“Control” - Halsey

Oh, the dilemma I am in...

Defiant doesn't touch what Camilla is, and, if I am honest with myself, I almost respect her will to rebel. Almost. I spend the entire ride home contemplating what to do with her, but what do you do with someone whose arrogance and pride override any rational drive to survive? Then again, Camilla is not stupid, she knows how this business works. She knows that once I’m done with her death awaits.

As soon as we’re inside my house, Igor takes her coat. I grab her by the elbow, escort her to my office, and lock the door behind me before I make my way toward the roaring fireplace. "You know there are consequences to what you've done?" But what consequences, I'm still not certain.

She sighs. "I'd expect nothing less."

If I put another chip in her she'll just dig it out. Then I’d be forced to kill her, and I’m not ready yet. I circle around her, trailing my fingers over her shoulders as I debate on the proper form of humiliation. Camilla is not the type of woman who will find degradation in being beaten or fucked. The things that would make most women cringe, she wouldn't bat an eye at, but... The ring on my right hand glints in the firelight and a sick smile works over my lips. "The next chip will be placed much deeper," I say, wanting nothing more but to wind her up.

"Then I'll cut that one out, too," she says through gritted teeth.

"What if I place it here?" I sweep my hand over the middle of her back. "How would you cut that out?"

"I'm extremely flexible, and I don't mind scars."

My eyes drop to the healing wounds on her chest and my cock swells. "You'd rather I beat you, wouldn't you?"

"Yes."

I lean down by her neck. "Fuck you?" I ask, and she tilts her head to the side, inviting me closer. "What is it about that chip that bothers you so much?"

She whirls around and locks eyes with me. For a moment, there's a glint of vulnerability. "I want to die on my terms."

"There are only my terms here," I breathe against her neck.

Her lips graze over my jaw before her teeth scrape my ear. "A soldier's death then. You can give me that much, Ronan."

The way my name rolls from her tongue causes a slight groan to rumble up my throat. "The way you behave has everything to do with how you die." I grab the tongs from the fireplace and slip my ring from my finger, looking at the raised letters on its surface. My initials will look so lovely burned onto her skin, and she’ll hate that I’ve branded her like livestock. "Take off your dress. Bend over the desk."

Her eyes dance with defiance for a moment before she slowly unzips her dress. The material slides down her body until she's standing in nothing but a black lace bra and thong. The glow of the flames dance over her curves. She turns and bends over the desk, spreading her legs as she brushes her hair over her shoulder.

I move the fire screen and grip the ring with the tongs, holding it in the fire until the metal burns bright red. I step up behind her and place my palm over the side of her face, pinning her to the desk.

"What are you doing?" She thrashes against my hold. "Ronan, what are you doing?" Her voice rises with panic as I place the hot metal below her ear. The skin sizzles and pops, but she doesn't scream, she barely even winces as a small plume of smoke rises from her neck. She is strong, I'll give her that. I hold the ring to her skin, my eyes trailing over the morbid tattoo on her back.

I drop the tongs to the floor, staring at my initials blackened over her skin as I sweep my hand over her back. Instead of smooth skin, my fingers play over ridges. Scars from burns. So many layers to peel back. “How very pretty,” I whisper, fisting her hair as I lean over her. "It doesn't matter what I do because you’re not afraid of death, and without fear, you won't submit, which is admirable. It truly is, but you are defiant." I yank her head back. "So defiant, Camilla, and the thing that you have yet to understand is that you can do and say what you want, but at the end of the day you are mine. You want to die on your own terms, but that is impossible. How do you not see that?"

"Oh, it riles you, doesn't it?" she snarls, fighting against me. "That you can't control every facet of me, that you can't force my hand."

"That is where you are very wrong, Camilla." I laugh. "If you take your own life, it's due to me. It’s solely because of the control I have over you."

"Don't flatter yourself."

Her absolute disregard for death incites me. Her blatant disrespect enrages me. Her volatile personality entices me. I shouldn't enjoy this, but I do in every carnal way possible. "The fact that you are so powerless destroys you, doesn't it?"

"Maybe I secretly like it." She presses her ass against me, and the corner of her lips pull into a smug grin.

"I know you do," I whisper, sweeping my finger over the freshly burned flesh on her neck. She hisses out a breath. "Ownership does look so pretty on you."

"Men are so predictable. All of you wanting to own pretty things."

I simply smirk at her before placing a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Such a pretty little pet," I say, wanting to provoke her anger, her rage. I want her mad because it makes my cock throb.

"I swear Russian,” she snarls and thrashes against me, “before this is all said and done, I will make you bleed."

"Such sweet promises," I whisper, trailing my palm over the curve of her ass. Her warm skin serves as such a temptation, but her anger even more. No matter how powerful a man may be, things as primitive as this—the scent of a woman's skin, the promise of her tight pussy—it's a weakness rarely avoided. Closing my eyes, I imagine her pinned underneath me, my hands on her throat as I bury myself inside her. But I can't give her that satisfaction. If anything, I want to rip the one thing she feels she has power over away, so I let my fingers slip underneath the lace of her thong. My finger skims her asshole and she moans. "When I take this, I will make you bleed," I groan, circling my finger over her hole before I slide it down to her wet pussy. "So aroused, little kitty," I murmur against her cheek, playing with her. Each swipe of my finger makes my cock ache for her, but this is about control. Power. Ownership.

I bury two fingers inside her so hard, so fast, she gasps. "I think you like to be treated like a dirty slut, Camilla. You crave the depraved." I nip at her ear before I place my thumb on her asshole and push it inside. She clenches around me, groaning and shoving back against me. Using my free hand, I smash her face against the desk as I finger fuck her, more than delighted at the way she claws at the hard wood between deep pants.

"Shit," she whispers. She tightens around my fingers. Her movements grow desperate. But I can’t allow her to come. I pull out of her and step away. She’s bent over and spread out on my desk on the verge of an orgasm she'll never have, and I find so much pleasure in that.

An exasperated breath rushes from her lips before she turns over and sits up. She scoots to the edge of the desk. I admire the lovely flush painted on her cheeks. She closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them there’s a wild flicker. "You know what they say…” Her legs spread open and her hand drops between her thighs, underneath the lace. “If you want a job done properly..."

Smiling, I cross the room and snatch her hand away. "That's not allowed."

"Oh, Ronan." She inches toward me, sweeping her lips over mine. "So uptight all the time." Her lips trail over my cheek, and then she pinches the skin of my jaw between her teeth. "Don't pretend you don't want to watch my pussy clench around my fingers, or better yet, feel it on your cock."

"Why would I want that, Camilla?" I pull her hand toward my lips and slip her wet fingers into my mouth, sucking the delicate taste of her pussy from them. I want nothing more at this moment than to fuck her... "Are you going to be bad?"

"I'll take those as rhetorical questions."

I walk around the desk and open a drawer, pulling a thin rope out. "Turn around," I say.

"You just happen to keep rope in your desk? Like a damn serial killer," she mumbles, hopping off the desk and turning around on a sigh.

I take both her wrists and loop the rope around them. I fully expect her to be out of these within the hour, but it's just the principle of it really. The degradation, the forced submission from such an angry jungle cat. "Now then. Let's go." I grab hold of the rope, escorting her from my office to her room.

When we reach her doorway she turns to glare at me, and I offer her a charming smile. "I do hope you have delightful dreams." And with that, I close the door.

Camilla has added a certain level of...entertainment to my life. She makes me angry, she reduces me to the most primitive of wants, but in the end, I control her and that is immeasurably satisfying. It is so tragic to think I'll have to kill her once it's all over, but at the same time, I know she will be utterly beautiful when she bleeds.