by Bea Paige
“Who told you?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter who. Just be glad they did.”
I turn my back on him and remove the cover from over the plate of food. A simple breakfast of eggs on toast with a side of crispy bacon greets me. Picking up the fork, I dig in, devouring every last scrap then chasing it down with the glass of water. Wiping my mouth with the napkin, I settle myself on the seat placed before the window and set up my easel and canvas. Ivan watches me the whole time.
“Get through this and you can rest,” he says, seeing the shake of my hands and the bead of sweat rolling down my cheek. He already knows I suffer, he’s punishing me. I don’t blame him.
Gritting my teeth on the sudden nausea, I nod my head, digging deep
“You told her everything then?” he asks, already knowing that I did.
“Yes.”
“Fuck!” He begins to pace up and down.
“She knows what I did, Ivan. She knows what I’m capable of and still she remains.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. She deserves better than us,” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I respond, not able to disagree.
Light footsteps enter the room and we both look up as Rose enters. Ivan draws in a breath, he wavers, taking a step towards her, but she shakes her head and he remains where he is, under her control.
“Jesus Christ,” he remarks, dropping to his knees.
He lowers his gaze and I suddenly feel sorry that he must look away until she gives him permission to feast on her beauty. But she doesn’t have that kind of control over me and I’m selfish in my need to absorb everything about her.
She’s a fucking vision in white.
It is one of only three colours I can see, if you can call it that. White is merely the absence of colour but somehow on Rose it’s so much more. On her feet she wears a pair of ballet shoes, the ribbon winding up her leg. White lace knickers and a matching bra finish off the ensemble. In her hair she wears a ribbon that looks a dark grey but is more likely a colour I can’t decipher.
“Anton,” she says in greeting.
I have the sudden urge to turn my gaze away and slide to the floor on my knees like Ivan, but just as I’m about to move, Rose stops me.
“No, not you,” she says. “I want you to keep your eyes on me. Do not look away. Understand?”
“Yes,” I murmur, my fucking heart beating rapidly with a concoction of lust and heroin withdrawal. She walks towards Ivan, lightly running her fingers over the bare skin of his shoulder.
“Yesterday you took advantage of my vulnerability, and whilst I was grateful for it, I hadn’t permitted it. Are you ready to take your punishment, Ivan?”
Ivan exhales slowly, his whole body seems to relax with every soft whisper from Rose. “Yes, Domina,” he responds.
“Good. Stay there. Don’t move.” She bends over and presses a light kiss against his shoulder. He shudders with that simple gesture.
Rose walks towards me and I’m transfixed. She’s a fucking vision. I want to draw her so bad I can barely breathe. My fingers ache to pick up my pencil and bring her to life, they ache to touch her.
“What does white mean to you, Anton?”
Her question takes me aback.
“What do you mean?” I stutter, caught off guard.
“It’s a simple question. The colour white, what does it mean to you?”
She stands before me, waiting. We stare at each other for long moments. I don’t know where this is leading, but I answer her regardless.
“White is emptiness. It’s cold, stark. It’s everything that isn’t something… It’s the ghost of my past and the reality of my present.”
She tips her head to the side, her eyes boring holes into my soul. “No, you’re wrong. It’s so much more than that. It’s endless possibilities, its freedom. It’s faith in the unknown. It’s purity, innocence, virginity,” she smiles at that part, her fingertips trailing over the curve of her hips.
My throat dries. Automatically, I reach up to pull the pencil from behind my ear, wanting to feel something familiar when unfamiliar emotions rattle inside my chest. Rose steps closer, I smell the heady scent of her perfume. Her hair is loose about her face, drawn back only by the ribbon, and whilst I can’t see its colour, she’s no less alluring for it. Everything about her draws me in. Her scent, her beauty, her strength, her passion, her fire, her fucking darkness.
Rose lifts onto her pointes and begins to move with tiny steps, her arms spread wide as she moves gracefully before me.
I watch her. I see beyond the perfection, to the crooked bend of her middle finger, the swelling of her knee, and the almost imperceptible curve of her spine. I see the pain she holds and the anguish that rides alongside it always.
She’s perfectly imperfect. Beautiful in all her brokenness.
She’s a fucking angel.
Rose lowers her arms and settles back onto the soles of her feet. She places her hand gently on my arm. I flinch at the sudden rush of heat that fills my belly, that sparks along my spine and fills my cock with burning lust.
“White is the dusting of frost on a winter’s morning, a covering of unmarked virgin snow. It’s the mist that blankets and soothes. It’s serenity and calm, clarity. It’s simplicity. It’s the start of everything. White is the beginning, the quiet peace before life begins. It’s a blank canvas, Anton. It’s hope.”
Rose studies me for a moment, waiting for a response. But I can’t speak. I can’t respond. Her words echo my own thoughts every time I sit down in front of an empty canvas. She’s seen right into the heart of me and understood what it is that I desire.
Really understood.
“I can point to a tube of paint and tell you what red is, green, blue, yellow. I can show you where to place that colour on a canvas to paint a perfect picture, but you’ll never truly see if you don’t understand. So, I’m going to show you, I’m going to help you understand what it means to live a life filled with colour. The good and the bad. Your education starts today. Right now.”
She turns and walks away from me, standing beside Ivan’s side who has remained quiet, submissive, all this time. She reaches up and pulls at the ribbon holding back her hair from her face.
“It’s time to learn the next colour…”
She holds her hand out, the length of ribbon laying across her palm.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Red,” she responds before bending down and tying the length of ribbon around Ivan’s wrists.
Chapter Fifteen
Rose
Crouching behind Ivan, I twine the red ribbon tightly around his wrists. Ivan’s muscles visibly relax as it bites into his skin just enough to keep his hands in place.
Honestly though, there really isn’t any need to restrain him. This is just for show, for pleasure. I already know that in this space he would never touch me unless I told him to. I trust him implicitly and he trusts me the same way in return.
In this room, like this, Ivan always gives up everything to me without question. Now, I just need to convince him to leave for Moscow tonight and that might prove a little harder to do.
I know with utter certainty that Anton and I need to do this on our own. It won’t work with Ivan here watching our every move. As much as it pains me to say it, it will be easier for us all if he went away.
It’s only a couple of weeks, I tell myself already feeling the loss of his absence. My demon snarls restlessly.
Leaning over I press my lips against Ivan’s ear. “Ivan, I’m going to allow Anton to watch us.” I hear his sharp intake of breath, but he doesn’t try to dissuade me. “Do you trust me to know what’s right?”
“Yes, Domina,” he responds immediately.
“Tell me your safe word.”
“Red,” he murmurs.
Behind us Anton makes a small sound. I’m not sure whether he’s excited by what he sees, unwell because he must by now be suffering the symptoms of withdrawal from heroin, or
for some other reason I’m yet to understand.
“Good. If this gets too much, you must use it.” I press a gentle kiss against the curve of his neck, then stand.
Turning to face Anton, I rest the palm of my hand on Ivan’s shoulder and squeeze gently. Ivan stands, his back to Anton.
“This is Ivan’s safe space. Where he can be who he truly is without judgement or ridicule,” I say as I move in front of Ivan. Stretching my hands around his waist, I slide my fingers under the waistband of his slacks and grasp the firm globes of his arse cheeks, eliciting a deep rumbling moan from his lips. The power his submission gives me is intoxicating and I must calm my own racing pulse that’s pumping my blood so fast I feel lightheaded.
“In this room I’m no longer Rose, I’m Domina.”
Hooking my fingers into the tops of Ivan’s trousers, I pull them all the way down his legs. Ivan steps out of them kicking the material away. His cock falls heavy before me, and as much as I have the sudden urge to take him in my mouth, this isn’t how it’s going to go. At least not yet anyway.
“Wait here,” I say to Ivan as I stand upright, allowing myself a moment to lean into the hard plains of his chest, breathing in his powerful scent.
Ivan’s cock twitches against the curve of my stomach. His arousal is my drug, my addiction. Is it any less damaging than Anton’s? I guess that will depend on how I cope whilst he’s away. Stepping out of Ivan’s arms, I move around him. The fact Anton watches me so intently only heightens the sexual tension bleeding into the room. I’m swimming in it. Walking over to the dresser tucked away in the corner of the room, I pull open the top drawer and grab a flogger made of the finest leather. The handle sits snugly in my hand and the long strips of leather are soft to touch.
“You’re going to use that on Ivan?” Anton asks, his voice cracking not with emotion but with lust. Thick, heavy, lust.
“Would you rather I use it on you?” I retort, walking towards him.
He flinches, behind me I hear a guttural noise from Ivan, but still he remains where he is, his gaze lowered to the floor despite his obvious jealousy.
“I’m not certain Ivan would appreciate that,” Anton says with a wry grin. It doesn’t reach his eyes though, and I can see very clearly that he’s suffering from withdrawal, unable to hide his symptoms any longer.
“Do you need to rest?” I ask softly.
My first reaction is to stop, to escort him to his room and to nurse him better. But I know, instinctively, that isn’t what he needs right now. Amber had been kind and it drew out the worst in him. One day perhaps he will be able to receive kindness and not see it as a weakness to accept. But that isn’t today.
“No! I can do this,” he bites out, wiping a shaking hand across his forehead. “I need to see this through.”
“Okay.”
I nod my head and return to Ivan who’s trembling with his own need, a very different kind to Anton’s. He’s so wound up, with worry for me, with lust, with the need to pummel sense into Anton that he can’t control his physical reaction. Always so filled with restless energy, Ivan is only able to be calm when we come together this way. I’ve never forced him to take up ballet again, but I know it would help. One day he’ll see that too.
Last night he had wanted me, but we had just talked. We talked for hours about Anton and his obsession to seek the impossible. We talked about Amber and her suffering. We discussed Erik, and how concerned Ivan is for him. We talked about Ivan’s trip to Moscow and his fear of leaving me behind, but in all that long conversation I never revealed anything. about Roman and my own fears of being locked up. I knew if I did, he would never go.
And if I’m to help his best friend, his brother, he needs to give us space to do that.
Lifting the flogger, I trail the leather srips over Ivan’s back, lightly flicking it against his skin. He lets out a groan as I flick a little harder against the firm muscle of his arse. Blood rushes to the surface of his skin, leaving a beautiful trail of pink marks.
Pink, not red.
And it’s red Anton needs to understand.
“Turn around, Ivan,” I demand, my voice low, filled with desire.
Inside my demon awakens as he does as I request. She shimmers within my chest.
“When used correctly, this flogger leaves a trail of bright red marks against Ivan’s skin. The leather is too soft to break the skin, which is just as well because Ivan won’t ever bleed for me. He enjoys the pain as much as the pleasure of our encounters. I give Ivan what he needs, do you understand, Anton?”
He nods his head and with that affirmation I pull back my arm and strike Ivan across the chest with the flogger. He lets out a roar at the sting of a couple of dozen lashes from the leather strips. His cock thickens, and my core tightens at his reaction.
“Fuck!” Anton mutters.
I pull back and strike again this time across the tops of his thighs, careful not to hit his bouncing cock. He lets out another roar that turns my insides liquid. Reaching for him I lean in close and press a gentle kiss against the welts that begin to form across his chest, my fingers feathering across them. My hand snakes down to his cock, and I clasp the firm smoothness, fisting him gently. Another groan releases from his mouth and I look up at him. He has his eyes tightly shut.
“Look at me, Ivan. From now on I want your eyes on me at all times,” I command.
His eyes snap open and the desire I see there has my knees buckling. My demon snaps, hauling me upright. There’s time to relinquish my body, now isn’t the right moment. Reaching up, I pull Ivan’s face towards mine, the flogger still gripped in my hand. We kiss with gentle adoration and a deep well of stoking flames. It’s almost enough to make me push him back on the bed and climb onto his luscious cock.
But I don’t.
There’s so much more I need to show Anton. This is for him, as much as it’s for me and Ivan. Stepping back abruptly, I walk behind Ivan and strike him with the flogger three more times. Once on his broad, muscular back. Once on his arse, and once on the back of his thighs. Every single time he lets out a roar, releasing all the pent up tension he’s been carrying since the last time I dominated him.
With every cry, I see him relax further. I see him let go of everything that’s been troubling him. His body submits to me, as much as his mind. He may be naked, but stripping him bare is so much more than him being without clothes.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Anton exclaims as he watches Ivan unravel.
“These marks will eventually disappear and with it comes the release Ivan so craves. There is strength in submission, Anton. I am not the one with the power here, he is. I only have his trust. Will I have yours too?”
Anton looks at me with a mixture of amazement, lust, and respect. “Yes,” he responds.
“Come here,” I request.
He frowns, uncertain.
“Do you trust me?”
“I want to,” he whispers.
“Then come here,” I repeat.
Chapter Sixteen
Anton gets up on shaky legs and I fight the urge to help him.
Sympathy will do him no good. He needs understanding, but not pity. I know I still need to be wary, but for this to work I need him to trust me to know what’s right for him. But can I ever really, truly, trust him in return? I doubt that. It’s just as well I’m not the person who needs convincing.
Anton stands beside me, not looking at Ivan, but at me. His skin is pale aside from two bright spots of colour on his cheeks. A sheen of sweat covers his skin and there’s a haunted look about his eyes that I want so much to drown in.
“What do you see?” I ask.
“I see a man who wants to fuck you,” he responds immediately. That draws a smile from Ivan’s lips.
“That’s true, but any idiot can see that,” I say, reaching for Ivan’s cock and stroking it with my hand. Anton’s gaze burns with desire as he watches me fist Ivan.
“What else?” I prompt, keeping up the steady move
ment and ignoring my own need to get on my knees and take Ivan in my mouth.
“I see my best friend, a man who almost drowned in his own grief, now free.”
That makes my cheeks flush, but I push down the riotous feelings that compliment causes.
“Good, what else?”
Anton steps closer to Ivan, he reaches out and touches the welts across his chest. “I see pain… and pleasure.”
Ivan stills under his touch.
“Trust me,” I whisper to Ivan, to them both.
My hand moves faster twisting and turning up and down the velvety smoothness of his cock. Ivan thrusts his hips involuntarily.
Dropping the flogger onto the floor, I reach up with my free hand and grasp Ivan’s chin, turning his face towards me. Anton steps back, his hand falling away. I adjust my body slightly, standing on pointe so I can slide my mouth against Ivan’s lips. He kisses me hungrily, his shoulders tensing as his arms pull against the red ribbon restraining him.
“And, what else do you see, Anton?” I prompt, pulling away from Ivan.
I know that I’m pushing Ivan too far too quickly, he’s never fought against his restraints before. Allowing Anton into his safe place was a risky decision, one I hope will pay off for us all.
Anton’s gaze flicks between Ivan and me. “I see passion, strength, fire.”
My cheeks flame at the way Anton’s mouth wraps around that word. Ivan’s nostrils flare, the heat of his gaze scorching my skin.
Yes, fire.
“Keep looking. I know you can see, but I want you to understand.”
He moves around us both, taking in every detail of his best friend. I doubt he’s ever really looked this closely. Anton stops behind him.
“Fuck, Ivan,” he says softly, and I know he sees the scars that criss-cross Ivan’s forearms. Ivan flinches when Anton reaches out to touch them. I see a muscle feather in Ivan’s jaw and anger flare in his eyes. Red hot anger and shame burns brightly.