Beauty and the Thorns

by Black, Stasia

  “Did you learn about the twelve labors of Hercules in school?”

  I nod. “I think so. It sounds familiar. But I- I don’t remember the particulars.”

  “Hercules too committed a great sin, and so in penance, the oracle told him to go serve King Eurystheus and do all that he asked of him. The King set him to twelve labors, each more difficult than the last.”

  Logan bends over me, eyes blazing into mine. “The last task had him descend into the very bowels of hell itself.” He trails a finger gently down my face and then between my breasts, pain and anger etched between his brows. “Are you willing to go to hell and back for your sins, Daphne?”

  I strain against my bindings. I didn’t commit the sins he’s bound and determined to think I did, I want to scream. Why is he so determined to think the worst of me? What’s happened to him to make him like this? The boy I once knew and even the man of the last two weeks I’ve become so intimate with... Finding Logan again only to lose him—I can’t. I won’t.

  So I tell him the truth. “I’m willing to do it for you.” I’ll fight for him, dammit. For this. For us.

  For a second, just for the briefest flicker of a moment, I think I see something in him crack—a flash of the Logan I know and cherish.

  But the next second the Master is back, cold and calculating. He pulls back and stands up straight, turning away from me.

  “Then let us begin.”

  Nine

  7 Years Ago

  Daphne

  “How did I know I’d find you here?”

  I look up at hearing my favorite voice, butterflies alight in my stomach.

  Logan.

  He pays attention to me out of pity, I know that’s why. But still my heart soars every time he stops by to say hi, and the few times he’s taken me out to eat—heaven.

  “Hi Logan.” I try for my voice not to sound shy but don’t quite succeed. Gods, don’t look like a timid little girl! I thought there was maybe a moment at the Ubeli’s ball when he saw me as more…but then he wouldn’t dance with me and I barely saw him the rest of the night.

  “How long have you been hunched over your books here?” he asks. “I saw you when you came in this morning and that was hours ago. Have you been at it all night?”

  I blink blearily and glance over at the clock on the wall, then down at my laptop. “I was trying to finish this chapter on my dissertation and I guess time got away from me.”

  His brow furrows. “Have you had any sustenance other than coffee?” He gestures at the several empty coffee cups in the corners of my little study carrel.

  A thrill goes through me in spite of my tiredness. Does this mean he’s about to take me on one of our little lunch dates? Then I wince internally. No, they aren’t dates. I’m a pity project and he’s a good man afraid of a girl on his watch dying of starvation.

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Woman cannot live on coffee alone. Come on.”

  Woman. He called me woman.

  He was making a joke. Don’t be an idiot.

  But I’m nodding and getting to my feet. “Okay, if you say so.” Inside, I’m doing cartwheels. Logan date! Logan date!

  I’m too tired to fight the internal battle and allow myself to just be happy as he leads me to our favorite sandwich shop.

  But to my surprise, he gets our order to go.

  My heart sinks. No Logan date after all. He’s just seeing that I’m fed and taking me right back where he found me. Dear heavens, this is embarrassing.

  I stand up straighter and try to be a grown-up about the whole thing. “Look, Logan. I appreciate it but really, I can take care of myself. Let me just pay for this, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  I try to reach for my wallet in my purse but he puts his big, warm hands on mine, stopping me.

  Logan Wulfe is touching me. I melt under the contact, especially when I look up and those intense blue eyes are locked on mine.

  “Daphne, it’s okay to let someone look out for you once in a while. And after all your father has done for me, it’s the least I can do to provide his hungry daughter a meal once in a while. Please?”

  It’s not so much that I agree as I’m stunned into silence by the earnestness of his blue eyes and his touch, so he gets his way.

  My hand feels terribly cold as soon as he lets me go to reach for his own wallet to pay the clerk.

  At least I know why he looks out for me now—it’s not pity, or maybe it is, but it’s also obligation and gratefulness to my father. It still has nothing to do with me.

  But, sad sap that I am, I’ll still cling to every moment I have with Logan.

  I expect him to take us right back to the lab but instead, our lunch in one hand, he takes my hand with his other and leads us down the sidewalk away from the lab.

  Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, Logan Wulfe is holding my hand!!!

  What does it mean? Does he—? Oh crap, is my hand sweaty? If I would’ve known he was going to pull this move, I would’ve wiped it on my jeans first.

  He lets my hand go almost as quickly as he grabbed it, though, leaving my head a tornado of swirling thoughts.

  But he’s grinning at me, that strong jaw and brow so masculine, it kills me. While Adam Archer is what most people would describe as classically handsome, Logan is what does it for me. Rough around the edges, but a sweetness that belies his difficult youth.

  And he’s real in a way that Adam isn’t. Adam is like the fake sweetener that’s so overly sweet, it makes everyone like the drink, but only because they can barely taste the original substance anymore.

  Whereas Logan is black coffee. Bracing. Honest. Of the earth. And so, so good.

  “We’re going for a day-trip.”

  “What?” I almost cough the word, I’m so surprised. But then I realize Logan’s stopped us in front of a truck.

  “Being stuck in that lab all the time isn’t good for you. You need some vitamin D.” He unlocks the passenger side door and opens it for me, gesturing me inside.

  Squee, Logan date back on!

  I don’t hesitate scrambling up inside, especially when he holds out a hand to help me.

  When he rounds the truck and climbs in, I’m all but bouncing on the seat in my excitement. “Where are we going?”

  He smirks, glancing at me. “It’s a surprise. But it’s a ways away. Do you want to eat now or when we get there?”

  “When we get there.” I love watching Logan eat and I’m used to going without food.

  “Okay, then you should get some rest.”

  It’s a warm day, but he still pulls out a light blanket from the back seat and arranges it over me. It’s seriously the sweetest gesture and stupidly, I tear up.

  I turn my face towards the window. People don’t do this sort of stuff for me. I’m the one who takes care of Mom, and Dad, too. He’s like me, forgetting to eat, going days without sleep. I get lost in the shuffle and it’s okay, I completely understand. He’s trying to save Mom’s life.

  But…Logan looking out for me, regardless of why he’s doing it— He’ll never know how much it means to me.

  So I curl up in the blanket and, regardless of how excited I am to spend every second possible with him, I do as he asks. I fall asleep.

  When I wake up, I can’t help my yelp of delight.

  “Oh, Logan!” I sit up straight, the blanket falling to my lap.

  The beach. He’s taken me to the beach. It’s only three hours away, but I’ve only been once before in my whole life. But then again, this is Logan Wulfe, the man of my dreams, who makes dreams come true.

  Ten

  Present Day

  Logan

  Daphne’s tied down and spread out on the table like a sacrifice on an altar. Her body is a gift to the gods, lithe and tight with the perfect amount of curves.

  Tonight I’m her god.

  She obeyed me so quickly, maybe I should go easy on her for this first trial. Her pussy pouts at me, soft and slick with wanting.

  Or
maybe she obeyed because she craves this.

  I lay a hand on her flat belly and she whimpers. I chuckle, “You need this.”

  Her hips rise. “Logan, please.”

  I drop my hand and step away, clenching my hands to fists. How easily she pulls me back in. I can’t forget what this is. Well, I’ll prove it to both of us. Right here and right now. “I told you not to call me that.”

  “Master,” she pants.

  “Better. But too late.” I return with the wooden box that holds her nipple clamps. Her cries won’t move me, and certainly not my name on her lips. I’m here for one thing and one thing only. To master her. She is mine to train. Mine.

  “One day I’ll pierce you,” I murmur as I lever the clamps onto her poor nipples. Her breath hisses through her teeth, but she doesn’t beg me to remove them. “Would you like that?”

  “Whatever my Master wishes,” her voice is low and throaty. Her eyes are large and dark with pupils blown. Into subspace so soon?

  “You say that now.” I head down to the end of the table where I can lean between her legs. “I wonder if you’ll regret it when you discover what I have planned for you.” I spread her labia, inspecting her almost clinically. Her breathing ramps up and her juices pour. My fingers come away sticky. I raise my hand to my face and drink in her scent. Mouthwatering.

  “I wonder…” My finger is huge compared to her delicate parts. I use my index finger to nudge the sensitive spot next to her clitoris. How large can it get? I’m her Master and she’s my sub. My job is to take her to her limits so that’s what I’ll do.

  She twists her body, letting out a long, keening moan.

  I slap her thigh lightly. “Quiet! This isn’t for your pleasure.”

  Her cry shudders from her, her pussy growing even more wet. As if my command aroused her. She’s so responsive, so attuned to my touch.

  “I just want to see...yes…” Her clitoris is swollen stiff, peeking from its hood. “There you are.” I tickle alongside the hardened nub, driving her towards orgasm. Her panting increases, but at the last second, I stop.

  “Noooo,” Daphne moans. My own cock stiffens.

  “Silence,” I order. Oh beautiful Daphne, how much you have to learn. “If I want you to beg, I will ask for it.” I’ll gag her if necessary. She would look so beautiful, bound and gagged, green eyes begging me for relief.

  Even now her chest is flushed and heaving. The jeweled clamps twinkle with every rising and falling breath.

  I hold up the third clamp and wait for her to realize my plan. Her eyes grow huge.

  “Oh yes,” I let a wicked grin claim my lips. I can’t help it. A Master can stay in control and enjoy himself too, right? “As promised.”

  She trembles slightly as I approach with the clit clamp in hand. The one I’ve chosen is the most benign, a beginner’s clamp. A bit of lube and the teardrop head will easily fit over her clitoris, with the long wire legs clamping her labia. Several jewels hang from either end.

  “You’ll look so pretty for me. Maybe I’ll clamp you and make you serve me dinner.” A meal with her naked and panting. Whenever she bent to place food in front of me, I’d tweak the clamps tighter…

  As I fit the clamp into place, Daphne cranes her head to watch. She doesn’t seem too horrified. No, she looks fascinated.

  “My curious little deviant.”

  This is her power, isn’t it? Everywhere I lead her, she so enthusiastically follows. No hesitation. Her hips roll and the muscles of her stomach ripple. Her eyes grow hooded, her lashes fanning over her flushing cheeks.

  I’m attuned to every twitch, every hitched breath, every eyelid flutter. I am her Master, her maker.

  Her god.

  The clamp fits perfectly, squeezing her delicate flesh. The jewels hang down, tickling her perineum. The emeralds glisten with her juices.

  I bend down, intent as a scientist looking through a microscope. Watching miracles unfold. I toy with the jewels and she clenches her bottom. I blow on her clit and she rocks her hips. All the while, desperate little gasps escape her lips.

  “Poor Daphne.” I rise a moment, adjusting myself. My cock is stiff and throbbing in my pants. I’m torturing myself as much as torturing her.

  I roll up my shirt sleeves and settle in for my feast.

  At the first touch of my tongue, her back arches, her body bowing as far as she can go in the restraints. “Master,” she screams.

  My cock almost splits my pant’s seam. I nuzzle the clamp with my nose and glide my tongue over her quivering flesh.

  We groan in unison. Her sweet taste— “Heaven.”

  * * *

  Daphne

  I knew Logan would torture me when I returned, but I might not survive a day. Logan’s face is pressed between my legs, freaking eating me like he’s starving.

  My wrists are red from tugging at my bounds. I’m desperate to grab his face and grind down. I’m so close—

  Logan pulls away, wiping his face on his shirt sleeve. Leaving me on the edge. Fuck!

  “You can’t always get what you want,” Logan intones. Fucker.

  My arousal teeters on a knife edge. One side pleasure, the other side pain. Or maybe the two are one.

  But I feel a rush of gratitude. If this is all my Master will dish out, then I can take it.

  “You took your clamping well.”

  I relax at the praise. The jeweled clamp didn’t look too scary. Just a wire prong designed to squeeze my flesh a little bit. Maybe I’ll survive tonight after all.

  He adds a touch of lube and slides the prong off. The way he’s watching my face, I know something’s about to happen. And then, it does. Holy shit!

  The blood rushes back to those places.

  Oh fuck, oh fuck!

  My clit is engorged a thousand-fold. I stare down between my legs but can barely concentrate because I’m about to explode, right on the edge. It’s so close, so insane, I’ve never felt such a buildup of pleasured intensity—

  I writhe my hips this way and that, trying to get stimulation. Maybe I can catch my clit on the side of my leg—

  “Ah ah,” Logan steadies me, adding restraints that pull my legs further apart. He leaves for a moment, exiting into the shadows.

  I lay on the table, half-floating, my throbbing clit my only tether to the earthly plane, a red beacon in the blissful haze. What is it about this man that makes me just...surrender?

  The Beast returns. He is the Beast now, fully. A mask affixed to his features. A hulk of a man, my body recognizes as Master. My toes curl at the sight of him—shirt off, muscles on display. In his hand: a black crop.

  Maybe the pain’s just begun. My heart trips over itself as he runs the black leather flap along my face and neck, tracing my collarbone, circling my breasts.

  Whap! The crop strikes the underside of my right breast. A cruel sting on my soft flesh. Why is my pussy flooding?

  Whap! Another on the inside of my thigh. A bright patch on the smooth pale skin. Why does my back arch, offering my body up?

  More soft strikes and sudden strikes. The crop rubs my pussy folds and comes away coated in moisture. Master holds it to my lips to taste. Tart and salty. Why does it taste so good?

  My body is covered with red marks. Brilliant ornaments. My Master is a genius, to paint my flesh so well. He took a blank canvas and made it beautiful. I am his masterpiece.

  “You’ve been so good.” Master’s crop nudges my pussy folds, sparking new pleasure. His voice comes from far away. “But Daphne? We’re just getting started.”

  He brings the crop down on my pussy. Thwap! Fireworks burst behind my eyes. A scream rings in my ears. My throat is raw—the sound was torn from me.

  Master strokes the leather lovingly down my legs. “I bet I could make you cum just from this. But no. You don’t deserve to cum.”

  Tears slide from my eyes, glazing a path to my temples. I want to deserve what Master gives me.

  The Beast leaves. The Beast returns. He has anot
her gift for me in his hands. A wicked looking tweezer clamp with silicone-tipped ends. He aligns it with the seething bundle of want that is my clit. Squeezes down.

  “Oh, fuck!” I lose control of my tongue.

  “Naughty girl.” He crops my breast again, making the jewels bounce. Yes! Punish me. Make me pay. I’ll take the pain. I’ll deserve the good things I want.

  This is where I’m meant to be.

  * * *

  Logan

  Her tears don’t move me at all. Nor her breasts, reddened from the crop strikes, wearing the emeralds so proudly. Her supple thighs, shimmering with sweat and her cunt juices. Her godsdamned scent…

  I turn my back on her, turn away to adjust myself. My arousal makes me grit my teeth. I wish I could explain away my erection. I haven’t cum in a while. Wielding a crop always makes me hard. But it’s Daphne. All Daphne.

  She betrayed you. Lied to you.

  But she’s so beautiful, her tears so earnest, her face and body so...so fucking necessary. I don’t want to want her, but I do. I always have.

  “You will learn,” I growl and grit my teeth. The crop falls over and over, leaving red in its wake. She cries out, the slim column of her throat working as she labors to draw breath. She’s close to the boundaries of where I wanted to take her. Any further and there’ll be danger. Too much damage. Too much pain.

  Calm. Control. I am the Master.

  Who am I fooling? When it comes to Daphne, I am undone.

  The crop slices down, striking her between her legs. The clamp goes flying.

  Her body stiffens and a wail breaks from her, long and unending. I drop the crop and stare at her heaving body. Her eyes open wide, unseeing, her fingers clenching and unclenching as her orgasm goes on and on.

  She just came from excruciating pain.

  She’s one in a billion. But then, she always was.

  Eleven

  7 Years Ago

  Daphne