Spread

by Elyzabeth M. VaLey

  “Climb on the bed on all fours and spread your legs, baby doll,” Rayden said. “Show me your ass and your cunt.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Betty rushed to do as he asked. Her body was on fire, every inch burning with the need for more.

  “That’s perfect. I’m going to attach a spreader bar to your ankles. You won’t be able to move, and your body will be exposed to me. Are you okay with this, Betty?”

  Betty’s heart beat in her throat. Every nerve ending ignited by Rayden’s words. She would be at his mercy, and there was nothing she wanted more.

  “I’m green, Sir,” she said.

  “Good girl.” He gripped her ankle. The soft material went around it, and the sound of Velcro ripped the air. He adjusted her posture. Her ass stuck in the air, and she knew he had a full view of her aroused pussy.

  “You should see yourself right now, baby doll. So perfect.” He slipped one of his fingers in her pussy, and she moaned. “You’re so wet, it’s trickling. I want to fuck you, Betty. Put my cock in you and ravage you until you don’t know where you end and I begin,” he rumbled, thrusting his digits in and out of her and flicking her clit intermittently.

  Betty squirmed. Her orgasm was building, tightening around her pelvis, down her legs. She stiffened. She could never come without permission, but now—

  “You can come whenever you want, baby doll,” Rayden touched her lower back. The small gesture set her free. Betty closed her eyes and rolled her hips against Rayden’s touch, searching for the stars. “That’s it, fuck my hand, baby doll,” he encouraged her.

  The pressure on her clit increased. Sweat coated her body, droplets rolling down her temple. Rayden pushed down on her clit, and her orgasm rippled through her in a tidal wave.

  “Rayden, Sir.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “You’re such a good girl, Betty. That was beautiful,” Rayden praised her. His heart filled with love. Betty was glowing. In part, it was of course, the orgasm, but he knew his approval also played a big role in her happiness. It undid him emotionally. This woman was his to cherish, and no matter what, he’d find a way to make it work.

  Tomorrow.

  He reminded himself. Tomorrow he’d speak with her and they’d figure things out. Now, though, it was all about her and making Betty forget the past. He wanted her here, with him, enjoying what a real BDSM session should be like, not what she’d learned from that sicko Antonio. He watched her. Little by little, her breathing returned to normal. He licked his lips. He desperately craved to sink into her, but it would have to wait.

  “Bend over slightly and stick your hands between your legs, baby doll. Rest your chest on the bed. I’m going to bind you to the bar, too. I don’t want you to move when I beat you.”

  A shiver ran through her, but she obeyed his command.

  “Color, baby doll?”

  “Green, Sir. I’m still incredibly horny and craving your hand.”

  “Good. Then you’re just like I want you.” He clasped the restraints around her wrists. “One day,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you like this, all spread out for me to enjoy.” He grabbed her hips and rammed his lips against her engorged pussy. Betty bucked. Rayden groaned. He licked his way around her hole, across her labia and sucked in her clit. She yelped. Sliding back down, he thrust his tongue into her, fucking her and tasting her sweet tanginess. Taking his pinky, he rimmed her asshole. Betty began to shake, grinding her hips to his face. Her muffled cries and moans encouraged him, and he doubled his efforts.

  “Come for me, baby doll,” he ordered. “Let yourself go.”

  Rolling his tongue over her clit, he pushed his pinky into her ass at the same time. Betty shrieked, her liquid arousal dribbling down her legs and across his chin.

  “Gorgeous,” Rayden murmured. “Absolutely, fucking gorgeous.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  “I’m not done with you yet.” Rayden gave her ass a soft slap, and she grunted.

  “Have you ever been caned, Betty?” he asked, while giving her other cheek a hit.

  “No, Sir.”

  Grabbing her ass, he started to massage it vigorously. Her flesh molded to his fingers. His aching hard cock started to pound. Rayden gritted his teeth. Tomorrow.

  “I’m not going to lie,” he said. “It hurts, but I think your tolerance for pain is high.” He gave her ass a few quick spanks.

  “Hard enough?” he asked.

  She hesitated.

  “Be honest, baby doll.”

  “Not enough,” she said.

  Rayden smacked her ass cheek harder, leaving behind the imprint of his hand.

  “Now?”

  “Hard, but—”

  “It’s why we’re going to use the cane.” He stood at her side, and she glanced up at him. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. The cane burns, Betty. It’s not like the hand, which is more of a thudding kind of pain. I’m going to cane you and make sure you remember me tomorrow.”

  Betty moistened her lips. “I’m ready, Sir.”

  Rayden took the cane he’d pulled out. It was rattan, sturdy and not too thick.

  “Ask me to cane you, baby doll,” he said. He touched the edge of the cane to her ass so she could feel the weight.

  “Please Sir, cane me.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He tapped her ass with the cane, flicking his wrist. It was a light stroke, nothing more. A warmup. Little by little, he increased the intensity of his hits. Betty squirmed, but didn’t try to get away. Abruptly, he snapped the stick across her cheeks, hard. Betty cried out. He returned to tapping her as if nothing had happened.

  “More?” he asked.

  “More,” she said breathlessly. “Please, Sir.”

  Rayden repeated the pattern, building the gentle patters over ass as if they were raindrops on a window. When she least expected it, he’d blaze a harder stroke over her cheeks like lightning ripping the sky. She screamed and twisted away, but he didn’t relent. He reminded her of her colors, but she didn’t use them. Still, he kept a close eye on her, fearful she’d resort to past habits. He needn’t have worried.

  Betty gave herself to him completely. Her body relaxed. Her cries turned into moans and whimpers. Pleasure built within him as she lost herself to his hand, the pain becoming pleasure, the past becoming dust. Her ass turned red, angry red strikes painting her pale skin. She was his. To command. To spread. To love. He pulled back one last time and caned her. Betty moaned.

  “Betty?”

  There was no reply. Rayden slowed down his strokes, until finally, he came to a stop. Quickly, he released Betty. He pulled her into his lap. A smile drifted across her face.

  “Betty?”

  “What happened?” She murmured. “Why did you stop?”

  “You subspaced. It was time to stop.” He brushed her hair from her face and kissed her forehead. She sighed, snuggling into his arms.

  “Thank you, Rayden. Sir.”

  “My pleasure, baby doll. Always my pleasure.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Betty woke up wrapped in something. She tried to move but it squeezed her closer. She cracked her eyes open. Her mouth curved into a giant smile. Rayden.

  Her pulse accelerated, and her ass tingled, last night burning in her memory. She watched him sleep. His hair was a mess, and he had his mouth partly open. His body moved rhythmically to his breathing. One of his arms was under his head and the other wrapped around her possessively. He was wearing pants, but his torso was fully on display to her. Her mouth watered. She kissed his chest.

  He stirred. Stifling a giggle, she wrapped a leg over him and kissed him again. He moved quicker than she expected for a sleeping man, grabbing her ass and flipping himself onto his back, while dragging her with him.

  “You do not wake up a man like that, baby doll,” he said, eyes still closed.

  Betty giggled. She leaned her ear to his heart, listening to the quick pounding.

 
“I guess you’ll have to show me how, Sir.”

  “It looks like I will.” Rayden stiffened beneath her, and Betty frowned.

  “Rayden?”

  “How are you feeling?” he asked before she could finish her train of thought.

  “I’m okay. My butt is a little sore, but I, well, I slept throughout most of the night. That’s never happened before.”

  Rayden cracked his lids open. The blue she caught a glimpse of reminded her of a cloudless sky. It was the promise of a perfect day. Her body tingled with an indescribable feeling. She wanted more of this. Mornings wrapped up in his arms, panty-melting kisses, hot BDSM sex, and whatever else he had to offer. Yes, she wanted to become a tattoo artist, but she’d be an idiot not to recognize what she’d found in Rayden she wouldn’t find in anyone else. She could become someone else’s apprentice, but losing Rayden was not an option. They had to at least try.

  “Betty.”

  “I don’t want this to end,” she blurted out.

  Rayden’s eyes widened. He sat up, bringing her with him. They sat in front of each other. Naked. Bare.

  “I don’t either,” he said, clasping her face between his palms.

  Heat radiate through her chest, wrapping her in a cocoon of joy.

  “But there’s something I need to tell you.”

  Betty froze. She didn’t have much experience with men, but those words could never mean anything good. She changed positions, choosing to sit next to Rayden instead of in front of him. He sighed. She grabbed one of the pillows, holding it to her chest.

  “Okay,” she said. “Go ahead.”

  Rayden swept his hand through his hair and sucked on his lip ring. Already, she recognized the nervous gesture. An empty feeling settled in the pit of her stomach.

  “Fuck. I don’t know how to explain this.” He sighed. “I knew you. From before. As Becky.”

  “I know I slipped last night. I told you about the witness protection program. It’s okay.”

  “No, you don’t understand. I met you. Kind of. I was there, Betty. The day Antonio branded you as his slave, I was there.”

  Blood rushed in Betty’s ears. Her skin turned clammy. She must have heard him wrong.

  “Excuse me?” she croaked.

  “I was an apprentice to the tattoo artist who inked you. Kento. I didn’t know it then, but he was taking drugs from Antonio and they had a deal. I wanted to stop them, but I didn’t know how. Kento told me if I left, I couldn’t come back.”

  Nausea climbed the back of her throat. Her mind reeled, trying to recall the day. She didn’t remember any of it. Only the aftermath, when she’d woken up to the tattoo. She’d cried for hours before she’d gone to speak to Antonio. He’d made it better by convincing her it’d been an act of love. She knew better now. Anger swept through her.

  “So you sat back and watched them do it.” She scrambled out of bed. “I was high as a kite and drunk. I couldn’t give my consent. You can’t tattoo someone without their permission, but you let them do it to me.” Her teeth started to chatter, and she clutched her hands into fists. She needed to get out of there. Frantically searching around the bedroom, she spotted her things. She began to throw on her clothes.

  “Betty, please. Don’t leave. I know I fucked up. I was young and stupid, and I’ve never forgiven myself. You were the reason I specialized in cover-ups.”

  “Now I understand how you were able to tell the mandala was a cover-up. You knew what was underneath.” She grabbed her phone and texted her friend Molly.

  “Let me drive you home. We can talk about it in the car.”

  “No.” She spun toward Rayden, tears blinding her. “There’s nothing to talk about. I trusted you. God knows why, I only met you three days ago, but I, there was something there. It was clearly a mistake.”

  “Betty. It wasn’t a mistake. There’s something between us, more than lust, you know it as well as I do. We can’t let this go. I don’t want to lose you.”

  “It’s a little too late for that, Rayden. You knew what they did to me. All the while, I was opening myself to you and you knew what I’d been through. You heard me cry my soul out, and you acted as if you didn’t know, as if this was some kind of soap opera to enjoy. It’s not right.” She shook her head and shouldered her bag. “I need to go, Rayden. Molly is coming to pick me up. Please, don’t follow me.”

  “Betty.”

  “Bye.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Betty stood in front of Molly’s bathroom mirror. How many times in the last forty-eight hours had she stared at the marks on her ass? How many times had she touched them, wincing at the light pain yet loving it all the same? How many times had she thought about Rayden and the intimacy they’d shared?

  Countless.

  She’d gotten into Molly’s car a mess, unable to stop the uncontrollable sobs racking her body. Her friend had tried to get her to explain what had happened, but she’d been incapable of voicing it. How did you put betrayal into words? How did you explain the anguish of losing something that made you immeasurably happy? All Betty had wanted to do at that point was go home and cry until she was numb. She wanted to forget Rayden almost as badly as she wanted to obliterate Antonio.

  Instead, Molly had insisted she stay at her house and had driven her there. She’d called their boss and explained Betty was sick so she wouldn’t be coming in. Afterwards, she’d fed Betty some breakfast and gotten her into bed, all the while chatting about her previous breakups, and how time had ended up healing all wounds. Finally, though, Molly had had to go to work herself and had left Betty alone.

  She’d cried. Wept until she had no more tears to give. Then, she’d staggered to the bathroom and sat on the toilet seat. The pinpricks of pain brought a new bout of tears, but it also carried a strange sense of clarity.

  Last night, with Rayden’s help, Antonio had faded into what he was: a memory. Rayden had kept her focused on him, drawing her out of her living nightmare. They’d spent the rest of the night together—and she’d slept. Until morning. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept until morning on the day of Antonio’s death-versary. Rayden had done it for her. From pain, he had created pleasure, just as he did with tattoos, bringing beauty from the sting of a needle.

  Betty ran her fingers through her hair, unable to keep the tremble from them. Her chest ached in an unfamiliar way, as if it were expanding, filling with more than oxygen and leaving behind a fluttering trail that robbed her of her breath and brought a vision of kind blue eyes.

  She had to force herself to remember he’d also kept the truth from her. He’d heard her pour out her sorrows in silence, without even once mentioning his role in her previous life. Yet, when she’d mentioned she wanted more from him, he’d come clean.

  I don’t want to lose you.

  The ache in his words tore through her, leaving her in a daze.

  The rest of the day, she alternated between sleep and wakefulness, missing Rayden whenever she wasn’t careful and wondering what to do about it. Did she want to be with someone who lied to her? Had he lied to her?

  No.

  The more she thought about it, the clearer the answer flashed in her mind.

  Rayden might have been there the day Antonio had marked her as his slave, but she hadn’t. She’d been mentally and emotionally absent, too high or drunk to care about what happened. She didn’t recall who had been there, or what had happened. They could have done anything to her and all she had left of the memory was the unsteady tattoo which she’d covered up as soon as she could.

  Rayden wasn’t to blame for any of it. Heck, it had been her own bad decision-making. Being with Antonio, drinking, drugs, all of it.

  Even if Rayden had intervened, she would have despised him for it. She was in love, or thought she was in love, with Antonio. The only man who ever existed for her had been Antonio. Anyone who dared get in their way was a monster. Antonio was her savior. Her hero. If Rayden had tried to do anything, she wouldn’
t have allowed it.

  Neither would have Antonio. He was a powerful drug lord, and if any of the people around him had dared to do something to destroy his empire they would have paid the consequences. Rayden would have been an ant fighting against a giant foot. Antonio would have squashed him. He would have destroyed his career or what was worse he would have had him killed.

  No. There was nothing Rayden could have done.

  Betty inhaled deeply. So, where did that leave her? Them? She’d walked out on him, angry, upset, afraid. She hadn’t felt this kind of connection with anyone in ages. She wanted to be with Rayden. One night was not enough. She yearned for the sound of his voice and his touch, for those smiles he seemed to reserve only for her. In barely a few days, she’d found in Rayden something which was more than the draft of a tattoo. What they had was etched deep beneath the skin. It was the kind of ink not even laser would be able to remove.

  “So what are you going to do about it, Betty?” she asked her reflection. She ran her fingertips across the marks on her ass. Then, raised her gaze to her breast where her bird was healing nicely. A smile curved her lips. She was free. To decide. To take control. To win Rayden back.

  “Didn’t he say he was always open to begging?” she mused, a plan forming in her mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Rayden shook hands with the latest customer and waved goodbye. He’d done his job well, even if the joy had been sucked out of it. It’d been two days since he’d heard from Betty. He’d tried calling her, but it went directly to voice mail. He suspected she’d blocked him because when Vivienne called to enquire if she was coming back, she’d picked up. He sighed. She said she’d send a friend to collect her portfolio, but so far, no one had come. So every evening, instead of working on his designs, he opened her blue folder and looked through it, hoping for a sign, something, anything.