Demon's Cage

Chapter 11

Content warning.

Big content warning. It involves hurting the partner. Bad Bad Damon. What can we say?

He kissed her temple and whispered. "Don't act like you haven't opened your legs for people before. Get on your knees and put your hands where it should be." He held her hand and was about to place it on his pants but she turned around and used her shoulder to hit his chest. Only to fall on the sofa. She pulled her legs in to cover her letting her dress be discarded on the floor. The only fabric on her body was her lacy panties now. Hot tears escaped her eyes when she pleaded. "I can't do this. I can't do this when all you want to do is hurt me. Damon, do not treat me like a sl*t." At this point, she couldn't care if he hit her. She didn't want to get intimate with him.

Damon looked at her disgusted. "Did I? Allow me to show you how I treat my sl*ts." He pulled her shoulder and got her over his shoulder with ease. "Damon? Damon?" She was mortified when he got her out of their room but got calmer when she noticed there was no one outside of their room now. She was naked and mortified realizing someone could walk on them. He took her into a room at the far end corner of the front hallway. He had passed large windows that had no drapes drawn. To her relief, they were not on the top floor. 

Nancy could suspect it was his other torture room. It looked like one but had comfortable red faux sofas. He got her down beside a huge wooden table in the middle and held her face down on the table without giving her a chance to adjust. Only now she noticed the straps around the table. Damon was quick to put two around her body. She tried to get away but couldn't. Her arms were under her chest. An unimaginable wave of pain seared through her wounded arm. "Please, please...?" She begged knowing it was not doing anything.

Damon didn't reply and seemed busy retrieving something out of his drawer. She couldn't look at him but realized he was walking to her. She tried her best to get out of the clutches but couldn't. "Please, get me out..." But was interrupted by something he was trying to get over her head. He had put a gag on her mouth. "Ahh....ah.." Nancy tried her best to untie the straps over her back but her skin started burning with the rough fabric of the straps.

She felt suffocated and short of breath. At some point, she had to focus on her breathing or else she knew she was going to pass out. The lights were turned blue in the room. Soon she felt him getting his pants down behind her. Tears filled her eyes when she stopped resisting and closed her eyes.

Damon noticed she had stopped struggling. He removed her hair from her face and smiled seeing her conscious. She had trouble breathing and her eyes were shut close. He didn't want her to pass out just now. Damon pressed something on the table and it started tilting down from Nancy's head side and got her rear out for her ruthless husband. Damon didn't stop until her feet were off the ground. The edge of the table was cutting Nancy's belly. Damon pulled the linings off her buttocks and ripped the last fabric on her body. The rage in his body was turning into lust. He liked what he was seeing. To the point he found himself gulping. She looked delicious and clean. Ready to be dirtied. Nancy moved her feet and rested her left foot on his knee to push him. "Please, please..." Her voice came out completely muffled. He pulled her hair and laughed. "Now this is how my sluts are treated."

He held her foot and twisted it but the moment he looked at her toenails polished with pink nail paint he gulped again. "Please, please..." He was aroused looking at her pleading in her bondage. He was here to torture her but found himself inhaling sharp on her heels. Nancy couldn't help but feel his nose on the heel of her foot. She slowly opened her eyes and found him looking at her foot. Her bended knee with her foot in his hand had her in a compromised position but seeing him calm made her hope he won't hurt her. "What a life you have got? Receiving pedicures from my staff." But then he asked amused. "...are we forgetting something? Slut on my table is not nobody. Look at you! You are Mrs Anderson. The lady of the house is bonded like a slut on my table." He rested his other hand on her rear and Nancy fisted her palms.