Page 77 of Breaking Lucia

I’m too tired and shaken to protest. I don’t even resist when Victor puts my arms around his shoulders and has me lean my head against him. He starts stroking my back in a soothing motion, and it feels so fucking nice, it makes me hate him even more. Still, my body is relieved that the pain is over, the tears gradually slowing.

“Good girl,” Victor says, kissing the top of my head. “You took those well. What do you say?”

I whimper. “Thank you,” I whisper, though I’m not even sure what I’m thanking him for at this point. For stopping, probably, or maybe for trying to soothe me through the remnants of pain. But that’s ridiculous because it’s all for him. He doesn’t really care that I’m in pain.

Well.

He does care in some way, because I’m blatantly aware of the erection I’m pressed against.

“You’re welcome,” Victor says, smirking. Like he actually did me a favor. I want to call him out on it, except I can’t handle any more punishment. “Now you can do something for me, and it’ll be a bit of a treat for you too.”

I look up at him, brushing tears from my eyes as I try to stop crying completely. The last time, he’d denied me any pleasure, coming all over my thighs instead of fucking me. This time… Do Iwanthim to fuck me? “What?” I ask in a small voice.

He spreads his legs a bit and motions to the floor. “I’ll let you suck my cock.”

I blink, staring at him. I had to have just misheard him. “What?” I repeat. “I thought you said it would be atreatfor me.”

Victor rubs his thumb over my trembling lips. “Itisa treat, Lucia. Because it’s me. Because you want to make me happy. You’ll get to taste me, and you’ll get to satisfy me.”

“What if I don’t do it?” I ask, trying for defiant but ending up sounding terrified instead.

“Do you really want to find out?” Victor responds, voice flat and cool. He moves my arms off his body and leans back, creating an agonizing distance between us—even though I’m still sitting on his lap.

That’s an easy question to answer, but I don’t give it verbally. I feel like there’s something stuck in my throat, and if I try to speak, I might end up crying all over again. How can I want him so badly when he hurts me so much?

I hesitate then slowly slide down to the floor, settling down and sitting back on my heels. I look up at him, wanting his expression to turn from cold to approving, and I will it to happen as I carefully tuck back the waistband of his pajama pants and bare his hard cock to me.

“I was going to pet you while you did this,” Victor says, “But I don’t think you deserve it after all.”

I try to tell myself I didn’t want him topetme anyway, that I’m not a dog even though he keeps trying to train me like one, but there’s a sense of overwhelming disappointment as he continues to lean back and keep that distance between us. I want to get up and run away, but there’s nowhere to go—and he’d only catch me.

Catch me, and potentially lock me away again.

I shudder then lean forward, tentatively flicking the tip of my tongue against the head of his cock. Tasting it. Tasting him. It’s not the treat he made it out to be, and now with the renewed coldness, it’s even less satisfying than ever.

“I know you can do better than that,” Victor says sharply.

I flinch. Then I take the head of his cock into my mouth, licking and sucking with a semblance of eagerness. His cock is familiar at this point, but even when sucking him off before I’ve barely affected him. I want to evoke some sort of reaction that isn’t coldness or distance, to get Victor to tell me I’m a good girl instead of borderline threatening me.

I glance up, but Victor’s eyes are closed, and he has his arms crossed. If I didn’t have his hard cock in my mouth, I wouldn’t even know he was aroused. The only sign that something might be different is his slightly heavier breaths.

Frustration runs through me as I look up at him. I’d screwed up, but he didn’t have to treat me like I was just a fucktoy.

Had I? I’m so confused because I don’t even really understand what I’ve done wrong. I took his spanking, I sat on his lap… All I did was question what would happen if I didn’t blow him. Now he’s punishing me with his distance, isolating me in his own way, and I want to beg him to justpay attentionto me.

I hate him.

I hate myself.

I suck his cock anyway.

I take a little more of it into my mouth, running my tongue along the underside as he slides over it.

My jaw starts to ache with how long this is taking. I vary the pressure, I lick and suck in turn, I even massage his balls, and still, I get no reactions from him. I almost want to start crying again, and that’s an extra level of pathetic.

The only response I even get is to feel his cock getting harder, like he’s about to come, and I start to hurriedly slurp around him, making all the obscene noises I can like that’ll really push him over the edge. But he grabs me by the hair with one hand and pushes me back while the other quickly strokes his cock.

I’m stunned when he comes all over my face. He didn’t even let me finish him, and that feels like the ultimate insult. Was I really that bad to where he had to take matters into his own hands—literally?