Female Tyrant Resident Evil Novels & Stories

Her collar blinked: “UNIT 03: Responsive. High Scream Index. Multi-Orgasmic.” Gasps filled the room. Someone whispered, “Look at that cunt. It’s already pulsing.” Another said, “Let’s see how far she’ll beg.” A handler stepped forward. Tall. Gloved. Anonymous. In his hand? A remote. He pressed a button. A vibrator, small and surgical, descended from the ceiling and hovered over her clit. She moaned before it even touched.

Irene’s POV I peeled it off, hating the way his eyes trailed and lingered on my skin like I was a snack he wanted to devour. “You’re a tyrant.” I hissed, wanting him to feel a fraction of my hatred. He just shrugged lile he couldn’t care about my opinion. “Move faster, dove. We don’t have all night.” I gritted my teeth, swallowing the retort on my tongue as I took of my jeans then my underwear followed.

His voice was calm, but it was laced with a cold, underlying anger. ​Alan immediately backed away, smart enough not to provoke the Tyrant any longer. ​I felt a twisted sense of satisfaction seeing his face turn colder once we were alone. ​“If you're going to seduce every man in the room like the little slut you are, try not to be too obvious about it,” he whispered without hesitation. ​My smile vanished. I stomped my stiletto heel hard onto his polished dress shoe. ​He let out a soft groan but managed to keep his composure, though his jaw clenched tight. I stood so close to him I could feel his hot breath fan against my face. To an outsider, it looked like an intimate moment between lovers.

Her eyes, ice blue and calculating, sweep over me with open disdain. "Tiara," Tyler growls. The softness is gone. The killer is back. "Don't look so happy to see me, Tyler," Tiara drawls, her heels clicking against the marble as she reaches the bottom of the stairs. She's flanked by three others. The one on her left is massive—easily as big as Tyler, with a shaved head and a cruel scar running down the side of his neck. His eyes are dead. Enforcer eyes. Killer eyes.

“She won’t even remember.” My vision blacked for a second. That filthy audacity. Rolex. Of course it was him. One of Zargov’s most pathetic lapdogs. Always high on arrogance, low on brains. The kind of guy who couldn’t get a woman unless she was unconscious. He's pathetic, he doesn't know how to unravel a woman…how to make her cry pleasurably and beg desperately. I didn’t bother knocking. I swung myself through the window like a fucking demon.

Morris said nothing as he held the bigger card leaving the smaller figure no choice but to kneel obediently. "I did as you said. Don't kill him, please let him go" an angel voice pleads as she kneels before a tyrant staring at her as if a hunter waiting to devour his prey. "I'm not done yet, angel. We barely start." Morris said as he wiped Clare's tears away. "Now be a good girl and suck it," Morris said as his hand motioned his already hardened cock. Clare's eyes widen with fear, she gulps as the imperious thought occupy her mind ‘The size is inhumane’

How much more does she want? This is ridiculous he has a house he could have taken her in. Is he doing this out here just to bother me? Why is my tyrant having sex with some whore bothering me? As much as I hate for him to know this bothers me and that I'm out here I can't watch this any longer. Slowly standing up his eyes dart to meet mine. I guess I'm not as stealthy as I had hoped. Rolling my eyes at the smirk on his face trying to hide the hurt in my eyes I turn and go inside slamming and locking my door. I just can't win!

“Have one more dose. I’m sure your beloved tyrant of a mate would love to see you die a painfully slow death.” A hard kick rattled the cage loudly, and the grating sound exacerbated the ache in my head and sent me a strong wave of nausea. “Wake up! It’s no fun if I don’t see you try to suppress your screams.” He gave the cage another kick while he called me a bitch under his breath. My eyes slowly fluttered open, and as I looked at the ugly, burly man, I tried with all my might to make my gaze come across as a fiery and defiant glare.

but the minion cuts me off with this smug little laugh. “Boss is gonna love this. Pregnant wife getting cozy in the bathroom with his opponent’s kid. Bet that stain on your dress isn’t the only mess tonight.” He reaches for his phone, fingers already tapping like he can’t wait to type out the report. He starts heading out. That’s when Yuto moves. Fast. Not Elias-fast, not that scary controlled violence I’ve gotten way too used to, but quick enough that the minion doesn’t see it coming. Yuto’s hand shoots out, grabs the guy’s wrist, and twists. The phone clatters to the floor. The minion swings with his free arm, yelling something about “fucking traitor” and “loyalty,” and they crash into the

Perfectly reasonable for a hidden diamond like him. “Boss, why do you keep staring at that kid?” Leon whispered in my ear. I stayed silent. I felt something strange, an irrational pull. Nicholas’s gaze, his posture, his intelligence, even his looks awakened something unfamiliar. A desire to possess him. Not as an asset. Not as entertainment. But as if I were seeing myself as a child reflected in Nicholas. I didn’t understand why. Leon, my most trusted man, watched me with suspicion. “Boss, we’re here for weapons. Not a child.”