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"Betrayed and Fucked"

Irene, a battle-hardened lesbian secret agent with a razor-sharp desire, endures a nightmare of handcuffs and brutal sex that tears through flesh and soul. Betrayed and pushed to the edge, she turns violence into power, vowing a revenge as savage as the pleasures that scarred her.

Tags: DarkFic, EnemiesToLovers, BDSM, LesbianForcedSeduce, SexualRevenge, DirtyTalk, SizeKink, AfterSex, BrutalSex

W: 4.533

Irene, a secret agent who leads a double life. At 33 years old, she is pure elegance and danger – a predator who hides a breathtaking body under impeccable suits and a smile that disarms and dominates in equal measure.

Her long, silky black hair falls over delicate shoulders, framing that doll-like face – full lips that have already drawn sighs and moans, eyes that capture you with a look and hands that know exactly where to squeeze, loaded with a magnetic glow that has already made women writhe in moans of ecstasy, legs trembling under her touch. Her reputation in espionage circles is legendary: a mind as sharp as her tongue, capable of deciphering codes and bodies with equal ease.

Away from missions, Irene lives for the forbidden. Her encounters with lovers—always women—are intense and clandestine, a refuge where she surrenders herself without restraint, her fingers tracing damp curves, the salty taste of female skin ingrained in her memory. But at work, she is relentless, a shadow that glides among the powerful, collecting secrets like trophies. Her current assignment has taken her to the heart of a criminal organization that traffics sensitive data between governments and cartels, a network as slippery as the sweat that runs down the back of her neck on hot nights. Undercover for months, she has built a perfect facade—until the betrayal.

The blow comes from an ally, a familiar face she never suspected, and now Irene is vulnerable. She wakes with a snap in her mind, her body heavy, the damp, fetid air of an underground room invading her nostrils. The dim light of a pendant lamp reveals stained concrete walls, the cold floor beneath her torn boots. Her wrists, thin but strong, are bound by icy steel handcuffs, the metal biting into her white skin and leaving red marks that burn with every movement. The sound of the chains clanking echoes like a warning. She lifts her chin, her disheveled hair falling over her face, and stares at her captor.

Before her stands Levi, a mountain of a man, nearly seven feet tall, his muscles defined beneath a dirty T-shirt that barely contains his broad chest. His hands are rough, calloused like sandpaper, thick fingers that seem made for breaking bones—or gripping flesh. His short, disheveled hair frames a rough, scarred face, and his eyes, small and dark, devour her with a raw, almost animal hunger. He stares at her as if she were a banquet, his heavy breathing filling the air with the smell of tobacco and sweat. Irene feels the weight of his gaze sliding over her body—from the curve of her breasts beneath her torn blouse to the firm thighs squeezed by her leather pants.

The basement stank of mold and dried blood, an acrid smell that clung to the nostrils like a rotten memory. The light from the single hanging bulb wavered like a dying heart, casting quivering shadows on the damp walls—slender, twisted shapes that looked like hungry fingers crawling over Irene’s body, tracing the contours of her exposed skin. She was on her knees on the rough floor, the concrete scraping her soft flesh through her torn stockings, but there was no defeat in her posture. The tight black latex dress—the last vestige of her identity as the seductive undercover agent—clung to her like a second skin, glistening in the dim light, every curve of her body outlined in sinful detail. Her pert breasts strained against the fabric, her hardened nipples marking the latex like a silent invitation, while her hips lifted in a promise that Levi devoured with his eyes, the saliva almost visible in his half-open mouth.

“You’re going to die here,” he growled, his voice rough as concrete being dragged, low enough to vibrate in her chest. Levi stepped forward, his heavy boots echoing on the floor, the smell of sweat and metal rising from him like raw steam.

Irene laughed, a low, wet sound that dripped from her throat like poisoned honey, reverberating in the claustrophobic space. She lifted her chin with deliberate slowness, her black hair falling in sweaty strands over her shoulders, framing her pale face where her swollen lips—bruised from biting down to contain her moans as he dragged her here—gleamed a wet red. Her thin wrists twisted against the handcuffs, the cold metal creaking, but it wasn’t an attempt to escape—it was a spectacle. She wanted him to see, to feel the power that still emanated from her, even in chains. His eyes locked on the movement, and she felt the heat of his gaze slide down her skin like a dirty caress.

“Are you sure?” Irene let the words escape like smoke, slow and heavy, each syllable a thread of desire wrapped in threat. Her eyes met his, a glint of defiance dancing in them, while her tongue slid subtly over her lower lip, leaving a wet trail that caught the light.

Levi was brutal, yes—a wall of bone and muscle, the kind of man who crushed before he thought. But Irene knew creatures like him: brute-force machines with small brains and hungry dicks, with no imagination beyond what they could grasp. She, on the other hand, was made of more refined vices, of pleasures she shaped into weapons. Her fingers, still stained with traces of red lipstick from a past lover and dried blood beneath her short nails, slid up her thigh with torturous slowness. The latex cracked beneath her touch, the sound cutting through the silence like a whip as she spread her legs slightly, the black fabric stretching against her firm flesh, revealing the damp contour between her thighs—not from weakness, but from a game she was mastering.

“I can give you something better than information…” Her whisper was a razor’s edge between her teeth, sharp and seductive, laden with a promise that made the air between them grow thick. She leaned forward, enough so that the scent of her skin—a mix of expensive perfume and fresh sweat—hit him like a slap.

Levi spat on the floor, a clumsy attempt to maintain control, but his dark eyes already betrayed his facade. They lowered to her mouth, to those swollen lips that seemed to beg for something crueler than words, and Irene saw his pulse quicken in his exposed jugular, a vein pulsing beneath the rough skin of his neck. He was hooked, even if he didn’t know it yet. His chest rose and fell faster, the growing bulge in his pants betraying what she already knew: he might be her captor, but she was the poison that would kill him from the inside, one bite at a time.

Levi’s first move was brutal—a savage tug on the latex collar that made Irene gasp, the sound escaping hoarsely from her throat as the material stretched to its limit, giving way with an obscene snap that echoed in the basement like a muffled scream. The fabric tore in jagged strips, revealing Irene’s pale skin, now flushed with a mix of cold and adrenaline, her pores standing out as if begging for touch. Beads of sweat glistened on her exposed collarbone, trickling slowly down to the valley between her breasts. Levi paused for a second, his eyes glazed over the newly discovered flesh, his chest rising like that of a starving animal.

“You think you’re too smart, don’t you?” — He growled, his deep voice scratching the air, full of contempt and something dirtier.

Irene didn't respond with words. Her abdominal muscles contracted reflexively, defined under her smooth skin, when his rough hand grabbed the torn fabric and pulled harder, the sound of the latex breaking mingling with the jingling of the handcuffs. Her black lace bra appeared like an exposed secret—the last vestige of her real self, a delicate piece that contrasted with the brutality around her. Her nipples, betrayed by the biting cold of the basement, hardened under the thin lace, pointing like accusations against the almost transparent fabric. She hated that reaction, the heat that rose from her chest to her neck, but she couldn't help the tingling that snaked across her skin.

—You're enjoying it, are you? — Levi laughed, a hoarse and cruel laugh, while his calloused fingers, rough as stone, crushed her waist with enough force to leave purple marks. He lifted her off the ground in one rough motion, slamming her against the wall with a thud that reverberated in her bones. The cold concrete scraped against her bare back, and the handcuffs cut deeper into her wrists, the metal biting until she felt the wet heat of blood running down in thin rivulets.

Irene smiled, her swollen lips parted, the bright red shining like a fresh wound. “You only know how to use force… what a shame,” she said, her voice low and sharp, dripping with sarcasm. And then, with deliberate precision, she lifted her thigh, rubbing it against his groin. The rough denim brushed against her skin, and she felt the hard bulge pulsing beneath the fabric, hot and insistent. Levi held his breath, a growl caught in his throat, his eyes darkening even further.

She hated touching him—his scent, a mix of stale sweat and raw testosterone, invaded her nostrils like an affront. But her body, trained by years of missions and pleasures, reacted on instinct. It was a machine she had perfected on other bodies—feminine bodies, soft and moist, that yielded beneath her fingers with delicate moans. Now, he betrayed her with this brute. Levi thought he had control of everything, that he had her in the palm of his hand, until Irene leaned in, her lips brushing his ear, her breath hot against his rough skin. “Do you want to see me beg?” Her voice was a sweet, lethal poison, while her hips moved in a slow, undulating rhythm, a ballet of seduction that she had always mastered.

Heat rose up her thighs, where his thick, muscular leg pressed her against the wall, his jeans scratching her exposed skin like a rough promise. The remaining latex clung to the sweat that trickled between her breasts, the shiny fabric catching the wavering light in wet reflections. Levi couldn’t resist – his hand came up, his calloused fingers gripping one of her breasts, squeezing the nipple through the lace with a force that was almost painful. Irene clenched her teeth, the air hissing between them, but the shock of pleasure and pain shot like electricity through her body, making her legs tremble against her will. Her clit throbbed, a hot, wet betrayal that she felt growing between her thighs, the fabric of her panties soaked through what was left of the latex.

"Looks like the little slut got wet…" Levi growled, his tone full of mockery and triumph, as he thrust two thick fingers into her mouth, forcing them against his tongue. She closed her lips reflexively, her sharp teeth brushing against his skin, the salty taste of dirt and power invading her. Irene wanted to spit, but her body was already arching on its own, her back curving forward, her hips seeking friction against his thigh as if they were a separate entity from the mind that screamed no. The heat between her legs was unbearable, a throbbing that made her clench her fists in the handcuffs until her nails dug into her palms. She knew how to play this game - even when every fiber of her lesbian soul rebelled against the desire he was tearing from her.

The sound of the latex tearing to the end echoed like a gunshot in the basement, a dry and final crack that reverberated off the damp walls, marking the end of the last barrier between Irene and Levi's brutality. He didn't uncuff her – he wanted her immobile, he wanted her at his mercy, her wrists tied above her head, the metal of the handcuffs digging into her flesh until blood dripped in dark drops onto the floor. But Irene wasn't at the mercy of anything. Even chained, her body was a weapon, and she knew how to use it.

Her breasts sprang free of the destroyed fabric, her swollen pink nipples throbbing from the friction against the latex, sore and sensitive in the cold air that licked them. Her pale skin shone with a thin layer of sweat, the muscles of her abdomen trembling subtly as she took a deep breath. Levi spat directly on her, the hot, viscous liquid hitting the space between her breasts, dripping slowly like a dirty caress down to her navel. He laughed, his husky voice cutting through the air. “The spy queen, now she’s just another grinning slut.”

Irene didn’t moan. She arched. Her body formed a perfect curve, a living sculpture of desire and defiance—her wrists bleeding from the handcuffs, her hips lifted like an offering, her soaked black lace panties clinging to her nether lips, the sheer fabric revealing every swollen, wet contour. Levi saw it, his dark eyes widening with hunger, and she knew he saw it. She felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch, moving down her trembling thighs to the heat that betrayed her facade.

— Do you want to break me? — She repeated, her voice now blurred, hoarse with someone who wanted to be forced to like me, each word dripping with a desire she despised feeling. — Then break me.

Levi didn't need any more invitation. His hand descended like lightning, thrusting under her panties with brute force, his calloused fingers finding slick heat, resistance and a moan that Irene trapped between her teeth, her lips trembling as she fought the sound. He rubbed his fingers against her lips, parting them, his thumb brushing her swollen clit with a pressure that made her hips rise involuntarily. She hated every second of it – his smell, his weight, the invasion – but her body vibrated, her nerves on fire, betraying her with a pulse she couldn't control. HER SMILE, HOWEVER, NEVER FELL, a thread of defiance shining on her swollen lips as she stared at him.

He ripped off his shirt in one swift movement, throwing it to the floor, the fabric falling with a wet sound. Irene looked away for a moment – he was huge, a mountain of sculpted muscles, his broad, toned chest covered in a layer of dark hair, his shoulders broad as if they could crush her with their weight alone. She swallowed hard, her mind spinning: Would he kill her? But then he finished undressing her, tearing off the remains of the latex and panties with his hands, leaving her completely naked, exposed, her goosebumps contrasting with the heat emanating from her core.

Levi knelt, his lips brushing her navel, his thin beard scratching her sensitive skin as he left a hot, wet trail. Irene felt her knees give way, her body weakening against her will, a low moan escaping her as he moved higher, his mouth tracing a torturous path down her abdomen, between her breasts, until it grazed the base of her neck. He opened his mouth and licked, his rough, wide tongue sliding over her skin, the salty taste of sweat and arousal filling him. She moaned loudly, pleasure ripping through her body like a knife, her thoughts spinning: What was this feeling? Why was he making her feel this way?

Suddenly, he gripped her thighs tightly, his nails digging into the soft flesh as he spread her legs, exposing her dripping slit to the cool air. Liquid ran down her inner thighs, glistening in the dim light, and Levi groaned, a guttural, ecstatic sound, his hungry eyes fixed on her arousal. He descended upon her like a predator, his mouth crashing against her swollen, wet lips, his tongue invading her without hesitation. Irene pulled at the handcuffs, the metal cutting deeper, her body writhing as he licked with animalistic voracity, sucking on her lips, diving as deep as he could, his nose brushing her clit as he drowned in her taste and smell—a sweet, musky scent that drove him wild.

Her body was on fire, pulsing all over, the heat rising in waves that made her fingers curl in the handcuffs. She writhed, but fell weakly under his tongue, the muscles in her thighs trembling as he controlled her in every way. Irene closed her mouth, trying to stifle her screams of pleasure—he didn't deserve to hear her, didn't deserve this victory. But the sounds escaped muffled by her closed lips, the pleasure building like a storm she couldn't stop. He moved his tongue in and out, licking her clit in quick circles as he left, and she arched her back involuntarily, her entire body reacting to his whim. Why this? Why him? She didn’t know, didn’t understand – she could only feel it, the moans tearing from her throat: “Uhhnnnhhh… N-n-no!” she tried to say, but the words were lost in a hoarse scream.

Then, suddenly, her entire body exploded in an overwhelming orgasm. She screamed, the sound echoing in the basement as he licked and sucked her with a roughness that prolonged each spasm. Her thighs shook violently, the liquid dripping harder, staining the floor as she came undone. Levi stood up, his lips glistening with her, and looked down at her sweaty, heaving body – her breasts rising and falling rapidly, her skin marked with redness, her eyes half-closed. She stared at him, her chest heaving, and saw the corner of his mouth lift in a crooked, satisfied smile. Irene swallowed hard, the bitter taste of defeat mixing with the ecstasy that still pulsed through her veins. Exhausted, she slumped against the wall, her body limp.

He leaned down to kiss her jaw and neck, his warm, moist lips brushing the sensitive skin just below her ear, a cruel contrast that made Irene's hair stand on end in anticipation of the chaos she knew was coming. His breath, heavy with tobacco and raw desire, warmed the curve of her neck, and for a moment she almost gave in to his false tenderness. But then he pulled away, his dark eyes shining with something wild, and he began to remove his pants with quick, sloppy movements. Irene gasped, her breath catching in her throat—he was grotesquely large, a menace of swollen, pulsing flesh that hung between her legs like a living weapon. Thick veins snaked beneath the taut skin, their length and width defying any logic of resistance. For a brief moment, desperation shone in her eyes, a flash of vulnerability that she hated to have missed.

Levi gripped her thighs with hands that didn't ask for permission, his calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh like claws, opening her with a force that made her muscles protest. He held her like a book he wanted to rip open, the pages of her body exposed and vulnerable under his hungry gaze. His tip—hot, thick, already dripping with a translucent drop—pressed against her lower lips, brushing them with torturous slowness, teasing her as he watched her every reaction. His eyes fixed on her expression, on her furrowed brows, her parted lips, on the way her chest rose too quickly.

"Stop…" Irene moaned, the word escaping weakly, almost a whisper, but her body already betrayed the lie. The heat between her thighs pulsed with raw need, her swollen, slick lips opening slightly for him, begging against every fiber of her mind.

And then— He entered her in a single brutal movement, a blow that tore through the air and her body at the same time. Irene screamed, the sound tearing through her throat as the handcuffs clanked violently, the chains slamming against the metal table he had thrown her on. He was too big, too deep—every inch of him stretched her to the limit of pain, her inner muscles giving way under his relentless invasion. She felt him throb inside her, hot and solid, filling her in a way that seemed impossible, the pressure against her inner walls eliciting ragged gasps from her lips. Moisture dripped down her thighs, her body surrendering even as her mind fought.

“You’re tearing me apart…” She gasped, her voice shaking, her eyes half-closed as she tried to process the mixture of agony and pleasure coursing through her. She no longer knew whether to beg for him to stop or for more, her words dissolving into moans as her hips reflexively lifted to meet him. Levi gave her no choice. He began to move, slowly at first, each thrust calculated to slide deep, making her feel every bulging vein, every hard curve of him brush against her. The friction was unbearable, a fire that burned and ignited at the same time. Her eyes widened, her mouth parted as hoarse moans escaped her, echoing in the basement, the sound mixing with the creaking of the table beneath their weight. He watched her, his teeth bared in a sadistic smile, as he controlled the pace, savoring the way she writhed beneath him.

And then the pace changed. Fast. Brutal. Uncontrollable. Levi gripped her thighs tighter, his nails digging into the skin until he left purple crescent-shaped marks, lifting her with each thrust as if he wanted to break her in half. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the basement—a wet, rhythmic slap that mingled with his guttural groans, low as thunder, and her short, sharp squeals, escaping against her will. The table creaked beneath the violence, the cold metal biting into her back as he fucked her with a ferocity that knocked the air from her lungs.

“You’re so fucking tight…” He groaned, his voice broken, his eyes fixed on the place where they connected. He watched, mesmerized, as she swallowed him whole, her lips stretched around him, liquid dripping in shiny strands that stained the table and her thighs. The wet heat enveloped him, squeezing him with every movement, and he growled like an animal, lost in the sensation.

Irene wouldn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her orgasm hit her like a runaway train, a burst of white light that burned behind her eyes and tore her body to shreds. She screamed wordlessly, without control, a primal sound that reverberated off the walls as her thighs shook violently, her inner muscles squeezing him hard enough to draw a grunt from him. Pleasure tore through her, brutal waves that made her writhe, but Levi didn't stop—he kept fucking her through the climax, each thrust prolonging the waves until she was gasping for air between ragged moans, her wrists bleeding more beneath the handcuffs.

Only then, when she was limp and trembling, her exhausted body hanging from the chains like a broken puppet, did Levi allow himself to fall into the abyss. He buried himself all the way in, his hips pressed against hers, a guttural growl escaping his throat as he poured himself inside her. The thick, hot heat gushed out in strong pulses, filling her to overflowing, the excess running in sticky strands down her thighs, dripping onto the floor in a wet, obscene sound. Irene felt every spurt, every spasm of him inside her, and she moaned softly, her body still pulsing around him, gripping him even as she tried to recover.

He remained there for what seemed like an eternity, his chest heaving, his cock slowly softening inside her, the viscous liquid continuing to leak in a slow, warm stream. When Levi finally pulled away, the wet sound of separation echoed in the silence, and he stared at her with a satisfied, heavy gaze, his lips curved in a smile of victory. Her body was marked—redness on her thighs, blood on her wrists, sweat and semen staining her skin—but Irene’s eyes, when they met his, were already clear again. Cold. Calculating. The pleasure had passed, but the game was only just beginning.

Levi was wet with sweat, his chest still rising and falling rapidly as he collapsed beside her on the table, his muscles relaxed. The flash drive slipped from his pocket, falling to the floor with a metallic click.

Irene watched.

And then, she laughed.

A cold, sharp sound, like broken glass.

“Is that what you called fucking?” — Her voice was hoarse with moans, but filled with a contempt that made Levi rise up on one elbow.

He opened his mouth to respond, but there was no time.

The handcuffs he thought held her were already in her hands—a piece of chain broken during sex, sharp as a blade.

— I'll teach you now. She moved like lightning—his legs still limp, his reflexes slowed by orgasm. The metal loop tightened around his neck before he could scream.

Levi grabbed her wrists, but Irene was already on top, her knees crushing his shoulders, her body still hot and marked by him now her instrument of death.

— This is how you fuck properly, — she whispered, coiling the chain until his knuckles were purple.

He struggled, his eyes wide, his tongue like a dog's. She watched. Every last tremor.

Every last breath.

The basement air still smelled of sex and mold, Levi’s viscous liquid running down her thighs in warm rivulets that dripped onto the floor as she stood, her legs weak but determined. She found the keys to the handcuffs in his shirt pocket, tossed in a corner, and freed herself with a click that sounded like a promise. Before she fled, Irene pulled on Levi’s coat—his scent still clinging to her skin—and grabbed his phone from the floor. She grabbed his phone, her fingers sliding across the bloodstained screen—not hesitantly, but filled with a fury that made her veins throb.

Then the last video opened.

Seulgi.

The cat-like eyes that Irene had once traced with her lips, the mouth that had whispered “I love you” against her bare skin. But there, on the screen, she wore a crooked smile, her eyes glazed and dilated with addiction, as she grabbed an envelope of cash from the dirty hands of one of Levi’s henchmen.

“Did you know she paid me with the profits from the sale?” said the note stuck to the video. “She bought that new shit that’s eating away at her. Pathetic, huh?”

The scene continued, cruel. Seulgi handed over the flash drive – the most secret parts of Irene, the moans that only she knew – and laughed, the hoarse voice of someone who no longer cared.

Irene felt something shatter inside her. It wasn’t the handcuffs – already broken. It wasn’t the flesh – already desecrated. It was something Seulgi had stolen and sold, something she would now pay to have back.

With firm fingers, she put away her cell phone. The basement was crackling with flames behind her when she left, but the inferno in her chest burned brighter. She imagined Seulgi on her knees, begging, her body exposed and vulnerable – and Irene would take her, not with love, but with the same brutality that betrayal deserved.

Two debts to collect.

And Irene always collected… with pleasure and punishment.

#Reblog

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