by A. Zavarelli
His brand of kink was marking me in every possible way he could think of. At first, I’d assumed it was a cruel way to remind me I belonged to him, but now his request made me think otherwise. He was the one who wanted the reminder.
I didn’t know this man. I had no idea what he looked like, other than that he was solid and strong. He was a complete stranger, and yet it seemed he knew my body intimately. As though he knew things about me that even I didn’t. Things I would like. Things that I shouldn’t.
The thought was disturbing on a level I couldn’t even process. But once I’d gotten over my shame in that hotel room, I realized something. Shame couldn’t have a place inside of me if there wasn’t a part of me that had enjoyed it. Enjoyed the terrible things he did to me. What kind of person did that make me?
I closed my eyes and let out a shaky breath, and the phone chimed again.
Don’t make me ask twice, Brighton.
I snatched it up with a glare and turned on the camera, angling it towards my shoulder. No way was I sending him the one he’d left on my inner thigh. I sent the text through and tossed the phone on my bed, resolved not to think about it for the rest of the day.
When I walked to my closet, I chose an outfit that reflected my mood. Black. The dress was a size too large and sort of resembled a paper bag. It had cost me five dollars on a bargain rack three years ago, and it had well and truly seen better days. But I took pleasure in wearing the most unappealing thing I owned. He didn’t deserve my primping.
Which led me to my makeup and hair decisions. I rarely wore much makeup anyway, but today I opted for only the bare minimum of mascara. My hair was thrown into a messy bun, and I removed my necklace and earrings. I wanted him to know I wasn’t making an effort for him. He wanted control of my body? Fine. But he didn’t control how much time I spent on my appearance.
I held my head high as I walked out the door and left for work. The more distant and cold I could remain in this situation, the better. I’d even managed a smile as I stepped into the elevator. One of my co-workers could barely hide her disdain at my clothing choice. It was all very humorous until I got to my desk.
A blank envelope waited for me. It was your typical run of the mill manila, but my stomach dipped at the lack of anything on the front of it. Sure enough, when I opened it up, I found a hotel key card along with a date and time. Seven o’ clock this evening.
I glanced around the office with red cheeks, wondering if anybody had seen who delivered this. But they were all milling around without any notice of me. Or at least that’s what I thought until I saw Matt.
His dark brown eyes met mine across the office, and they held a hint of concern. My gaze dropped, and a moment later, he was in front of me.
“Brighton, are you alright?”
He wrapped his large hands around my arms in a way that reminded me of Brayden. I had the sudden urge to hug him. To confess everything and beg him to help me. Only, he couldn’t, and I was being ridiculous.
“I’m okay.” I gave him a watery smile.
He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a sharp voice broke the tension. We both turned to see Ryland summoning him from his office with an icy smile.
Matt cursed under his breath as he released me and walked off. I hoped I would see him again at lunch because I could have used a good dose of his lighthearted humor. But he dashed those hopes when he told me he had to leave the office to work on a project.
I spent the rest of the afternoon at my desk, even working through my lunch break. It wasn’t until Ryland set a yogurt and a banana in front of me that I broke my trance.
“You need to eat, Miss Valentine.”
The warmth in his voice surprised me, but when I looked up into his eyes, I saw a hint of unease there. He was making it very difficult not to think about him when he continued to pay me little visits like these. Could he see through my act so clearly? It was odd considering he didn’t even remember me. He wasn’t the type of man who would forget names or faces. The more I watched him, the more I knew that was true.
Even now, he was adjusting the stack of papers on my desk, lining them up with the edges. I doubted he even realized he was doing it. I stared at his fingers for far too long before I caught myself.
“Thank you, Mr. Bennett.” I smiled up at him.
“Please call me Ryland.” He leaned against my desk, scrutinizing me.
“Ryland,” I corrected. If only he knew that’s what I’d been calling him all along… inside of my head.
“Stacey told me you hadn’t eaten lunch,” he explained. “I hope she’s not working you too hard.”
Just the mention of Stacey had my muscles tensing. Thank God she’d eased up on me over the last week. I wouldn’t have been able to handle her on top of everything else.
“Of course not,” I replied. “I just wasn’t that hungry today.”
“Well, you should eat,” he encouraged. “And take a break. I don’t want people to start thinking I’m a slave driver.”
There was a hint of a smile on his face now, and my heart did a little flip inside of my chest. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, I was transported back to five years ago. I was on my back porch, completely under his spell. And if he kept looking at me like that, then maybe he would kiss me too…
I bolted up out of my chair and nearly knocked over my paperclips again. Ryland frowned.
“I’ll take my break now,” I blurted. “Thanks again for the food.”
Ryland nodded, but he didn’t leave. I wished he would. I couldn’t stand there with him looking at me that way. Making me feel things that were no good for me. And yet my eyes wandered over his body, imagining what it would be like to have his hands on me again. To feel their warmth and their strength, and to know I had invited them. That it wasn’t something I’d been coerced into doing. It was a fantasy I could entertain, if only briefly.
For once Suffering Stacey appeared at a good time, popping up with a mug of coffee for Ryland.
“Mr. Bennett, I have those files you requested.”
He didn’t take his eyes off me as he jerked his chin towards his office.
“Enjoy your lunch, Miss Valentine.”
***
I woke to his breath skating over my skin, his scent surrounding me as the heat of his body pressed against mine.
It wasn’t any particular cologne that I could narrow down. It was a simple, clean scent. A faint hint of soap and laundry detergent. I wondered if that was intentional so I couldn’t identify him later.
The blindfold was on, but judging by my sleepiness, he was late. Very late. I must have been asleep for at least a couple of hours. He didn’t speak as I came to, he simply continued to worship my body with his lips.
Admittedly, it felt good. I’d been between the clutches of a dream and reality when I finally woke. Only, it was Ryland’s face in my dream, hovering over me as he kissed every inch of my skin. Traces of cinnamon and amber bathing my body everywhere he touched. I wanted it to be him. Oh God, how I wanted it to be him.
“Brighton,” he groaned.
It was such a simple word. Just my name on his lips. But the way he said it was different from every other word I’d heard him say so far. His voice was always tight, in control. But when he said my name, he lost that control.
His hands trailed up the delicate skin of my rib cage, and I shivered beneath them. How had he managed to take my clothes off without me feeling it?
“Where’s my dress?” I asked.
He didn’t like my question. His hand tangled in my hair as he brought his lips to my ear.
“Clever girl. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? That dress, as you call it, was cut off the moment I stepped in here.”
“Cut off?” I repeated, my voice trembling.
“That’s what I said,” he hummed. “You are a very beautiful girl, Brighton, and I like to look at you. But do I need to put something as simple as pride in your appearance in the agreement a
s well?”
Whether it was his intention or not, his words actually hurt me. I grew up being treated like trash, and anyone who saw the way we lived would have agreed. But I didn’t like to think it was true.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t have a lot of nice things, but I’ll do better next time.”
“You have a lot to be sorry for today.” He nipped at my ear. “Are you ready to redeem yourself?”
My entire body stiffened beneath him. He said he would punish me, but a part of me had secretly hoped he’d forgotten while he explored my body.
I bit my lip and waited, but he simply pulled it free with his thumb and kissed me. It was soft and gentle. Hesitant even. With the blindfold on, I was so attuned to his every sound that I could hear the change in his breathing. Was it excitement, or duress? What I wouldn’t give to see his face now. To unlock this mystery.
“It won’t be so bad.” He reached forward and tugged a lock of my red hair. “In fact, I think you may even enjoy it. I can tell there’s a little bit of darkness inside of you too, Brighton. Whether you like to admit it or not.”
His words were worse than a slap to the face. Was he insinuating I was like Norma-Jean?
“I’ve often wondered what your vices are,” he continued. “There has to be something. I didn’t believe the sweet and innocent act for a moment. Not until I was inside of you for the first time.”
He flipped me over on the bed during the middle of his little speech, positioning my body on all fours.
“But do you know what I realized that day, Brighton?” he asked. “I think you like to be hunted.”
His hands came down around my hips and squeezed the flesh of my ass. “You like the rough way I treat you, don’t you? Like to be used as I see fit.”
I whimpered beneath him but didn’t respond. I couldn’t. It didn’t matter what punishment he wanted to dole out, I would never admit defeat to this twisted son of a bitch.
He let out an impatient sigh, followed by the distinctive sound of a belt buckle being tugged from his pants.
My legs shook, and I was finding it difficult to keep my composure. Thinking I was strong was one thing, but when it came down to it, I wasn’t. I’d grown up in a rough neighborhood, and I’d been bullied more times than I could count. I was forever being called scum and teased for my red hair. They were just words, but they hurt all the same. If it wasn’t the kids, it was Norma-Jean slapping me around. I thought those things had toughened me up, made my armor impenetrable. I was wrong. Because right now, I was terrified.
His fingers trailed along my spine, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Shhh…” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the back of my neck. “It’s okay, baby girl. Just breathe for me.”
I took a couple deep breaths, and he kissed his way back down my spine, distracting me. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want him to be gentle or try to comfort me when he was playing these sick games.
“You have a beautiful back,” he murmured. “Every part of you is beautiful, but this…” He pressed his fingers into the dimples on my lower back and squeezed. “This was meant to be naked.”
Something else trailed along my skin then, and it wasn’t his fingers. It was soft, yet hard at the same time. Leather.
I squeezed my eyes shut and took another deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. I could do this. I could do this. I had to do this.
“Do you remember what I said in the agreement about your body?” he asked.
“How could I forget?”
A small sting spread across my skin when he tapped it with the belt. “I’m not playing games here, Brighton. When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”
“You said my body belongs to you,” I snarled.
He laughed then, stroking his hands over my back again. He couldn’t seem to stop touching it.
“That attitude is going to get you nowhere,” he replied. “But nonetheless, it does amuse me that you still think you’re above admitting it. Am I not up to your standards, my little lotus flower? The high and mighty daughter of Frank Gallo thinks she is too good for me?”
There was clear venom in his words, and it was obvious he was taunting me. It had the intended effect.
“You think you know so much about me?” I spat. “You didn’t do your homework well enough because he was never anything more than a sperm donor. Now let’s get this over with.”
“Very well.” His voice was pure silk now. “I’m going to count to ten,” he explained. “And every time I strike you, I want you to repeat part four of our agreement, verbatim. Do you remember what that is, Brighton?”
“My body is yours to do with as you please,” I stated blandly.
“That’s it,” he praised me. “See, I knew you were a clever girl. But don’t stumble over the words or forget to say it, because if you do, that means we have to start over. Understand?”
“Perfectly,” I snapped.
I wasn’t prepared. I thought he was going to draw it out longer as he seemed to be relishing that idea today. So when the first strike sang down against my ass, his voice sounded like it was under water when he counted the first blow.
I reared up in surprise, and he pushed me right back down with a firm palm in the center of my back.
“Forgetting something?” he asked.
“My body is yours to do with as you please,” I panted.
“Good girl.”
It didn’t really hurt the first time. I learned that the second time when he hit me harder in a different place. It was more the shock of it than anything, but my natural instinct was to try to get away.
He swatted me harder still and grabbed my hips to pull me back into place. “You’re making it harder than it has to be, Brighton,” he admonished. “Now we have to start over.”
I whimpered, but I learned my lesson. I clamped my jaw and curled my fingers into the bedspread if I needed to, but I never moved. And with every number he rattled off, I echoed his claim on my body. With every blow, my skin flooded with warmth, and my voice raised to a crescendo.
I was on fire, everywhere. My core ached, and even my breasts were heavy and full. I didn’t understand it. But somewhere along the way, the discomfort had subsided. I had transcended the pain and embraced a euphoric high I’d never even known existed.
It wasn’t until I heard myself moan that I realized the belt was long gone. In its place was him, thrusting into me so hard he sounded possessed. I was still screaming out part four of our agreement with every thrust. I couldn’t stop myself, and it was driving him out of his fucking mind.
His teeth scraped down along my spine, his fingers biting into my hips. He kept telling me how good I felt. How beautiful I was. How much he liked to degrade me. His voice was nothing but a husky whisper in my ear, his breath ragged in his chest. He fucked me like I was the only thing that mattered to him. The only thing that ever mattered. The exchange of power was intoxicating. I was in control now, and there was nothing that could stop my descent into oblivion.
Or so I thought.
I was on the verge of exploding when he stopped, making me whimper in frustration. My orgasm was the only thing I had to look forward to during this exchange, and he was taking it away from me.
“Not yet.”
He was determined to show me who was in control here, and I was determined not to let it be him. But when his thumb started working against my clit, my body won out over my mind.
I bucked against him and cried out for my release when he stopped again.
“Please,” I begged, rocking my hips upward. I was so sensitive I didn’t think I would survive if he didn’t free me from this agony.
“You want to come?” he asked softly.
I didn’t reply. Because as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Cool air settled over my skin when he pulled away, and for a minute, I worried that he was going to punish me again. But after a few adjustments, the heat of his br
eath skated over my inner thighs. With the first lick, he had me on edge. Again. He teased me with the softest of touches before pulling away.
He flipped me onto my back and left me lying there, flushed and on the verge of a psychotic break. I never knew that I could want something so much, but I did. I was worse than Norma with her pills. What the hell was happening to me?
I wanted to scream. I fisted the covers in my hands when he pushed himself back inside of me. His lips were on mine a moment later, covered in my arousal, but I didn’t care. I kissed him back fiercely, punishing him the only way I could as I nipped at his lips and tugged on his hair. He thrived on my reaction, giving it back just as good as he got. His teeth pulled at my lip until I tasted blood, which he sucked into his mouth with a groan.
I sank my nails into his back, and he responded by wrapping his hand around my throat in warning. For some crazy reason, it was making me wet. This vicious romp. The savagery of our connection. He had tapped into a part of my psyche that I didn’t know was there. The part of me that liked the pain and fucked up things he was doing to me.
“Tell me what you want,” he murmured against me. “Tell me who you wish was inside of you right now. Making you come.”
I froze at his request. He couldn’t honestly expect me to answer that.
His thumb found my clit again, so swollen and sensitive that tears leaked from my eyes. I needed my release, and he was intentionally torturing me. It shouldn’t have surprised me. He was the worst kind of evil. A predator, and probably a sadist too. I knew this, and yet I kept forgetting whenever he touched me.
“Tell me,” he urged, nipping my ear as I bucked against him.
His cock glided in and out of me with agonizing gentleness while his hands explored my body. Somewhere along the line, he had gained back control, and he was intent on proving it.
“It’s a simple request,” he insisted. “A name, Brighton. There must be someone.”
