Snow had melted at the palace gates, yet frost still adhered to the walls. Winter had clung to stone passageways like an envious memory, as if it would not relinquish its grip on the kingdom Viktor and Lila had reclaimed in blood.
It had been weeks since Dmitry's last breath had spilled on the floor he had reserved for Lila—poetic, given how often he had paraded her round it like some trophy. Now there was just silence. Not the silence of peace, but anticipation.
Viktor stood in the doorway, observing Lila.
She stood in front of the mirror in her rooms, toes bare on the chilly marble, silk robe loose on her shoulders. Her scars were healing, but not forgotten. The ones on her back, bright red, were bitter reminders, but he saw it not as pain in those but as survival. Power. Desire.
"Still hiding," Viktor whispered, entering in.
Lila didn't even blink. She stood before him, face reflected in the glass, eyes calm and expressionless. "From you?"
"No," he replied. "You, from yourself?
She slowly turned, her robe falling farther down in front as she showed him the mark he had carved on her side the night Dmitry died—a crown and dagger. A mark of freedom.
"You think I don't know who I am at this point?" she whispered.
"I believe you're afraid of what it implies."
He bridged the space between them, gloved hands extending out not toward touching flesh but toward unbuckling the robe's belt. She made no move to halt him. She never did.
It dropped silently on the floor.
He breathed sharply, reverentially. She stood before him, naked and unbroken in essence, if not in flesh. Her eyes blazed. She was no caged doll he no longer dressed and then discarded at his whim. She was steel, flame, and darkness now. An equal.
"Tell me," she breathed. "Tell me why you're here."
Tracing the line of her collarbone with his finger, he spoke quietly: "To dismantle you and reassemble you."
Her eyes fluttered shut.
"Not as Dmitry did. Never in such a way again," Viktor spoke huskily and with passion, almost in awe. "But as one who has no god but the woman in front of him."
She opened her eyes. "And what does your god demand?"
He leaned close. "Everything."
____________________________________________________________________________________
The Red Room was deep beneath the palace, carved into the stone like a secret.
It had been sealed, utilized for sinister intent. Lila had directed its destruction. Viktor had disobeyed. Instead, he reworked it. Redeemed it. Repurposed it as a sanctuary of submission and dominance—without shackles, without brutality. Only will, choice, and passion.
She stood in the middle now, attired in a scarlet corset molded on her like sin. Red lamps and dancing candles were the only light in the room. Velvet and leather. Silk ropes coiled in neat spirals. Mirrors on the ceiling above. A bed, black as midnight, twice as broad. And in the middle of it—the Viktor. In black attire.
Lila crossed the room slowly, her heels echoing. "I should punish you for keeping this."
He turned his head. "Do it, then."
Her eyebrow rose.
He baited her—gauging whether she would take the lead. She did not. Not yet. There was something about him this way that she enjoyed—how he waited patiently, how he commanded without demanding authority, but waited for approval, observed her expressions like the tilt of her lip or flutter of breath were scripture.
He approached her. Touched her face gently.
"No more masks," he murmured.
She nodded.
"Color?"
"Crimson."
"Word?"
"Everest."
"Limits?"
Her lips curled. "Only death."
He bristled at this. "Don't make a joke".
I don't feel like that now. I want to feel alive again.
He swallowed hard before he nodded.
_________________________________________________________________________________
Time blurred and melted like the snow melting down from a mountain like in summer.
He tied her wrists in silk—gently, prayerfully—hoisting them over her head up to a hook she had stepped under willingly. He had earned her trust. Not blindly, never blindly. But forcefully.
"Do you recall the initial time you begged?" he inquired, his fingers following the line of her inner thigh.
She was already breathless. "Yes."
"You cried."
I was afraid
"And now?"
"I'm still afraid," she breathed, "But not of you. How much I need this."
He stepped behind her, touching his lips to the base of her spine. "Then let me give it to you."
There followed worship and war in equal proportions.
His fingers had authority, but did not take without permission. His voice, thunder and silk combined, led her through each moan, each breath, each shudder. She writhed and buckled, eyes shut, lips parted, trapped in a tempest of trust and surrender.
He did not only make love with her—he dismantled her.
She yelped as the paddle grazed her thighs. It was pleasure, not pain, she cried out. Catharsis. Every sting reminding her this was what she had chosen. That she wasn't broken, wasn't used, wasn't weak.
Breaking free at last, he swept her into his arms, she hid in his throat and cried—a cry not of pain, but of depth. Of tearing apart. Of truth too immense for words.
"You are not what Dmitry made you," Viktor whispered. "You are greater. You are reborn."
She hugged him tighter. "And you?"
I am complete only with you
Afterward, they are entwined in silk and perspiration, her cheek on his chest, fingers following the jagged scar on his ribs.
"Would you still want me," she asked softly, "if I decided to leave you tomorrow?"
He did not hesitate. "Yes. Because I don't own you. I just love you."
She smiled for the first time in a very long while.
Then she whispered, "But I'm not walking away."
He turned to her. Dark eyes, parted lips. "Say it again,"
I'm staying.
____________________________________________________________________________
Viktor covered the eyes of Lila with a black silk cloth.
and tied her hands behind her!
Victor pulled out his spear like toy and struck Lila hard on the Ass.
How is your king Lila? Tell me?
Lila shouted! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
You are Viktor. You are my king! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
He again struck Lila hard and asked her once more Who is your king?
Tell me "my bitch."?
Lila screamed again Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. You're my king, Viktor!
Then he took off her clothes. He unbuttoned her clothes one by one and then started kissing her breasts. Licking Lila's nipples softly and gently. You like what I am doing my little bitch!
Lila was having pleasure what Viktor is doing! Lila moans Oh, Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Viktor, I like what you're doing. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
He slowly started kissing her on the shoulder, and then he started biting her on the shoulder. He choked the neck of Lila and started kissing her lips.
Viktor can't stop, even though he wanted to! He gently presses Lila's breast and starts licking them.
Lila, Viktor ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh please do it gently. I am about to get wet!
Then he pushed Lila down, and demand her to start sucking the D***. And make her suck it to the end of her throat that she couldn't breath about to get chock.
Viktor opened the black silk cloth in Lila's eyes. Open her leg!
Start rubbing at Lila Vig*** as soon as Lila gets wet with the volcano's heat.
She started begging Viktor to put it in. But he wants to give Lila the joy she has never experienced. He stops rubbing her and starts licking her Vig***
Lila moaning Viktor ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I want you in my king. Viktor said "No", not now, keep licking her until she gets wet two times more.
Viktor can't resist now. So he put it in. It was the first time pleasure of joy that Lila has experience in her life.
Just before the rise of the morning started to come, Viktor was finished was extremely drained out as he had put all his might and energy during the se* with Lila.
Their hands found each other beneath the sheets, fingers interlaced like prayer. Neither knew what tomorrow would bring—vengeance always left echoes—but today, in the red sanctuary of want and worship, they were free.
Freedom, they discovered, was the most perilous form of love.