Chapter 62 :

The words brushed against my skin before his lips did.

His teeth caught my lower lip, tugging just enough to make my breath hitch. Not hard enough to hurt. Just enough to remind me that he could.

The moment stretched.

Then he released me.

Without another word, he let go completely and sat back on his knees.

I didn't answer.

There was nothing I could say that would matter anyway.

Instead, I shut my eyes again.

My heart was pounding so violently that I could feel it in my throat. Every beat seemed louder than the last.

I hated it.

Hated how easily he could throw me off balance.

Hated how my body responded to him even when I was annoyed.

Even when I was angry.

Even when I wanted to shove him away.

He had this infuriating ability to blur every emotion together until I couldn't tell where one ended and another began.

Pain.

Embarrassment.

Frustration.

Anticipation.

Everything tangled into one unbearable knot inside me.

A soft rustling sound reached my ears. It was from the movement of fabric. Then came the faint shift of something being picked up.

I didn't bother opening my eyes.

Experience had taught me that asking questions to Kaaryaksh was pointless.

So was protesting. So was arguing.

None of it ever changed anything.

If he had decided to do something, then it was already happening. He'd do whatever he wanted anyway. The realization should have irritated me.
Instead, it only made me wait.

My body felt strangely sensitive.

Too aware.

Too exposed.

A shiver ran through me as I felt the cool trail of liquid sliding against my warm skin.

My breasts were leaking again.

The sensation made my cheeks burn.

The dampness moved slowly downward, leaving a cold path behind that contrasted sharply with the heat building beneath my skin.

I would have been mortified if anyone else had seen me like this.

Humiliated.

Uncomfortable.

Disgusted with myself.

For years I probably would have hidden immediately.

Covered myself.

Turned away.

Pretended it wasn't happening. But somewhere along the way, that reaction had changed.

At least when it came to him.

He wasn't gentle with his words. Comfort wasn't exactly his specialty. Yet somehow he had managed to make this feel less like a flaw and more like something that simply existed.

Something that didn't need to be hidden.

My body had fought through too much already.

Too many battles.

Too many scars.

Too many things that had tried to break it.

This was merely one more consequence of survival.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

My fingers curled slightly against the sheets as a wave of heat rolled through me without warning.
My entire body felt restless.

It felt sensitive. Too aware of my surroundings. Too aware of where his gaze trailed to and what he noticed more.

The ache low in my stomach intensified.

A slow, relentless throbbing that seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat.

I bit down on my lower lip.

Hard.

Trying to silence the sound threatening to escape.

Trying to regain some control over myself.

But it was becoming increasingly difficult. Because the worst part was that he hadn't even touched me again.

Not once.

Not since pulling away.

And somehow that made everything worse.

The silence.

The waiting.

The knowledge that he was somewhere nearby while I remained completely aware of him.

Aware of his presence.

Aware of every movement.

Aware of every breath.

My imagination filled in the gaps far too easily. Each passing second only made the tension tighter.

My thoughts betrayed me.

My body betrayed me.

And the realization left me feeling shameless.

Absolutely shameless.

Because despite my irritation, despite my stubborn determination to resist him, despite every complaint I had thrown at him moments earlier - I was still thinking about him.

Still anticipating what he would do next.

Still listening for the slightest sound.

Waiting.

And that waiting was driving me insane.

"Even my thoughts arouse you."

His words made my eyes snap open.

For a second, I genuinely froze.

My gaze shot straight to his face, my heart stumbling somewhere inside my chest.

Did I say something out loud?

The thought hit me immediately.

My eyes widened in alarm before narrowing suspiciously. The answer was already written across his face.

I hadn't spoken anything loudly. But I knew he knew everything I was thinking about. I was in my vulnerable form, exposed in every way. So it was easy for him to read me.

A smug smirk sat comfortably on his lips, infuriatingly satisfied with itself.

He looked entirely too pleased.

"The way you're leaking from everywhere is enough proof."

Heat rushed to my face. I tightened my jaw.

The confidence in his voice irritated me more than the statement itself. He spoke as though he knew exactly what was happening inside my head.
As though every thought, every reaction, every hesitation belonged to him to examine.

I almost turned away.

Almost, when my attention fell on the object in his hands.

My irritation was instantly replaced by confusion.

I frowned.

The thing looked unfamiliar.

It had a black handle, sleek and dark, attached to a strange glass structure that reflected the soft light in the room.

The surface gleamed.

Smooth. Cold-looking.

Nothing about it resembled anything ordinary. Nothing like any object I'd seen before in daily life.

I stared at it for several seconds, trying to understand what exactly I was looking at. The longer I looked, the more questions appeared.

"What is that?" I finally asked.

My curiosity overpowered my pride.

His gaze flickered toward the object before returning to me.

"Punishment for using your mouth too much."

The answer did absolutely nothing to explain it. If anything, it only deepened my confusion. But before I could ask another question, he stepped off the bed.

The mattress shifted beneath the movement.

I followed him with my eyes as he placed the strange object near the edge of the bed before reaching down toward the floor.

Something metallic clicked softly.

My stomach tightened.

When he straightened again, I immediately recognized what he was holding.

My breath caught.

A spreader bar.

I might not have known what the glass object was.

But this?

That I recognized instantly.

My throat went dry as the realization settled heavily in my chest.

I watched him approach. His every step seemed deliberate. Unhurried. Certain. As though he already knew exactly how this would end.

The room suddenly felt much smaller now. The silence thicker. Me being bound happened to highten the tension in the room between us. And that increased the nervousness inside me.

He moved without speaking.

Without asking.

Without giving me time to prepare for whatever idea had formed inside his head.

My pulse quickened.

I hated how aware I became whenever he was quiet. Because his silence was rarely reassuring.

It usually meant he was thinking.

Planning or already decided.

And that was somehow worse.

My fingers curled against the sheets, as I remained still while he positioned the bar.

One movement followed another. Keeping down the bar between my ankles, he locked my legs to prevent them from closing. And annoyingly so, I didn't even stop him from binding me more.

The entire process felt agonizingly slow.

Far too slow.

Every passing second only gave my imagination more opportunities to run wild.

Soon the realization of my position settled over me completely.

There would be no shifting away.

No turning aside.

No hiding.

The awareness sent another wave of heat rushing into my cheeks. Embarrassment curled tightly inside my stomach.

My instinct was immediate.

Look away.

Avoid eye contact.

Pretend none of this was happening.

Anything to escape the vulnerability that threatened to swallow me whole.

I turned my head.

But before I could fully look away, his voice cut through the silence.

Perfectly timed.

As though he had anticipated the reaction before I even made it.

"I dare you to look away from my eyes. And you'll see what I do."

The warning was quiet.

Far too quiet.

That was what made it unsettling.

A shiver ran down my spine.

Every instinct told me to look away, to break eye contact, to escape the intensity of his stare for even a second.

But I obeyed.

My eyes remained locked on his. And the room felt strangely silent around us. The air itself seemed heavier.

His gaze held mine for a moment longer before it slowly drifted downward.

I could feel the shift in attention even without following it.

My heartbeat quickened.

The anticipation was becoming unbearable. Everything with him felt drawn out on purpose.

Every movement.

Every pause.

Every second.

As though he enjoyed making me wait.

As though he enjoyed watching me unravel.

"So perfect."

The words were spoken almost absentmindedly.

Like a silent observation.

Like he wasn't even aware he'd said them aloud.

My stomach tightened.

Before I could respond, he pulled away.

Confusion flickered through me.

I blinked.

Then suddenly — something sharp struck the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. The sensation was so unexpected that my entire body jerked.

A startled cry escaped me before I could stop it.

Pain flared through the area. It was brief but too intense. Enough to leave my nerves screaming.

"Kaaryaksh, w-what was that?"

My voice trembled. I swallowed hard.

The sting lingered even after the sensation had faded. Tears gathered at the corners of my eyes. Not from weakness. But from shock.

The suddenness of it.

The unpredictability.

Not knowing what would come next.

He didn't answer immediately, letting the silence stretch.

Then another jolt shot through me.

It was stronger. Sharper.

My back arched instinctively, as a gasp tore from my throat. The sensation seemed to race across every nerve at once, leaving me breathless.

It felt as if something but my already sensitive skin on heat, unnerving me in ways I hadn't predicted at all. I'd learnt he was kinky but what was he even doing now?

"Please..."

The word slipped out before I could stop it.

Everything felt overwhelming.

The tension.

The anticipation.

The confusion.

The way he remained so impossibly calm while my thoughts scattered in every direction.

Only then did he finally speak.

"An electronic violet wand."

His tone was composed. Controlled.

Almost casual as if he wasn't giving me a sick treatment in the name of sexual pleasure. As though he were discussing something ordinary rather than the source of my distress.

"A BDSM tool bought especially for you, baby."

The words settled heavily between us.

My pulse stumbled.

A chill traveled through me despite the heat burning beneath my skin.

Of course he would say it like that. As though the entire situation was perfectly reasonable. As though my reactions weren't sending my heart into complete chaos.

I stared at him.

Unsure whether I wanted to argue, protest, or simply demand an explanation.

But beneath all of it was something far more dangerous.

Curiosity.

And judging by the knowing look in his eyes — he already knew it

He was giving me electric shocks?

What kind of sick tools did people even make for this sort of thing?

The thought alone was enough to make me stare at the object in disbelief.

It looked so ordinary.

Simple.

Almost harmless.

And yet every time it touched my skin, it sent a sharp sensation racing through me, leaving me tense and breathless long after the contact was gone.

This man was operating on an entirely different level of madness today.

"It hurts. P-Please... use something else b-but not this," I stuttered, my gaze dropping to the tool in his hand.

The words sounded weak even to my own ears.

A plea.

A genuine plea.

When I finally looked back at him, I immediately regretted it. His eyes were already on me.

Watching. Observing. But with a smile tugged up his lips. The sight only sent another shiver through me.

The darkness in his gaze had deepened. The calm expression he usually carried was gone, replaced by something far more intense.

Something that made my stomach tighten.

It wasn't merely desire.

It was determination.

The look of someone who had already made up his mind. Someone who knew exactly what he intended to do and wasn't planning to change course.

I swallowed hard.

My throat felt painfully dry.

The awareness of his attention was becoming impossible to ignore. Every second under that stare made me feel more exposed than before. And that realization only frustrated me further. Because deep down, I already knew where this was heading.

I knew he would continue pushing boundaries.

Continue testing my patience.

Continue dragging reactions out of me that I didn't want him to see.

For heaven's sake, what was wrong with me?

Why was my own mind betraying me?

Why was I reacting this way at all?

I didn't understand it.

Didn't want to understand it.

Yet the confusion remained.

Growing stronger with every passing moment. Another sharp sensation shot through me unexpectedly.

My entire body tensed.

A startled cry escaped before I could stop it.

"Ah... Please."

The word came out broken. Barely louder than a gasp.

"Please what, baby?"

His voice was maddeningly calm.

Steady.

Controlled.

The complete opposite of how I felt.

I opened my mouth. Then closed it again. Because I had absolutely no answer.

What was I even trying to ask for?

Relief?

Mercy?

A break?

I didn't know.

The plea had escaped on instinct rather than thought.

My breathing had become uneven.

I shifted reflexively, trying to move away from the source of the discomfort. Trying to put distance between myself and him.

But it was impossible.

The realization only heightened my frustration.

Tears gathered in my eyes before slipping down the sides of my face and disappearing into my hair.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. The lingering sensation remained. A stubborn reminder that refused to fade immediately.

My skin still felt overly sensitive.

Overly aware.

As though every nerve ending had suddenly decided to wake up at once.

The room seemed hotter now. The air heavier. More difficult to breathe.

"Remember this the next time you decide to use your mouth too much."

His voice reached me through the haze of my thoughts.

Low. Controlled. Measured.

The familiar warning carried enough confidence to make me grit my teeth.

Even now he sounded entirely convinced he was right. Entirely convinced that every reaction belonged to him.

The mattress shifted suddenly.

The movement pulled my attention away from everything else.

A dip formed beside me.

Then closer, somewhere near my waist. The familiar weight told me exactly what had happened.

He was above me now.

Close.

Far too close.

I could feel the warmth of his presence without even looking.

By that point exhaustion had already begun creeping through my body.

The constant tension.

The anticipation.

The emotional whiplash.

Everything had left me drained.

My skin felt damp with perspiration.
My chest rose and fell rapidly. Each breath seemed louder than the last.

I stared at the ceiling, struggling to regain control of myself while my pulse continued racing relentlessly beneath my skin.

"You look so good like this," he murmured near her ear. The words sent a ripple of unease straight through her.

His presence felt overwhelming.

Too close.

Too consuming.

Every breath he exhaled brushed against my skin, making my acutely aware of the small distance between them.

Something tightened painfully inside my chest.

A sound threatened to escape my throat, but I swallowed it back.

I hated how easily he affected me.

Hated how my own body seemed determined to react to him no matter how stubbornly my mind resisted. The conflicting emotions left me exhausted.

Confused.

Frustrated.

He seemed to notice every shift in me expression.

Every tremor.

Every hesitation.

As though he could read thoughts I hadn't spoken aloud.

The realization only made me more self-conscious.

My pulse hammered relentlessly.

The room felt warmer than before.

The air heavier.

Harder to breathe.

I could feel myself becoming increasingly overwhelmed by everything happening around me.

The tension.

The anticipation.

The constant uncertainty of what he would do next.

It was all too much.

My body felt drained from remaining tense for so long.

Every muscle ached.

Every nerve seemed painfully alert.

I wanted a moment to think. A moment to regain control. But he never seemed interested in giving me one.

Instead, he continued watching me with that same intense focus that made me feel as though I were the only thing in the room.

The center of his attention.

The center of every thought.

The knowledge should have irritated me.

Instead, it sent another wave of heat rushing through me.

I squeezed my eyes shut briefly.

Trying to steady myself.

Trying to slow my racing heartbeat.

When I opened them again, I found myself staring at the ceiling.

Breathing hard.

Struggling to gather my thoughts.

The silence stretched between them.

Neither of us spoke. Yet the atmosphere remained charged. Heavy with things neither of us were saying.
And somehow that silence felt far more dangerous than any argument we could have had.

When he finally reached my other nipple, my whole body went rigid. He circled it with his tongue, slow, deliberate, never quite touching the peak itself. I bucked, helpless, and he pressed my wrists harder into the mattress.

"Stay still," he ordered, his tone a velvet growl. "I'll take what I want, when I want."

My breath hitched, tears of frustration stinging my eyes as his tongue traced cruel circles, never giving me what I needed. He smirked at my whimpers, at the way my chest arched, offering myself like a plea.

Only then did his mouth close over me.

The heat of him was overwhelming, his lips sealing around my nipple, sucking deep. My moan broke into a scream as the tension snapped inside me, pleasure rushing hot and sharp. And then-my body betrayed me.

A sudden warmth surged out of me, filling his mouth. My eyes widened in horror.
"Kaaryaksh - stop, I-I can't-"

But he didn't let go.

A guttural groan rolled from his chest as he swallowed greedily, his tongue coaxing more, pulling it from me in slow, deep sucks. His eyes flicked up to mine, dark with hunger, triumphant.

"Sweet," he rasped when he pulled back briefly, his lips glistening. "You taste like sin made flesh."

Before I could speak, his mouth latched onto me again, hungrier this time, as though he couldn't get enough. Each pull sent sparks tearing down my spine, my nipples throbbing painfully under his relentless attention. His tongue swirled, lapped, teased, then his lips sealed again, drawing out another hot rush that he drank with a low moan.

I was undone, thrashing helplessly under him. "Please... please..." I sobbed, my pride gone.

He switched to the other previously used breast, giving it the same ruthless devotion. His teeth grazed the hardened peak before sucking hard, his tongue flicking mercilessly. Another surge spilled out, and he groaned like a man starved, swallowing every drop. His hand slid under the weight of my breast, squeezing, kneading, forcing more into his mouth.

The sight of him-head buried against me, throat working as he drank from me like I was his source of life-broke me apart. My shame dissolved, leaving only raw need, pure surrender.

"You were made for this," he growled between sucks, his voice vibrating against my skin. "Made to feed me... to belong to me."

He pinched the nipple not in his mouth, tugging it hard until my back arched violently off the bed. His lips pulled at the other, sucking harder, his teeth biting just enough to make me cry out. The ache in my breasts spread like fire through my body, sinking low into my core until I was drenched, throbbing, desperate for more.

When he finally released me, strings of wetness clung between his lips and my skin. He licked them away with slow, deliberate strokes, groaning softly as though savoring every trace.

"You'll never escape me, Anvaya," he whispered, his voice dark, his eyes burning. "Not when I can taste you like this. Not when you give me everything."

Then he kissed me.

It was brutal, consuming, his tongue pushing into my mouth, making me taste myself on his lips. The milk he had stolen from me lingered, sweet and obscene, smeared between our mouths as he devoured me whole. My whimpers melted into his kiss, his dominance undeniable, unshakable.

When he pulled back, a thin line of wetness connected our mouths. His thumb wiped it away only to press it back against my lips, forcing me to lick it clean.

"Good girl," he praised, voice low and dangerous.

His kisses trailed down again, over the bruises he'd left, over the swell of my breasts, down the valley of my stomach, leaving more bites, more hickeys as though he meant to map me with his claim. Each mark stung deliciously, making me moan louder, my body trembling under his mouth.

When he reached the top of my thighs, he spread them apart firmly, exposing me more, making the bar stretch further. His eyes darkened, and his smirk returned.

"So wet," he murmured, dragging a finger slowly through my slick folds. The sound was obscene in the silence. He lifted it to his mouth, licking it clean with a shudder of approval. "You taste just as sweet here."

Then his fingers returned, teasing. He stroked my clit lightly, barely enough to relieve the ache, before sliding down and pressing at my entrance. He didn't push in - not yet. He teased me with shallow dips, never deep enough, until I writhed against him, begging.

"Please... Kaaryaksh, I need-"

"You need what?" His tone was cruel in its softness. "Say it."

"Your fingers," I gasped, shame forgotten. "Inside me."

His smirk widened. "Good girl."

He slid one finger inside, slow, unrelenting, stretching me around him. I moaned, the sound breaking into a cry as he held it there, making me feel every inch. Then he moved, languid thrusts that dragged against my walls until I shook.

A second finger joined, thicker, deeper, curling inside me with ruthless precision. His thumb pressed against my clit now, circling, teasing, pressing just enough to make me tremble.

My moans turned shameless, my hips grinding against his hand, but his free palm pressed hard into my stomach, pinning me down. "Stay still," he ordered, his voice low, his pace quickening. "Take it for me."

The wet sounds filled the room, mixing with my broken cries. The pressure built unbearably, pleasure coiling tight, threatening to snap.

And then - he stopped.

I screamed in frustration, my body convulsing under the denial. "Why? Please---"

His smirk was lethal. "Because I want your mouth to beg for me."

Before I could plead, his fingers left me, and his head lowered between my thighs.

The first brush of his tongue was too much. My hips jerked violently, but his hands slammed my thighs apart, holding me open. His tongue lapped slowly, savoring, tracing every fold before circling my clit with agonizing patience.

I sobbed, thrashing, but he pinned me harder, his mouth relentless. His tongue pushed inside me, replacing his fingers, thrusting, curling, fucking me with hot, wet precision. He groaned against me, the sound vibrating into my core, making me lose all control.

His mouth was merciless-licking, sucking, worshipping-while his hands held me captive. He dragged me higher, edging me, denying me release, only to push me further again. My body shook violently, my screams hoarse, until finally he sealed his lips around my clit and sucked hard.

I shattered.

The pending orgasm tore through me like lightning, violent and unstoppable. My vision went white, my body convulsed, soaking his mouth, and he swallowed every drop, groaning as though feasting on me. He didn't stop, didn't let up, working me through wave after wave until I collapsed, trembling, tears streaming down my face.

When he finally pulled back, his lips glistened with me. He licked them clean slowly, his eyes locked on mine, burning.

I came this time too quickly, too easily. But it was his fault for making me overstimulated and overwhelmed.

"You see now, Anvaya?" His voice was low, dark, and final. "Your body belongs to me. Your pleasure belongs to me. Your milk, your moans, your release... all mine."

And as his smirk curved into something devastating, I realized he was right.

I was his. Entirely his.