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Ella
We reach the playroom and Lucas says darkly, “Remove your clothes and kneel.”
I do as he says quickly and carefully, making sure to fold them neatly as he insists on.
Then I kneel in the corner with my head lowered and try to get my breathing under control. I think about this all day long. Anticipating the pleasure he will bring, to the point it’s all I can think of. How did my life become so dark? I let him do things to me no sane woman would surely ever agree to. The trouble is, I love it. He corrupts my mind and soul, and I love every second of it. He drives me to extremes and I beg for more. My pain threshold has surprised even me, and yet I want more. Always more, and as I wait for the master to begin his lesson, I almost pant with expectation.
He approaches and I hold my breath as he slides a blindfold around my eyes and says darkly, “Stand.”
I allow him to lead me across the room and as my back hits the wood of the cross, my heart leaps. Finally.
So far, Lucas had refused to chain me to the cross, despite me constantly asking to experience it. He told me I wasn’t ready, I had to learn to control the pain and not let it consume me. I’ve tried so hard and always told him to stop when I reach that point of no return, when my mind is no longer connected to my body and allows him to inflict more pain than is right for me. So many times, I’ve nursed the wounds of a rough night in here when I refused to tell him to stop. The open wounds, the scars, are reminders of not being in control. Lucas is teaching me to understand my limitations, and I have been keen to learn. Now I have obviously passed the test because this is my prize.
As he binds my wrists and ankles to the cross, I shiver with expectation. He pulls the binding hard and I yelp a little and love the delicious heat it creates as it travels down my body. He leans in and gently nips my breasts and I love how turned on I am. As he moves lower and tastes my arousal, I start to pant and then as he steps back, I am delirious with anticipation when I hear the crack of the whip in the air.
“Five strokes, that’s all you get.”
I nod and whisper, “Thank you, master.”
I feel on edge as I wait for the first one to strike, and as I hear the whoosh of air, I wait for the delicious pain to hit. He strikes me across my right breast and I cry out. It stings and hurts so much, I almost come on the spot. “Color, flower.”
“Green, sir.”
The next blow strikes me on the abdomen and I scream as I feel the burn before a rush of endorphins push the pain away. The next three come in rapid succession and I scream so hard I think the soundproofing is ruptured and as I slump against the cross, the tears drench the blindfold. I feel so liberated by pain words can’t explain how much it means to me and as Lucas enters my body in one hard thrust, ruthlessly, punishingly and making me bang against the wooden surface, I climax so damn hard I think I pass out for a second.
His roar of release drowns out my own and as his seed trickles down my leg, I begin to sob with tears of ecstasy. I need this so badly, I need him so badly, and as he unfastens my bonds and swings me into his arms, I collapse against his body with exhaustion.
We lie close together on the bed and Lucas cradles me and makes love to me, slowly, gently and with so much feeling, it crushes me all over again. The calm after the storm, the smoothing away of the pain, is every bit as desirable as the onslaught before. Highs and lows, good and evil, love and hate, all mix together into the most delicious cocktail.
Most nights we never make it back to our bed because this is where we connect the most. This is our place where we are two tainted souls finding ourselves and making sense of the world. If I could stay here with him forever, I would die happy, but life gets in the way and somewhere in the early hours, we head back to bed to get some sleep for what is sure to be an extremely testing brunch date.
* * *
“I am really dreading this.”
I sit in the back of Lucas’s chauffeur-driven car and stare sulkily out at the landscape flashing past. Even when Lucas runs his hand up my leg and under my yellow silk dress, I don’t react because I would much rather be playing at home than in a car racing toward purgatory.
His low chuckle annoys me and I snap, “What?”
“I love it when you’re angry. It turns me on.”
He leans over and releases my seat belt and pulls me onto his lap, lifting my dress above my waist, so I grind on his crotch. With a wicked smile, he parts my panties and frees his cock and as he slides inside, I gasp with the purest pleasure.
“You’re a wicked man, Lucas Emiliano, I’m going to be so uncomfortable now.”
As he thrusts inside, my breathing changes and he growls, “I want you to feel me every second you’re there. Feel the sticky seed inside your panties knowing I own you.”
I groan and bite my lip as he thrusts harder and as I come hard on his cock; he places his hand over my mouth to absorb my screams.
Just like that, my sour mood vanishes and I giggle against his neck as my irritation passes.
“Better?” He whispers against my neck and I snuggle into him.
“Yes—thank you, although I’m guessing I smell like a whore’s bed right now, you’re a wicked man, Lucas.”
“I never pretended to be anything else.”
He nuzzles against my neck, and I love every minute of this. Being here with him, the unexpected, never knowing what he’ll do next—usually involving sex. I’ve never felt so alive and just thinking of living a different life without him in it, is not a pleasant thought and as if he reads my mind, he whispers, “Don’t go.”
