by Lilly Black
“It’s a big deal to me, and I swear to God, I will never touch you in anger again. I never meant to hurt you like this,” he says, pulling me onto my side to face him. I keep my head down, but now that both of us have adjusted to the darkness, he notices my swollen, red eyes.
“Or like this,” he says, tracing the edges with his hand. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“Rain did this, not you,” I explain.
“This is the last time. Evan, I swear. If any bitch from my past ever does anything to try to hurt you or to drive you to leave me again, she’s dead.”
“You’re the only one who could ever make me leave you.”
“Swear it,” Cain commands, his eyes fixed on mine, “because losing you would destroy me.”
“I swear,” I assure him, and his expression melts into a smile. I smile back, but it’s a misrepresentation of what I’m feeling at this moment because I have made a decision. I’m going to explain what predisposes me to expect the worst in people. I owe him that much.
“Cain,” I say as I move to sit against the headboard. “It’s time I told you something about my past.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything if you’re not ready,” Cain says.
“I’ll never be ready,” I admit, then I take a deep breath and steel myself to begin. “My scars…my scars were made by a knife. They’re from hundreds of small cuts.”
“Who cut you?” he demands protectively as if there’s some dragon he can slay to make this all better. There isn’t.
“I cut myself…when I was a kid,” I confess.
“Why? Why would you cut yourself? Why…there?”
“I like to pretend that I chose that spot because it’s private and hidden, but that’s not the truth. I cut myself there because…” My throat closes up, and as I pause Cain waits patiently for me to channel my courage into what I am about to divulge. The tears, hot and stinging my already raw cheeks, roll quietly down to drip from my chin onto my thighs, and it’s as quiet as a tomb in the suite, every sound amplified as the words I speak fly from the security of my mouth on butterfly wings, never to be mine alone again.
“I did it because I felt…” Struggling to get the rest of the words out, my voice is as small as a mouse. “I felt ugly inside, so I made myself ugly on the outside. What man would ever want me with these horrible scars?”
“Me,” Cain says resolutely as he pulls me into his lap so fast it takes my breath away. He puts his arms around me and holds me tight against his chest, and when he speaks, his tone is soothing and fatherly. “Baby, I wouldn’t care if you had burn scars over two thirds of your body. I would still want you, and you would still be the most beautiful woman in the world.” His compassion makes the tears fall harder.
“Please don’t cry, Evan. Yes, I noticed the scars, but not because they’re ugly or horrible. They’re barely there.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say as I wipe my face with the back of my hand, forcing myself to suck up this weakness. “I made those scars a long time ago, and I’m not the same person anymore. It’s just that when Rain put the thought in my head of you doing the things we do with other women and calling them Domina, it made me feel like I did when I made the scars, so I had to leave you because I couldn’t face it. I’m just too vindictive to let myself run without confronting you.”
“Thank God,” Cain says with an soft laugh, then turns me sideways in his lap to look in my eyes. “You know how beautiful you are to me, everything about you - your body, your face, your practically nonexistent scars, your red, puffy eyes, and your welted ass. How could you ever doubt that?”
“Cain, it took everything I had to overcome the fear that you just saw me as a conquest, and when Rain made it all come flooding back, I just…”
“You couldn’t stop yourself,” Cain says understandingly. “Baby, I don’t ever want that thought to cross your mind again. When I thought you were leaving me, I didn’t even want my next breath. I tied you up because I didn’t know what else to do.”
“If you had untied me and let me go, I don’t know what I would have done. I needed you to stop me, and you always know what I need,” I admit. “I love you too much, Cain. It scares me.”
“Ditto,” he says, kissing me atop the head, as for the first time, I become cognizant of the fact that not only have I confessed one of my most carefully guarded secrets to him, I have done so completely naked, sitting curled up in his lap in what I am sure is a terribly unflattering pose, yet I don’t have the slightest concern that Cain is thinking any of the negative thoughts about my body that would normally be going through my mind. Then, as if I need further evidence that he is the most thoughtful man alive, he changes the subject so I don’t have to find my own way back from the bad memories.
“So,” he says, falling back on the bed and pulling me with him. “What do you say we call room service for dinner, and for dessert, I can slather a cold, soothing gelato on your ass and lick it off while I regale you with what I recall from every last one night stand I’ve ever had just so there are no more surprises?”
“I say yes to dinner, but afterward, in the interest of saving time, I could tie you to the cross while you list every woman you haven’t slept with,” I tease.
“It would take the least time if I just listed all the women who have ever meant anything to me.”
“Go on,” I say, already sure of the answer but needing to hear it anyway.
“Well, there’s you…” he says then looks off into the distance as if he’s thinking.
“And?” I ask impatiently.
“Just you, babe. There’s only ever been you.”
October 9
“Do you have anything more you need to confess to me about your past?” I ask, swatting Cain with the riding crop as he’s blindfolded and bound in front of a window, his wrists tethered to robe hooks on opposite sides. He hesitates.
It’s Wednesday evening, and though we have put the horrors of Monday behind us with the exception of the fading reminders across my ass, it has taken me a this long to feel potent enough to initiate a game I’ve had in mind. That night, he had us moved up to the Penthouse Suite so the repairs could be made to our room, and though it isn’t set up for bondage, it’s so amazing, I’m willing to improvise.
For the past two days, Cain has been so gentle, making love to me, no more dominant in the bedroom than any man who has never held a whip, and out of the bedroom, he has been a supportive, understanding father figure, making me feel like my secrets are as safe with him as they are locked away inside my mind. He hasn’t pressed me for more information, allowing me to pretend Monday’s events never happened, and although he never regaled me with stories of his one night stands, he has given me the confidence to turn it all into a game tonight. Dressed in a tight, straight skirt with my hair pulled into a bun, I look severe as I wield my riding crop in the role of interrogator and Domme, those three little words put aside for tonight.
“I asked you if you have anything more to confess, Mr. Ballantyne,” I repeat, the crop grazing his shoulder blades as I hold it there threatening him. “More infidelity? Threesomes? Orgies?”
“No, Domina. No more threesomes. No orgies.” He snickers.
“Am I funny?” I demand, and for the first time, I bring the crop down across his back with serious intent. He startles.
“No, Domina.”
“Then you must be trying to distract me from the fact that you did not say that there was no more cheating to confess,” I say sternly, swinging the crop across his back again. As it wraps around his side, he takes a sharp breath in.
“Some things may have slipped my mind.”
“Slipped your mind?” I feign shock.
“My entire past is meaningless compared to you, Domina.”
“You always know just what to say, don’t you?” I accuse, pulling his head back by a handful of hair with one hand as I reach around him with the other to find his cock standing at attention.
When the hooks have outlived their usefulness, I release him. Though robbed of the bondage table, this suite has a massage table, and I guide him into the small massage room and direct him to stand at the end, facing it as I sit on the table in front of him, my skirt hiked up to reveal that I am not wearing panties. With several candles burning, the light in this room isn’t as dim as I normally prefer, but now that Cain accepts my scars, I toy with the idea of unsnapping his eye flaps as I feel his hands begin creeping up my thighs. He pushes my legs apart, pulling me to the end, and as I feel his beautiful cock stiff against my clit, in a moment of utter abandon, I reach out and pull the blindfold down around his neck. His eyes bore through me, and knowing what I want, he takes over, gently pushing me back to lie on the table as he leans into it.
My whole body awakens to him, and when I feel his hands inching north of the once forbidden line, I barely flinch, even when he shoves my legs wide apart, his fingers touching my scars. Then I feel his lips upon me, blinding me to all else as he pushes me closer and closer, his mouth covering me, his tongue relentless. I can already feel the orgasm…
No! My body screams as he stops cold. I know why he does shit like this. He wants to make me say things I don’t want to say, and…
You know what? Fuck it! I think as I realize I don’t have to hide like a shy, little girl anymore. I sit up, lifting his face by my hand under his chin, and I glare into his eyes.
“If I wasn’t so addicted to your tongue, I would climb off this table and beat the fuck out of you right now,” I say, stern and deliberate. “Do not test me again.”
“Yes, Domina,” he says as I lie back, feeling insecure about it but proud of myself just the same. Cain doesn’t fuck with me, taking me back to the edge, building up to full force and pulling me hard against his face with his hands clutching my outer thighs as if he cannot get his mouth close enough to me. He moans, and the sound vibrates around my clit as his tongue worships me, raising me up to a state of ethereal bliss.
“Don’t even think about stopping,” I threaten, my voice a low growl, and finally being able to command him in the midst of the act is so powerful, I’m pushed instantly over the edge. I grasp for something to hold onto, and Cain offers me his hands. I grip them tightly, our fingers intertwined, half moons digging into his knuckles viciously, and I scream, my words incoherent as he prolongs my pleasure, driving me to the brink of insanity.
When it subsides, I begin to pull away, but Cain doesn’t stop, forcing me through a moment of burning sensitivity to the other side. I come again, my every muscle tensing, my eyes rolling back in my head as he guides me through an orgasm just as powerful as the first…maybe more powerful. I don’t know because I can’t think. All I can do is feel. I feel the effects his gifts hitting my veins like a drug, and when I start to come down, he gives me another dose.
“Oh, God!!!” I cry, my legs trembling and my knees aching as I thrust myself against his face, writhing until my body has had absolutely all it can take, and I collapse on the table, utterly euphoric.
“Oh, my g…you’re so…fuck…Cain…oh, m…fuck…” I breathe the words, if they are words, and Cain laughs, proud of what he’s done to me. Unable to recover my Domina persona as I drown in a sea my own endorphins and his magnificence, he takes command, pulling me forward until my legs hang off the end of the table. He leans over me, pinning my hands above my head as he shoves his cock into me, and I explode almost immediately, bracing him with my legs and holding him in deep as he thrusts his tongue into my mouth, smothering my cries.
I want more.
I order him to lie on his back on the massage table, and I straddle him, holding his legs immobile with my feet so I can set the pace as I lift and lower myself onto his cock.
“I love it when you use me like a toy, Domina,” he whispers as he watches me atop him. I lean back, giving him a better view of his cock disappearing into me as I fuck him slowly until I just can’t hold back anymore.
“Blindfold on,” I order him breathlessly, not wanting him to see how awkward I’m about to look. He obeys, and I move onto my feet, squatting over him to fuck him hard and fast like I like it. He grabs my hips, helping me, taking me swiftly to the gates of heaven and throwing me inside as he brings me down hard on his cock, clutching my flesh in his hands, prolonging the pleasure until there’s nothing left in me but an intense, dulcet afterglow.
And now it’s my turn to be his toy.
I slide off the table to retrieve a bottle of flavored lube from the nightstand, and I spread it on my chest before I climb back up and sit between his legs. Leaning over him, I push my tits together and begin sliding his cock between them. I hear his breath catch.
“What the fuck…oh, God…” He moans, and I wonder if he knows what I’m doing because even if he has had this done to him by one of the exes I’ve seen, sacs of saline beneath tanned hide would feel very different from the smooth, sun-denied flesh of my tits. I roll my body as his cock glides up and down, popping the head in my mouth when it peeks out at the top, and as I knead my flesh around him, he whispers my name, curses and praises it, savoring every second as I fuck him with my tits. I move faster, twisting my upper body as his cock snakes through the tight opening I’ve made for him until he reaches the point of no return, and I order him to remove his blindfold.
“Oh, fuck!” he cries, not taking his eyes off me even to blink as I allow him to come with nothing over the tip of his cock but my waiting, open mouth. When I release him, wiping my lips with the back of my hand, I’m taken completely off guard when Cain sits up and thrusts his tongue in my mouth, his chest pressed against mine, not caring that I’m covered in lube and come.
“God, I fucking love you, woman,” he breathes.
October 11
Friday night, we’re flying back to home to San Diego, and as I sit in the cockpit watching Cain bring us down for another safe, uneventful landing, I start wishing he was the only pilot. I wouldn’t dare try anything while the plane was moving because I know how seriously he takes flying, but now that we’re on the ground, all I can think about is straddling him in that captain’s chair.
Just after the plane comes to a stop, I slip out of my seatbelt and whisper my craving in his ear. He pulls the headset microphone to his mouth, and I hear him telling the pilots and the ground crew that he will be putting the plane in the hangar tonight by himself. After the pilots and Alicia disembark and the stairs are wheeled away, I feel a little embarrassed that the whole crew probably knows what Cain and I are planning to do, but I guess if I can deal with his chauffeur dressing me in the dungeon, I can deal with anything.
As the plane sits waiting for the hangar doors to open, I leave the flight deck so I can pilfer Alicia’s area for something to complete the role I want to play, and just outside the door I notice a pilot’s hat hanging on a hook. Calling his name, I toss the hat to Cain with a wink, and when he looks back at me, amused, I crinkle my nose and prance away.
In a narrow closet, I find a freshly dry-cleaned, grey pencil skirt and matching, button down blouse, and as Cain slowly steers the plane into the hangar, I sit in the jump seat to change. When the plane comes to a stop, I return to the cockpit as the hangar doors close, making the interior of the plane dark except for the small, colored dashboard lights giving the impression of a night flight.
We ended up staying in the plane for hours, eventually drifting off to sleep in the bedroom. When we wake, I look out the small portal by the bed and see though the high windows of the hangar that it’s still dark outside. Cain is already up and ready to go home.
“How are we going to get out of here?” I ask since the airstairs were wheeled away. He just gives me a mischievous look, and after I get dressed, I come out of the bedroom to find that he has inflated the emergency exit slide.
“Seriously?”
“It’ll be fun,” he says.
“Do I throw the suitcase down first?”
“Leave it. The crew can have
the luggage sent over when they fix what I’ve done here.”
“After what we did in the cockpit, it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to have them recalibrate the instruments.” He laughs, and sitting between his legs, we slide out of the plane. It is fun.
Outside the hangar, Cain leads me to the Maserati parked on the side of the building, which he tells me Lucy left for us hours ago. I guess taking a cab home at midnight was better than making her get out of bed at this hour to pick us up. According to the car’s dashboard, it’s almost 4:00 am.
Holding hands on the short drive home, Cain and I can’t get the silly grins off our faces. We’ve been in a state of bliss all week, so shaken by the fear of losing each other that every touch and whisper has become precious, our connection deeper and more intimate. I never thought love could be this way.
When we’re finally home, the apartment looks amazing. Though we still have to finish the designs, all of the reconstruction was done while we were away. With the new grand foyer and sweeping staircase right out of the elevator, Lucy’s apartment has become more like a wing than a separate unit, but I don’t mind as long as it doesn’t make her feel like the hired help. To that end, we have moved her into a larger apartment on the 36th floor, giving her about a thousand more square feet.
Cain and I head to our separate showers. In my room, I find that Lucy has replaced the old lilies with fresh ones, and as I turn on the steam feature and relax in the comforts of home, my mind wanders back to the hangar and what Cain did to me in the cockpit of that airplane.
The Evening of October 11
“Can I get you something to drink, Sir?” I had asked the pilot, biting my lip and feeling shy about the role playing game I had initiated.
“I’m not thirsty,” Cain had said.
“Can I get you something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Surely there must be something I can get you,” I say with a sultry tone, looking down on him.
“You could get me…off,” he says, and though we laugh at ourselves, the mood quickly turns when I swivel his seat sideways and begin to kneel.
