The word came out naturally.
'Master.'
Not 'Lord.' Not 'Sir.' Master.
The word of a woman who had surrendered completely.
"Just help me," she whispered.
The tears came again. Not the violent, grief-wracked sobs of before. The quiet, hot, steady tears of a woman who had nothing left but the one thing she wanted.
Viktor chuckled.
The low, warm, private sound of a man who had won everything.
"Yeah," he said.
His cock — still half-hard, sandwiched between their bodies, pressed against her soft belly — twitched. The thick length of it stirred, hardening slowly against the warm, soft skin of her stomach, the head resting in the hollow of her navel.
He laid her back.
Gently.
Her heavy body settling onto the bed, her head on the pillow, her tits falling to either side, the dark nipples still stiff.
He sucked her boob.
