THE DEVIL'S BARGAIN

Chapter 4: The Belt And The Throat

Lara hadn’t left her apartment in three days.

Not because she was scared of running into someone who might have seen her on the balcony that night — although the thought still sent a humiliating flush crawling up her neck every time she remembered the whistles and the phone lights pointed upward. No. She stayed in because her body felt like it belonged to someone else now. Every inch of her skin hummed with low-grade fever. Her n*****s stayed perpetually hard, brushing against even the softest T-shirt felt like fingers. And between her legs… God. A constant, slow drip. A greedy, empty ache that no amount of her own fingers or that stupid dildo could satisfy anymore.

She needed him.

The notebook page she’d read aloud last time — the one about the belt and her throat — had been burning a hole in her mind ever since. She’d rewritten it twice, adding details she was too ashamed to admit she wanted: tears, gagging, his hand in her hair, the way he’d call her filthy names while she struggled to take him deeper.

Tonight she was going to make it real.

She waited until 1:14 a.m., when the street finally quieted to just the occasional generator hum and distant dog bark. No candles this time. No circle. She simply sat cross-legged on her bed in the dark, wearing nothing but the same black lace thong from the first ritual — now permanently ruined with how often she’d soaked through it. In her lap lay his belt.

She’d found it the morning after the balcony. Black leather, supple, expensive. He must have left it on purpose. It smelled like smoke and him.

Lara looped it loosely around her wrists in front of her, not tight enough to bind yet — just enough to feel the promise. Then she spoke into the darkness, voice low and cracked with need.

“Kai. I’m ready for the next one. The page you liked. The one where you f**k my throat until I cry for you.”

Silence.

Then the mattress dipped behind her.

He didn’t appear slowly this time. One second empty air, the next his heat at her back, chest pressed to her spine, c**k already hard and thick against the small of her back through his trousers.

“You kept the belt,” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of her ear. One hand slid up to cup her throat — not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. “Good girl.”

Lara whimpered. Her n*****s ached.

He reached around, took the belt from her loose grasp, and pulled her wrists behind her back in one smooth motion. The leather cinched tight — not cruel, but firm. No escaping. Her shoulders pulled back, breasts thrust forward, vulnerable.

“On your knees,” he said. Quiet command.

She slid off the bed, knees hitting the thin rug. He stood in front of her now, shirt already gone, trousers open. That c**k — Jesus, it looked even bigger in the faint streetlight leaking through the blinds. Thick veins, flushed dark, the head already slick and shining.

He fisted the base and tapped it once against her cheek — heavy, hot.

“Open.”

Lara parted her lips. He didn’t ease in. He pushed past her tongue in one long slide, filling her mouth until the head bumped the back of her throat. She gagged instantly, eyes watering.

“Breathe through your nose,” he growled. “You begged for this. Take it.”

She tried. Tears spilled over immediately. Saliva pooled, dripped down her chin. He held her head with both hands now — one at the nape, fingers tangled in her hair, the other cupping her jaw like he was sculpting her.

Then he started to move.

Slow at first. Deep, deliberate thrusts that made her throat bulge. Every time he bottomed out she choked, nose pressed to his pubic bone, inhaling smoke and musk and him. Her wrists strained uselessly against the belt. Drool ran in thick strings down her chest, over her breasts, dripping onto her thighs.

“Look at me.”

She forced her watering eyes upward. His amber gaze was molten, pupils blown wide. He looked wrecked — jaw clenched, breathing ragged, like holding back was killing him.

“So f*****g pretty when you cry for my c**k,” he rasped. “Such a perfect little throat slut.”

The words hit her like a slap. Her p***y clenched on nothing, fresh wetness sliding down her inner thighs. She moaned around him — muffled, desperate.

He picked up speed.

Fucking her face now. Hard. Wet. Obscene. The wet gluck-gluck-gluck sounds echoed in the small room. Her throat burned, stretched, ached in the best way. Tears streamed freely. Mascara she hadn’t even bothered removing ran in black tracks down her cheeks.

He pulled out suddenly, c**k slick and shining with her spit. Lara gasped, coughing, chest heaving.

“Beg,” he ordered.

“Please—” Her voice was wrecked, hoarse. “Please f**k my throat again. Use me. Choke me with it. I want—want your c*m down my throat. Please, Kai—”

He groaned like she’d struck him.

Then he was back in her mouth, deeper than before, holding himself there while her throat convulsed around him. She gagged hard, body jerking, but he didn’t let up. Just held her there, letting her struggle, letting her tears fall.

When he finally pulled back she sucked in air like she’d been drowning.

“Again,” she croaked immediately.

He laughed — low, dark, approving — and gave it to her.

This time he didn’t stop. He f****d her throat like he owned it — fast, relentless, balls slapping her chin. Lara’s world narrowed to heat, pressure, the taste of him, the ache in her jaw, the fire in her lungs. Her p***y throbbed so hard it hurt. She was dripping onto the rug, making a mess.

“Gonna come,” he snarled. “Gonna fill that greedy throat. Swallow every drop, baby. Don’t you dare spill.”

She nodded frantically, tears streaming.

He buried himself deep one last time, c**k pulsing, and came with a guttural moan that vibrated straight through her. Hot, thick ropes shot down her throat — so much she couldn’t swallow fast enough. It overflowed, leaking from the corners of her mouth, dripping down her chin and onto her breasts.

He held her there until every last pulse was spent, then slowly pulled out.

Lara coughed, gasped, c*m and spit stringing from her swollen lips. She looked up at him through wet lashes — ruined, mascara-streaked, trembling.

Kai crouched, thumb brushing a tear from her cheek almost tenderly.

“Beautiful,” he murmured.

He reached for her phone on the nightstand, unlocked it with her fingerprint (when had he learned that?), and held the screen so she could see.

Credit Alert: ₦9,300,000

Then another notification, right after.

Credit Alert: ₦2,700,000

(Performance bonus – exceptional submission)

Lara let out a broken laugh that turned into a sob.

Kai untied the belt from her wrists, rubbing the red marks gently. Then he lifted her like she weighed nothing, laid her on the bed, and crawled over her.

“Three nights left,” he whispered against her bruised lips. “Next time I want to breed you so full you feel it for weeks.”

He kissed her slow, tasting himself on her tongue.

Then he was gone.

Lara curled onto her side, still shaking, c*m drying sticky on her skin, throat raw, heart pounding.

She was already counting the hours until the next feeding.

And she was terrified — and exhilarated — by how much she wanted him to keep every single promise he’d just made.