by Jaden Wilkes
“Could you be craving more pain? Do you love the sting of the crop so much already?” he said and laid the whip across her stomach. He lifted it and brought it down hard. It stung but didn’t cause enough pain for her to react. She kept her hands at her sides and kept eye contact.
“Or are you craving pleasure?” he asked and stroked her thigh with his fingers. His touch was fire; he left a burning brand along her skin where he traced his finger. “Do you know why I prefer a crop?” he asked.
“No, I can’t imagine why,” she said, forcing herself to keep her voice nonchalant. It was hard though, she wanted to roll her eyes back in her head and writhe like a woman possessed. She just didn’t want him to know that he had that effect on her. Not yet anyways.
“I use a crop because it gives a nice weight, whips sting and leave beautiful patterns on the skin. Much like your scars,” he said and traced the roadmap of healed slashes on her abdomen. “I don’t use a paddle because it seems too playful, I use a whip because this is something you would use on a horse, and animal...property. I use it to remind you that you are now my property, and you will give me what I want.”
“And what is that?” she replied and raised her own eyebrow to drive home that she was totally in control of herself. She realized this was not something she would be able to claim for much longer.
“I want you to want me. I want you to beg me, to need me and to crave me,” he said and stared down at her, his hand resting on her quivering stomach. “I will be inside of you, night and day, you will never escape your need for me.”
He took the crop and lashed her several times up and down her thighs. She gasped out of surprise, but closed her eyes and let the sensations travel up her body. This was like cutting, the intense pain followed by a rush of endorphins. She never imagined being hit would give her the same high.
Dimitri stopped as quickly as he had started, and immediately went to work to bring her pleasure. He ran the crop along her body; the metal knob was cold at first but warmed up on her flesh. He massaged her gently with it, circling her breasts and trailed it down to her pussy. He parted her legs and she squeezed her eyes tighter, thankful for the dim lighting in the room. She felt exposed and uncertain, but needed to see where he was going.
He took the crop and teased her clit with it, the knobby end slid up and down the vertical folds of her pussy while he fingered her hole. He dropped the crop and reached up to grab her throat. A jolt of panic raced through her, but she knew at this point he wasn’t going to kill her; he would never kill her. The utter loss of control and helplessness thrilled her in a way she never thought possible.
He began to thumb her clit with two fingers inside, matching rhythm. His hand closed tighter around her throat and she started to slip away, into the oblivion she usually went to when experiencing physical pleasure.
“Don’t close your eyes,” he ordered and squeezed her neck, hard. He released the pressure when she snapped her lids open and stared at him.
“I’m sorry,” she said to appease him, but in reality this was more foreign to her than the abuse of her body thus far. She didn’t know how to maintain her conscious acceptance of what was going on with her body when she started to reach the heights of orgasm. Her usual route was retreat when the physical pleasure took hold. Previously she had been ashamed and disgusted when she felt this way, but now she was being forced to enjoy it.
“You will be present while I am working with your body, do you understand?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she whispered and nodded her head as much as the limited mobility of having his hand around her neck would allow.
“I want you to feel me,” he said and thrust his fingers into her pussy with each word for emphasis. He pinned her tighter against the platform without actually preventing her breath from flowing. She was panting in shallow gasps but more from the intensity of the moment than lack of oxygen.
She couldn’t help it, she closed her eyes again and began to retreat. It was too much to handle, him inside of her and holding her down. She wanted to feel him, she needed to feel him, but years of conditioning worked against her.
The hand around her throat squeezed tighter and he ordered, “Open your fucking eyes, look at me while I’m inside of you.”
She complied and forced her eyes open, blinking rapidly when she felt tears springing forth from the humiliation she was experiencing.
“I am inside of you, I own you now,” he continued and relaxed his grip on her neck. He continued to attack her pussy with his hand and waves of pleasure shot up her back and down her legs. She curled her toes and fought the need to close her eyes. “Can you feel that?” he asked and thrust his fingers inside again. “I am inside of you, I have your life in my hands. I could close my hand and break your neck, but I don’t...I pleasure you instead. I bring you pleasure, I bring you your life. Never forget that.”
She nodded and moaned, pushed her hips against his hand, wanting more of him. He added a third and fourth finger, but maintained the thumb pressure on her clit. She was moaning and sighing, her hands clenching and unclenching as her body responded to his demands.
She felt it then, like a dam breaking. Years of torture, self loathing, the night time rapes, the pathetic unrequited crush on Stuart, his disgust in the truck, her cutting and hating and giving up her life for Eden. All of it came crashing forth and hit her like a speeding vehicle.
She emitted a high-pitched gasp that sounded almost surprised. Everything came to the front of her brain at once and she wanted it gone. She wanted Dimitri to exorcise the demons of her past and force her to move beyond them. She wanted him to hold her in place, examine her entire shitty life and let the worst parts flow out of her, flow forth from some deep well of self hatred and exit her body.
He was drawing the poison from the wound and she needed him to continue this time. She needed him to do this for her; she was convinced of it. She didn’t care where it was coming from, some might call it codependent, some might call it Stockholm Syndrome...some might even call it fucking sexual healing; she just knew she needed it to happen.
Her eyes were wide open now and staring into his. He had a bemused expression on his face, as though he hadn’t yet realized the importance of this event. He loosened the hand on her throat and let her rise towards him, cradled her in his arm and he fucked her pussy with his other hand.
“Yes,” she gasped, her voiced cracked and she suppressed a sob.
“Yes, what?” he asked, watching her face, waiting for her reply.
“Yes, I want to stay,” she said, “I want to stay with you, to come with you, I want to be with you. I want to fuck you, I want your cock.” She sobbed then as she admitted her need to him...to herself. In such a short time Dimitri had transformed her, from a stunted, terrified little rabbit to a woman...a woman who knew what she wanted and at this exact moment, she wanted nothing more than to come.
But she felt him pull out. He intended to torture her again, withhold her orgasm. She couldn’t let it happen, he had realized something was different this time, but she knew he didn't understand how important this was.
She needed to let her pussy flow, cover his hand with her juices and let him set her free. She needed to burn everything rotten in her mind and let this new acceptance of her perversion take root.
But he was withdrawing; she could sense it in his body language. She could not let that happen. “Not this time, no,” she screamed and grabbed his arms. She pulled herself up closer to him and registered his surprise with satisfaction. She bucked her hips hard against his hand, enveloping him with her cunt and hung off him. Realization hit him the moment she sank her teeth into his bicep and screamed her orgasm. She bit hard; she felt him wince and admired his control. He did not pull back, did not push her away.
She kept her eyes open and stared right at the Bratva tattoo of the Virgin Mary as she came, fully aware and present in her body, for the very first time. She panted through her clenched teeth and rolled his
flesh in her mouth. He groaned and whispered, “That’s it, now I have you, little dove. That’s my girl, come on, there you are,” as her pleasure peaked. She hung there on the precipice, the mid point in something new, hovering for a moment between who she was and who she was going to be.
He held his fingers still inside of her and circled his thumb slowly around her swollen clit. At once she felt a rush of energy coming from somewhere deep inside of her and she was released. She felt as though she left her body, as though she was looking down at this magnificent beast of a man, all muscles and tattoos and rough edges, and felt her heart swell. She didn’t even know if he knew what he had done. He had given her the freedom she so desired, by taking all control; he had released her from the horrors that had haunted her.
Her consciousness slammed back down into her body and felt a gush of juice flowing from her pussy. She opened her teeth and slid her tongue along the skin where she had bitten. She could feel the ridged indentations of her bite mark and heard his sharp intake of breath and she sucked. He slowly withdrew his hand from inside of her, pausing when she twitched and clenched her aftershocks against his flesh. He finally pulled it out and she knew he must be covered in the liquid evidence of her intense orgasm.
She looked up at him, almost embarrassed but past any sense of humiliation at this point. Her hair was tangled and wet with her sweat and he took his finger and brushed a tendril from her eyes, like a lover. She could smell the sweet tangy scent of herself on his hand as it passed her face.
“Now that is what I wanted to hear,” he said and smiled at her. This was the first genuine smile she had seen and his face radiated with it. He was a handsome man to begin with, but when his smile reached his eyes and they shone with his approval, she felt as though her fate were sealed.
She would be his; there was no other option for her. She would follow him to the ends of the earth, the depths of hell, through fire and suffering just to be with him. She would never let him go.
Chapter Seventeen – Dimitri
When she came at him like a ferocious little wild cat, he had been taken by surprise. He thought they were going to settle into another slow build up where he advanced, she retreated and they repeated the process until she broke down and he denied her pleasure again.
She had been abused in the past; tortured even if she was the one who had done the cutting, some fucking bastard had been the catalyst for her to destroy herself. He hated that man almost as much as he hated Sergei, every time he looked at her body, he felt an overwhelming desire to tear that man apart and let her bathe in his blood.
He thought she was helpless until she roared her need and sank her teeth into his arm. The first shock of pain had startled him; he’d almost slammed her back down and dropped his fist in her face. If he hadn’t been deep inside her cunt at that point, he might just have done this. The pain elevated him though, his cock was raging hard as he played with her, the sight of her wiggling around on the end of his arm was almost enough to make him lose his mind, but her bite had taken it to the next level.
The look on her face had been ethereal. She never closed her eyes, even though he could tell she was fighting to keep them open. She stared at his arm, his tattoo, as though letting it guide her through some dark places. He realized then how important this was for her, and continued to fuck her cunt with his hand, kept his thumb on her clit. Her intensity was almost otherworldly and he knew if he pulled away now, something in her would be broken. He was driven by her need for him; he pushed through the pain of her teeth in his flesh and took her beyond anywhere she had ever been.
He had a suspicion that he had been part of something big with her, a transformation of sorts. She looked completely different after she came. Her eyes were shining when she released his skin and sucked it tenderly. She looked up at him with her lips on his arm and he knew he had to have her at last. He knew he had to plunge his cock inside of her and release his own building madness. Everything he had been through in his life had led him to this moment. Every woman he’d turned away from, every whore he’d paid and sent on her way...every single horrific thing that had happened to him came to this exact moment and he was overcome with a singular thought...to make her his, to claim her heart, body and soul.
He watched her face as she came back down to earth from the heights she had reached. She licked her lips and met his gaze again. Her eyes were lit from within, the look of a woman who had just discovered the source of her power, her pleasure. He wanted take her there, on the platform, but could not. It was too cold, too sterile, and she deserved so much more.
His arm ached from her bite; he brushed her hair away and rubbed the wound. It would leave a bruise, and potentially a permanent mark. She saw him do this and drew back, fearful of his reaction to her aggression.
“No worries, little dove,” he reassured her, “It was worth the pain to hear you agree to my terms, to stay with me.” He stroked her hair and she settled down, he wanted her to trust him.
He’d never felt this way before, not in the years he’d been on the planet, not with any of the women he’d ever been with. The whores, the girls, the women...all of them had passed through his life like water through his hands, leaving not a mark on him. This girl though, Columbia, as beautiful and fragile as a little bird...he wanted to cup his hands and lose not a drop. He wanted to hold her in his arms and carry her through his life, never let her go.
She stretched, a small gesture, but one that emphasized the natural grace of her body. Her orgasm had left a flush on her skin and her scars stood out, red against the creamy white. She was beautiful in the light, the sweat glistening on her forehead and a smug, content smile tugging at her lips.
“I want you to fuck me, Dimi,” she said and looked up at him from under her long, thick lashes.
“What did you call me?” he asked, it stirred some memory in him.
“Dimi, I think I shall call you Dimi,” she said and laughed, a tiny tinkle of sound that fell off her lips with an exhalation of breath.
“Not many people have ever called me that,” he said to her and swept her into his arms. She moved her hands to the back of his neck to support herself, but she was nothing for him to carry. “And I do believe I can fulfill your other request,” he added, kissed her parted lips, and carried her out of the room, down the long hallway and into his bedroom.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked as he walked.
“Away from here, to a place you deserve to be,” he replied.
He had never shared this space with another human being. He had never spent the night with a woman, or slept beside one. His constant paranoia forced him to keep his distance, even before he was being hunted by his former mentor. She moved her head and took it all in, the obvious masculine touches in the heavy furniture and the odd item thrown in by the designer to give it...something. Dimitri had never been good at paying attention when the nuances of design were thrown at him.
“This is your room?” she asked when he set her down.
“Yes, my space,” he said. “I felt compelled to bring you here to…” he trailed off. Where was his manhood? Where was his voice?
“I like it,” she replied. “It’s very you.”
He didn’t have a response; he was having the hardest time reconciling this situation. There was a woman in his realm, and a woman he thought of as his prisoner. Hours before he had thought nothing of punching her, making her bleed and beg for her life. He could have flicked his hand and ended her life as casually as ordering another drink in another life.
Not now. Now he felt like a giant in front of her, an awkward, bashful creature not worthy of her ethereal beauty.
“Are you going to kiss me?” she asked him. She stood directly in front of him, stuck her lower jaw out and defied him to say no. How could he at this point? He was so far gone that he was becoming a different person, a man unsure of his own heart.
He was sure he wanted to kiss her though, to taste her mouth on his and
feel her breath in his lungs.
So he did.
He reached out and pulled her towards him, she melted against his body, their heat burning into each other. She sighed and smiled, looked up at him and waited. He held her there, gingerly, not wanting to harm her. The same hand that had slapped her face hours ago now touched her with the careful study of a blind man feeling her features for the first time.
“You are a beautiful woman,” he said at last when he had drunk his fill of looking at her.
“Now who’s the liar?” she replied and laughed, the same ironic disbelief that he had barked when she claimed him handsome.
“No, you really are quite breathtaking, little dove,” he insisted and wrapped his fingers in her hair, knotting it in his knuckles. She had her mouth partially open as though to reply, but the anticipation hung thick in the air and she thought better of it at the last moment.
Her mouth was soft and pliable, hot and wet and waiting for his. He lost his indecision the moment his lips touched hers and he snaked his tongue against hers. He kissed her then, with a force and intensity that surprised even him.
Dimitri wasn’t really a kisser. He had kissed women, but it was always more of a perfunctory path to get to other places. He was immediately consumed with kissing Columbia, he wanted to kiss her, he could imagine hours spent exploring her mouth with his. The heady feeling he had when he was entwining his tongue with hers was akin to several glasses of hard liquor. She intoxicated him.
She made a small noise against his tongue; her breath vibrated from her throat and touched his mouth. It was strange to him, that he felt her voice against his flesh, adding another dimension to this experience. He wanted to devour her with all of his senses, to consume every inch of her, never coming up for air.
She ran her hands over his body, up to his head and rubbed the hair coming in. He touched her naked body, felt the scars along her arms and rib cage, and knew he needed to feel them on his body.
