Still A Stranger

by Penny Wynter

  "Now, with that I can help. I've been dying to hurt you again, darling. Really, really hurt you."

  9

  He sounds scary, and I wonder if there's still time to change my mind. But the moment I tug on the ropes around my wrists, and realize that there's no give, I know I'm screwed.

  Turning my head toward him, I beg with my eyes. "Dom, wait."

  He ignores me and turns away. His steps retreat. He seems to pull a drawer open, but I can't see enough, even as I try to lift my head as high as possible.

  "You want me to help you remember, and I will."

  My heart starts beating frantically inside my chest when I spot the blindfold in his hand as he returns. This was a fucking stupid idea. What was I thinking?

  I struggle against the binds in another fruitless attempt to free myself. Dom uses one hand to hold my head while pulling the blindfold over my eyes. I can barely breathe as the panic surrounds me along with the darkness.

  "Calm down," he says. "I'm going to hurt you the right way, you know that. I'm not here to kill you. Just focus on what you're feeling, and everything else will fall into place. You want to remember, don't you?"

  "Yes," I sob. "But—"

  My words are muffled as he puts his finger on my lips. "Shut up, Amber. I'm not going to say it again."

  Half of me wants to fight him and scream for help, while the other half is eerily calm. It's because I recognize Dom's smell. With the blindfold over my eyes, my other senses are heightened and when he leans in, I realize how familiar he smells. Like . . . home. Like . . . love. Like . . . safety. He smells like my husband, and joy bubbles in my belly. There's a teeny-tiny chance that I'm not insane, that this really might be a good idea.

  He sticks his thumb in my mouth and pries it open. I'm under the impression he wants me to suck on it like I would with his cock, but instead, he puts something else in my mouth. It's hard and forces my tongue down. A ball gag.

  No, no, no. How am I supposed to say my safeword when I'm gagged? There's a faint memory of a hand gesture, but I can't grasp it before it vanishes too quickly. I whimper into the gag, and Dom laughs.

  "Damn. I'm so hard already. Seeing you like this really does it for me, darling. How do you feel? You know what? I don't care. Let's do something about your clothes."

  I need a breath or two to identify the sound I'm hearing. Snip. Snip. Snip.

  He uses scissors to cut the clothes off my body. I huff into the gag. This wouldn't be necessary if he had taken the time to undress me before tying me to the bed, and I wouldn't be half as scared.

  I keep very still as the cool metal moves along my skin. He won't cut me. Or at least I hope so.

  As soon as I'm naked, I feel his strong fingers on my ankles. More rope slides across my skin, and soon I'm bound to the bed completely, with my legs spread as far as possible. There's no give, and I can barely wiggle my ass.

  "Stop squirming, or I have to assume you want to seduce me into hurting you even more than I already intend to."

  Before I can calm down, I feel his hands again. This time on my tits. He plays with them, stroking the skin and pinching my nipples. Harder and harder, he pinches them until the pressure doesn't ease anymore. Nipple clamps. The bastard's used nipple clamps.

  I whimper behind the gag; my eyes screwed shut as I try to breathe through the dull, throbbing pain.

  The clinking sound of a belt buckle is the only warning I get. It's a familiar sound, I realize. As familiar as the sting of the leather on my inner thigh. Just a second seems to pass before the hot pain draws another line along my skin.

  Panting into the gag, I twist in my bonds but as soon as I do, the clamps hurt my nipples even more. Judging by the way I feel and the fact that Dom's just started, I'm not afraid that he might kill me. It actually it might be worse if he doesn't since he's clearly as sadist as they come.

  Calculated and meticulously, he whips my thighs and my belly, slowly working his way up to my chest. I'm scared of how it will feel when he actually lashes my tits, but I can't think about that, or I might lose my mind.

  Instead, I focus on him. On my husband. My gorgeous, sadistic husband. I know what he looks like right now, I realize. His mind is occupied with administering pain and bringing agony to me, his brows are knitted, and at the same time, there's a tight smile around his mouth as he's clearly enjoying himself. I know this because I've seen it before. A lot. The thought makes me calm down.

  The pain is still awful, but I can cope better now. I can handle this, the pulsing in my nipples, the burning in my thighs, it's manageable.

  Dom places the leather strap of the belt between my thighs, touching my exposed pussy. I have a hard time breathing now because it's obvious what will come next.

  Pleading into the gag for him not to do it, I jerk against the restraint when he brings the belt down and whips my poor pussy.

  Pushing his hand into my belly, he presses me back down. "Have you forgotten how to be a good girl for me, Amber?"

  The teasing tone in his voice is back, and I flinch, yelling obscenities into the gag. He can't hear them, of course. It would be suicide to provoke him even further at this point.

  "Are you remembering?"

  I shake my head and bite down on the gag as new pain ignites in my nipples whenever the clamps move.

  "Let me take care of that," Dom says with a smug tone in his voice. "You probably need to focus a bit more on the pain, don't you think?"

  I know he's mocking me because he doesn't even wait for my answer before he really goes to town on my body. He uses the belt to slap my pussy and his hand to slap my tits. He twists the clamps and fucks me with two fingers before scraping his nails over the sensitive skin on my inner thighs.

  I hurt and hurt and hurt some more, but I'm also fucking wet. God. Why am I so wet? I drown in pain and desire and agony and hunger.

  The belt drops to the floor with an audible clank, and Dom proceeds to spank my pussy with his bare hand. Somehow this feels even worse.

  Shoving his fingers inside me again, he laughs. "Look how much your body's missed me, my little pain slut. No one can give you what I can give you, right?"

  I surrender and nod. It's true. Deep down inside of me, I know it's true. It's like that one time we were on holiday in Japan, and I almost died because the walls in that damn hotel were so thin that Dom couldn't hurt me as I liked it, as I needed it, without alerting every other guest in that hotel to what we're doing, someone possibly calling the police. So Dom went and found this dungeon in Kabukichō where he took me and hurt me so bad that I needed the rest of the holiday to heal. But he's right. It was what I needed then, and it is what I need now. And I love him only more for giving it to me. I start to remember, and with every slap, pinch, and nip, I remember more.

  I can feel him opening my pussy lips to expose my swollen clit, so he can slap the tiny nub directly. My moaning in anticipation sounds like desperate mewling behind the gag, or maybe I am mewling—I can't figure out what I'm really feeling anymore.

  It's too much, between the pain and all those intense memories swirling around in my brain.

  Dom removes the clamps, and the sensation of the blood rushing back makes me buck my hips in outrage. He chuckles and rubs my nipples before sucking them with his mouth, one after the other.

  "Do you remember what I like to do when I'm angry with you? Or should I say what I don't do?"

  There's a tug on the rope around my wrists as Dom releases it just enough to pull me down, dragging me closer to the edge of the bed.

  Oh yes. I remember, and I pity myself already.

  "No lube," I mumble behind the gag, unheard. So, he wants to fuck my ass, and the idea excites me as much as it scares me. Dom's cock is big, and I haven't had anything up my butt for quite a while now. Something also tells me that he won't be gentle with me. Just how you like it, the voice inside my head says.

  My husband re-adjusts the binds around my ankles, immobilizing me once more. His hands tra
il along the insides of my thighs. I flinch when he spreads my ass cheeks.

  "You can count yourself lucky that you're dripping wet, my greedy little whore."

  Images flash before my eyes of every time he's ever called me his whore again. During our wedding night; that one time when I tried to cheer him up after his newest film had gotten some negative reviews; when we fucked in the parking lot of the Taconic State Park and countless times in between. I remember filthy, dirty sex and sweet cuddling, passionate fights, and intimate conversations.

  I remember a lot as his dick pokes against my ass.

  Dom bites the underside of my boob, forcing me to focus on the pain again. "Stay with me, Amber. You're still not crying enough for my taste. Stop thinking and just feel." His teeth dig deep again, and I pant into the gag, drool running from the corner of my mouth. My eyes feel wet behind the mask, and I have no idea if I have cried already.

  "Still so tight," he grunts through clenched teeth as he pushes forward into my ass, his cock prying me open whether I want it or not.

  Dom's rough with me, jamming his fingers into my pussy, rubbing along the thin membrane separating his digits from his cock.

  It's almost too much pain, yet only almost, as I crave being hurt by him and only him. He thrusts deeper, filling my ass with his shaft, and the only thing I can focus on is how much it hurts. I squirm under him, trying to evade his big cock, but Dom just laughs at my struggle and holds my hips with his now wet fingers.

  I can't fight him. I don't even stand a chance.

  "I missed being inside you." He holds still and leans over me, his knuckles brushing over my cheek. "I'm going to take the gag off now, but I don't want to hear a single word from your mouth, or you'll regret it."

  I simply nod and wait for him to relieve me from that damn ball that is forcing my teeth apart. My jaw pops when I close my mouth for the first time again. It doesn't stay closed for long though, as Dom grabs my chin and kisses me.

  He pulls his hips back and pushes deep again, pistoning in and out while his tongue plays with mine. I'm drunk with the sensation, and I wish it would all hurt a little less so I could cum.

  My husband fucks my ass with harsh thrusts, kissing me senseless, his fingers digging into my skin.

  His pace quickens and he breaks the kiss so he can torment me instead. He twists my nipples and pinches my clit. Every time I want to break my promise and talk, I toy with the idea of begging him to make me cum, but I don't dare.

  "So, you can be good," Dom rasps after a while of fucking my asshole with that crazy intensity of his. "Good wifeys get rewards."

  His skillful fingers find my clit, and the feeling is so blissful that I start crying behind the blindfold.

  "Yes," he basically hums with approval. "Give me the tears I want to see."

  He rubs my clit until I shatter into a million tiny pieces only to be put together again by him. I cum so hard that I can barely breathe as I shake in the bonds holding me.

  Against his order, I whisper his name, awaiting his harsh punishment.

  It never comes. Instead, Dom moans as he buries himself deep inside my ass, his hand around my throat, squeezing tight, heightening my pleasure and his own as it makes my whole body clench. He fills my ass with his cum, his cock twitching inside of me.

  "Fuck, I missed you."

  He kisses me on my forehead, and all of a sudden, I cry even harder than before.

  10

  It's impossible not to notice the years of practice as it takes Dom only seconds to untie me, pull the blindfold off, and have me sitting on his lap, wrapped in his strong arms. He soothes me by stroking my back and humming in a calm way.

  I just can't stop crying.

  "What is it?"

  My voice trembles as I hide my face at his chest. "I remember."

  "And now you feel bad for stabbing me?" He tries to be funny to lighten the mood, but it doesn't work.

  "I still don't remember that night. It's all blurry, and my head hurts trying to think about it. Everything else though, I remember. God, my aunt, and your mom, and Alex and Nina and—"

  He hushes me by making me look at him and by putting his finger on my lips. "Calm down. Deep breaths. Keep breathing. It will all be fine. Panic doesn't help anyone. We will figure it out."

  Slowly, I nod.

  Dom's eyes are searching mine. "Do you want me to tell you what I remember from that night?"

  "So, you believe me?"

  "As crazy as it sounds, yes. I was never very good at resisting you, anyway." He smiles, and I notice that the wrinkles around his eyes are deeper than they were six years ago.

  Duh. Of course, they are. He's 43, and I bet he's spent an awful lot of time worrying about me. But when he's 43 and eight years older than me, then I can't be 33 like the doctors assumed. I'm 35 now. And my name is Caroline.

  New tears are running over my cheeks.

  "Shhh. Hey, hey, what is it?" Dom puts his hands around my face, studying me.

  "Caroline. My name is Caroline." I sniffle and bite my lower lip. "And I'm sorry that I caused a scene in that sex club all those years ago, almost resulting in you beating that guy up."

  Dom chuckles and leans his forehead against mine. "Welcome back, Caroline. I'm glad that you think so highly of me, but I'm quite sure that guy would have wiped the floor with me if the bartender hadn't intervened."

  Caroline Fanucci. It's a mystery to me how the brain works, and right now, I can't stop the images from pouring in.

  Dom gets up with me in his hands and kisses the top of my head. "Let me take care of you while we figure out the rest."

  That's why I fell in love with him after my stupid juvenile obsession faded. He's always taken care of me. Sometimes after hurting me but more often only because he likes to take care of me.

  He carries me into the bathroom while I cling to his neck, afraid of losing him again. He puts me down on the soft rug and opens the bathtub faucet. "You were never quiet. We were either happy, or we fought. You would always let me know when you didn't like something. But in the days leading up to the night you went missing, you were quiet and eerily so. I tried talking to you, yet you just shut me out."

  He turns to me, dragging his fingers through my short pixie cut, smiling. "It made me nervous, to say the least. That night we had dinner. You cooked, a big bowl of ramen. Your favorite. Shortly after dinner, I felt unusually tired, although there was this movie I really wanted to see. I barely managed to make it into the bedroom before I fell asleep. But it wasn't a quiet, peaceful sleep. I drifted in and out, nightmares haunting me while I was sweating. When I finally came around enough to notice how thirsty I was, I forced myself out of bed. Your side was empty, cold to the touch, which told me that you hadn't been to bed at all. When I stumbled through the hallway, something hit me and I went down, before the knife found its way into my chest. I remember exactly how sharp and incredibly unreal it felt. My attacker was wearing the mask, and I heard your voice, screaming, which is why I thought it was you."

  With a sigh, he gets up and adjusts the water temperature before adding a nice smelling oil. "I woke up in a hospital bed. They found sedatives in my blood, which apparently didn't work all that well. You were gone and Stefano was beside himself. He didn't even know what to tell mom."

  "Your brother," I mumble and try to remember what he looks like. All I see is a shadow though, like a figure hiding behind a wall of fog. Strange, as I can clearly remember what Dom's mother looks like.

  I narrow my eyes, trying to shed light on the weird images flowing through my head. I was already still pretty certain when I "was" Amber that I didn't attack Dom, but now I'm sure. I love him too fucking much, and I didn't bash in my own skull and jump off a damn boat.

  The boat!

  I can hear the water splashing against the side and a man yelling over the pouring rain, swearing and cursing at me.

  The vision vanishes as Dom picks me up again to place me in the tub. I'm happy that he decides
to join me, climbing in and settling me in his lap.

  My mind wanders back to the . . . I can't remember what it was. Fuck! Anger rushes through my veins. Why can't I simply get a grip and focus?

  "Don't," Dom says next to my ears. "You're too tense. You can't force it, Caroline. Relax and give it time."

  "That's easy for you to say." I huff.

  "It's not. Believe me, I want to know what happened as badly as you do." His hands dip into the water, and he runs his fingers along my arms, his touches tender and caring.

  Leaning back, my head on his shoulder, I feel at ease. He's right. I can't force it, and for now, I'm safe.

  All the people I knew back when I was Caroline have waited six years. They can wait one more night. And then I have to figure out what to tell Ramsey and what to do about my new career and my old one. Jeez. It's all way too confusing.

  "Stop thinking." Dom sounds harsher now. "Obey me, darling, or I have to make sure that you focus on something else again."

  He takes a washcloth and starts washing me. His movements are calm and focused. Dom is in charge, and we both know it.

  When I'm clean by his standards, he puts the cloth away, and instead his fingers dive between my legs. I'm too tired and strung-out, but the way he touches me doesn't allow for any objections, and I find myself spreading my thighs as wide as possible, letting my husband stroke me.

  "Please," I whimper after a while of his fingers just caressing me with enough pressure to arouse me but not enough to make me cum.

  "What are you thinking about?"

  I'm not sure. His hard dick tells me what he's thinking about though.

  Dom slaps my pussy, sending water sloshing over the edge of the tub. "Answer me, my little slut."

  He lifts me just enough to guide me onto his cock, and I moan as he slides in.

  "I'm thinking about us. About me. Who I was before I became Amber."

  My husband pulls my hips down, impaling me completely. "Would I like Amber?"

  It's hard to think with his fingers rubbing my clit. I need to hold on to the tub because it feels like I'm falling. "I think you would. She's driven and tenacious. And you'd probably get a kick out of knowing what a dirty whore she is while everyone else thinks she's that selfless saint, just out there trying to help other people."