by Linnea May
She clears her throat, sticking out her perfect little tits as she straightens her back.
“It’s just annoying to have him on my mind now,” she adds. “The timing of his call just sucked.”
“Don’t think of him, then,” I suggest, bringing the wineglass to my lips.
She huffs. “Easier said than done.”
“He shouldn’t hold such power over you. Not anymore.”
My words seem to hit home, more so than I anticipated. She doesn’t look hurt, but visibly impacted by what I said. Her face loses its former tension, turning into an absent gaze as she processes my statement.
“He never really held any power over me,” she says in a thin voice. “That’s not the kind of man he is, or was. He’s just an angry, boring man.”
“Boring?” I probe, sensing a chance to divert the subject in my favor. “What makes you say boring?”
“You know,” she replies, shrugging. “It’s just like you said. He’s a nice guy, a regular guy. Someone who does exactly what’s expected of him, never daring anything, never looking for danger or some kind of adventure, never leaving the path of mediocrity.”
She pauses, looking as if she’s dwelling on memories of a past that can’t always have been as bad as she’s trying to make it sound now. This time I don’t stop her when she reaches for her drink, but I make a mental note of her forgetting to ask my permission.
“We were boring together,” she continues, twirling the wine before her eyes. “I think we were a perfect example of two people bringing out the worst in each other.”
I don’t know what to tell her. Relationship talk wasn’t on my agenda tonight, and it’s not like I could contribute anything helpful at all. I’ve never been in a relationship that lasted long enough to even deserve the name.
“I once heard that only boring people are ever bored,” Lila continues.
A sigh flees her lips as she adds a little pause, her gaze wandering aimlessly, latching on to anything but me. “And I was bored a lot when I was still with Jim. What does that say about me? Do you think I’m boring?”
I look at her with grunted disbelief. “Isn’t it obvious that I don’t?”
She shakes her head. “No. All I know is you want to do… things with me. You like to play with me, but that doesn’t tell me what you think of me.” She adds a little smirk before she closes with “You’re hard to read, Kade Armitage.”
“I don’t think you’re boring. Not to me, at least,” I respond to her question, ignoring the rush of feeling flattered by her words. “You ended things with Jim because you realized he wasn’t giving you what you needed. That speaks of a self-awareness most people don’t have. And it makes you anything but boring.”
“I literally broke free from him and the path that was laid out for us,” she says. “And went right into the arms of a handsome rebel.”
There it is again. That word. Why does she insist on calling me that?
“A rebel, huh?” I repeat, throwing her a side look. “Is that all I am to you?”
She looks like someone who got caught doing something wrong, sucking in a sharp breath as she raises her hands in defense.
“I didn’t want to offend you—”
“You’re not. I’m just curious. You keep bringing up this label. There must be a reason for it.”
She bites her lower lip. “Yeah, I mean… in a way, you are a rebel, aren’t you?”
“How so?”
“With the things you do. It’s so out of the ordinary.”
“Out of the ordinary doesn’t make you a rebel.”
“Doesn’t it?”
I sigh. She’s not basing her assessment on the right factors, but she’s not completely off with it either. I wouldn’t call my thirst for punishing submissive women rebellious. It’s just a kink, something that brings me pleasure, as it does for others.
But other aspects of my life certainly qualify. I’m pretty sure my family would agree.
“Why do you not like to be called a rebel?” she probes, tilting her head to the side. “Being a little rebellious isn’t a bad thing. At least I don’t think so.”
“It’s what you strive to be, isn’t it, little girl?”
I meet her gaze, deliberately casting a shadow over mine as I observe her reaction to my question. “That’s what you said. Breaking out from the ordinary, experiencing a little adventure, revolting against boredom.”
She nods, determination written across her pretty face.
“Does it scare you?” I murmur, leaning in close. “Do I scare you?”
She bites her lower lip, her eyes wide with curious excitement.
It’s all the response I need, but she adds a nod nonetheless, making the moment even sweeter.
Chapter 21
Lila
The atmosphere between us shifted so abruptly and so quickly that I was still processing when we made our way upstairs. He told me to walk in front of him so he could look at my ass and revel in all the looks I was drawing to myself as I walked through the room, baring pretty much everything. Heads turned here and there while I stalked through the room, but very few gazes lingered. I’ll admit that receiving this kind of attention is new to me, exciting as it is intimidating.
“I wish you hadn’t worn a thong,” Kade whispers as he climbs the stairs behind me, underlining his words with a strong squeeze of my ass cheek.
My heart is doing nervous hiccups when we walk down the hallway upstairs, heading to the same red room we used last time, which hugs me with reassuring warmth. I thought I’d calm a little by the time we were out of sight of everybody else, but the opposite is happening when I find myself alone with him, surrounded by blood-colored darkness.
“First things first.”
Before I have time to ask what he means, he dashes forward, his hands finding the thin lines of my thong below the garter belt. I yelp in surprise when he manages to tear it apart in one swift but strong motion, leaving my core exposed as the remnants of my new thong fall to the floor.
“I’ll reimburse you.”
“But—”
“Hush.”
He places a finger on my lips, silencing me immediately. I look up at him, unspoken questions stretching between us.
“You were late today,” he begins, an ominous tone in his voice. “And while you may think you’ve had a good excuse, I can only assume you did it because you want to deserve your punishment tonight. Is that right?”
I’m confused at his question. Of course I wasn’t late on purpose. Why would he think that?
“No, I was just—”
“Oh, so you’re denying it, too?” He shakes his head. “Wrong choice, Lila. Wrong choice.”
A shriek flees my lips when he grabs me, pulling me over to the X-shaped cross. He pushes me forward, and I instinctively spread my arms and legs along the lines of the X, facing the wall.
He chuckles behind me, then reaches for my left wrist first.
“So eager,” he hisses into my ear while fastening the leather shackle around my wrist. “You can’t wait to be spanked, can you? But remember, little girl.” He moves closer to my ear, so close that I can almost feel his lips on my earlobe when he adds, “You don’t get to pick tonight.”
The dark threat in his voice sends a cold shiver down my spine to my core, where it mingles with a different sensation.
Excitement, anticipation—lust even.
He’s promising to hurt me, and I’m getting wet at the idea.
My breathing turns erratic once he’s closed all the shackles around my wrists and ankles. I’m standing with my legs apart, a silent invitation for him to do whatever he pleases with me.
I hear him rummaging through something, but even if I wanted to, I can’t turn enough to see what he’s doing.
I close my eyes, focusing on the feeble sounds behind me. He must be selecting something to whip me with. I wonder if he’ll go for a similar flogger to the one I chose, or even the exact same one. It’s
doubtful. I’m sure whatever he picks will cause a lot more ache and damage than the one from last time.
A sick little part of me hopes for that to be true.
I know I can take more than what he was willing to give me last time, but I’m also scared to find out where my boundaries truly are.
Heavy steps announce his return, and I tense right away, my entire body stiff, preparing for an attack that is yet to come.
“Are you scared, little girl?”
“No,” I lie.
“Do you remember your safe word?”
My eyes fly open in surprise. Oh right, there was that. I’d totally forgotten about it.
I could end this at any time. I could get out of it.
At least that’s what he says. But could I really rely on him stopping if I uttered the word?
“Red,” I whisper. “The safe word is red.”
“Good girl.”
I could try. I could say ‘red’ when it’s first starting to hurt, just to see how he’d react.
But do I really want that? It could end everything between us if I disappoint him. And even worse, I would be disappointed in myself.
A fiery bite to my skin brings an abrupt end to my mindless pondering, causing me to stand up a little straighter, pulling at the shackles on my wrists as I take the first blow.
It wasn’t a hard one, I can tell that much. But it hurt like fucking hell. He chose a flogger, just like I did last time, but it’s definitely not the same one. This one is bigger, heavier, and when he lands it on my behind a second time, I realize it hurts a little extra because the strings have something knotted to them. Is it just knots in the tails, or are there little stones attached to them?
The third strike certainly feels like it might be the latter. He alternates his blows, never hitting the same spot twice in succession, but since the flogger is so big, that only means he covers more of my skin with every hit, landing painful stings on my back and legs as well as my ass.
He doesn’t increase the intensity of the first few strikes, going at a steady pace as the tails rain down on my skin.
I stand stiff, immobilized and breaking a sweat as the pain grows stronger.
“Relax!” he commands behind me, continuing the sequence of burning hits against my back. “Let it happen, Lila. Give in.”
I don’t even know what that means. The pain is too strong to focus on anything but the ongoing affliction that robs me off my senses. I can’t move, can’t speak, can’t think.
My eyes are closed when a howl echoes through the room, sounding more wolfish than human. It takes me a few moments to realize I was the one producing that noise. I didn’t even know I could evoke such feral sounds, coming from a place buried so deeply I didn’t know it existed. Another one follows the first, almost sounding like a chant, the song of a deeply tortured soul.
“Let go, Lila.”
His voice is soft now, almost a whisper, and full of affection. It stands in stark contrast to the excruciating strikes he unleashes upon me. I don’t know if I’m just getting sorer and more sensitive, or if he actually upped the strength he puts into his work. Either way, the anguish seems to double all of a sudden, turning my howling into high-pitched shrieks.
“That’s right, let it happen.”
It seems like his voice is coming from very far away, reaching my ears like muffled sounds underwater.
Let what happen? Let what go?
I wish I could ask, that I was able to build coherent sentences or to even form words of any kind, but I’m mute aside from the beastly sounds that escape my shivering lips while I endure his handling.
I can no longer distinguish the respective tails of the flogger as they kiss my body. They’ve turned into an entire flaming area, tormenting me with their hot bites. My vision turns red, even behind closed eyes. There’s nothing left but sweet, sweet torment, pushing aside everything else, everything that could be, everything I could see or think.
Never in my life have I experienced such dire agony, such helplessness and desperation.
Why am I doing this to myself? Why did I ask for this?
I didn’t expect to find answers to my harried questions, but a moment later, the need to question no longer troubles me.
My muscles relax as the tension leaves my body, step by step, limb by limb. I thought it was weakness at first, sheer exhaustion from enduring the torment I was receiving, but I soon realize it’s something else.
It’s like a door opening, inviting me to a place where there is no pain, no fear, no inflaming grief from being brutally hit with several leather strings at once. I follow the voice that calls from behind that door, moving closer to a cloudy place full of sweet promises and reaching for the hand stretched out to me.
I’m floating, my body losing its weight while I follow the path of reassuring bliss that’s opened before me. I don’t question, don’t wonder, don’t doubt—I just give in. I don’t have to worry about where I’m going. I’m not the one deciding, I’m just following, guided by an invisible force that wants nothing but the best for me.
What is this place? Where did the pain go? Is he still whipping me? Am I still with him?
As soon as the questions start popping up, I regain consciousness of my senses, pain shooting through my wrists as my legs give and my body is called to the floor.
I feel his hands on me, holding me in one arm while the other hand fiddles with the cuffs around my wrists. I groan, mourning the end of my short-lived elation as my mind and body drift away from that heaven I was invited into.
My feet are still tied to the cross, and I grimace in pain as my legs twist when my upper body is no longer held up by my wrists. I know Kade’s there, and I know he’s taking care of me, but I have no idea how he’s doing it. He’s still holding me, supporting me while his other hand finds the cuffs around my ankles. It only takes moments before my legs are freed from the cross, the cuffs still closed around my legs when he picks me up and I’m floating again, this time in his strong arms.
I’m still howling, still chanting my anguished song, though lacking the affliction that first caused it.
There’s no pain, no fiery stings biting into my ass. Nothing.
And I fucking miss it.
Chapter 22
Lila
I’m reminded of my earlier agony when we reach the bed and he lowers me to the soft surface ass-first. A shocked cry fills the room, and while the impact and the accompanying anguish resemble what I endured during the flogging, it does completely different things to me.
The former put me into a heavenly daze, welcomed me to paradise, hugged me in warm clouds of quiet delight.
It hijacked me to a better place.
This sharp ache did the exact opposite by forcing me back to reality, back into the dark room where it all happened. I’m not lying on the bed with my full weight yet because he’s still holding me in his arms, but the pain is real nonetheless.
He meets my grimace with a soft smile, barely visible in the dark red light the room is bathed in.
“Are you okay?”
I don’t know how to respond to his question.
Am I okay? I don’t know. How am I supposed to know?
“Can you move?”
A quiet nod is all I can manage.
“Good. Turn on your belly.”
He lets go of me and I turn around as quickly as my broken body allows. I’m sweaty and dizzy, wavering as I move on the bed. I’m too exhausted to worry about poise when I fall on the mattress face first, so relieved to be lying down with my tortured skin up in the air, away from the cruel touch of the silk underneath.
I can’t see him but I hear him moving, shedding clothes next to the bed. I want to turn and look at him, to finally see him, touch him, have more of him than he was willing to give before. But my body betrays me, locking me in place, every motion a threat to my sanity.
Even when I feel him climb on top of the bed next to me, I’m unable to respond in any way. I
remain motionless, glued to the red silk while he finds his place next to me.
I flinch when I feel his fingertips at the back of my upper thigh, only teasing, barely touching my skin as he travels up to my core. A pinch at the inner side of my thigh beckons me to open, to make room for his curious touch where I enjoy it the most.
Moving my legs has never been harder. Even an inch to the side seems impossible at first, but I manage eventually, suppressing a groan as my sore skin burns even under minimal pressure.
“You did great, Lila,” he whispers, the dark tone of his voice soothing me. “Fucking perfect.”
I want to thank him for that peculiar praise, but words still fail me. I just smile into the mattress, possibly unbeknownst to him.
He hums with apparent approval when his fingers reach my core. I sigh as he moves farther, barely caressing the tortured skin on my thighs when he parts my lips with his fingers, letting a third slide along the middle. My wetness speaks louder than my missing voice, answering his question for me.
I don’t understand how, but I’m insanely wet and delirious with hunger for more. He brushes against my swollen nub, awakening another wave of eager lust and causing me to hollow my back below him.
“I knew you’d like that,” he whispers. “I knew you could take more. But still, it looks like I underestimated you.”
I groan with carnal longing when he shoves a finger forward, gliding inside my channel with ease. Everything he does is cautious and gentle, the polar opposite to what happened before.
And it’s driving me insane.
I’m still woozy from the excruciating suffering of before, my body still processing the pain that has no equal in anything that’s ever been done to me. Yet, all I want to know is what it would feel like to be fucked by him now. To be stretched by his enormous girth, causing me even more pain, and to have his ripped pelvis clash against my broken skin as he rams into me.
I squirm while he toys with me, never really rubbing my clit but just passing by it, caressing my throbbing center with his fingertip for just a second before it’s gone again.