by Liza James
Simply because she doesn't actually know what happened that day, why I went to her house and treated her the way I did. There were only two options at that point, and she doesn't realize I was the far lesser of two evils.
She would have given it to me anyways, with everything that had been happening. Everything that was building between us—it was bound to happen.
Maybe, one day, she'll understand why I was just as forced as she was in that.
But not today, and for now, I'll take whatever punishment she thinks I deserve because there's this sick twisted part of me that actually wants it.
The pain. The loss of power. The fucking way she makes me feel like shit for what I did.
"What are you thinking, Lyp?" I ask, keeping that sarcastic edge to my voice I know irritates her most. "What could you possibly do to punish me?"
I'm sitting back on my heels, my green, strappy top still twisted around my waist and tied behind my neck. I lean back slightly, pressing my palms to the bed while I arch my back in front of her. Her eyes fall to my chest, exactly what I wanted, and I slowly lift my hand to drag my fingers up and over my stomach before teasing the edge of my bra.
She doesn't even flinch, and I try not to let that trigger my nerves. Admittedly, it does surprise me that I can hardly draw any sort of reaction from her. She simply watches, her head tilting to the side while she crosses her arms over her chest.
"Your top," she starts, her tone strong and her shoulders pulled back. "Take it off."
I tense, narrowing my eyes on hers while I decide what to do next. What exactly do I fight, and what do I submit to easily?
Truthfully, this demand isn't much and she's already seen my tits tonight as it is. So, I sigh without contesting and sit up while I slowly untie the knot at the back of my neck. My eyes settle on Lyp's gaze, and I intentionally drag the straps down my arms bit by bit in order to give her a show while she watches.
I notice the way her shoulders rise and fall slightly quicker than before, and the subtle way her stare drops to my exposed chest when I let the top fall to my right. I lean back again, gathering my hair in one hand and pulling it to the side before swaying my shoulders back and forth in front of her.
"That's it, little Lyp? You didn't have to lock us in the kink club just to see my tits. I would have shown you after I fucked Skilla in the prep room before her set." I pout my lower lip and lift my hand to trace my thumb along it while I laugh. I know what I'm doing, and I know exactly why we're hiding out in this room. But I want to tease her, push her boundaries, and see how far I can take this.
Again, no reaction from her at all. No laugh, no spark of anger, no sarcastic reply or stiffened spine.
My own heart beats a bit harder, that flash of uncertainty growing more strength as it rests in the pit of my stomach.
"Come on, give me something here." I finally say, my voice treading a line of irritation at her blatant lack of emotion.
"Funny you say that," she suddenly replies as she turns on her heels and tilts her head to peruse over the wall behind her. Few wild strands of her hair fall free of the messy knot on top of her head and oddly, it's something I can't help but focus on as I watch her. A tiny detail that draws me into her space.
Her hair. It's always been...unmanageable. Thick and wavy, the perfect length for holding on to if I was ever to fuck her from behind with a—
Her hand suddenly skims over several of the items hanging on the wall, clattering a few pieces, and snapping me back to what's happening. "Asking me to 'give you something'. That's actually all I ever wanted from you to begin with."
She pauses in front of the section housing several different colors and weights of rope. I smirk from the bed—rope.
Been there, done that.
Lyp lifts her hand and runs her fingers over a black set. Instinctually I already know that's what she's choosing, and a wave of relief rolls over my spine at something so simple.
There's another feeling lingering lower though, the smallest flash of disappointment in the idea that I don't have a challenge here.
But in that same instant, Lyp drops her hand and turns to the left, stalking toward the very end of the wall where an entirely different set of toys reside. I straighten my spine and sit up, the beat of my heart hammering in surprising discomfort at what she's moving toward.
Without hesitation, she grips a very specific piece and pulls it free, turning toward me with the same intensity and eerie vacancy she's been holding this entire time.
"Okay—wait," I start as I quickly shift back on the bed and farther away from her. "This isn't what I meant when I said punishment." My voice breaks over cautious words and I lift my hand to move between us as she suddenly steps closer and begins climbing on the bed.
"See, that's the thing, K," she whispers, a sadistic smile crossing her face when I continue moving away from her. She's fucking quick though, and before I know it, my back is smashing against the wall, and I'm suddenly caught caged in the space before her. "It isn't your fucking choice. That's the deal with punishments."
She hovers over me, slowly straddling my lap as she leans back. She shifts and suddenly my skin is feeling tight and achy, my breaths far too quick and erratic. She takes the long, narrow, leather whip and trails the tip over my chest. I tilt my head up automatically, avoiding the whip as I press my shoulders farther back against the wall.
"They're supposed to hurt." The words fall from her lips in hushed whispers. Complete and utter satisfaction spewing from her energy and electrifying her hold on the whip. She snaps it back before I know what's happening, and it springs forward and across my nipples in a single, painful strike.
A sharp burn of pain radiates across my chest and my flesh. I immediately recoil, my arms frantically shifting in front of me before trying to pull away from Lyp and the fucking wall I'm pinned against.
When I glance down, I instantly notice the red stripe across my chest where she hit me. "Holy fuck," I breathe out, struggling to escape when she pushes forward and braces her forearm against the front of my throat. "Lyp," I try to speak and breathe all at the same time. I'm not sure how to stop this, and with every move she makes I'm even more uncertain of what to expect from her.
She shifts again, moving her arm so her hand is holding me still instead. She brings the whip back, and I'm already tensing myself against what may be coming when she drops her head a bit lower.
I anxiously watch her movements, my hands absently falling to her hair as if I can anticipate holding her away from me. But I'm caught off guard again when she does something I don't expect. The feel of her lips moves against my skin, down through valley of my breasts before trailing the tip of her tongue across my hard and stinging nipple.
I can't help it, my heavy breaths turn even heavier, and my head tries to make sense of the opposing sensations. I'm in pain, but the pleasure is even more powerful coming right after the lash.
My fingers weave through her hair as I grip the back of her head, and she sucks me into her mouth at the same time. Her teeth scrape against my sensitive skin, biting down on my nipple before pulling back and releasing.
"Shit," I mutter as she moves to the other side, her hands now sliding up my waist and tugging me down below her. She settles between my legs, her fingers pressing into my skin roughly while her mouth continues sucking on my tits. Her tongue slips out and across my heated skin, moving slowly, teasing my nipple while I look down and watch her.
My fingers tighten in her hair, but every time I want to pull her closer, she pushes back, practically punishing my fucking neediness with desertion. As soon as I release and give her the control she clearly craves, she dives forward again, licking and sucking until I'm whimpering beneath her figure.
"Lyp," I moan her name and arch my back against the bed. I attempt moving so one of my legs slips between both of hers, but it's the quick interruption she needs to take things back into her own hands.
She immediately sits up, breathing heavily whi
le dragging her fingers down my ribcage and to the hem of my G-String. She slips beneath it, watching her own hand as she grazes her fingertips over my pussy and through my arousal. I gasp as she slides over my clit a single time, and god my body is begging to be touched and fucked now.
I swear, I'm already growing impatient, and it's hardly been any time at all.
Abruptly, she pulls out and reaches behind her. I instinctually know what she’s grasping, and my head is already swimming with anticipatory pain. My hands reach out for her thighs, gripping tightly while I attempt to see where she's moving next.
Part of me wants to tell her to stop.
The other part however, the louder part, is begging to stay quiet, to receive whatever she's giving me in exchange for pleasure.
She pulls the whip back into her hand and watches my body as she deliberately places the leather tip at the front of my throat. She pulls it down, tracing a path over each of my stiffened nipples and then down the center of my stomach.
Lower.
Lower still.
She stops, just above my core when she pulls it back and grasps both sides of the length with each hand. "Turn over," she demands as she moves off me and to the side, giving me room to do as she orders.
Naturally, I want to tell her no. But for fuck’s sake, I'm already nervous what she's going to do to me as it is. So, I hesitate before deciding, and it's that brief falter when she decides to punish me anyway.
Quickly, she darts forward and yanks me up by both my waist and my hair. A searing pain breaks out across my scalp, and I'm throwing my hands in front of me to brace myself against the bed when I'm forced onto my stomach.
She moves over me, pinning my face down and against the sheets when she practically growls into my ear. "On your hands and knees, K."
"Who the hell are you?" I snap out, confused and lost and strangely turned on by everything taking place. I can't fucking help it, but this is nothing I've ever experienced before. No one has ever treated me as if I was nothing.
Her arm slips under my waist and she yanks me up into position. I force myself to stay still, feeling the absence of her body no longer near mine when she climbs off the bed. I drop my head down, watching her slowly stalk around the room as her eyes roam over my nearly naked body.
She holds the tip of the whip against her chest, her other arm tucked neatly across her waist as if she's trying to decide how to effectively hurt me next.
Silence.
She stalks and watches in complete quiet. One that grows thick and heavy in the air. I can hear my own breaths, practically listen to my own heartbeat as my skin pulls tighter and tighter in anticipation and fear.
I can't even believe I'm saying that.
But I'm afraid of whatever's coming.
And yet I can't tell her to stop because I want it at the same time.
It's as if I'm feeling something I wasn't expecting. Forced emotions I've buried so deeply I'd never have to experience them again. Now, they’re suddenly rushing to the surface as she uncovers everything I've kept hidden.
Shit, the sudden fear I'm vulnerable pricks along my mind. I don't give a shit about fucking someone, or being naked, or stripped down in front of other people.
This is different though, this is powerful. It's a tether to her own anger I've easily avoided all this time. Now my biggest fear is that if we keep this up, she'll force me to face the very feelings I've silenced since I was sixteen.
All of a sudden, the tip of the leather is sliding over my spine, and I can't help but arch away from it as a shiver follows its trail. I drop my head and watch Lyp again, finding her gaze focused intently on my ass as the whip moves even lower.
She drags it down, until it's scraping against my inner thighs and she's moving to the next command. "Spread your legs." She roughly taps the whip a couple of times, and I flinch in response before doing as she says.
Lyp moves to the side, and I close my eyes while waiting for what she'll ask of me next. I relax unintentionally after a few moments of silence and no movement, but as soon as I do, I feel the whip pull back and hear the hiss of it flying through the air just before it collides with my ass.
I cry out at the intense pain, ten times worse than on my chest, and I physically have to force a breath into my lungs when I move my legs together again.
But the whip quickly cracks over the back of my thighs, a smaller hit, but still painful and one I'm trying to suppress when I sit back on my heels.
"Legs apart, and back on your knees. Do it," Lyp snaps out, her voice low and heavy with power. But now, there's something else, the tiniest thread of an emotional release of some sort.
Just a glimpse into the familiar, and when I look back at her, it's her gaze that finally gives me what I was looking for.
Present. Pained.
Passionate.
"Jesus Christ, it takes a lot to get you to show the fuck up, Lyp," I mutter sarcastically as I move back into position and it's exactly what she needed to hear in order to crack the whip against my ass again.
This time harder.
The sting pulses along my flesh, radiating down my thighs and over my hips. I whimper in torment, leaning forward for a moment before quickly getting back into position.
Lyp steps to the side and right before I glance her way, she snaps the whip lightly—but still painfully—across the tops of my hands. I fall to my forearms, forcing my ass up even higher and my back arching over the bed.
She moves behind me again and hits me a third time as I dig my fingers through my hair and try to grind my teeth through the pain.
"Do you feel something?" she quietly asks, her voice now trembling slightly. She isn't afraid though, and I can already sense the overwhelming anger and ache in her tone.
I pause, unsure of how to answer. Uncertain of what I want to happen next.
There's this darkness in me, this draw to what's happening that makes me want to tell her no. Force her into becoming even angrier, punishing me for the shit I've done and what she thinks I haven't felt for her.
She's wrong.
She's always been wrong.
But I'm craving this. Hungry for her emotions just as much as she's starving for mine. In the same breath she assumes I feel nothing, I'm simply addicted to the way she keeps me begging for more.
I like this.
The way she needs something only I can give her. The ability she has to make me experience life in ways I had sworn off permanently.
Vulnerability. It's not an emotion I give into lightly. Not after my childhood, not after I lost my own mother the way I did, or how my family took advantage of me in their own sick ways afterwards.
She exposes me and fuck, I both need and loathe it at the same goddamn time.
"No," I force the word out again. One that I know hurts and protects simultaneously.
I protect myself by hurting her most.
Everything shifts. The cataclysmic energy that was building in tension now falls completely flat in icy resolve.
This feels even worse and my heart sinks to my already nauseous stomach as bile rises up my throat.
I hate myself for this, but I can't fucking stop. This is all I'll ever be able to give her.
The whip hisses through the air again, and I bite my lower lip while I wait for the pain. It lands over my lower back, not at all where I was assuming it would be coming and the shock sends me collapsing on the bed and rolling to my back.
"Get up," she snaps, a new wave of rage now lining her tone. "Get the fuck up."
I bite my tongue as I force my own wall of detachment and frustration into place, shielding me from giving a single shit how she feels now. But as I begin shifting back to my stomach, the tip of the whip grazes my thigh and halts my movements.
"Wait," she interrupts, and I look to meet her eerily darkened eyes. "Lay back again." She nods to where I was a moment ago, and I reluctantly move back into place. My skin aches in a residual sting on both my ass, thighs, and lower bac
k. I absently lift my leg in order to trail my fingers over my skin in search of any welts.
Yeah, they're present. I can feel my raised skin and the evident heat pooling in those places. Even the slight touch is a newly ignited sting briefly flashing over the injury.
Lyp suddenly shifts onto the bed, lifting her knee and bracing herself against the edge. She set's the whip down as she reaches forward and grips both of my legs, yanking me down and toward the edge roughly.
Her touch softens once I'm there though, and I narrow my eyes in confusion as she trails her fingers higher over my thighs. Her eyes fall to my body, raking over my tits and stomach before settling between my legs. She moves them up, so my knees are bent as she slowly spreads them apart.
"What are you doing now?" I ask, forcing every ounce of that barrier into place so I'm not lost to the feeling of this.
God, this is what's so fucking hard now. Her cold and icy demeanor still works through me like toxic vines, digging beneath my skin and pulling out my own emotions.
This doesn't have to be anything more than an angry fuck.
Lyp slowly crawls over me, moving between my legs when her hands grip the edge of my panties to drag them off of me. I gasp at the cold air, trying to maintain steady, callous breaths as if this bores me.
It doesn't though.
I wish it did.
She drops them to the floor, coming back into place over my body as she slips a finger slowly through my pussy. This time, she's the one catching her breath, and I notice the smallest flicker of satisfaction glimmering in her eyes.
"Lyp," I grind out, irritation at my own clearly unavoidable surrender now peeking through my voice as I arch against her touch and roll my hips into her.
She feels so fucking good, and with every strike of pain I crave more of this from her.
She cautions an arrogant smile, just as she moves to play with my entrance without slipping inside of me. But she watches, her eyes boring into mine before leaning even closer. She's hovering over my chest, and my hands fall to her waist when I feel the need to touch her myself.