Snap.
He stepped in closer, his eyes gleaming with a sick, sadistic light.
He struck again, the belt landing across her hip and buttocks. The silk of her gown offered zero protection.
"Does that hurt?" he taunted, swinging again. Thwack. This time it hit her hip, just below the thin fabric of the gown. "Or does it feel good? Doesn't it?"
Elara sobbed, her head falling back, gasping for air.
The mixture of agony and the unnatural heat pooling in her belly was driving her insane. Tears streamed down her face.
"Stop... please..." she whimpered, the fight draining out of her as the pain throbbed.
"That's better," he breathed, his voice thick with lust. "Begging suits, you." Varg laughed, stepping right up against her suspended body.
He grabbed her hair, forcing her head back, and pressed his groin against her leg.
With his free hand, the one not holding the belt.
His hands moved up, sliding over the silk of her nightgown. He wasn't gentle. His fingers dug into her flesh, mapping the curves of her body with possessive greed.
He reached out and roughly grabbed her breast, squeezing hard through the thin fabric.
"You have such a soft body," he whispered, his hot breath against her ear, enjoying the way she flinched and tried to pull away.
He kneaded her flesh possessively, his rough thumb circling her nipple, which hardened instantly against her will due to the drug's influence.
Elara tried to shrink away, but she was trapped, hanging helplessly.
He trailed his hand down her stomach, pressing firmly into her soft curves, before sliding his hand lower, gripping her inner thigh right over the fresh, red welt he had just made.
Elara cried out, a sound that was half-sob, half-moan. The pressure on the wound was excruciating, but his touch sent confusing signals to her drugged brain.
His other hand slid down her stomach, tracing the line of her navel before dipping lower, his fingers brushing dangerously close to the hem of her gown. "And all mine to break."
Elara squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking down her cheeks. She felt humiliated, exposed, and utterly helpless. Every rough touch felt like a brand on her skin.
"Look at me, you bitch" Varg commanded, grabbing her jaw with his free hand and forcing her to look into his predatory eyes.
"Forget the old man. You belong to me. And tonight... I'm going to teach you exactly how to serve a real man."
He continued to lean in, his lips grazing her neck, sending a shudder of revulsion and terror through her entire body.
"Hehe… you're twitching," he mocked, his fingers digging into her skin. "Your body is already starting to know who the master is now, doesn't it?"
He raised the belt again, letting the leather slide slowly up her bare leg, tracing the sensitive skin like a lover's caress before snapping it back ominously.
"We have all night, my lady," Varg grinned, his eyes dark with lust and cruelty. "And I'm going to break you, piece by piece, until you're begging me for more."
The silence in the cave was broken only by Elara's ragged, hitching breaths.
Every nerve ending in her body felt stripped raw.
The rough hemp rope biting into her wrists, the cool damp air ghosting over her exposed legs, the stinging fire of the belt lash, everything was amplified a hundredfold.
"Don't give in," she screamed silently, biting her tongue until she tasted copper. "Think of Scott. Think of home."
But her thoughts were slippery, dissolving like smoke.
The image of Scott's face, kind, brave, and currently withered in the healing chamber, kept blurring, replaced by the overwhelming, immediate sensation of her own body betraying her.
A wave of dizziness washed over her, and her head lolled forward. The friction of her silk nightgown against her sensitized nipples sent a jolt of electric pleasure straight to her groin, making her knees buckle helplessly.
She let out a soft, involuntary moan that she immediately tried to swallow, but it was too late.
Varg heard it.
He stopped his pacing and leaned in close, his face inches from her heaving chest.
"There it is," he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. "The body doesn't lie, does it, Elara?"
He reached out with his gloved hand, not to strike, but to trace the path of sweat trickling down her cleavage.
"The mind says 'no', but this..." He pressed his palm flat against her lower stomach, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. "This is begging for it."
Elara squeezed her eyes shut, the heat in her belly was unbearable now, a desperate, hollow ache that demanded to be filled.
The drug was melting her resistance, turning her fear into a confusing, hazy need.
She felt wetness slicking her inner thighs, a humiliating proof of the poison's effectiveness.
"I... hate you," she managed to gasp, but the words lacked venom. They sounded breathless, almost pleading.
"Hate me all you want," Varg chuckled, his hand moving lower, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, dangerously close to her core. "But right now, you're wet for me."
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him.
Elara tried to pull back; to summon the rage she had felt moments ago, but her limbs felt like lead.
A treacherous fog was settling over her mind, whispering that it would be easier to just stop fighting. To just let the heat take over.
"No," a small, dying ember of her will flickered. "If I break... I will lose everything."
She forced herself to focus on the pain of the rope at her wrists, using the sharp bite of the hemp to anchor herself to reality. She had to hold on. Just a little longer.
But as Varg's hand squeezed her thigh again, possessing her, the darkness of the cave seemed to close in, and the face of her husband grew fainter and fainter in the haze.
Varg stepped back for a moment, his chest heaving as he stared at the damp patch forming on the silk between her legs. The sight seemed to snap the last thin thread of his patience.
"This rag," he growled, grabbing the neckline of her delicate nightgown with both hands. "It's hiding the view."
Before Elara could even gasp, he yanked his hands apart violently.
RRRIIIP.