looked unfocused.
She looked defeated, her legs trembling, but the fire in her eyes hadn't completely died out. She was still a Queen, even if she was currently drooling on a table like a common wench.
"You," she rasped, trying to push herself up on shaky arms, "You think this breaks me? I have endured torture. I have endured war. This is nothing."
Leo smirked. He ignored her and pointed at the floor.
"Do you think I am done? Get down," he commanded.
"What?" she frowned.
"You heard me," Leo said, his voice flat, "Get on your hands and knees. On the floor. Right now."
"I... I am a Queen," she hissed, clutching the edge of the table.
