Victor's exhaustion was merely the silence before a volcanic eruption. The damp, crimson glow of Alia's skin and the vacant trance in her eyes reawakened the primal beast within him. He was insatiable, driven by a hunger that no single moment could satisfy.
Gathering every ounce of his strength, Victor claimed her once again. This time, every movement was more feral, more demanding than before. He was determined to prove that her body, her soul, and her very existence belonged solely to him.
Under his immense, rhythmic force, the massive, ornate wooden bed rattled and shook violently. The heavy creaking of the frame combined with Victor's ragged, guttural breaths to create a dark, terrifying symphony that shattered the silence of the penthouse.
Alia was so utterly disoriented that she could do nothing but clench the silk bedsheets in her fists. The diamond anklets on her feet struck against the bedposts, their frantic jingling echoing her lack of control. Victor did not allow her a single second of stillness.
Victor: (In a voice like a low roar) "I will not stop until you are completely consumed by me, Alia!"
In the wake of that violent trembling, expensive ornaments on the bedside tables began to slide and crash onto the floor. As the Moscow sky transitioned from a bruised red to a pale dawn white, a royal and demonic devastation unfolded inside the penthouse where Victor was cementing the foundation of his empire upon the total surrender of Alia.Alia's weak protests collided with Victor's relentless obsession. As the intensity peaked, she tried to push against his broad chest with her trembling hands, her voice nearly gone.
Alia: (In a broken whisper, strained with exhaustion) "Victor... no... no more... I can't take it..."
But Victor was beyond reason. Her "no" and her resistance only seemed to fuel his demonic drive. He pinned her weak hands above her head with a single grip. The violent rattling of the bed and the frantic jingling of her anklets drowned out her pleas.
Victor: (Hissing hot breath against her ear) "Your mouth says 'no,' but your body is inviting every strike, Alia. There is no escape today."
With every forceful movement, the bed crashed against the wall with a deafening thud. Alia's body arched like a bow, and a few stray tears rolled down her crimson cheeks. But those tears didn't stop Victor; instead, he continued to consume her more deeply and ferociously into his dark world.Amidst Alia's desperate pleas and the physical strain, Victor's demonic obsession reached a dark peak. When Alia realized her resistance was futile, tears of exhaustion and despair began to flow from her eyes.
Victor, who had been claiming her with such ferocity, suddenly slowed down. He pulled her closer, bringing his face inches from hers. With a terrifying sense of intimacy, he used his tongue to lick away the tears (Jip diye chokher pani) rolling down her flushed cheeks. There was a dark, twisted triumph in his eyes—as if he wanted to consume not just her body, but her very sorrow.
Victor: (In an incredibly low, cold voice) "Even your tears belong to me today, Alia. From now on, every drop of blood and every tear you shed falls only under my command."
The saltiness of her tears seemed to act as an intoxicant for him. Without a moment's pause, he resumed his relentless rhythm, the bed once again rattling against the floor, while Alia lay there, silent and tearful, completely surrendered to the Dark Lord's reign.Alia's last remaining defenses crumbled. In a final act of desperation and shame, she tried to cover herself with her hands, but Victor allowed no such sanctuary.
With predatory speed, Victor pulled her hands away (Hat soriye dilo). He pinned her wrists firmly against the bed, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable beneath his muscular frame. He wanted her to look him in the eye and acknowledge her total defeat.
Victor: (In a sharp, commanding tone) "Do not try to hide from me, Alia. Every inch of your body is now a mirror for my eyes. I want to see you exactly as I have claimed you."
As the bed resumed its violent rhythmic rattling, Alia realized she had no sanctuary left. Her hands were trapped in his iron grip, her diamond anklets jingled incessantly, and the red ruby on her navel burned with the friction of their union. Victor had stripped away everything even her right to hide her shame.The fear and shame that had gripped Alia finally surrendered to the overwhelming power of the "Devil's Crimson" oil and Victor's relentless dominance. As her senses reached their breaking point, the pain transformed into an unexpected wave of pleasure (Bhalolaga shuru holo).
Alia began to breathe heavily and deeply (Nishshas nite thaklo), her chest heaving with every ragged gasp. She closed her eyes—not to hide anymore, but to embrace the intoxicating sensation coursing through her. Her grip on the silk sheets loosened as her body began to sync with Victor's rhythm.
Victor noticed the shift; he saw that she was no longer resisting but responding. A dark, triumphant smirk touched his lips.
Victor: (Whispering) "I knew it, Alia... your blood speaks the same language as mine. You aren't running anymore; you're craving more."
The violent rattling of the bed became more rhythmic, and the jingling of her diamond anklets sounded like a celebratory melody of her surrender. Her flushed, perspiration-slicked body was now fully alive under his touch, her heavy breathing the only sound in the dawn-lit room.As each of Victor's assaults pushed Alia's nerves to the absolute peak of intensity, she could no longer restrain herself. A strange, overwhelming pleasure surged through her entire body like an electric current. Alia closed her eyes tightly and took a long, sharp breath.
Suddenly, she extended her weak and trembling arms. For the first time, Alia hugged Victor (Alia hugged Victor for the first time). She dug her nails into the broad muscles of Victor's back, clutching him as if she were a drowning person grasping at a straw while sinking into a sea of intense sensation.
The violent rattling of the bed and the frantic jingling of her anklets reached a new crescendo. Alia buried her face in the crook of Victor's neck, pressing her lips against his feverish skin. Seeing this unexpected response, Victor became even more ferocious.
Victor: (Roaring with deep satisfaction) "Yes, just like this... embrace me like this, Alia! From now on, you are my primal addiction!"
Alia's legs, adorned with the diamond anklets, now tangled around Victor's waist, making their union even more intimate and profound. The same Alia who had been saying "no" just moments ago was now trapped in Victor's arms, gasping with a thirst for more. As the first golden rays of dawn spilled through the window onto their sweat-glistened bodies, the penthouse room transformed into a temple of forbidden love.Not as a victorious conqueror, but in an unprecedented surge of emotion, Victor seemed to crumble today. Alia's first embrace and her surrender, mingled with soft cries, sent a violent tremor through Victor's stone-cold heart. The storm that had rattled the bed finally ceased, yet the sound of their heavy breathing still wailed throughout the room. Victor, buried in the crook of Alia's neck, was still panting heavily. His body was drenched in sweat, but suddenly, a few drops of warm liquid fell upon Alia's shoulder.
There was no demonic malice in Victor's eyes today; instead, he seemed to be on the verge of tears. This Dark Lord of Russia, before whom all of Moscow trembles, had drowned in a strange vulnerability within Alia's arms. Light tears began to roll down from his eyes.
Victor: (In a slurred and wet voice, struggling for breath) "You... you don't know, Alia... how many times I have burned myself just to have you... From this day on, you are only mine... until my very last breath..."
Victor's voice trembled with raw emotion. He pulled Alia even tighter against his chest, as if she might disappear the moment he let go. Alia's perspiration-slicked body and Victor's tears merged into one. The diamond anklets on Alia's feet gave one last, faint jingle as Victor collapsed onto her with his full weight.
Outside, the sun had fully risen, but inside the penthouse, a profound silence now reigned. Through his tear-filled eyes, Victor looked at Alia's flushed face—where, instead of just fear, there was now the mark of a deep, haunting bond.Every wall of defense and inhibition within Alia's mind finally shattered into pieces. Victor's tearful desperation and the intoxication of the oil transported her to a realm where she forgot her mother tongue, speaking instead in the language of the man who had claimed her.
Clinging to Victor's sweat-slicked back, Alia buried her face in his shoulder. She was shrouded in a numb haze of intense pleasure. Never had she imagined she would embrace the Emperor of Russia's dark underworld in such a way. Pressing her lips close to Victor's ear, she spoke in a trembling, emotional voice in Russian words that were not just about physical satisfaction, but a profound expression of total surrender.
Alia: (In Russian, in a soft, broken whisper) "Ты моё безумие, мой огонь и мой единственный господин. Я никогда не чувствовала ничего подобного... я твоя, полностью твоя."
(Translation: "You are my madness, my fire, and my only master. I have never felt anything like this... I am yours, completely yours.")
There was a strange, haunting fulfillment in her voice. Under the influence of the "Devil's Crimson" oil and Victor's touch, every nerve in her body felt as if it were floating in an ocean of celestial bliss. Looking into Victor's tear-filled eyes, she whispered again, "This feels so big... so overwhelming."
Alia's words rang like sweet music in Victor's ears. He realized that he hadn't just conquered her body; he had ensnared the rebellious girl within her in the web of his dark love. The diamond anklets on Alia's feet were now silent, just as still as their once-turbulent hearts had become.