"You Broke In. I'll Break You."
The dare was simple.
Sneak into the old Blackridge Estate after midnight. Snap a photo. Leave.
Juliet liked breaking rules.
But she liked being seen breaking them even more.
So she wore the short black dress. No bra. Lipstick darker than blood. A silver chain around her throat like a warning.
She didn't know the estate wasn't empty.
Not really.
Not until the basement door slammed behind her.
Stone walls. Dust. Chains on the far side.
She turned fast—too fast—tripped over her own heels and hit the floor.
"You shouldn't be here," a voice said behind her.
Deep. Low. Dangerous.
She scrambled up.
And saw him.
Standing in the shadows—tall, broad-shouldered, shirt half-unbuttoned. Hair messy. Eyes cold as the iron in his hand.
"W-Who are you?" she breathed.
"I live here."
She backed away. "I didn't know— I wasn't trying to—"
"But you did break in."
She hit the wall. The chain rattled.
He smiled.
"Let's see what you do when someone breaks you back."
He moved fast—grabbing her wrists, spinning her into the wall. She struggled, breath caught in her throat.
The cold metal clicked.
He chained her.
Not tight. But enough. Enough that she could fight—but not get away.
"Touch me and I'll scream."
He leaned in, mouth brushing her ear.
"That's the point."
She hated him.
She hated how wet she was.
He didn't grope her. Didn't kiss her. Not yet.
He just looked. Like she was prey that hadn't figured it out yet.
"No one's coming to save you, Juliet."
"You're insane."
"No. I'm bored. And you just made tonight interesting."
He dragged a single finger down her thigh.
She shivered.
"You're not scared," he said.
"You're curious."
She didn't deny it.
"Tell me to stop," he said.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
"That's what I thought."
He dropped to his knees.
Lifted her dress.
No panties.
"Of course not," he murmured. "You were begging to be found."
And then he licked her—long, slow, claiming—while she gasped, arms straining against the chains, hips arching forward without permission.
"Filthy little trespasser," he groaned.
"Dripping on my floor. Moaning for the man who chained you up."
Her moans echoed off the stone. She pulled at the restraints.
And he kept licking—until she shattered with a scream that shook the room.
"We're just getting started," he whispered, licking his lips.
"Next time, I'll make you beg for the chains."
Juliet couldn't feel her legs.
Still chained to the wall, dress twisted at her waist, thighs slick with proof of what he did to her.
He stood over her again—shirt off now, chest marked with old scars and new sin. Belt unbuckled. Cock hard and thick in his palm.
"Look at you," he murmured. "Still wet. Still waiting."
She turned her face away.
"Don't pretend you don't want this."
He grabbed her jaw. Forced her to meet his eyes.
"Tell me you liked it."
Silence.
He stepped closer. Let the head of his cock brush her thigh.
"Tell me," he said again, firmer.
"Say the words."
Her breath caught.
"I liked it."
"No. Say it right."
"I liked being chained," she whispered.
He smirked.
"Louder."
"I liked being chained."
"That's my girl."
He unshackled one wrist. Just one.
Enough to spin her around and push her face-first against the wall—cheek to cold stone, ass arched for him.
"You don't get to touch me," he said, voice like gravel.
"You don't get to move."
He slid into her without warning.
One brutal thrust.
She cried out.
"Shh," he whispered at her ear.
"We don't want the ghosts to wake up, do we?"
His hand wrapped around her throat, holding her still.
His other gripped her hip, slamming into her, each thrust harder than the last.
"You broke into my house," he growled.
"So I'll break into you."
She moaned. Loud. Uncontrolled.
"Keep begging," he said. "I want to hear it."
"Please. Don't stop. Harder. Please—"
He pulled out.
She whimpered.
Then he flipped her to face him, shoved her down onto a dusty mattress on the floor.
"On your knees."
She obeyed.
He shoved his cock into her mouth—deep, brutal, groaning as she gagged around him.
"Fuck, yes," he groaned.
"You're better like this. Filthy. Quiet."
She moaned around him, choking, spit dripping down her chin, legs trembling.
When he came, it was deep in her throat, hips grinding forward, voice low and wrecked.
She swallowed. Shaking.
He leaned down.
Brushed a thumb across her mouth.
"You'll sleep here tonight," he said.
"Still chained. Still mine."