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Chapter Eight
Branson
Give me everything I deserve.
At her words, my dick hardens to a point of being almost painful. I let out a hiss as her lips trail down my face and neck until they touch the circling scars. Pulling back, her finger comes up, lightly tracing the lines. When she leans down again to kiss the scar before lightly licking up the side of it, I shudder, pushing her off me.
She looks up at me with heated eyes, waiting for my direction, and I feel an increasingly familiar sense of power rise in me. I hope she’s ready for me, because what she deserves…
“Take off your shirt and pants, little doll” I tell her, standing back to admire. Her eyes never leave mine as she drags the top over her head, leaning over to push down her jeans until she’s standing before me in only her bra and panties. Her pale skin is flawless, even the heavy scar on her arm that I know she hates. It’s all her, it’s all beautiful.
My mind races with possibilities, all the things I want to do to her. She stands patiently, though I don’t fail to notice how she bites her lip, how her legs are pressed together. Making a decision, I go to the table and pick up one of the knives we brought with us, holding it up to my thumb to test its sharpness.
I hear Mia’s sharp intake of breath, but I know her better than to think it’s fear. My eyes meet hers as I walk up to her slowly, blade in hand, until I’m standing in front of her. She doesn’t move as I let the sharp edge trail from the side of her neck down her chest.
“So perfect,” I whisper. “So porcelain. Now, stay still.”
Her breath quickens as I press down just a fraction and the blade bites into her cleavage. A small line of blood immediately rises. Still, she doesn’t move.
“Good girl,” I tell her and her face lights up. The corner of my mouth rises but I don’t smile, not now. Turning back to the bed, I take the knife, grabbing the sheet and quickly ripping several strips off it. I nod to the bed and she giggles, jumping up to the middle of it.
This time I do smile.
“Lie down, little doll.”
She complies, even holding her arms above her like she already knows what I have in mind. It doesn’t take me long to wrap the lengths around her wrists, tying it to the bedpost. I look down at the scratch on her chest and notice it’s stopped bleeding. My thumb comes up and harshly rubs the small cut. She moans lightly, making me chuckle. “Such a dirty girl. You love pain, don’t you?”
Her green eyes meet mine and she lifts her chin. “Yes,” she replies breathlessly. “Hurt me.”
I lick my lips as I look down with her, both excited and scared to let this play out. There will always be a part of me that hates her for what she did, that wants to give her true pain and suffering. But the other part of me loves her, wants to worship and cherish her. That she wants this, that she craves the pain, is like a fucking gift.
“Once I start, I don’t know if I can stop,” I admit. Her head rises off the bed as far as she can, her eyes intent on mine.
“Don’t ever stop.”
That’s all the consent I need, and a guttural sound leaves my throat as my mouth finds hers. The kiss is anger, passion, and love all rolled together and I’m sure her lips are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.
My mouth finds her throat and I bite down hard, eliciting a cry from her even as her hips rise up to me. When I finally pull away to inspect the bite mark, she whimpers.
“I think it’s time for these to come off,” I whisper as my finger trails down the scratch one more time into the crease of her bra. Reaching over, I grab the knife, sliding it beneath the fabric to tear it off. The sharp blade cuts easily and her breasts tumble out, her perfect pink nipples standing at attention for me.
She watches my movements as I bring the knife up to her breast again, letting it faintly trace over the edge of one nipple. She whimpers again as they pebble further, and I know it's fear she’s feeling. Good.
“You’d deserve it,” I whisper as the knife moves and she swallows. “You’d let me, too, wouldn’t you, little doll? Let me take these, if I asked?”
A deep outtake of breath, but she nods, “Yes.”
I feel myself smile and drop the knife.
“Good girl, but these are too perfect to cut.”
When my mouth finds one of them, she lets out a moan, pushing her chest forward. I suck, enjoying the way the small nub feels as my tongue traces its outlines until I bite down. Hard. She cries out but still presses toward me. My other hand comes up and finds the other, rolling it between my fingers.
Nipping at her chest one more time, I pull up and look down at her again, frowning when I realize she’s still wearing panties.
“This won’t do,” I say as I lean down, ripping the side with my hands and tossing the flimsy fabric away. My eyes land on the perfect V at the top of her thighs and it takes everything in me not to take her right here.
She catches where my eyes land and opens her legs to me. I let out a groan before flipping her onto her stomach. She squeals as I pull her hips up so her arms are crossed over, still tied in front of her, and her bare ass in the air waiting for me.
