“Try not to move,” he advises quietly, and my breath hitches as he brings the knife from earlier to my face, sliding the cold metal tip ever so slowly down my right cheek. My heart constricts, my pulse races as he skims down the side of my neck, coming around, he angles the blade and inserts it beneath my left shoulder strap. He barely gives a flick of his wrist when I hear the snap. He continues, following a path over the tops of my breasts, moving the tip of the blade to the bra strap on my right side, and he cuts that, too. I have only the hook in the back that keeps my breasts situated in the cups of the bra, but not for long. My heart is thundering uncontrollably in my chest now as he inserts the cold metal of the blade between the front center of my bra and my breasts. He gives only the barest tug and my breasts fall free of their constraint, the torn fabric of my bra falls limply to the table.
“Such a beautiful canvas.” I clench my eyes shut and bite down hard on my lower lip when he first circles the right nipple with the tip of the knife and then languidly moves on to the left. Despite how hard I try to resist, my body seems to have a mind of its own as both my nipples harden, instantly responding to the stimulation. All that pales in comparison to what he does next. There is only the heat of his breath against my skin before the wet sinuousness of his tongue sweeps over the sensitive bud of my nipple. I can’t help the arch of my body toward his mouth or even the small moan that follows it. Arousal, unwanted as it may be, burbles like lava, further drenching my panties. I squirm in my restraints, twist in a way so that I might find some sort of relief for my aching clit and throbbing pussy, but there is no finding any sort of mercy from him. I gasp and whimper when his teeth grazes a nipple and then, bites down hard enough to make me cry out.
“Do you ever wonder why you chose to be a prostitute, Lacey?” he asks when he pulls away.
I blink, caught completely off guard by the suddenness of the question. I have to fight through the blanket of fog covering my mind to search for an answer that will satisfy him. I fail to think fast enough, but it doesn’t seem to matter as he continues.
“You’ve convinced yourself it’s because of the money, but deep down, where there’s no reasoning, no light, where the ugliness of your soul resides, you know the truth. You crave the danger. The threat. The very idea that one of those men can pin you down against your will, hold you by the throat and ram their filthy cock into you. Make you scream. Make you beg. Make you moan. Make. You. Bleed.”
My stomach heaves in protest at his words, bile surges to skim along the back of my throat. “No...” My reply is a fervent denial that does nothing to ease the tightening in my chest, my heart feeling like it’s being shoved through a straw. I knew it was true, but I’d be damned if I told him he was right.
“Yes. It’s a truth you will never say aloud. A want you will never admit to, even to yourself, but I can see your sweet, dark truth. I can smell how badly you want to be controlled. And rest assured, Lacey, there will only ever be one man who pulls your leash.” He grabs a handful of hair from the back of my head and yanks my head up. “Me,” he feverishly utters against my ear.
He delivers his next dose of agony with a slow drag of his blade down my hip and even while I scream and fight to twist away from him, the restraints keep me in place, his hold on my hair remains inflexible. “I’m going to carve my name into your skin so that when other men see it, they’ll know they’re trespassing on someone else’s property.” He lets me go and I fall back on the table. I open my mouth to scream, but there are only whimpers as he cuts into my skin. Just above the waistband of my panties, he engraves his name into my flesh.
He begins to hum so quietly that I think I’m imagining it, but my ears pick up on the soft melody soon enough. It’s haunting, yet familiar, like something I’ve heard before, possibly in a dream. But I can’t remember. My heart skitters in my chest, my breath ragged as tears trickle down the side of my face, the persistent sharpness of the blade unfurling my skin makes me forget everything but the pain. I feel the pull of the knife in every straight and curved line in each letter of his name. I feel like a giant, raw wound in the eternity it takes before reprieve comes. “You will try to block this moment from your mind long after our time together. But when you look at yourself in the mirror and see the scars of my name, you will remember me.” I twitch at the feel of his gentle caress, his fingertips tracing ever so lightly across each letter. “You will remember in painful detail everything that I will do to you in this room and know that no other man will ever be able to touch your dark little place but me.” His words weave a spell I can’t resist.
“I’m going to release you now, Lacey. When I do, I want you to get on your knees, lower your forehead to the ground, and put your arms behind your back. Understand?”
I open my mouth to speak but the soreness in my throat makes it difficult. I chase away the dryness by swallowing, but there is nothing I can do about my aching vocal cords. “Yes,” I finally rasp.
He unbinds my legs first and then, my wrists. Despite the unbearable ache shooting up and down my back and lower abdomen, I don’t hesitate for a second to do as he’s ordered. My movements are slow, my gasps frequent as I maneuvered myself off the table. He stands at a distance, unmoving as he watches me struggle. There is no empathy to be found in his cold, handsome features. But I don’t expect anything more from him. The coldness of the concrete seeps into my fevered skin when I finally fall to my knees, it’s a sharp reminder of my first time in this room. Bending my body forward, I’m silently thankful that I still have my panties on as I curl my legs beneath my thighs, set my forehead to the floor, and bring my arms together behind me. The effort it takes to maintain the position fires tremors up and down my body like live currents and it’s all I can do to remain still without falling over. I hear the steady tread of his footsteps shuffling around the room and then the weight of his presence as he pushes down on me. The brush of his fingertips down my arms causes me to shudder in the best and worst way even as an explosion of goose bumps cover every inch of my skin.
“This is the stance you will take when we are together in this room and in my loft. This position you take exemplifies the role you hold in my life. As I have said before, you are not my equal, not while I have control over you.” When I feel the soft fiber of the rope settle against my skin, my heart stutters in my chest and I began to shake.
“Breathe.”
My body responds like a puppet on strings. I take in a deep, stabilizing breath, inhaling the chill and slowly exhaling warmth, allowing the tension in my body to bleed out of me until the flow of tremors ebb ever so slowly.
“Good girl.” I find myself disturbed at how readily I exalt in his husky praise.
He begins a series of loops around my upper arms, descending slowly, tightening it enough that escape becomes impossible, but not to the point where he cuts off my blood circulation. “You have this one fundamental flaw, Lacey. And that is your foolish need to control everything around you, when really, you are the one meant to be controlled, all you need is the proper hand to steer you. This inherent need you have for pain goes beautifully with my need to cause it.” His words are quiet but I can hear the rhythm of his deepened breaths escaping through his nostrils in harsh puffs of air as if trying to contain his arousal. He twists and pulls until the final knot is in place around my wrists and then hooks his fingers in the small space between my forearms to hoist me up.
I stumble, but his steadying hand keeps me from falling. Guiding me back to the table, he bends me in half so that my face, shoulders, and breasts are pressed against the thick, black slab beneath me. His hand on the back of my head keeps me in place. My pulse races frantically. A shudder ripples through me as my own breathing comes short and fast. I feel him behind me, the strength of his dominance devastating as it invokes a hunger so dark, it shreds me. The thick length of his erection pressing between my pantie-clad ass cheeks liquefies my core. Closing my eyes shut, I hastily search for denial, for revulsion, shame, eve
n hatred for him, for myself, anything that would draw me back from this insanity. I find, instead, the resounding echo of emptiness deep within me that begs to be filled. With what? My mind hasn’t worked it out just yet, but my body knows, it’s proficient in speaking the language my mind cannot formulate.
“Let yourself feel it.” The low growl of his voice is followed by the resounding smack of his open palm across my ass. A mewl escapes me as the sear seeps into my already sensitive flesh, causing my pussy lips to clench reflexively. “Embrace the torment, Lacey.” He seduces me with his words, lays a path of pleasure-laced agony for me to follow and I do. Stupidly, I follow him down the blinding darkness of this euphoric hell. Shame can’t touch the girl he wants me to be, the girl who needs his absolute mastery. When I boldly push my hips back against his length so that it slides between my ass cheeks with my movements, another smack blazes across my ass, the blow so hard that it shoves me forward, pressing my wounded abdomen further into the table. But God, the pain only adds to my burning arousal.
I feel the bruising grip of his fingers digging into my raw flesh. “You make no move unless I order it.”
I gulp. “I’m sorry.” There is unimaginable urgency burbling in me for him to continue. “It won’t happen again.”
Careless of the resistance, he pulls at my panties until they rip, he jerks me back a fraction, allowing my torn underwear to slide down my left leg before pushing me back on the table. “Part your legs.” He kicks at the inside of my ankles, “Wider.” I move my feet farther apart to widen my stance, warmth floods my face at the sensation of my pussy lips parting, the heat of my slickness making me too aware of the pulse of desire beating inside my core like a second heart. I hear his trundling footsteps around the room before he returns. I feel him put something down behind me on the table but I fight the urge to look back and see what new torture device he retrieved to use on me this time. But anticipation sizzles through my veins and burns my blood. I jump at the feel of his warm, large hands on my hips and resist the urge to push back against his thick, long finger as it makes a slow glide down my clit. He flicks at the small hood of bundled nerves until I make a sound that’s both a moan and sob. My walls clench, throbbing, aching for him to come inside.
“You’re soaking wet.” He breathes thickly, arousal clogging his own voice. “Your pussy is salivating for my cock. But I’m not going to give you what you crave. This will be another punishment for allowing your friend to touch you.” His voice sounds detached, so far away, but it does not fail in affecting me. Curiosity, sheer twisted curiosity I can no longer fight, prompts me to turn my head when I feel his movements. I catch the slightest glimpse of a string of black beads, varying in sizes, before it disappears from my sight. I don’t have to wait too long to find out where he plans on putting them. “Something you should know about me…” I assume he kneels down when I hear his voice from beneath me, his warm breath fanning the skin of my ass further stokes the embers of my arousal. But I release a sharp breath when I feel his thumb circle around my hole. “I rarely ever forgive when slighted. I would much rather kill the person instead. But you see, Lacey…”
My bones lock, every bit of my body stiffens as his thumb penetrates the tight ring of muscles and with it, he inserts a small round bead inside my ass. “I don’t want to kill you.” Breath stills in my lungs, my body quivers as he pushes in another bead, driving the first one farther inside my unyielding core. The sensation is too odd to place into words, but I can feel threads of pain brimming at the edge of my arousal. “Not when torturing you brings me so much pleasure.” I clench so tightly when the third bead, thicker, fuller than the previous two, makes to breach my walls, but he proceeds despite my resistance, ripping a keening wail from deep within my chest. It’s not a gradual increase of pain, as it is a battering ram of torment tearing through my flesh as he mercilessly shoves the fourth and fifth bead past the puckered ring of my hole. I can’t fight the sobs that rack my body at the agonizing pressure that follows the ring of fire. It hurts more than words can begin to describe, but my tears aren’t from the anguish I’m experiencing. They’re for my deteriorating mental capacity and my all too willing descent into depravity as I find nothing but absolute nirvana in his drive to push and punish my body beyond its limits. He delights in tormenting me, but I now bask in that torment, I crave his brutality more than I crave the gasping breath I take in to fill my lungs.
He wrenches me up without warning, and the feeling of fullness from the beads only intensifies. My legs quiver beneath me but his strong arm around my waist keeps me from tumbling to the ground as he draws me flush against him, my wounded backside crushed to his length. He’s so hard that I swear I can feel the pulse of his cock between my ass cheeks even through the layer of his jeans. “Hmm,” he slips his hand through the back of my hair and tilts my head to the side. The unexpected sweep of his torturously slow tongue up the side of sweat-drenched neck sends a shiver through me. “I want to fuck you so hard right now.” His heated whisper against my ear draws the wetness from my core and slowly, it slides down my thighs. It takes more than I can stand not to give into the gravity of pressure from the beads, but sheer will alone is what keeps them in place. “But you don’t deserve my cock.” I moan and then being to whimper in pain again. In my whimpering wail, he steps away from me and I crumple to the floor. Without my hands to brace my fall, I scream when I painfully land on my side. He falls to the ground, squatting in front of me, and I flinch when he reaches for me. The soft, leather cuff of my leash makes its return around my neck.
When he stands back up, he gives a tug of the short, heavy chain. “On your knees. And make sure the beads stay in your body, Lacey,” he growls softly.
It takes me three attempts before I’m able to pull myself to my knees. “Follow me.” When I move to rise, he shoves me back down. “Crawl.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask how he expects me to manage crawling with my arms bound behind me and my body battered as it is. I swallow my retort and instead focus everything on steadily crawling behind him while simultaneously clenching my ass cheeks. Every tiny movement I make shifts the beads inside. It’s a constant feeling of fullness that sends ripples of carnality along my constricting walls. I find that breathing helps.
A terrible chill takes my insides hostage when my eyes shift to the heavy, steel cage in front of me and a horrifying realization seeps into my bloodstream like lead, deadening my heart. The awful sound of metal on metal reverberates in my bones as he lifts the cage door open. It’s big enough for a large dog but doesn’t appear at all suitable for a human being. I’m shaking my head even as he turns to speak to me. “Get inside.”
“No, you can’t…” My voice is small, shaky, clogged with sudden debilitating terror. “Please, you can’t…” He’s put me through too much already. The beatings, the cutting, and the degradation have affected me in such a way that I’m sure I’ve been altered permanently. And this...this cage will destroy me. “Please, Knox, I’m begging you, don’t do this to me…” I look at him as tears blur my vision. Big, broad, and powerful; a giant of a man with sculpted, godlike features, handsome beyond words but so utterly petrifying. He peers down at me with cold lightning in his eyes, but still, I hold his gaze when he reaches down to cup my cheek, I lean into his warm, large hand and close my eyes, the tears fall in fat droplets and I let them. “I’ll be good…I promise. I’ll be good for you. I won’t let him touch me. I won’t let any other man touch me but you. Please don’t lock me away. I’ll be good...I’ll be good…I’ll be good. Please, Knox, I’ll be good…” It’s a prayer formed from the depths of my soul. Like a supplicant at his altar, I humbly offer all that I have, converting permanently to the religion that is him.
I hear only his violent curse before I’m viciously thrown to the ground. His movements are swift, his breaths labored as he moves behind me. He grabs me by the waist, shifts me into a position where my knees are tucked beneath my thighs, my ass up high on display while the
top half of my body is crushed to the floor. I hear the sound of his zipper, hear the shuffling of clothes as he pulls himself free and then all coherent thoughts leave me as sick, twisted pleasure consumes me. A wicked and dark scream shreds through me as he swiftly pulls the beads from my ass, roughly props me higher till his length is at my core and then forces the full length of his cock inside me. I clench around him, melt around him, my walls welcoming him as he grips at my bindings for leverage and savagely tears into me. Each of his violent thrusts eased by my slickness, pulling him in deeper, jarring every fiber of my being.
The floor scrapes my skin raw but the pain only adds to the staggering violence and pleasure of the moment. I want so much more of him, faster, harder, and deep enough that I can taste him, swallow him. He complies like he understands the language my body speaks. I moan long and hard, push my hips farther back against him as he eases his thumb inside my puckered hole. It’s too much, my body has been waiting for too long for the release that spirals through my being and detonates around him. His deep, guttural groan drags another orgasm from my shattered body and I silently weep. He pulls out just in time to cover my ass in hot spurts of his cum.
He wrenches me to my knees by my hair and stares fiercely down at me. “If you ever let him touch you again, I swear I will kill him.” He releases his grip on my hair and takes hold of my face, his fingers and thumb digging on both sides of my cheeks and forces my lips apart. When he leans down, he scorches me with the flames of his heated words. “I swear it, Lacey, I will fucking kill him.” He kisses me for the second time and stops my world. It’s a bruising, punishing kiss full of male possession and dominance. He claims me with teeth and tongue and lips that glide over mine in the most carnal way. This is the part when he comes close to touching my soul, gripping it to imbue a little more of his darkness into me. I’m terrified of what it can possibly mean but am so tempted to discover what more lies beneath his ruthless exterior. And I taste it in his kiss—hints of the man that he’s buried so deep. But he pulls away before I have the chance to explore further. He leaves me on the floor panting, my mind reeling, my emotions in shambles, and returns to do the one thing I don’t expect of him. “This is the first and last time I will ever show you mercy in my vault.” A swift swipe of the blade down the rope frees me of my bindings. The rush of blood returning to my arms produces a sensation of exploding needles beneath my skin. I whimper, I know it’s not the worst thing I’ve experienced, but it makes me aware of how battered my body is. When he lifts me up, I curl into him, weakly, but willingly filled with silent gratitude, I hide my face in the shirt of his chest and let the strong, steady beats of his heart lull me to an exhausted sleep.
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