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The city buzzed below. A billboard on the building across the street bathed the room in red light, pulsing through the night as if alive. The air was thick despite the open window, heavy with the sharp tang of perfume and cigarettes, mixed with something sweet, sticky, and elusive.
Yuzuha sat on the carpet, hugging her knees. She tried to gather her thoughts, but her heart betrayed her, racing as if it might leap from her chest.
The bathroom door swung open, spilling warm light from the ceiling lamp across the room. He entered with heavy, confident steps. Yuzuha glanced at him quickly, shyly, without raising her head — just as Naoya ran a hand through his hair, dark at the roots and green at the tips, closing his eyes. The red glow from outside shifted to blue on his face, something almost menacing in that beauty.
“Are you going to sit there all night?”
His voice was low, steady, with just a hint of mockery. Naoya didn’t even look at her. He already knew she wouldn’t move. Anyone else would have understood what to do long ago. “What do you expect from me? You think i’m going to treat you like softly?” he added tiredly, approaching the coffee table by the bed and pouring himself some water.
“Why are you so cruel, Naoya?” Yuzuha asked, her voice tearful, eyes pleading.
“Yuzuha.”
His tone warned her to stop. She’s starting to annoy him. His mod had only just returned to normal after she’d driven him out of his mind ten minutes ago.
“Your foolish behavior only makes things worse,” he said coldly. “What have you done that would make me treat you any differently?”
“I’m trying…” Yuzuha trembled but forced herself to speak.
“Trying?” Naoya smirked. “That’s funny. Do you really think a man would appreciate that?” His gaze swept over her. “You’re pathetic.” He sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes narrowed, eyebrows slightly raised at the edges, lips pressed tight. The look was indifferent and that made it even more piercing.
She had always been irritating. Every movement, her shoulders, her gaze, even the way she tucked her legs. Everything about her was wrong — too independent for her place. She acted like she had a right to argue. Too stubborn. That angered him more than anything.
Naoya Zenin didn’t look like a beast. There was nothing fairy-tale about him: too expensive clothes, too perfect posture, too controlled movements, too haughty an attitude toward others. He was human, but the danger radiating from him was stronger than any darkness.
To him Yuzuha was an object. Either useful or broken. No alternatives existed between the two.
When they first met, she had offered him a quiet, yet unmistakable challenge: “I am nobody to you, and I don’t owe you obedience.“
He remembered that well. Took it far too seriously.
Some think we can see the world as it is and easily separate real threats from empty fears. Yuzuha thought cruelty could be excused or forgiven, too. She wasn’t naive, nor did she believe in love at first sight. She never prayed for the perfect boyfriend, husband, or prince on a white horse. She believed everyone got the love they felt they deserved.
People like Naoya Zenin were exactly the ones she avoided. That had been clear from their first meeting.
Whenever he appeared, people stepped aside. His energy created an invisible field that twisted the air around him, almost tangible. Yuzuha felt it instantly, like a grind against her ribs.
Unfortunately, in his cold eyes, Yuzuha saw her own reflection of a helpless being sinking into the sharp emerald of his eyes. Naoya knew he was beautiful, and that only made things worse, poisoning her.
When Naoya entered the room today, she lay on the bed, propping herself on her elbow, moving with tentative grace. A short white dress with black flowers accentuated curves of her body. At moments like this, she looked undeniably seductive. A vintage lamp and a few houseplants on the nightstand cast soft shadows. She watched Naoya with a gaze full of timidity, hope, and a terrifying kind of anticipation. He smirked confidently, closing the door behind him.
They were meant to be alone, hidden from prying eyes.
“Still not greeting me properly?”
“You’ll come to me anyway,” Yuzuha whispered, curling trembling fingers toward him.
“Very confident of you,” Naoya said, noting her audacity again.
If you thought about it, she wasn’t his type from the start. Even her hair wasn’t perfect, carelessly cheap dyed red hair. Yet now, looking natural, she was… tolerable. Her naturalness almost met his standards. And that proved she clearly needed his strictness in making the right choices.
After a few moments, Naoya lazily raised two fingers forward and mockingly arched an eyebrow. He would forgive her this time, though she’d had to repeat herself twice.
Yuzuha slowly leaned on her hands, almost crawling to the edge of the bed. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to hold on, but every movement betrayed hesitation and quiet anxiety toward the unknown.
“I just wanted to meet my beloved beautifully…” she murmured softly, almost apologetically. She did this more and more often, trying to earn his favor. Yuzuha also tried to ignore how his lips curled with disdain at that word. “Sometimes you get angry at me over small things. I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong… I just want to be with you. Just to be myself.”
“Myself you said?” he smirked. “You need to be better.”
She looked up at him. “You’re angry because you’re afraid I’ll see the real you.”
His eyelids lowered as he glared at her. “Say it again.”
“You heard me,” she whispered, her voice trembling, but she didn’t look away.
Naoya pushed her roughly. Yuzuha fell on her back, winded.“You’re so annoying,” he growled, twisting his mouth as though the embrace of a girl he rarely reciprocated disgusted him. Only occasionally, in bed, in a rush of passion.
“And yet you come back to me!” she blurted out before fear could stop her, springing up and closing in on his face. “You mock me, but you can’t leave me!”
He grabbed her cheeks, pressed her jaw, turned her head, and tossed her back onto the bed. “You’ve finally lost your mind, stupid woman.”
Naoya turned away with contempt as Yuzuha grabbed a pillow and hit his back. He didn’t flinch. Slowly turning, Naoya looked at her. A soft pillow strike from a fragile girl couldn’t hurt him, but it was about respect — something she had failed to give
“Why do you always ruin everything?” he asked, smacking her palm against his face. Not hard, but enough.“You poison me with your foolishness.”
He used to call me poison.
Returning to the moment when Yuzuha was sitting on the floor and wiping her tears, Naoya silently picked up the pillow and tossed it to the other end of the bed. The gesture was lazy, as if nothing had happened.
“Come here, Yuzuha.”
She rose from the carpet and stepped toward him, taking his outstretched hand and kneeling in front of him. In the dim light of the room, it was hard to read his emotions. He smirked and lifted her chin, tilting her head up. It wasn’t tenderness or care. Only control.
Naoya leaned closer. The scent of cigarettes and his skin mingled with the sweetness that twisted inside her, a reminder of the power he held over her. He could manipulate both her fear and desire at once.
He hit me and it felt like a kiss.
His kiss was short, commanding, almost violent. More a test of submission. Yuzuha reached toward him herself, as if he were the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.
He didn’t apologize. He never seemed capable of sympathy or regret. Yet in Yuzuha’s heart, Naoya clung to her just as tightly as she clung to him.
Naoya moved away first. The metallic taste hit almost immediately. Yuzuha inhaled sharply when she realized her lip was split. The sharp sting strangely dulled under the tension coiling in her body.
“I didn’t tell you to kiss me like that,” he said.
His thumb pressed slowly against her lower lip, testing how sensitive it was. Blood welled up, and Yuzuha flinched at the intensity of his scrutiny. Naoya lifted his hand, staring at the dark trace on his finger. Slowly, he brought it to his lips and licked the blood off, never taking his eyes off her.
She felt something tighten deep inside, and a wave of shame hit immediately. She hated herself for not looking away, for letting her breath hitch.
“You kiss me only when I tell you to.”
Strong hands lifted her from the floor and pushed her onto the bed. The motion was sharp, practiced. He had done it hundreds of times. Sometimes Yuzuha felt like a ragdoll, an object to be thrown, lifted, and thrown again. If tenderness could be called pain, humiliation, and endless criticism, then he was always gentle with her.
Yuzuha rarely deserved delicate touches.
Following his command, Yuzuha lay on her stomach and watched him move to the nightstand, opening the bottom drawer. A piercing gleamed on his left ear: two studs on the lobe, two along the upper cartilage. Everything about him was alluring. Naoya’s hands were beautiful: long fingers that remained elegant despite masculine roughness. Even his nails were neatly trimmed, without ragged edges; in these small details, he remained strict.
In the soft lamp light, a black riding crop with a leather tip appeared.
“You misbehaved today,” he said calmly. “Again.”
Naoya didn’t rush. He moved slowly behind her back — where she could no longer look without his permission.
He seemed to savor every second of anticipation, letting the silence sink into her deeper than any strike could. Yuzuha felt tension coil through her body, muscles tightening instinctively. There was a futile hope he might change his mind.
The heavy strap tightened around her wrists behind her back.
The crop touched her skin almost gently at first-cold, warning. Yuzuha flinched, and Naoya smirked quietly.
“I haven’t even started.”
He pulled deliberately slowly, from the tips of her toes upward, along her calves, along her thighs, until the hem of her dress crawled up her spine. Her white lace panties were revealed like an invitation. He liked it, of course, but it would have been far prettier without them.
The first strike was slow. Not hard, measured. He wasn’t hitting. It was marking. Leaving a sensation inside her that clenched more than pain. Yuzuha gasped, clutching at her hands.
I could’ve died right then
Cause he was right beside me.
The next strike was sharper. With the same cold calm, Naoya watched her skin respond. The burn spread beneath her, a warm, humiliating ache.
“What did I tell you about disobedience?”
“I…” Yuzuha faltered immediately.
As punishment, he went silent. Several seconds of quiet stretched painfully long.
The crop descended again, just as slowly.
“You’re always like this,” Naoya said coldly. “You think you can get away with extras, then wonder about the consequences.” He leaned closer; she felt his presence against her skin, his breath, his weight. “Remember,” he added quietly. “I decide when it hurts. And when it feels good.”
The crop struck her skin again. This time he didn’t give her a chance to prepare. Keeping a firm grip on the crop, Naoya hooked the elastic of her panties and yanked sharply, producing a thin snap of lace.
Feeling shame, Yuzuha buried her face in the sheet. Though he had seen her from every angle, each time felt like the first. Same thoughts, same sensations, the same trembling body. And his mockery.
“Already wet,” Naoya noted. His voice grew slightly huskier, and he would have lied if he said he didn’t like it. Nothing personal. Just a physiological need. “This is your essence. You’re a lustful bitch. You get wet from pain. Good. That’s your purpose.”
Yuzuha still lay with her face in the sheet, trying to hide from his gaze. He ran his fingers along her thigh, lightly squeezing her ass and spreading it, giving him a better view. Every time she gasped, he paused, letting her realize whose hands she was in.
Her body shivered again as the leather tip of the crop darkened with the moisture seeping from her pussy. She couldn’t see his expression, but she was certain: as always, he was mocking her. With his left hand, Naoya lifted her ass; with his right, he lightly stroked her labia.
The crop came down on the same spot with a snap. Yuzuha clenched and screamed at the sudden pain. Her body trembled, blending fear, pain, and anxious desire.
She felt her skin burning, shame mingling with heat, her body giving in against her mind. That angered Naoya, and it seemed that’s exactly what he liked.
“Blushing fast,” he observed indifferently. “So sensitive.”
The next strike hit harder than the last. It was pure teasing.
Her crotch grew hotter, the burning pain spreading to every place he touched. Tears of humiliation welled, her hands flailed in an attempt to escape, while traitorous arousal trickled down her thighs.
“This is your essence, woman,” Naoya seemed to accuse. “Everything you built, all your pride and principles, collapses when you’re beneath me. You’re weak.”
Using the same thumb he had licked her blood with, Naoya traced her skin between the folds. Yuzuha heard a soft smack, and a shiver ran down her spine. He turned her onto her back, meeting her gaze.
Damn beauty.
“Uncomfortable?” he asked calmly, showing no concern for her discomfort.
He remained cold, confident, ruthless. She knew this was his power: her body was a tool he could control, not an object of pleasure. He released her only when he deemed her worthy of a break, after a few hours sometimes. Naoya wouldn’t let her finish until he was satisfied, until she’d whined and begged endlessly to stop.
Naoya licked her wet folds, his fingers digging into her thighs, leaving light bruises as her moans echoed against the four walls, hidden from the world. Even like this, between her legs, he exuded dominance and control. His gaze was cold, assessing, without the slightest softness.
She didn’t immediately register the sharp sting on her thigh. Yuzuha screamed as he bit her, leaving a pulsating mark. Naoya didn’t rush to let go, sinking his teeth into the other thigh, mixing blood with the fire coursing through her body.
He hurt me but it felt like true love.
The pain hit her in waves, hot and throbbing, and with it came the humiliating realization that her body still responded. The blood on her skin was instantly licked away.
Her heart raced, her breath stumbled, and her body betrayed her against her will. He watched her with almost sadistic calm, savoring how his control reflected in every twitch and shiver.
Loving him was never enough
With his ultraviolence.
This wasn’t rage. It was humiliation.
“You’re a monster, Naoya…” Yuzuha finally summoned the courage to speak, her words trembling. But it didn’t surprise him. She didn’t even realize how pitiful she sounded, lying there, bound, legs spread, soaked in her own blood, fluids, and saliva.
Naoya paused, his gaze cold and calculating, observing her as she struggled to catch her breath, gasping through a parched throat.
“I didn’t allow you to speak. And I’m doing this because you earned it,” he said calmly. His arousal was evident, but there was no softness, no empathy. Naoya began stripping, never taking his eyes off her — she could barely make a single movement without his permission.
The night would be long. And the worst part was that her body responded, betraying her again and again.
‘Cause I'm your jazz singer
And you're my cult leader
I love you forever
I love you forever.
When Yuzuha saw his bare torso and big arms, she pressed her lips together instinctively, tasting the metallic tang of blood. She couldn’t ignore it: his figure was commanding, his movements confident.
Removing her panties Naoya moved toward her pelvis, guiding his hardened cock with one hand, dragging the tip slowly over her folds.
Yuzuha responded to every touch, her body moving instinctively. Her ass and pussy still ached from his recent, numerous strikes. She watched him, noting his muscles, strength, and the raw beauty of him, unable to deny the attraction, even though he showed no gentleness.
Then he grabbed the top of her dress near the neckline and ripped it in a sharp, precise motion. The fabric tore and slid down, revealing her chest. Yuzuha shuddered violently, and Naoya only smirked, licking his lips. The dress bunched around her elbows, immobilizing her arms almost completely, leaving her body entirely at his control.
His fingers pressed on her hips, right over the bruised spots. He squeezed slowly and roughly until a ragged breath escaped her. With his other hand, Naoya traced her wet folds, occasionally replacing his fingers with his cock, unhurried, checking his control over her body. She reacted instinctively, and he could see every response.
“Bitch,” Naoya smirked.
He changed the angle of pressure, making her tense even more, continuing to watch her reaction. She couldn’t move without his awareness, and that clearly satisfied him.
Blood smudged under his fingers on her hips, and Naoya thrust sharply into her. Yuzuha tensed, reacting to every motion. She moaned, her body shaking, her chest bouncing in rhythm, arms aching behind her. He didn’t allow her to relax, stimulating her clit in time with each thrust. Every thrust was painful, but it also brought pleasure. Yuzuha arched, submitting to his control, and he mocked, seeing that her body obeyed him, not caresses.
I can hear sirens, sirens.
Naoya’s eyes never left Yudzuhā’s face. He slowed his movements, keeping his gaze on her. She lay there not knowing what would happen next. Naoya made a sharp thrust and came on the sheet in front of her. Yuzuha froze, but it wasn’t panic, it was a new, unpredictable sensation.
“Lick it,” he commanded.
Yuzuha blinked, shifting her gaze between the spot in front of her and him. Her hands were tied behind her back, her legs trembling, keeping balance was difficult, but an order is an order. Naoya watched her with a cold, curious smirk, like observing a private performance. She tried to move, to lean, but the straps wouldn’t allow it.
“Come on, woman,” Naoya mocked, tilting his head.
Yuzuha lowered her face to the sheet, barely holding herself from falling. Her tongue trembled as it touched the spot, the smell and warmth of another body mingling with her humiliation. Naoya watched almost motionlessly, his eyes glinting in a slight squint, lips curled in a disdainful smirk.
“Slower,” he whispered, “so you feel every drop.”
She obeyed, tears welling in her eyes. Every motion, every uneven breath entirely controlled by Naoya. Yuzuha felt like she was under a microscope, in her own private chamber of torment.
He noticed the wetness slowly sliding down the inner side of her thigh, hot and sticky, the trace of her arousal.
“This is you… perverted,” he said, grabbing her hair and bringing his face close to her ear, lightly nibbling her lobe. “Even if I command you to lick the dirt from the floor, you’ll do it.”
Give me all of that ultraviolence.
He abruptly pressed her face into the spot on the sheet. At that moment, he entered her, hard, without any gentleness. He increased the pace, depth, and force, leaving her little room to resist. Listening to her whimpers during another slap on her ass, Naoya felt something approaching true pleasure.