by Fawn Bailey
I moved my weight to my elbow and lingered above her, my eyes finding hers in the semi-darkness.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I told her in a low, raspy voice. “I’ll never get enough of looking at you.”
I lowered my lips to hers, kissing her slowly, passionately and enjoying her eager response. She was ready, I tried to tell myself. She would say yes to whatever I told her to do. Especially after we made love… especially after I showed her how much I cared for her. My body, heart, and soul were eager to be revealed to her, but my mind struggled with the decision. I wasn’t sure whether I was ready.
Her lips were sweet and soft underneath mine, and I poured all my passion for her into that one kiss that left her breathless. I positioned myself on top of her, dominating her space with my scent, my mouth and my hands digging into her hair. I couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t keep my hands off.
“Even when I’m old and wrinkly?” she whispered underneath me, and I laughed her off.
“You’ll always be my rose,” I reassured her. “I don’t give a shit about your age. And I can’t wait to understand you… to see under all your layers.”
She looked away shyly, but I grabbed her arms and opened her up to me, making her gasp out loud.
I nuzzled my lips against her throat, inhaling her scent deeply.
“Beautiful,” I muttered against her skin. “Fucking beautiful.”
Her fingers were twitching, and I gave her the go-ahead with my eyes. She touched them to my zipper and clumsily pulled it down, unbuttoning my trousers and pulling my cock free.
“Look at it,” I told her, and she lowered her gaze, her pupils dilating when she saw how hard she’d made me.
I oozed precum over her pretty dress and didn’t give a shit that I’d probably ruin it. She was more beautiful naked, anyway - if I had it my way, she would wear no clothes at all.
“Do you like it?” I asked her gently. “Tell me you like my cock, Harlow.”
“I do,” she whispered, her lashes fluttering upwards to look at me. “I love your cock, Master. Will you let me suck it?”
“I will,” I told her gently, and she squirmed underneath me needily, trying to get out. I let her because I could barely resist, and laid on my back as she knelt between my legs. “Good fucking girl. Just the tip, Harlow. Nothing but the tip, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on me as she lowered her lips over the tip of my cock.
She sucked the head in quickly, letting out a moan all over my dick as she licked up my precum. My cock was drooling at the sight of her, at the feel of her warm, wet little mouth on me. I couldn’t get enough of her. The night under the stars felt magical, as if there was something truly special in the air, telling me that this was the beginning of a great love story.
But I also knew full-well there was her test left, and that I would be giving her a choice that would change both of our lives forever.
Perhaps I was being selfish by having her in my arms one last time before that decision was made, but I didn’t give a shit. I needed this, the last moment of her being Harlow Granger before she submitted to me fully and completely. Whatever her choice, she would never be the same girl again.
She sucked my cock, proving me how well she’d learned to do it in her months of my care. Her eyes never strayed from mine and she sucked like a little whore, making me groan her name over and over again. I watched her whimper and mewl and stared at her gorgeous fucking face and her mascara that was starting to run. It took me a long time to realize that I was madly in fucking love with the girl.
I didn’t want to admit it to myself and much less to her. But it was true.
Worried it would look like a sign of weakness, I’d never told a woman I loved her - apart from the one Harlow must have hated most. After Pia, I had sworn to myself never to fall in love again. Yet there I was, like a love-drunk fucking fool, obsessed with the girl working my cock, needing her to give me her control wrapped with a pretty little bow at my feet.
I grabbed her by her hair and twisted her to her side. She cried out, not in fear but with lust painfully obvious in her raspy voice.
“Fuck me,” she begged shamelessly. “Please, Master, I need your cock inside me, I need you to make me yours.”
“You’re already mine,” I growled at her. “Always have been.”
I positioned my cock near her tight little hole and she begged and pleaded for me to fuck her. I teased her for what felt like ages, making her squirm and cry and promise me everything under the sun in exchange for fucking her body. I told her she didn’t have a choice anyway. She’d be fucked, taken advantage, fucking used until I’d had my fill. I told her it would take hundreds of years before I stopped fucking her every day. Before the urge to fuck her, and taste her, and own her, would go away, we’d be dead and gone. I’d never be sated. I’d never have enough. Harlow Granger wasn’t my fucking flavor of the month, she was my one and only.
“Please,” she begged after minutes of my torture. “Fuck me, Master. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. I can’t take anymore.”
“It’s been a few minutes,” I whispered in her ear, slowly easing myself into her cunt. “I’ll make you go through this every fucking day, several times if I want to.”
“Please,” she whispered desperately, looking at me over her shoulder.
She looked wild and beautiful, and I impaled her on my cock, pushing as deep as I could get, and forcing her even deeper down on my cock. She really started crying then, and I fucking hated myself for turning something so beautiful between us so nasty and erotic. But I couldn’t fucking help myself. I didn’t know how to make love to her. I knew how to fuck her.
I used her body like a little cocksleeve, fucking her into a pretty little mess until she was whimpering, crying my name out with more fear than I’d ever heard in her voice.
“Master,” she whispered, over and over again through the tears. “Please, Master!”
“It’s okay,” I told her gently, pulling her legs up so I could look at her pussy taking me inside. “Look at that, Harlow, look at how much you want me.”
She looked down and moaned at the sight of her own drooling cunt, and I smirked at her, holding her arms twisted behind her back and making her watch me take her. In seconds the tears were once again replaced by moans, and I slowed down my pace, fucking her slowly and deliberately driving her tight pussy towards an orgasm.
“I’m going to do this to you anytime I want,” I muttered in her ear. “I’m going to take pictures and film you taking my cock and show them to those girls who are so jealous of you. I’m going to frame your fucking pussy over my desk. I’m never going to stop, Harlow. I’m going to use you until your fucking body gives out, and not stop then. I’m going to turn you into a complete fucktoy for your Master.”
She moaned herself into an orgasm, whimpering as her body shook and I grabbed her throat, feeling her still on top of me, gasping for air.
“You’ll never go home again,” I reminded her.
Her cunt clenched on me, milking my cock with all it had. I couldn’t hold back anymore, there was no fucking way. She sucked my cum right out, her pussy working hard to squeeze every last fucking drop out of my throbbing dick. I held on to her throat as she spasmed all over me, and when I was spent, I pulled out of her, reached between her legs with her own hand and swiped the oozing jizz from her cunt.
I lifted her arm to her lips, and she licked the cum like a happy little toy, curling closer to me. I let her.
I held her for much longer than I thought I would. I was uncomfortable with it, and could never cuddle after sex. Harlow was the first woman I did it for, and holding her in my arms felt so damn natural I hated myself every time I pulled away.
I wanted to steal another hour, another moment with my woman, but I knew she had a choice to make.
Once her breathing slowed down and the tears stopped coming, I wiped her down with the blanket and closed her dress over her pus
sy. It was stained now, but I didn’t give a shit. My heart was pounding in my chest, alerting me of the choice she was about to make. And I could feel her own tension too, her eyes heavy with questions as we looked at one another.
“Are you ready?” I asked her gently, and she stared at me, the depth of her eyes darker than ever.
“Yes,” she whispered, and my heart skipped a fucking beat for her.
Chapter 24
Rose
What do you think your choice will be?” he asked me, and I sat up on the blanket, my legs shaking as I tied my sandals tighter around my legs, avoiding his gaze.
My heart felt like it had been ignited, my pussy slick with his cum. I was satisfied, but already needing so much more from him. But I didn’t dare express what I so badly wanted.
“Harlow,” he reminded me gently, lifting my chin up to look at him.
I couldn’t hide the fact that my chin was trembling, my bottom lip jutting out. He gave me a sad smile and smoothed my hair.
“I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I have to.”
“I know,” I whispered. “But…”
“But what?” he asked.
“But you already took Amber,” I whispered, the tears coming yet again and running down my face freely. “Isn’t that enough? Isn’t it enough that an innocent girl is being punished?”
“Amber wanted this,” he said roughly. “She wanted to be sold.”
“Not like this,” I protested. “Not to a sick fucking man!”
“Harlow,” he said with a warning in his tone. “Calm the fuck down. You’ll know more soon. Now calm down. Deep breaths. Breathing is key.”
I tried, but my breaths were panicked and cut short by sobs. He pulled me against his chest, my back resting across his pecs as he helped me breathe slower and slower. The tension slowly dissipated,
and I felt better again, slowly exhaling and moving away from him, flushed with shame.
“Do it,” I told him suddenly. “I can’t take it anymore. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“You have two choices,” he said robotically as I stared into his eyes. “You can leave tonight. You will receive everything in your room and some money to help you out back at home. We will support you and help you move on with your life.”
My jaw nearly dropped open, the sense of betrayal lingering in the air between us.
He would let me go, just like that.
After all that we’d been through together, he would just let me go as if I meant nothing at all.
“And the other choice?” I asked icily, my voice covered with a layer of coldness and hiding the bitter fear underneath.
“You give up something for me,” he said simply.
“W-what?” I asked, but the moment the word slipped from my lips, I knew.
He wanted to take the only other thing I cared for. The one I’d mentioned over and over again, the one he’d been lenient with, the one he’d indulged me in. And now, the choice would be between him and my passion. And I didn’t know what I would do.
“Dancing,” he confirmed my fears. “You will never dance professionally. You will be allowed to dance for me when I request it. Never with someone else. Never by yourself. You will never stand on a stage again.”
My heart thumped painfully against my chest as I raised my chin defiantly.
“And if I decline?” I asked, the anger barely hidden from my tone.
“You will leave tonight,” he said, snatching his hand away from me. “That will be the last moment we’ve ever touched. You won’t see me again, won’t hear from me. We will never meet again. I’ll make sure of it.”
My hate for the man next to me simmered. I despised him at the moment, the irrational part of me wanting to jump at him, scratch him, hurt him as badly as he was trying to hurt me. Such a cruel, horrible punishment, just for leaving him. Finally, I understood why he was so obsessed with me being by his side at all times.
Thorn was afraid.
He was afraid of losing me, of having to let go.
Even though he hadn’t said it, I finally realized it.
He was just as in love with me as I was with him.
I almost felt sorry for him. Because he was giving me a choice he should have been strong enough to make for me. But again, wouldn’t I have resented him if he only told me of what he’d decided in my stead? Would I end up hating him, knowing he’d never let me have this one last choice?
The reason I was so upset was that I knew already what my decision was.
“How will you know?” I asked. “That I’m not dancing?”
He cocked his head to the side, pondering my question. I thought I’d caught him unprepared, but he replied a moment later.
“Your Achilles’ tendons,” he went on. “I’m going to cut them.”
I pushed away from him on the blanket. My eyes were wide, terrified.
“You…” I whispered. “You would never hurt me.”
He stared at me with madness in his eyes, and I was truly afraid in that moment that he had lost his mind.
“I will,” he said, his voice back to normal. He looked like the devil. A handsome, cruel devil who held my fate in his strong hands. Hands that could break me… hands that would. “I will hurt you to keep you from leaving me.”
“You wouldn’t,” I cried out. “Why would you do that? Why would you be so cruel?”
He came closer to me, and my body froze in fear as he touched me gently, holding my cheeks between his fingers.
“Because you will always run,” he said gently. “As long as you can dance, you will keep running.”
He was right. Things clicked into place when he said that, and I realized how much truth there was in his words. As long as I was his prisoner, I would long to dance, and he would never let me. Was he being kind or cruel by offering to take the option away? I didn’t know. All I was aware of was my own, painful truth. The truth I was about to tell him.
“I love you,” I whispered, the consequence of my decision making my body weak.
He stared at me. He looked more vulnerable than he ever had. I feared I had come too close. That he would lose his edge, his mind, in front of my eyes.
“I love you,” he told me. His voice was shaking. His hand was, too.
I realized he was saying goodbye, misunderstanding my choice.
“Cut them,” I whispered.
“What?” he muttered.
“Cut them,” I repeated, louder this time around. “Cut me up. Hurt me. Take it away from me. I don’t want it. I want you. I won’t dance.”
He stared at me.
“I choose you,” I said clearly. “Now fucking take it away.”
To be continued…
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