by Hannah Ford
Finally, he pauses with his cock pushed into me, up to his balls, and I can hear him taking off his belt.
Panic seizes me – surely he’s not going to beat me with his belt here, in a public place?
But that’s exactly what he’s going to do, and the blows start to rein down on me.
It pushes me over the edge, the pain, the humiliation, the shame of how he’s using my body, and a second later, I come despite myself, this orgasm even more intense than the one I just had.
My pussy clenches, coaxing his own orgasm out of him, and I feel him release inside of me.
He stills for a moment, and then shockingly, another blow of the belt lands on my ass.
I cry out at the intensity of it, at the shock of it.
And yet he keeps going.
“You liked that, didn’t you, you little slut?” he growls. “You like being my little whore, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” I say. And then he pulls out of me, leaving me empty, and yet the belt keeps coming down on my ass.
Over and over again, harder and harder.
Harder than he’s ever done.
I turn my head to look at him, and I see something in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before, something hard and dark. Something empty and endless. Something that scares me.
He catches my gaze and then his hand is on the back of my neck, pushing me back down into the booth, squeezing my throat until I can feel myself having trouble breathing.
I gasp for air as another stroke of the belt hits my ass, hard and strong, so strong that my ribs shake and the tears in my eyes, the ones that are usually from the pain/pleasure mix and the humiliation that so turns me on, are now just from pain, not sexual, but just regular, horrible pain.
Because there’s nothing sexual about this.
This isn’t about pleasure, this isn’t about keeping me safe, or using control to strengthen the bond between us.
No, the intent behind this is all pain.
“Red,” I gasp, using my safe word. “Red red red.”
Immediately, Elijah stops, removing his hand from the back of my neck. The belt drops to the floor, the sound it makes unable to be heard over the pounding music and the deep bass.
I scramble up and out of the booth, pulling my skirt down.
“What the hell was that?” I ask. The tears that were in my eyes are now running down my face, and I don’t bother pushing them away with my hand. I want him to see.
“Abigail, I…” He scrubs his face, runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m…”
But before he can answer, his phone rings.
He pulls it out.
“Yeah,” he growls. His jaw hardens. “Call and get the car brought around to the back.” He shoves his phone back into his pocket. “We have to go.”
“No.” I shake my head and now I wipe at my tears angrily with the back of my hand. “No, not until we talk about this.”
“Abigail, we have to go.” He reaches for my hand, and I pull it away.
“No.”
“Abigail! Ralph Palmer is in this club. I don’t know how, but he’s found us, he’s found you, and I need to get you out of here.”
I curse out loud. I still don’t know who Ralph Palmer is.
“Okay,” I say, finally. “Okay, I just need to call Hailey.”
But Elijah’s already taking my hand and pulling me down the stairs, Chase appearing as out of nowhere and moving down the stairs in front of us, clearing the way.
Hailey answers my call just as we reach the bottom of the stairs, the music swelling around us and making it hard to hear what she’s saying.
“Hailey,” I say. “Hailey, we have to go. I don’t have time to explain, but just meet us at –”
“Abigail!” She’s screaming, and for a second, it takes me a second to realize it’s not just so she can be heard over the music.
I shove a finger into my other ear in an effort to try to hear her better.
“Hailey? Hailey, meet us outside, okay? I can explain when --”
“HELP ME!” she screams. “Oh my God, oh my God, he’s cutting me! He’s cutting me, Abigail, he’s cutting me! Oh my –”
“Hailey! Hailey! Where are you?”
But before I can get an answer, the phone goes dead.
The End of Part Nine
Look For Part Ten, Coming Soon!
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