Violent Delights Have Violent Ends นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"Choke me. I don't mind. In fact, I'd quite enjoy it." The look in her eyes was disturbing. She was enjoying this, getting off on the violence and dominance. Dante's expression shifted from rage to disgust. He immediately released her, pulling his hand away like she'd burned him. "You're sick," he said. Vivian laughed softly, rubbing her throat where his hand had been. "I'm practical. And I know what I want." Dante grabbed my hand and pulled me further into the room, then slammed the door in Vivian's face. I heard the lock click as he secured it.

"After I kill you, she will be my own slave. Every night she will warm my bed, sleep under me, and I will take her every night, every hour. And you can't do anything about it; she can't escape it." The venomous words from Victor sent Dominic into a fit of rage, his face contorting into a snarl. Red-hot anger seethed through his veins as his heart pounded fiercely within his chest. The thought of Valarie, under the torture of that man, forced to bear the twisted desires that this sadist has, was almost unbearable.

Each one precise, calculated to cause maximum pain without breaking skin. When he was done, her back was a canvas of red welts. "Beautiful," he murmured, running his hand over them. She flinched. "Absolutely beautiful." He untied her wrists, flipped her over. Her back hit the mattress and she cried out—the welts screaming in protest. "Good," Dante said. "I want you to feel every second of this." He grabbed her breasts, squeezed hard. Not sexually—violently. Trying to hurt her. She tried to push him away. He grabbed her wrists, pinned them beside her head with one hand.

What if the pain never went away? A cold shiver ran through her as she thought about the possibility of waking up again. She didn’t want to. A single tear fell from her eyes, disappearing into her blood-stained hair. Then her eyes were beginning to close. She desperately embraced the darkness, hoping it was the end of her life. But if she ever opened her eyes again, she would make them pay for everything they had done to her, especially Andreas King. It was the last thought in her mind before everything went blank.

Kael Blackclaw, the Rogue King, disguised himself as a delivery man to assassinate my mate, the Alpha of the Moonbane pack, Lucas Wolfgang. However, it was Valentine's Day that day, and Lucas was busy celebrating a romantic evening with his lover and childhood friend elsewhere. When Kael realized that he had failed in his assassination, he took my daughter, Tina Wolfgang, as hostage and forced me to drink the deadly wolfsbane potion. I tried my best to distract him with lighthearted chatting while sending Lucas an SOS signal through our mind link.

I found myself fixated on it, a perverted thought igniting: I wanted to pour wine into that hollow and lick it clean. As she swerved, the light caught the diamonds, momentarily blinding me. A brief, searing vision flashed in my mind: her naked, the dress pooled at her feet, that necklace still around her neck. Her legs spread wide, inviting me to plunge my fingers into her. Two or three, if she were a good girl. Would she ride my fingers recklessly? Fuck! I needed to know. My cock twitched, dragging me back from my depraved fantasy. I willed myself to think of anything gross, anything to calm the fuck down. This was not the time or place to get a hard-on.

All characters, settings, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination. This work, LORD OF VIOLENCE by A. Gupta, is copyrighted and may not be copied, distributed, or reproduced in any form without the author's explicit permission. The book contains explicit scenes, including sexual content and violence, intended for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is advised. The author does not promote, endorse, or participate in any of the actions depicted in this work. This is purely a dark fictional story meant for entertainment purposes. ~A. Gupta _________________ Trigger Warnings:

She aggressively tried to completely silence him permanently. Now, he was actively coming to completely, violently tear her pristine, highly expensive world entirely apart. The broken, muzzled footstool was permanently dead. The true, absolute Devil of Dalal Street had officially, violently returned, completely forged entirely in blood and highly toxic ashes. And he was actively bringing absolute, inescapable hell completely with him.

Tears blended with her smeared makeup as she begged, slurring, "Please... don't. She was trembling when she spoke. Inside of me, something snapped. I threw the first one across the room without thinking. He moaned as he struck the wall. The second one came swinging at me. I struck his jaw with my fist after grabbing his wrist in midair. Once more. And once more. They engaged in cowardly combat. I was also furious. I'm furious. There were two of them. However, it was like battling shadows. weak. useless. When I finished, both were bleeding, moaning, and crawling like rats on the ground. I looked over at Kayla Now she was giggling. and sobbing. As if her body was unsure of which emotion to cl

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> This one was proving resistant to management. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3" The violent part he could work with. Violence was clean. Violence had rules and consequences and a referee and a penalty box and everyone understood where the lines were even when they were being crossed. He knew how to be in a violent dynamic. He'd been in them before, on ice and off, and he knew how to hold his ground and when to disengage and how to protect himself without escalating beyond the point of no return. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> It was the other part that was the problem.