Chapter 220: Get On Your Kneels

Isabella’s entire body convulsed, her mouth opening in a silent scream as the shock of his size overwhelmed her nervous system.

Dante didn’t wait for her to adjust. Just immediately began moving, brutal, relentless thrusts that drove her forward on the bed, her hands scrambling for purchase against the sheets.

She was tight. Always tight. Her body was young enough that she hadn’t learned how to relax, hadn’t learned how to make this easy.

He didn’t want her to make it easy.

"Oh God...." Isabella gasped, her face pressed sideways into the mattress.

Dante grabbed her hips, holding her steady, and increased his pace. Each thrust was designed to demonstrate exactly what she was, a body to be used, a cunt to be fucked, nothing more.

She took it, though. That was the thing about Isabella that made her so useful. She took everything he gave her and came back asking for more.

"Please...." Isabella whimpered, her hips trying to move in rhythm with his brutal pace.

"Quiet," Dante commanded. He pulled her back by her hair, forcing her spine to arch, allowing him to go even deeper. "I don’t want to hear your voice. I want to hear the sounds your body makes."

Isabella’s response was a choked sob that dissolved into something between a moan and a scream.

Dante watched her face in the mirror across from the bed. Watched her eyes roll back. Watched the tears begin to stream down her cheeks from the intensity of what he was doing to her.

She loved it. That was the thing that made her so perfect for this operation.

She was so desperate for attention, so hungry for the feeling of being wanted, that she’d convinced herself that brutal sex was a substitute for actual affection.

And Dante was more than happy to use that desperation against her.

***

POV: ISABELLA

The pain was exquisite.

Isabella couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except feel the way he was destroying her from the inside out.

Her body was already responding, the pain turning into something else, something darker, something that made her question her own sanity.

She wanted this. God help her, she wanted this so badly that it terrified her.

Every brutal thrust was a reminder that he had complete control. That her body belonged to him. That her pleasure was secondary to his need to claim her, to mark her, to make her understand exactly what she was in his eyes.

Nothing.

She was nothing.

And the twisted part was that being nothing had become the only way she felt anything at all.

The fabric of her dress was bunched around her waist. Her legs were trembling beneath her. Her pussy was stretched to its absolute limit by the size of his dick, and still he was pushing deeper.

"Take it," he said against her ear, "Take every inch of me."

Isabella couldn’t respond. Just made a sound that was somewhere between a sob and a moan.

***

POV: DANTE

She was close to coming.

Dante could feel it in the way her inner walls were starting to contract around him. In the way her breathing was becoming erratic. In the desperate sounds she was making.

He could have brought her to orgasm. Could have given her that release.

Instead, he pulled out completely.

Isabella cried out in protest, her hips searching for him, her entire body suddenly missing the invasive fullness.

"Turn over," Dante commanded.

She obeyed immediately, flipping onto her back. Her face was flushed. Her hair was matted with sweat. Her eyes were glazed with need.

She looked exactly how Dante wanted her to look.

He positioned himself between her spread thighs and entered her again, not slowly, not gently, just immediately resuming the same brutal pace.

Isabella’s back arched off the mattress, her hands clawing at his shoulders.

"Look at me," Dante said.

Her eyes, which had been squeezed shut against the intensity of sensation, flew open.

"I want you to look at me while I fuck you," Dante said, his voice a low growl. "I want you to understand exactly whose body you’re in right now."

Isabella looked at him, and something in her expression shifted. He could see the moment she realized that he wasn’t looking back at her with affection or even lust.

He was looking at her the way a scientist looks at an experiment. Clinically. Objectively. Detached.

It should have hurt her. It should have made her stop.

Instead, it made her come.

Her entire body went rigid as the orgasm tore through her. Her pussy clenched around him, her breath came in short gasps, her eyes rolled back.

"That’s right," Dante said, not slowing his pace. "Come for me. Show me what a desperate little thing you are."

Isabella convulsed around him, her orgasm clearly intense enough to overwhelm her entire nervous system.

But Dante didn’t slow down. Didn’t give her a moment to recover. Just kept fucking her through the peak and into the oversensitivity beyond.

***

POV: ISABELLA

The overstimulation was almost unbearable.

Every nerve ending in her body was screaming. Every muscle was trembling. Her pussy was so sensitive now that each thrust felt like it was going to splinter her into pieces.

And she loved it.

That was the part that made her want to die.

She loved the pain. She loved the brutality. She loved that he was using her like she was nothing.

Because when he was using her, when he was destroying her like this, she didn’t have to think about the fact that he didn’t love her. Didn’t have to think about the fact that she was desperately in love with someone who looked at her like she was an experiment.

She didn’t have to think about anything except the physical sensation of being completely, utterly claimed.

"Please...." Isabella gasped, not even sure what she was begging for. More? Less? For him to stop? For him to continue forever?

Dante pulled out again, and Isabella felt the loss of him like a physical wound.

"Get on your knees," he commanded.

She scrambled to obey, positioning herself on the bed on her hands and knees. The submission was instant and automatic.

She’d learned her place.

Dante positioned himself behind her and thrust inside again, at an angle that seemed to hit somewhere deep and impossible inside her body.

Isabella screamed.

"Yes," Dante said. "That’s the sound I want to hear."