Time blurs and stretches. I don’t know if it’s been minutes or hours. When I finally stop, she’s lying limp and unmoving, her buttocks and thighs covered with pink welts. There is a dazed, almost blissful expression on her tear-wet face, and her slender body is shaking, small tremors rippling over her skin.
Letting the belt drop to the floor, I carefully pick her up and sit down on the bed, holding her cradled on my lap. My own heart is hammering in my chest, my mind still reeling from the incredible rush I just experienced. She shudders, hiding her face against my shoulder, and begins to cry. I stroke her hair, slowly, soothingly, letting her come down from her endorphin-induced high as I come down from mine.
This is what I need now—to comfort her, to feel her in my arms. I want to be her everything: her protector and her tormentor, her joy and her sorrow. I want to bind her to me physically and emotionally, to brand myself so deeply on her mind and soul that she will never think about leaving me.
As her sobs begin to ease, my sexual hunger returns. My soothing caresses become more purposeful, my hands starting to roam over her body with an intent to arouse, not just to calm. My right hand slips between her thighs, my fingers pressing against her clit, and at the same time, my other hand grips her hair and pulls on it, forcing her to meet my gaze. She still looks dazed, her soft lips parted as she stares at me, and I lean down, taking her mouth in a deep, thorough kiss. She moans into my mouth, her hands clutching at my shoulders, and I can feel the heat rising between us. My balls draw up tightly against my body, my cock aching for her slick, warm flesh.
I stand up, still holding her in my arms, and place her on the bed. She winces, and I realize the sheets are rubbing against her welts, hurting her. “Turn over, baby,” I whisper, wanting only her pleasure now. She obediently rolls over onto her stomach, in the same position as before, and I position her so that she’s on her hands and knees, her elbows bent.
On all fours, with her ass tilted up and her back slightly arched, she’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I can see everything—the folds of her delicate pussy, the tiny hole of her anus, the delicious curves of her cheeks, pink with marks from the belt. My heart is pounding heavily in my chest, and my cock is throbbing painfully as I grasp her hips, line the head of my dick up against her opening, and push inside.
Hot, wet flesh envelops me, sheathing me in tight, slick perfection. She moans, arching toward me, trying to take me deeper, and I oblige, withdrawing partially and then slamming back in. A cry escapes her throat, and I repeat the move, my spine prickling with pleasure at the clinging grip of her tight channel. Waves of heat roll through me, and I begin to thrust with abandon, barely cognizant of my fingers digging into the soft skin of her hips. Her moans and cries increase in volume, and then I feel her peaking, her inner muscles contracting around my cock, milking it. Unable to hold on any longer, I explode, my vision blurring from the force of my release as my seed erupts into her warm depths.
Panting, I collapse onto my side, pulling her with me. Our skin is damp with sweat, gluing us together, and my heart is racing. She’s breathing heavily too, and I can feel her pussy clenching around my softening cock as one last orgasmic shudder ripples through her.
We lie joined together as our breathing begins to ease. I’m holding her spooned against me, the soft curve of her ass pressing into my groin, and a sense of peace, of contentment, slowly steals over me. It’s always like that with her. Something about her calms my demons, makes me feel almost normal. Almost . . . happy. It’s not something I can explain or rationalize; it’s just there. It’s what makes my need for her so acute, so desperate.
So dangerously fucked up.
“Tell me you love me,” I murmur, stroking her outer thigh. “Tell me you missed me, baby.”
She shifts in my arms, turning over to face me. Her dark eyes are solemn as she meets my gaze. “I love you, Julian,” she says softly, her delicate palm curving around my jaw. “I missed you more than life itself. You know that.”
I do—but I still need this from her. In recent months, the emotional aspect has become as necessary to me as the physical. It amuses me, this strange quirk of mine. I want my little captive to love me, to care about me. I want to be more than just the monster of her nightmares.
Closing my eyes, I draw her deeper into my embrace and let myself relax.
In a few hours, she’s going to be mine in every sense of the word.
Chapter 4
Nora
I must’ve fallen asleep in Julian’s arms because I wake up when the plane begins to descend. Opening my eyes, I stare at the unfamiliar surroundings, my body sore and aching from the sex we just had.
I had forgotten what it was like with Julian, how devastating and cathartic the roller coaster ride of pain and ecstasy could be. I feel both empty and exhilarated at the same time, wrung out, yet invigorated by the maelstrom of emotions.
Sitting up gingerly, I wince as my bruised bottom touches the sheets. That had been one of the more intense belting sessions; I won’t be surprised if these bruises last a while. Casting a glance around the room, I spot a door that I assume leads to the bathroom. Julian is not in the room, so I get up and go over there, feeling the need to wash up.
To my surprise, the bathroom contains a small shower, as well as a real sink and toilet. With all these amenities, Julian’s jet seems more like a flying hotel than any commercial plane I’ve been on. There is even a plastic-wrapped toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash tucked inside a little shelf on the wall. I use all three and follow up with a quick shower. Then, feeling infinitely more refreshed, I go back into the bedroom to get dressed.