Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 26: Naughty Girl Rhea [18+]

Kael stood outside Freya's locked door, hazel eyes glinting with a flicker of frustration. Rhea's voice still rang in his ears—sharp, defiant—her fists pounding the air as she'd stormed back toward Freya's room moments ago, hellbent on reopening the fight.

He'd grabbed her arm, dragging her kicking and cursing to her own room, the door slamming shut despite her yells—"Let me at her, you bastard!"—echoing down the hall. Now, silence hung heavy, broken only by the faint hum of Freya's collar behind her door and Rhea's muffled snarls from hers.

Kael leaned against Rhea's door, voice low, steady through the wood. "You've been a bad girl, Rhea. Reflect on it."

Her response came fast, rough with heat. "What the fuck did I do?" The door rattled—her fist, probably—scarred knuckles testing the lock.

He exhaled sharp, rubbing his jaw—stubble prickling his fingers. "I was this close to cracking Freya, getting her to open up. Then you attacked her. Could've gone worse—way worse—if I hadn't stopped you."

"She started it!" Rhea snapped, voice rising, thick with indignation. "Called me your bitch—your fucking lapdog! I wasn't gonna let that icy cunt walk over me! If anything, you are my lapdog!"

Kael's lips twitched—a ghost of a smirk—but his tone stayed firm, cutting. "Thought you were tougher than that, Rhea. Thought you wouldn't get triggered so easy. I brought you in there 'cause I trusted you to handle it. Guess I was wrong." He paused, letting it sink in, then added, "From now on, I'll deal with Freya solo. You can rest in your room."

A beat of silence—then a low growl, her voice simmering. "You're a dick, Kael."

"Yeah," he muttered, turning away, boots scuffing the tiles. "Reflect on that too." He left her stewing, the lock holding firm, and headed for the kitchen—dishes from breakfast still piled in the sink, grease crusting the edges.

The water hissed hot as he scrubbed, hands moving on autopilot, mind churning. He'd called his massage parlor manager that morning—canceled every slot, betting he'd open Freya today.

Now, with Rhea's tantrum derailing things, he had a free day stretching wide—and Freya needed time to cool off, or she'd just spit venom when he went back.

His gaze drifted, landing on a small black briefcase tucked against the counter—leather worn, clasps glinting dull in the dim light.

A spark lit his chest—dark, naughty, curling his lips into a wicked grin. Rhea'd been a bad girl. Maybe she didn't deserve release yet... but she sure as hell deserved a lesson. He dried his hands, snagged the case, and strode back to her room—boots thudding, pulse kicking up a notch.

The door creaked open, and Rhea's amber eyes snapped to him—wide, surprised, her crimson hair a tangled mess spilling over her shoulders. She sat on the cot, still in the t-shirt and pajamas he'd bought, legs crossed, arms folded tight. "What, letting me out already?" she quipped, voice sharp—then her gaze dropped to the briefcase, narrowing. "The fuck's that?"

Kael didn't answer—just locked the door behind him, the click loud in the quiet. He set the case on the floor, popped it open—leather cuffs, a gag, a sleek wand peeking out—and turned to her, hazel eyes dark, unreadable. "Strip your top," he said, voice low, commanding.

Rhea blinked, a flush creeping up her scarred neck—anger flashing, then curiosity. "You serious?" she muttered, but her hands moved—slow, defiant—peeling the t-shirt off, tossing it aside. Her bare chest gleamed, scars tracing her ribs, nipples hardening in the cool air. She glared, daring him.

"Hands and knees," he ordered, stepping closer—case clanking as he pulled the cuffs. She hesitated—amber eyes blazing—then obeyed, shifting onto the cot, ass up, face down. Kael moved fast—cuffs snapping her wrists to her ankles, tight enough to bite her skin.

She tugged, testing them, a low growl rumbling as the metal held. He grabbed the gag next—ball sleek, black—and forced it between her lips, buckling it tight. Her muffled grunt—"Mmph!"—vibrated, her blush deepening, shame warring with fury.

Kael stepped back, tugging her pajamas down—slow, deliberate—baring her ass, pale cheeks stark against her scarred thighs. No panties—just her, raw and exposed, pussy peeking pink and glistening. She squirmed, cuffs clinking, muffled curses garbling through the gag. He stood in front of her now, meeting her gaze—her amber eyes burned, wet with heat, shame flushing her face redder than her hair.

"You've been bad," he said, voice rough, edged with intent. "Gotta teach you a lesson." His hand cracked down—sharp, loud—slapping her right cheek. A jolt ran through her—"Mmph!"—her yell stifled, hips jerking, a faint red print blooming on her skin. He stroked it after—gentle, fingers tracing the mark—and her breath hitched, tension easing a fraction. Then another slap—left cheek this time—harder, her muffled "Ah!" sharper, body rocking forward.

He knelt closer, stroking again—slow circles, warmth sinking in—and let his Empathic Resonance flare, a soft pulse of pleasure rippling from his touch. Her ass quivered, skin flushing deeper, and a low "Mmm" hummed through the gag—anger melting, heat pooling.

Another slap—crack!—both cheeks stinging now, her cry—"Nh!"—louder, wetter, her pussy slicking visibly, thighs trembling. Kael smirked, hazel eyes glinting—he could feel her shifting, shame burning into something hotter, needier.

"Feel that?" he murmured, stroking her red cheeks, amplifying the pleasure—sharp, electric, sinking deep. Her head dipped, crimson hair spilling, a muffled moan—"Mmmph"—as her hips pushed back, chasing his hand.

He slapped again—twice, quick—left then right, her yells blending into a desperate "Ah!"—and her pussy dripped, a thin strand glistening down her thigh. The cot creaked, her body taut—cuffs biting her wrists, gag slick with drool, face a mess of blush and want.

Kael stood, shedding his shirt—muscles flexing, bruises faint on his lean frame—and grabbed the wand from the case. He flicked it on—low buzz filling the room—and pressed it to her ass cheek, amplifying the vibration into a pulsing wave. Rhea jolted—"Nh!"—hips bucking, pleasure crashing through her. He slid it lower—teasing her folds, brushing her clit—her muffled scream—"Mmph!"—raw, needy, her whole body shuddering. Wetness smeared the wand, her scent sharp in the air—sweat, heat, submission.

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He tossed the wand aside, hands gripping her hips—fingers digging into her scarred skin—and freed himself, cock hard, throbbing. "Bad girls get this," he growled, nudging her entrance—hot, slick—then thrust in—slow at first, stretching her, her muffled "Ahh!" vibrating through the gag. He pulled back—then slammed deeper, amplifying each stroke—pleasure spiking, her walls clenching tight. Her moans escalated—"Mmm! Nh~~!"—hips rocking back, meeting him, cuffs rattling as she strained.

Kael's pace quickened—hard, relentless—hands slapping her ass between thrusts, red marks flaring brighter. Her cries turned wild—"Ah! Mmph!"—drool pooling on the cot, pussy soaking him, the bed creaking loud. He leaned over—chest to her back, sweat mingling—fingers finding her clit, rubbing fast, amplifying it into a blinding jolt. "Cum with me," he rasped, voice thick, thrusts pounding—her "Nh!" broke into a scream—"Mmmph!"—and he felt it—her climax crashing, walls pulsing, dragging him over the edge.

They came together—hot, messy—his groan low, her muffled wail—"Ahh~~!"—shaking the room. He spilled inside her—thick, pulsing—her juices soaking the cot, a wet stain spreading dark under her trembling thighs. Her body slumped—cuffs biting red into her wrists, gag slick, hair plastered to her flushed face—amber eyes hazy, spent. Kael pulled out—cock glistening—breath ragged, sweat beading down his chest. He uncuffed her—metal clanking—then tugged the gag free, drool stringing as she gasped, air rushing in.

Rhea collapsed flat—ass red, pussy dripping—panting hard, voice hoarse. "Fuck... you..." she croaked, but her smirk flickered—weak, sated, no venom left. Kael grinned, wiping sweat from his brow—hazel eyes glinting, dark with triumph. "Lesson learned?" he asked, voice rough, teasing.

She rolled onto her side—cot squelching wet—amber eyes meeting his, a spark still there. "Maybe," she muttered, breath steadying, scarred hand rubbing her wrist. "You're still a bastard."

"Yeah," he said, standing—pants back on, briefcase snapping shut. "And you're still here with me." He left her there—door locking behind him—her low chuckle trailing through the door, the air thick with their heat.

The Haven settled—Freya cooling off, Rhea tamed for now—and Kael's pulse thrummed, a dark satisfaction settling deep. Bad girls got lessons... and he'd give Freya hers soon enough.