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When I kiss her, she kisses me back, her tongue searching, her moans sending red-hot lust straight to my cock. My balls tingle and without thinking about what I’m doing, I break the kiss and slide my fingers into her mouth.
“Suck,” I demand.
She sucks, wetting them up good.
Fisting myself, I kiss her.
She groans, I moan.
I drop to my knees again then slide my tongue up the inside of her leg, her scent like raspberries and sunwarmed skin. When I reach the apex of her thighs, I run my tongue over the tendons stretched taut from her position, showing me a sliver of her outer pussy lips. I lick her there as Leon cuts her back again. She lets out a cry of pain, and I drop my dick, wanting her pleasure more than my own. Adjusting my position, I press the pads of my thumbs against her pussy and find her clit pressing against the leather, rubbing in small, circular motions with just the right amount of pressure.
“Please,” she murmurs, but she’s not pleading for us to stop this time, she’s pleading to come.
Sweat beads across her forehead. Her eyes are heated, angry, but lust-filled.
This is turning her on.
“You like this?” I ask, but it’s more of an observation really. “You like the pain and the pleasure?”
“No!”
“You’re lying,” Leon says, bringing the blade up to his palm and cutting into the flesh. With blood dripping from the cut, he reaches around and slides it up her neck, marking her with his blood. “You like being touched like this,cutlike this. There’s a need in you, Nought. We can sense it.Ican sense it. You’re not as pure and innocent as you’d like us to think. You’re different too.”
“No. You sick fuck. No!” But even as she’s cursing him, she’s opening her mouth and wrapping her tongue around his finger, sucking his blood like she’s been into blood play her whole damn life.
“Do you want us to stop?” I ask her, grasping her breast and drawing her nipple into my mouth.
“Yes…” she hisses.
“Liar!” Leon insists, withdrawing his finger and pinching her other nipple whilst he whispers in her ear. “You want to feel alive. Nothing does that quite like being strapped to this cross with one man desperate to fuck you raw and the other wanting to bleed the life from your veins. We both want you but for very different reasons.”
“You want to kill me?” she asks, tears seeping from her eyes.
“I want to do so many fucking things to you, Nought. So many fucking things… I want to put my dick in your mouth and watch you choke on my cock. I want to take your virginity and smear myself in your blood. I want your tears and your cries of pain. I want your silence. I want you to scream my name with fire in your blood and violence in your soul. I. Want. It. All.”
“No,” she whimpers, tears streaming from her eyes.
“But I can’t have any of that right now because you don’t just belong to me, you belong to Konrad and Jakub, and they need you too.”
Leon reaches up and grabs her hair, fisting it. Pulling her head back he bites her neck, sucking and licking and running his lips all over the tender flesh. He tugs her earlobe between his teeth, before scraping his stubble over her birthmarked cheek. Despite her fear, she moans at his attention, at mine. She’s so fucking twisted up by the fear, pain and pleasure, that she can’t unravel herself enough to fight back with words.
She’s lost herself in the moment.
And if that isn’t freeing, I don’t know what the fuck is.
Right now she’s more free than she’s ever been in her closeted little life.
“Fuck!” Leon grinds out, fisting his bloody dick violently as he lets her hair go and loses himself to the moment too.
He jacks off whilst I coax out her pleasure, his free hand sliding over her back, smearing blood over every inch. As far as I can tell, he’s only made two shallow cuts and one deeper one, but her groans of pain would indicate that it isn’t just the sting from cuts that hurt her, but him simplytouchingher back. But how is that possible? She said that she was eight when she was burned in the fire, that was years ago. How can her scarred back still cause pain?
Then it dawns on me. It’spsychological.
Her pain is in her head.
And fuck if my dick doesn’t grow in size at the thought. “Jesus,fuck,” I mutter.
When I look up at her bowed head, her hair hanging around her face in a curtain, I see how her gaze goes in and out of focus. It’s as though she’s trying and failing to switch off the pain. We’d all witnessed how she’d done exactly that when I’d whipped her in the Grand Hall a few days ago, but she’s finding it difficult to do so now. The pleasure she’s feeling is keeping her in the moment, anchoring her in her body. She’s riding the knife edge, literally, and there’s something so fucking hedonistic about that.
