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From the time I’d left for seminary, I’d promised myself that I’d eschew all bodily pleasures, not just those with another person. It seemed foolish to encourage my desires by satisfying them myself, to torment my body and mind with imaginings and possibilities that I could never take further—not and keep my vows, and I took those seriously. Others I knew didn’t. Some weren’t celibate, enjoying the company of women discreetly, and others simply took care of it themselves, considering that particular rule to be archaic and, frankly, as I’d often heard, ridiculous.
I’d kept my vow to deny myself all pleasure. Even now, I haven’t had an orgasm that wasn’t involuntary in over ten years. However, I know very well anyone who knew that would say I’m insane for not at least giving myself release. But the same reason holds true still—if I have no intention of breaking my vow of celibacy, why torment myself with a lesser pleasure?
But sometimes, my body rebels. And as I did in my days as a priest, I only know one way to counteract the need for pleasure, despite my best efforts to prevent it.
Pain.
I reach down, my hand closing around the leather belt next to my bed. My fist clenches around it, dreading what comes next, but how else can I train my mind to associate the spasming, heated pleasure of orgasm with anything other than the punishment that follows.
You’ve tried for ten years. If it was going to work, wouldn’t it have by now?
I ignore the whispering voice that calls itselfreason, swinging the belt backward instead, over my shoulder, hard. The leather cracks against my skin, stinging. Another, and another, harder still, and my half-hard cock goes soft, nestling between my thighs as if it, too, is ashamed of what happened tonight.
Of all the women to dream about in that way, you chooseher? You deserve even more punishment for that. You should be ashamed of yourself.
I shouldn’t think of Sasha in that way. She deserves my protection, my friendship, not my filthy lusts. The fact that it was her I dreamed about brings me even more shame than my lack of control over my body, but even as I crack the belt against my shoulders and bring it around my waist, over my thighs, flogging myself until the skin begins to welt and rise, the dream flickers back into my consciousness.
Her soft, sweet lips brushing over mine, breaths catching against my mouth as she lowered herself onto me, taking every inch of my cock—
Against all odds, my traitorous cock throbs, starting to harden again as I crack the belt against my flesh again.
Her breasts against my chest, her hips against mine, her thighs pressing against me as she moaned with the pressure of my cock entering her—
“Fuck!” I shout in frustration, cracking the belt hard against my thigh, and the leather catches the tip of my cock as it hardens, springing into the air. Hot pain shoots through me, grinding my teeth and making me bow forward, and the fantasy flees, dissipating into the night.
Is that what it takes?I hiss, thinking of the pain that would come with usingthatmethod to punish my body into submission.This has to stop.
I can’t stay away from her entirely, either. She’s irrevocably a part of my life, for as long as I’m under Viktor’s protection. And leaving that protection could very well mean my death.
I want to curb my lust, but that doesn’t mean I want todie. I’ve tried very hard, so far, to stay alive. To do good where I can, to make up for my sins.
I could leave New York again.Surely there’s some reason that would take me back to Boston, away from Sasha. It would put more space between us, more time where we don’t see each other, but even as I think about it, I know it’s useless. Even that space doesn’t seem to help any longer. I’d thought about her most days I was in Boston. The night after Niall and Isabella’s wedding, I’d woke from another dream like tonight’s, just shy of release, throbbing and so hard I thought my cock would explode, just from spending the evening looking at Sasha in the long silk evening gown, she’d worn. I crave her more than ever before, the more time that passes.
Tossing the belt aside, I shove myself up from the bed, stalking into the bathroom. I turn the water up hot enough to burn, my breath hissing through my teeth when I step into it and feel the hot water stinging along the fresh welts on my shoulders, back, and thighs. This has always been my usual practice to clear my head, but tonight it doesn’t work as well as I’m used to. Even through the pain, I keep thinking of her, how close she is, how easy it would be to go to her.
The hardest part is that I’m not sure she would turn me away.
I stand under the water until my skin is reddened, and I feel light-headed from the heat, my hair plastered wetly to my skull. When the water finally starts to cool, I shut it off, drying myself off roughly with a towel and making the welts sting again before stalking back into the bedroom to strip the top sheet off of the bed.
As I wad it up and throw it into the hamper, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. Irritably, I grab for it, seeing Levin’s name appear on the screen.
Fuck.
He wouldn’t text me this early for no reason. I swipe up on the screen, bringing up his text, which is brief and to the point, as Levin usually is.
Meet me at my office. I’ll be there at six. We need to talk.
---
There was no point in going back to bed. Between the lingering pain of the welts and Levin’s cryptic text, I didn’t bother. Instead, I threw on black jeans and a black t-shirt instead of my usual chinos or slacks and button-up, and headed out to my car.
The sky is beginning to grey as I pull out onto the highway, the car silent except for the sound of the wind passing by outside. My thoughts drift back to what I can only think of at this point ashome, to the thought that Sasha is likely getting up by now, getting dressed to help Caterina with the children. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess to push the thought of her stripping off the clothes she slept in out of my head, imaginings of what her slim naked body would look like as she dug for her clothes for the day.
I grit my teeth, clenching the steering wheel harder.This is getting out of control.I feel ashamed of myself every time I think of her so lewdly, but I can’t seem to stop myself.
I know what Levin, Luca, Viktor—any of the men I know in my life now would say, if I told them—not that I’d ever discuss something so personal, outside of the times when they’ve teased me for ignoring interested women when we’ve been out.Just go pick up a woman. Any woman. A few of them, even. Fuck it out of your system.But of all the solutions, that one is absolutely off the table.
After all these years, I’m not about to make a one-night-stand my first time. And I’m equally determined not to break my vow at all, after keeping it for so long.
