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I don’t come back above water until I realize Lik and I have moved and he’s now sitting on a chair by a table. We’re surrounded by small tables with one or two chairs around them. In front of us, a black stage is lit up by a single spotlight. I’m starting to think the fucker has a sixth sense because he once more reads my confusion before I show anything.
“Down,” he orders softly. I sink to my knees by his side and my head falls to the left, right onto his lap.
The music lowers slightly and a man in an expensive blue suit emerges. In his right hand, he holds the same kind of leash Lik does. Except the woman coming after him is crawling on her hands and knees. Her posture is perfect, her hips swaying sexily in a way that should be impossible in her position. The curve of her back is so perfect, I’m dying to run my hand along her spine.
The look on her face is apologetic. Like she’s done the unforgivable. The man’s expression is so passive that one could wonder if he even wants to be here.
But his gaze lights up when he secures her onto a bench, her shameful face toward us, her arms secured into cuffs on the sides. He steps behind her, tugs down the thin underwear she is wearing, and from the inside of his jacket, he pulls out a wooden ruler.
My entire body tenses. Pulling my head away from Lik, I feel dread freezing all my muscles.
No.
I can already see the flashbacks of Bianco pulling out his ruler to hurt me. The phantom pain burning my back. Pinches he added, just for the sake of it. The bruises. The blacked-out room. Theloneliness.
I expect the woman on stage to cry and fight. To scream for help. Then, I remember we’re in a BDSM club. And this is normal.
The first hit gets a cry out of herand me. The second, a whimper from her. The third, a moan.
In between each time the ruler hits her ass cheeks, the man rubs her until she stops writhing. I can see the pain turning into pleasure in her eyes. Her lost, half-lidded stare, the relaxation of her muscles.
I don’t know how many times theslaphits my ear, how many times she moans‘sorry, Master’, or how many times said Master’s eyes turn black, pupils expanding from the ecstasy he feels. I just know the jealousy that courses through me for not having this kind of relationship in my life.
I’m so aware of the pleasure pooling between my legs, so aware of every shift in the air against my skin, of Lik’s eyes stuck on me rather than the scene in front of him, that when she explodes into an orgasm from the simple repeated gesture of a ruler hitting her bare ass and thighs, a long moan escapes me.
The need to find this kind of release is primal. My lungs are on fire from the despair and jealousy to feel what she feels. I feel cold when they leave the stage, the man walking with his sub in his arms, holding her like she’s the most precious entity he’s ever had the chance to touch. Her head is lolling to the side, a glaze in her gaze, and her eyes lost in utter bliss.
“Princess.” The simple word pulls something in me. Slowly, Lik is taking away the pejorative meaning I had associated with the word and turning it into a sensual call. He preaches it like a prayer. He uses it like a love curse.
His tall form now stands in front of me, my face right into the hard-on he’s sporting in his Armani suit. Layers and layers of black.
Black like the devil’s suit.
Black like my heart’s needs.
Black like his intentions.
“Pain turns you on, princess,” he murmurs like a secret. Lik has found his way into Atlantis and is not letting anyone know about his discovery.
But he doesn’t understand how impossible it is for me to accept what he’s uncovered. That would be letting Bianco win. That would mean all the training he’s done on me worked. And I know it has, the proof betraying me between my legs.
But how can I make sense of it?
33
ROSE
Desert Rose– Lolo Zouaï
I wonder what my body looks like. I’m panting with need. The near impossibility of swallowing my pleasure makes me sick, and yet I can’t stop it. Nor can I stop the wetness dripping down my thighs.
I don’t understand my own cravings. I need power like I need air. I’m built like a war machine, always defending myself, always ready to attack.
So why have I never felt this good before? With a feral need to beg someone to take absolute control.
I should have known. The person who brought me the closest to this is Rachel. On the rare occasions when she lets her little demon out and I turn into her pliable doll. Those are my favorite moments together. So why did I always think it was a mathematical impossibility for me to enjoy what I’m currently very much enjoying with Lik?
I’m pretty fucking stupid for a genius.
