I’d snapped a few pictures of her a few minutes prior. She had looked so beautifully serene, so utterly at peace that it took my breath away. She was here…with me. I couldn’t buy good fortune like that with all the money I the world. As I took picture after beautiful picture, I wondered what good I’d done in my life to have this woman next to me. This God guy must love me.
She had stirred, a dream-like smile illuminating her features, and the duvet slipped down her body to reveal her plump, kiss-bruised breasts. Instantaneously, I’d gotten hard, ditched the cell phone and slid between her legs, thus my present slow grinding of her warm, wet core.
Delilah rouses and chuckles softly when I rock into her with my morning arousal and wraps her arms around me.
“Good morning, Ben.” Her eyes aren’t even open yet, but she’s grinding her hips to meet me and I just love how her body responds.
“You’re insatiable this morning,” she observes, sleep still thick in her voice.
“I want to erase their every touch,” I murmur into her neck before I even process what I’ve said.
It’s the truth, though. I don’t want a trace of their touch on her body or her mind. I want to rid her of the bad dreams, of the shit that Rick and Ryan put her through. I want to be the one to mend her brokenness and damn it if I won’t be the one to make her world right again.
Delilah shifts and tilts her head down to me, finally opening her mud brown eyes. She strokes my stubbled cheek and her soft voice is like a lullaby when she says, “Every time you touch me, that’s what you do. I don’t want you to ever feel scared to touch me, Ben. I know that’s why you’ve held off for so long.”
Oh, she knows me so well. God, I love this woman. I want to protect her forever, shield her from everything that can possibly hurt her. The guilt of leaving her still looms over me, but I will work my ass off to make up for leaving her like I did.
“Stop beating yourself up,” she admonishes me. Did she just read my mind? How does she do that freaky shit? “I forgive you, Ben.”
“Thank you, Delilah.” Even though I don’t see why she’s not giving me a harder time considering what she went through at the hands of Rick and Ryan.
“They never made me come,” she says, seemingly picking up – yet again – my thoughts of the two miscreants. Freaky shit.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“They tried. They did everything they could think of, doped me up as much as they could, but nothing. I couldn’t climax with them. My body…” She shakes her head before continuing, “My body belongs to you, Ben, and it’s no traitor.”
Sighing from her revelation, it takes all my resolve to not howl about what she just said. I know her body and it has always belonged to me; but God, what she’s been through? It’s enough to make me cry or commit murder. Lord knows I’ve shed enough tears, but to hear it, to think about it, breaks my heart in two.
I really should’ve killed them. That will haunt me forever. No law or justice will satisfy this bloodlust I will forever have for them for hurting Delilah.
I kiss over her heart. They’d done so much to her; hurt her because her body was tied to mine. I wonder if she realizes that there’s no separating us now. She’s mine alright, and I want to show her that I’m all hers.
Delilah pulls me up to her lips, grazing them across my own before taking them into a heated lock. Each stroke of her mouth against mine sends a rush of blood toward my already painfully erect cock. Her tongue nudges my lips and I open, our tongues colliding in a sinfully erotic dance. Each touch ignites a fire in both of us; her body catching aflame with lust as she bucks upward to grind her pelvis against my throbbing length.
I want to savor her, but damn it if she’s not tempting. I’m glad we had chosen to forego our clothing earlier. It makes everything that much easier at the moment.
I scoop her into my arms and bound from the bed, making my way to the Fulfillment Room. Delilah has a wicked gleam in her eye and I’m glad she has the same carnal intent that I do, but this is nothing like she thinks. I must be fucking crazy for what I’m about to do.
Inside, I place her on her feet and switch the lights on. Delilah starts sinking to the floor and I stop her.
“No, baby. I don’t want you to submit yourself to me today.”
She looks questioningly at me, as if awaiting further instructions. I smile, knowing that as much as I want to put control in her hands, she still knows who is in charge; even though I think she has more power over me than I her, but, I will never ever say that to her.
“I’m submitting myself to you, Delilah. I want to show you that I’m all yours.” The words fall from my lips with heartfelt sincerity and my head drops in supplication to the woman who owns my heart.
“What?” Her tone is bewildering and when I look at her face, I see fear.
That just won’t do.
“Mark me, Delilah,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen in shock. Even my own words are a shock to my system. I don’t get marked. I do the marking. Yet, I feel like I need to be branded hers. I want her to mark me, not just out of barbaric ownership, but as an imprint of her own surrender; I want her to give me the pain they gave to her, to absorb it all and rid her of it all.
“Flog me, Delilah. Mark me yours.”
“I can’t,” she answers in a trembling voice.
“Yes, my sweet girl. You can,” I cajole, running a finger down her cheek. “Mark me,” I whisper. “Give me your pain.”
Delilah is shaking now. I walk over to the wall of instruments and unhook the black, leather-bound cat o’ nine tails flogger with red falls and suede spade shapes at the end of each tail. I’d bought it the day after I introduced her to the Fulfillment Room, as I thought that being with her was some type of gamble – witty on my part.
I had never gotten around to using it on her. I have never even flogged her, but I have flogged others. They were my subs. Delilah never was. She was different from the start and I couldn’t bring myself to call her that, to make her into something that other women were to me. She needed to be something special. She needed to be mine.
As I need to be hers.
I approach her dangling the flogger in front of her. She doesn’t take it.
“Delilah, I want you to mark me. You’re mine and I have shown you that repeatedly. Let me show you that I’m yours. Let me feel the pain you felt,” I say. There is no fear in my voice, just genuine passion.
Love.
She takes the flogger with shaky fingers but I don’t release it to her. Delilah looks quickly at me and I give her a stern glare. She squares her shoulders and steadies her fingers, gripping the handle tighter and with greater resolve. That’s my girl, strong as ever.
Letting the flogger go, I turn my back to her and walk over to the far corner of the room where leather restraints are secured on the floor. I slink down, strapping in one hand and Delilah straps the other.
“H-how many?” she asks.
“Fifteen lashes,” I answer, my muscles corded tight. I’m not used to being restrained. I feel so trapped. Knowing that I am with someone I trust is my only consolation.
“What’s your…” she trails off, her voice quavering, and she clears her throat before continuing, “choose your safe word.”
A smile pulls at my lips. That’s easy.
“Aphrodite.”
I know she’s smiling. The air shifts with her brightened mood.
Bowing my head in submission, I await her first blow. I love her completely and I’m hers completely. Me giving up control to her as a sign of complete and total submission to her is powerful, overwhelming and, with anyone else, would have been the stupidest thing I would have ever thought of doing; debasing and utterly emasculating. Not with Delilah. I trust her with everything: my body, my present, my future, my heart.
Delilah leans in and trails kisses down my back and I realize that I am tense. I need to be relaxed for this. Easing into her lips, a calm overtakes me; a resolve
that I am making the right decision.
Quickly, she pulls away and I feel the first lash and am surprised at how much it stings. I grunt, but otherwise, absorb the blow. The second lash is milder.
“Harder, Delilah,” I command. “Give me your pain.”
Delilah slashes the flogger across my back again and it occurs to me that she is still holding back.
“Delilah,” I growl.
She stops and I wonder if she has decided not to do this until I hear her take in a shuddering breath.
The sweet sting sings through my body when the flogger meets my back again, causing my dick to twitch. Another, harder lash has a small moan slipping from my lips. She wields it across my flesh again. Harder. I’m counting.
Seven. I groan. That felt good.
Eight. Harder. Damn.
Nine. My dick is fully erect and yearning.
Every strike opens my eyes; stokes my need for her. I want her. Desire courses through my veins and my cock jerks with every motion.
The lashes increase in power and I realize that she is doing what I want her to – exorcising her pain. The pain I feel is nothing compared to what she went through, but I welcome her using me. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, absorbing everything she has to give me.
At lash thirteen, I close my eyes, tears springing to them; not because the lashes are unbearable – though it stings like a motherfucker – but because this experience is one that ties me to her in every way. We are inextricably linked from here on out.
When our parents used to take Matt and me to Mass as kids – it was only to keep up appearances – we became familiar with the Eucharist, known as Holy Communion. It is a practice amongst those who have been confirmed or baptized to partake of symbolic representations of the broken body and shed blood of Christ. For those persons who partake, it is a sign of taking on the sufferings of Christ and, as such, one “fellowships” in His suffering as a follower – a universal sign of being “His”.
In this very act, almost divine in its nature, I am taking on Delilah’s sufferings. I am unequivocally HERS.
“I want you,” she reveals, her voice thick with lust, as she lays the fourteenth blow.
My back is sweetly burning, my heart is beating a mile a minute, breaths ragged, almost guttural, and my cock is throbbing painfully.
The final lash has me crying out from more than physical pain, but an emotional ache, a throbbing in my heart from envisioning what she’s experienced. Beyond that, I am dying to get out of these restraints so I can fuck my love into her and rid her completely of that poison.
Delilah screams as she lays her final lash across my back and so do I. It’s a battle cry from both of us. We’re going to go to war.
She throws the flogger across the room and it skates underneath the bed, disappearing in the darkness of it. She makes quick work of my restraints, her breaths coming in choppy bursts. As soon as I’m free, I leap up quickly and grab her.
Delilah gazes at me with deep-seated desire, her eyes heavy-lidded with lust. I sweep her into a deep, wild kiss; growls erupting from the back of my throat. She kisses me back with as much ferocity, biting my lips, drawing each other’s blood.
Quickly and tactlessly I ease her onto the floor. With a knee between her legs, I spread her thighs and slam into her in one quick motion; no preamble whatsoever. She cries out and I swallow each of those cries with a scorching kiss.
“That’s it, Delilah. Take every inch of me. Feel me,” I encourage her.
Sinking deeper inside her, I groan as I feel her contract around my pulsating rigidity.
“That’s it…feel me,” Delilah coos, repeating my words.
“Fuck, Delilah.” I almost lose it. I still my movements to stave off the building release, but she clenches around me and I collapse onto her. “Baby, if you keep doing that I won’t last long.”
“Then give me what I want, baby,” she pleads, cupping my face in her soft, small hands. “Make it hurt. Make me feel everything.”
I don’t need any more words. I don’t think I would have even heard any words after that. Her pleas stoke something inside of me and I’m like a bull that has seen red, intent on unleashing the raging force within. I hammer inside her and she digs her nails into my back. The twinge of pain from her nails mixed in with my stinging back only serves to fuel my pleasure and the need to fulfill her every request all the more.
Withdrawing on a long stroke, she gasps at the sudden loss, closing her eyes and savoring the delicious pull out. I barrel forward and slam directly into her pleasure zone, her eyes shocking open and her voice temporarily snatched away.
Her mouth forms a scream, but no words come out. She is writhing underneath me, running her hands all over my back, the contact somehow soothing the raw feelings.
Sweat rolls off our bodies like precipitation, our breathing kicked up a notch by our insatiable desire to satisfy and be satisfied. This is a carnal, sheet-clenching, almost violent moment between us, and I’m enjoying every fucking bit of it.
“You fucking bastard.” Delilah finally finds her voice. She slaps my face hard and kisses me harder. I take her plump bottom lip and suck roughly on it, before releasing the swollen flesh.
Looking down on my beautiful woman thrashing below me, her face flushed and washed with sweat, the lovely sex-driven sounds she’s making, I feel even more carnal.
“Open your eyes,” I growl, grabbing her chin roughly. She whimpers but squeezes them tighter as she soaks up the pleasure from the intensity of my strokes.
“O…pen…them!” I bark each word with a staggering pound, knocking the wind right out of her and forcing her eyes open.
“Oh, God, Ben!” she screams in agonizing pleasure, as her eyes lock with mine.
“You feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock, my sweet girl. You’re tearing me apart with this pussy,” I mumble as I take her lips in another bruising kiss. “We’re one, baby. One.”
Slipping my hand underneath her, I cup her ass, lifting her slightly, and then ram my way forward repeatedly, forcefully, deliciously. I hear the familiar sounds of her core squishing with each sexually torturous thrust and I feel her convulsing around me. Delilah shatters into an infinitesimal amount of pleasurable pieces.
“Fuuuuuccckkkk!” she yells through the room, slapping my chest hard as she rides her passion to a height I’ve never seen her attain. It’s a fucking rebel yell from my fucking rebel girl.
Fuck, yes.
She pushes me away and I see how far her release takes her. She sprays me with her arousal, rubbing her clit as she does. Good…fucking…God! It is the most potent fucking thing to witness, knowing that I’ve made her come so violently.
She slips her fingers around my neck and brings me down to her lips, crashing us together. Even her lips are vibrating, her tongue a mess of nerves on mine. Driving into her again, I don’t let up on my punishing rhythm. I break the kiss and stare down at her and see that she’s crying. I stop.
“Baby, what’s wrong? God, did I hurt you? Shit, I did, didn’t I?” I panic breathlessly, slowly pulling out of her.
Punishing rhythms take a lot out of you.
She stops me. “Don’t. You feel amazing inside me. You make me come so fucking hard. You feel that?”
Her walls clench me, turning me into a ravenous beast. I flip her on her front with a growl, hoisting her round ass up to mid-level and then I sink into her unrelentingly once again.
Delilah still hasn’t come down from the previous orgasm. She pounds the floor as she moans and writhes and I know she’ll come again soon and, fuck, I won’t last much longer either. She feels so perfect. I could live inside her.
I grip her hips and I hammer my way into her, slapping her ass hard as I do. I know she likes it. God, she’s so needy.
“Baby, please come,” she cries. “This feels too good. I can’t take anymore. Come for me, baby.”
“Come with me then,” I demand hoarsely; and I swear that’s not my voic
e. I sound almost demonic.
“No, baby, I don’t want to. I wouldn’t survive another,” she refuses in a whimper.
I drag her back onto my thickness and instead of pounding, I grind against her sweet spot and she bellows a moan in response, slamming her palm even harder into the ground.
“You will come for me,” I grate through gritted teeth. It’s not an option. She will.
“Yes! Okay!” she screams in response. “Make me come hard, baby!”
I pick up speed, shattering her already pulsating walls, feeding her perfect ass with slaps that help to send her over the edge. Her legs stiffen and the walls of her pussy tighten around me, coaxing my release. This is going to shatter both of us, I know it.
“Now, Delilah,” I choke and I find it in me to pump into her twice more before we both fall apart on a mangled scream of each other’s name.
For moments I empty myself into her and she takes it all. Her body is shaking violently and she collapses, whimpering and sniffling. I collapse on top of her, heaving recovering breaths.
“Good, God, what was that?” I muse, breathlessly. Every nerve ending in my body is tingling. I am sweat soaked, and with Delilah spraying me with her release, I am also sex soaked. That…was unbelievable. “Baby, that was beyond words.”
I shake Delilah, wondering if she heard me, but she doesn’t stir. I think she’s unconscious.
“Delilah?” I shake her again. This time she groans and raises a feeble hand to bat me away. “Delilah, baby, are you okay?”
“Go…away, you beast,” she dismisses weakly. “I don’t like you anymore.”
I chuckle softly and scoop her into my arms, carrying her over to the bed where I lay her down. I lie next to her on my side, propping on my elbows and watching her eyes slowly drift closed. I pull her close to me, inhaling her scent and kissing her hair.
“I love you, my sweet girl,” I say softly, but she doesn’t respond. She has drifted off.
Snuggling closer to her, I pull the sheet up to cover our lower halves. She shifts into the curve of my body and sighs contentedly.
Broken Love Page 15
