by Poppy Flynn
For himself, Connor found he craved all the things Laurel used to give so freely. It was true that he had never really appreciated them until they were gone. Even when he'd been trying to push her away, thinking it wasn't what he wanted. Now that those things were no longer there for him to have, their loss seemed all the more poignant. Little things, like the sound of her laughter, her sauce and her sass, her impish smile and the way her ample curves had filled his hands. He was managing to fatten her up, at least, slowly, though he accepted she probably wouldn't thank him for saying so. Even Connor knew how sensitive even the most gorgeous, curvy women could be about their weight, something Connor had honestly never been able to understand. Why would anybody want to look like a stick?
And it transpired that Laurel's contract with Xavier did not include intercourse, something which Connor could not help being extraordinarily pleased about. He might have instigated a scene with the other Dom, but that didn't mean he wanted to share her.
Of course, he had found out the hard way that Xavier had called at Laurel's apartment every evening on his way home from work to correct and direct her and lay out the next day's clothes.
It had been the most brutal of all the shocks Connor had endured when, the one thing that Laurel had instigated for herself, on that first night, had been to bring him a narrow, wicked looking cane and prostrate herself for what was apparently her ritual evening thrashing.
She had come to him naked, and Connor had needed to find her a blindfold while he inspected the bruises and welts and the occasional stripe of broken skin across what had once been a silky, creamy expanse of her buttocks and breasts, so that she didn't see the expressions of horror and pity that he knew he couldn't keep off of his face. Now her skin was yellowed with older bruising, purpling with newer ones and an angry red with vicious looking weals. It turned his stomach to see the evidence of such brutality. Not that he blamed Xavier or even Laurel. He'd been in the lifestyle long enough to understand, and to accept, that plenty of people both got off and admired such features. Masochism and sadism were common and accepted parts of the lifestyle. Heck, most people enjoyed a moderate side order of pain to enhance their pleasure, himself included. But not to this extent. And damn it, his Laurel had never been this much of a masochist, either.
So, Connor had made a great show of breaking the cane across his knee, snapping it into two useless pieces. Then, instead of punishing her, he had taken some salve to her abrasions, and finally, he had tried not to let his sensitivities take over and overwhelm him when she had knelt before him, her mouth open expectantly as she waited for his cock, and the furious recollection that another of Xavier's odd little quirks was that he loved nothing better than to have a fully compliant submissive, on her knees in front of him, her hair in a vicious grip while he forcibly fucked her face.
In an attempt to redirect his raging thoughts, Connor had questioned Laurel on what pleasures she received in return for this arrangement. When she had told him, there were none, he was outraged, all over again, until a furious phone call had revealed that Laurel herself had refused all offers of pleasure.
Well, that was another thing Connor was determined to change, too. But, before they got that far, there had come the panic as Laurel appeared to deteriorate.
Oh, she was eating and taking her tablets, doing everything that he demanded of her, but her nerves seemed to be shot and her anxiety levels off the scale. It had taken a humiliating and eye-opening conversation with Micah for Connor to realise that the pain Xavier had been dishing out had been the very thing that had been grounding Laurel and keeping her tethered. Without it, she appeared to have been set adrift, so they took another step along the road to recovery, albeit in a slightly different direction from the original, and Connor conceded to administering a spanking each night instead of the lashing she was accustomed to. But it was still going to be on his own terms, and it wasn't going to be a punishment spanking, either; of that, he was adamant.
No, Laurel would have to get her daily dose of pain by way of an erotic spanking, and she would also have to accept the pleasure that went with it and his own brand of aftercare, which wouldn't be a ten-o'clock phone call asking if she was okay and telling her to go to bed.
It had been a long and confusing few weeks, but Laurel felt herself calm and her mind ease as soon as Connor ordered her to lie across his knee. She knew what came now, and her body craved it, needed it. She hadn't realised that she had become so reliant on the pain, so addicted, until it had been withdrawn.
Things were changing; she was well aware of that. It may only be early days, but Laurel was aware that she was getting better in minute increments.
Although, logically, she understood their purpose was only to ease the symptoms, Laurel knew that the medication was starting to kick in. She had odd little bursts when everything around her seemed brighter and more colourful, like someone had cleaned the windows in her mind and she could see through them clearly for a few minutes. The fog in her brain would be lifted and her thoughts lucid and positive momentarily.
But it was never for very long. By the time she got past the fear of those new thoughts and feelings and raised a tentative finger to metaphorically prod at the brightness, it would start to disintegrate, and the shroud of grey would settle back around her mind once again. She didn't mind, though. It was safe there in the murky half-life where nothing bothered her. But the tablets weren't a cure. That would take a much more hands-on approach, but one that Master Connor seemed more than happy to provide.
Laurel wasn't entirely sure how she felt about this turn of events. In the beginning, she had just done as she was told. There had been no real interest in what was going on around her, even if Connor was the one person who could illicit something more of a response from her than anybody else in her life. The others, they were just people. She was fond of some of them…probably. But there was a reserve there, a natural barrier that nothing broke through. Connor was different, though. It was as if he was already on the other side of that barrier. He didn't have to work to breach it, because he was already on the inside. Laurel wasn't sure she was happy about that, but it didn't seem to be something she could change. It simply was. Often, she refused to think about it too hard, because she knew she didn't want to face some of the truths that might be waiting for her. It was better to bury her head in the sand. She was happy with her ignorance. No point in dredging up something that might cause her the kind of emotional pain that had broken her mind already.
But then, he had withdrawn her punishment, withheld the pain, and that had sent her into a panic. Oh, it hadn't been immediate—that's how she knew she must be getting better.
Before, she would have had this meltdown after just a day or two…or maybe she would have just chosen to sever that final filament and take that plunge into oblivion, welcoming the end. The thought had always been there in the back of her mind—embrace the darkness and just let go of the tenuous thread that tethered her to this life. It had been there, right within her reach, just waiting for her to take that final step. People had stopped her. Faceless, nameless people had held her back from the edge and refused to let her go. They were people she knew, but the recollections were hazy. They were meaningless, unimportant. But they had still stopped her from making that jump into extinction. Death had looked inviting back then, warm and welcoming, reaching out to her with obscure fingers, which promised peace and deliverance from the turmoil in her head and the pain in her heart.
Now, it had taken a little while for the panic to creep in, for her mind to acknowledge that the mind cleansing pain that had kept her tethered to this life had been severed and that she was suddenly in danger of being set adrift. And she didn't want that any longer—another indication that she was returning to the land of the living. She no longer wished to be aimlessly wandering in that purposeless limbo that threatened to overwhelm her and jeopardise her existence. And maybe that was the very first proof that everything was going to be all right
in the end.
But right now, Laurel still needed the pain in order to ensure that she was securely bound to this life, and without it, she felt an overwhelming wave of panic welling up, a fear that she might be allowed to slip away into that place where she didn't want to go any more. It might be irrational, but for now, her brain could only compute the fact that she might be lost if she didn't feel the slicing agony that reminded her that she was still alive, and the longer she went without feeling, the more she feared she might slip away, right when she was beginning to think that she might be saved. And the longer the lapses, the bigger the wave of fear and anxiety grew, until it was a crescendo of tumult threatening to crash her into the abyss.
The seething morass of agitation had abated right now, though. Over Connor's knee like this, her mind had eased and quieted, and her body relaxed in calming expectation.
Connor rubbed his big palm across her buttocks. Laurel wasn't used to such softness, but that was okay because she knew it was just a precursor of what was to come. She could be patient now that she knew fulfilment was within her reach. The first smack was very much gentler than she was used to, but that was all right, too. After all this time, the sweet sting of pain was like a balm on the fractured nerves of her soul, however light.
Connor alternated between slaps and strokes, taking his time, never swatting the same place twice, keeping things softer than she was used to, but by now, she was so desperate that she would take whatever she was given and be grateful for it. She was like an addict desperate for a fix. Anything that would take the edge off would be greedily snatched away.
Connor manoeuvred her legs and pushed them apart, spanking her sit spot deliciously, and then, almost shocking her, his broad palm manoeuvred so that it caught the edges of her labia. The curls that had grown there muted the blow, but it still sent un unfamiliar tingle speeding along her spine and spreading across her shoulders. He did it again and again, targeting that tender spot relentlessly, until she wriggled on his lap, unaccustomed to the unfamiliar feelings he was exposing, while her body searched for something ephemeral just beyond her reach and comprehension.
Then his fingers soothed and stroked her there, too, just as he had with her buttocks, but now, her reaction was a different one. Her pelvis strained towards him, undulating and searching while the muscles flexed and quivered in her abdomen. Her sheath softened, and her labia tingled, while her clit throbbed with expectation. God, it had been so long, the feelings were almost foreign and she wasn't certain that she wanted to feel them.
Connor gave her no choice in the matter, though, because, suddenly, his fingers were there, coaxing and massaging at that engorged little bud, tantalising the nerve endings as he deftly rubbed and pressed into those swollen, tender places. Her body writhed of its own accord, her mind reminding her of pleasures long forgotten and experienced, until a cacophony of pleasurable memory receptors came flooding down around her, like an avalanche that she was powerless to withstand, and her first climax in over six months came crashing down on her with such strength and ferocity that her mind went blank in the aftermath of so much delight.
Connor scooped Laurel onto his lap and held her there as tightly as he dared, gratified that she instinctively curled into him in quiet contentment, like a tiny kitten seeking reassurance and affection. The orgasm had hit her hard, and Connor had never seen anything quite like it. It was as if she didn't know what was happening or how to control it, like she'd just been swept away on a tidal wave of pleasure, which had left her wasted. He made a mental note to ask her how long it had been since she had reached the peak of a climax, but for now, he simply held her and gentled her, stroked at her back, and nuzzled her hair.
When she finally came around again, he swept her up and carried her to the bedroom, leaving her with chocolate and water while he showered and changed and attempted to wrestle his own aching cock under some semblance of control before he had to torture himself with the closeness of her tantalising body when he climbed into her bed. As much as he longed to have her, that step would not come until she was able to engage with him freely and completely. To take his mind off his wayward libido, Connor, instead, busied himself making plans to send Laurel to be pampered at a day spa. Most of her welts and bruises had healed now, so there would be nothing to cause any concern. He would book her in for the works. He hadn't missed the fact that her pubic hair had grown out, and she would benefit from a good haircut and the highlights she used to favour as well as a manicure to her nails, which were ragged and neglected much like the rest of her. Hopefully, a bit of a makeover would help with her positivity, too.
Chapter 18
Connor was driving her to distraction. And not the kind of fazed-out, apathetic distraction she had been suffering from in her entire recent memory. Connor had been living with her for over three months now, and things had most certainly changed, and not just for the two of them.
In deference to the health of her unborn child, Desi had taken a leave of absence, and although she was working from home, Connor was now in charge of the daily running of the finance department. Joel had cut down his hours and was working strictly 9-5 on weekdays only, and now that Jake was a proud new father to baby Jacob, he was doing pretty much the same thing. Luanna had turned down a promotion, which would have seen her take on a proportion of Desi's responsibilities, as she and Logan had decided they, too, were going to start a family and didn't want to leave it too long. Had she accepted, it might have freed Connor up to head back to the south coast, although he was adamant that he wasn't going anywhere.
And as for her, well, Laurel thought she must have gained back most of the weight she had lost. Maybe not quite all of it, and that suited her just fine, but her curves were back, and she filled out her clothes in a way that even she could appreciate, and Connor certainly complimented her often enough.
She knew that most of it was just positive reinforcement, but she wasn't oblivious to the genuine admiration in his eyes. That, in itself, was a testament to how far she had come. She was able to function pretty much autonomously now, and all Connor did these days was make sure that she didn't slip backward. She wasn't quite there yet. There was a hint of melancholy still tingeing her soul, but Laurel thought that was less to do with her mental health and more to do with the reality of the situation she found herself in. In that, her closest friends had all found their soulmates and were living in blissed out happiness while they built their families. Whereas, she was still single, still in love with Connor, and still having to accept that, one day, the little bubble in which they existed was inevitably going to pop. Just the thought made her sad.
She had realised that her deepest, secret desire was for things to stay exactly as they were, with Connor and herself sharing a home, eating meals together, enjoying the occasional evening out, and cuddling up together in the evenings before he provided her ritual, bedtime spanking followed by a mind-blowing orgasm.
At night, he would gather her to him and hold her close, and in sleep, she would curl herself around him and wake in his arms. She wanted to stay like that forever.
Oh, there were things she would change, of course. For a start, she would instigate an added ritual of hot, sweaty sex because, as thoroughly as Connor saw to her own pleasure, he was careful not to take his own. She hadn't questioned him on it. She didn't think she was quite strong enough yet, to hear the rejection that she already perceived in his actions, so she left well enough alone. But that didn't mean she didn't yearn for his touch or ache to be filled in a way that only the most intimate joining of his body to hers could provide.
But Connor didn't want her. He had made that much very clear, and while Laurel struggled not to dwell on something so negative while the rest of her mind was recuperating, it engendered an innate sadness that she wasn't sure she'd ever be free from and left behind a deep yearning which caused a void inside her that ached to be filled, along with the sure knowledge that, very soon, she would have to let Connor go. For he
r own sake as well as his, before her feelings for him started to become detrimental to her health all over again. The time wasn't quite here, but Laurel knew, in her heart, it would have to be soon.
Connor watched Laurel potter about in the kitchen. She was fixing dinner, as she did most nights, since he insisted she leave the office at a reasonable hour and take time for herself, even while he had to work late with all the added responsibilities he'd taken on.
Gone were the days of her working herself into exhaustion in a vain attempt to sleep at night. She was almost back to her old self. Although a slightly different version of herself, Connor accepted. He supposed it was impossible to go through such a life altering experience and come through it as the same person after you'd had to battle your way to the other side.
He knew first-hand how circumstances had changed not just him, but his father as well, after what Rayleen had put them both through. His new insight had made him realise just how deeply the events of his own life had touched his father's, too, and Connor had vowed that this new understanding would facilitate the mending of a few fences between them now that he was also feeling strong enough to face them.
They had come a long way, he and Laurel, though he figured she wasn't aware of his own trauma. It was time to tell her, though, time to help her understand just how much fate had had a hand in shaping both of their lives. Connor felt that the information was the final thing that Laurel needed to complete her healing and make her whole. And, for his own part, Connor believed that it was time for him, too, to tell the story of his past indignity to someone other than his therapist. If there was anyone who deserved to know, then it was Laurel.