He runs his tongue along my spine, kisses my shoulder blade. ‘Up to you. Want to see the fantasy through or want to quit now?’ His voice is now silky, delicious.
I am aroused, terribly so. At the same time I am not enjoying this new pain aspect that he has introduced, and yet I must see it through for the reward at the end of it.
‘See it through.’
‘So no more bullshit screaming and pathetic whimpers?’
Gosh, that was a flip. That he can turn his voice so suddenly cold and expressionless. I turn my cheek and look into his face, so close to mine. The eyes are beautiful, unsmiling, unfathomable.
‘No,’ I say softly.
He moves his face away and I feel his large hands gently stroke the soft burning skin of my butt cheeks. Then it is gone and the next crack on my left buttock is like a jolt of electricity. The air leaves my lungs. I bite the cushion and grunt. Fuck, how can this pain be sexual? My bare flesh is sizzling. I am no longer aroused but more alive than I have ever been. My bum is stinging so much. Tears are flowing from my eyes. Stop, stop, I am dying to cry out, but I don’t. It will stop on its own and I will be rewarded.
I begin to count them. Six. The tips of his fingers strike my vagina. I feel an unexpected and powerful spasm go right through me. Seven. I want a repeat of that strike. The urge makes me squirm and rearrange my butt. Eight. But he now confines the spanking to the base of my cheeks. The vibrations drill through into my groin. I am quivering with nerves. My ass is on fire. Concentric circles of pain are radiating out of it. My skin is bathed in perspiration. I’m not going to be able to take much more and yet I am still waiting for another strike from the tips of his fingers. Nine. Maybe he will stop at ten. He must stop at ten. Ten. That’s it. Surely that’s it. Eleven.
And then he stops. I don’t move. I actually feel humiliated. The tears will not stop flowing. But I wanted this. I asked for it, but tears will not stop. I feel used and abused. Feel like a slut or a whore. Even worse, the knowledge that I enjoyed it all—the attention, the pain, the fingers—in a sick, perverted way.
I hear the sound of the foil then his trousers being dropped, and suddenly the tears stop and my pu**y opens out like a flower, oil drips from it, and shivers of strange pleasure shoot from my trembling sex. I remain quite still, unconsciously holding my breath as the rounded thickness of his c**k forces itself into my dripping cunt.
It is such relief to feel it sinking into me, ending the punishment in the best way imaginable. It is what I have been waiting for. I always knew it would end this way. To be filled like this. I feel complete. I push my pelvis upwards and towards the hot, throbbing cock, ignoring, no, welcoming the pain of brushing my raw tush against his skin.
The ramming my soft center receives that morning.
The friction of my clit rubbing against the sofa mixes with the pain of his flesh striking my sore bottom, and his c**k slipping and sliding in the sloppy, creamy excretions makes me ready to burst. Dizzy with erotic pleasure I bite the pillow and sob through the long, rippling climax.
I don’t feel him come, I know only my own intense pleasure. My reward. And an amazing reward it is, heightened and illuminated by the raw emotions and beating my little bottom endured that takes me to new textures, heights and depths.
I feel terrified and I feel incomparably and totally alive.
I feel sated and soiled.
I take the Tuesday afternoon off and spend the afternoon naked and sprawled on Vann’s day bed. As he paints me I watch him. He pouts when he paints. His concentration and dedication to his art is such that I am no longer a person, but an object. But when he finishes, smelling of turpentine and paints, he walks up to me, and with dark, passionate eyes, ravishes me. And each time he has found me ready, a match for his rough needs. I enjoy lying here, my mind drifting, his eyes on me. Being the object of his total attention. My phone rings. Without shifting my body I twist my eyeballs in the direction of the phone.
I sit up. Vann frowns.
‘I’ve got to take this.’
She sounds panicked. ‘Yeah…’
‘Listen. I don’t want you to panic or anything, but Jack has been wounded.’
My bottom drops out of my world. ‘What?’
‘He’s all right. Blake has flown him back home. He’s been shot, but he’s all right. He will be all right. He’s in hospital now. And he’s being taken care of by the best doctors. Would you like to see him?’
‘Of course.’ My voice trembles with emotion. She gives me the address.
I end the call and look at Vann. He is staring at me with a look of almost fear in his eyes. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s Jack. He’s been hurt. He’s in hospital. I have to go and see him.’
I jump up from the day bed. Vann has my wrist in his hand. ‘I’ll drive you there.’
I look at him. That sounded f**ked up. I experience a pang of guilt. Oh God. I love Jack. What the hell am I doing with this guy? While I have been f**king him and enjoying myself, poor Jack could have died. I step away from him as if he is the Devil himself. I can’t help it. ‘No, you can’t come with me. I couldn’t bear it. I feel bad enough as it is.’
He pales. ‘You haven’t done anything wrong.’
I feel tears start rolling down my face. ‘Yes, I have, but that’s not important now.’ I pick up my robe, shrug into it, and run out of his studio.
The journey to the hospital is one of the worst I have ever had. I should have asked Lana how bad Jack was, where he had been wounded, but I didn’t at that moment because I was so shocked, and now I am stuck in the Underground with no reception.
When I get to the hospital, Lana is waiting for me. The sight of her standing there doesn’t make me angry; in fact, I feel glad that she is there. I run to her and throw my arms around her. I want to sob, but I can’t.
‘How bad is he?’
‘He was shot in the shoulder, and he lost a lot of blood. He could have died, but he didn’t. Blake got him out of there in time.’ She shakes her head. ‘I didn’t know. Blake had a detail on him the whole time.’
My mouth drops open. ‘Why?’
‘Because he is my best friend.’
I separate from her and sit down on one of the plush chairs. Such a love. Such a love. Even with the addictive foot massages and all the techniques, will Jack ever love me like that? I close my eyes. I feel cold.
‘Would you like something to drink?’