Luca and I have a quick wedding in Vegas, in one of those chapels in a mega-casino.

I wear a flowy white sundress. Luca wears a white shirt, dress pants, and a bow tie. And the wedding officiant wears a studded white onesie and a black Elvis wig.

Fifteen minutes after we enter the chapel, Luca and I are husband and wife.

We take a picture with Elvis in front of the cute little chapel. We’ll put it somewhere in our home—previously known as Luca’s bachelor pad—to keep the memory fresh.

The picture was quick and painless, but I can’t say the same about the other ways Luca brands me as his.

I’m not talking about the wedding band, of course. The plain ring curled around my finger has yet to inflict any pain on me.

I’m talking about the piercing that Luca gave me a few months ago in his tattoo parlor. Other than the sharp pain when the needle went through my pussy lips, it also hurt during the healing process. It was torture in a whole other sense, too, because I wasn’t supposed to have sex for a month, which only made Luca more eager to tease me.

I’m also talking about the way his tattoo gun is tearing into my skin right now, marking me with indelible ink. The mechanical noise pierces my ears, making the pain feel more intense—not that I mind.

As I lie on the bed, I look up and squint my eyes. The sunlight streaming into our bedroom through the windows hits the white-gold wedding band around my finger, and the metal handcuffs around my wrists.

I grunt as the pain on the outer side of my right thigh grows more intense.

“Regretting this already, doll?” Luca asks without taking his eyes off my skin. The concentration in those knitted eyebrows and intense gaze makes my heart flutter.

“No.” I bite my lower lip to distract myself from the pain.

My core clenches, and I feel myself growing wet. Without a thread of clothing on my body, it’s not going to take long now until my arousal drips down onto the bed.

“Good. Because I’m far from done.” Luca puts his tattoo machine aside for a moment and leans down to kiss my inner thigh before he continues his work.

“Hey, remember when you catfished me online and got me to meet up with you?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the sharp pain.

“Yeah,” Luca says without looking up, keeping his focus on his work.

“How did you get me past the hotel lobby wearing a blindfold?”

“I told them I was giving you a birthday surprise,” he says concisely as his steady hands guide the needle marking my skin with ink.

Okay. It doesn’t seem like he can talk right now. Luca’s great at a lot of things, but multi-tasking isn’t one of them.

We were going to do this at Luca’s tattoo parlor. But since this is basically foreplay for us . . . we decided to do it at home, where I can be naked and tied up on the bed while Luca tattoos me.

I mean, at the parlor, it’d be completely inappropriate for me to have a spreader bar between my legs . . . It would’ve been more convenient, though, because I’m always at the parlor anyway, now that the clinic has moved into the space above it.

Since the move, it’s been a lot easier for me to avoid my mom. Now that I’m not her tenant anymore, she can’t make me talk to her if I don’t feel like it.

I have to give my mom some credit, though. After Luca’s anonymous tip and the subsequent police visit, she’s stopped blackmailing us for drugs.

Judging by the way she looks, she’s still using. I have no idea where she buys from, and I don’t care. But if she tries to bother us again, we’re not above making another phone call to the police.

The cops let her off with a warning the first time, but they’re likely to give her something harsher if they get her a second time.

All in all, I’m glad Luca and I have chosen to stay here in Ashbourne. The clinic’s patients have been happy to follow us to our new location, and I feel like I’m providing a necessary service because there’s literally no other vet in town.

Pretty much all pet owners in town come to the clinic. My days are never boring because I know all my clients, and I can never guess who’s going to drop by on any given day.

I’ve watched Martin’s puppy grow into a handsome adult Maltese with a fluffy coat. I’ve put down a couple of sick, old dogs with terminal conditions. I’ve helped farm animals give birth.

My work forces me to watch intimate moments between pets and their owners. I can choose to get depressed about all the sickness and death, or I can celebrate the new lives I’ve helped to bring into the world and the old ones I’ve helped to prolong.

Sometimes, though, truly unexpected things happen. The kind of things that belong in the “Weird News” section of the paper.

The other day, I saw this cute tabby for a routine check-up. She belonged to Ava, a teacher at the local high school who’d been coming to the clinic forever.

Nothing was wrong with the cat, but something was definitely wrong with Ava’s ex, who was suing her for every dollar he’d ever spent on her—including the twenty bucks it had cost him to build her cat a fort out of cardboard boxes.

That’s not even the worst, though.

I’ve treated a Beagle that had been poisoned—deliberately. The dog belonged to a new girl in town. Her name was Jessica and someone obviously didn’t like her. That was infuriating. I still can’t believe someone could do that to an innocent dog.

Unfortunately, unlike animals, people can be petty and vengeful.

Sometimes, I feel like jumping in to help my fellow townspeople in need. Maybe there’s something I can do for people like Ava and Jessica.

I should get more involved in the community or something. That’s what’s so good about living in a small town, right? The sense of community? And I’m missing out on it.

I’m thinking about hosting some of the regular meetings in the neighborhood. Jessica told me they were great for meeting people.

On the other hand, I’ve been extremely busy. So many things have happened over the past year.

For example, the lawsuit.

After consulting with an attorney, Luca and I decided to sue the hospital that treated Peter.

Neither one of us wanted anyone else to go through what he did, so we aimed to raise awareness of the unfair treatment that former drug addicts get in the medical system.

We’ve managed to get the story into multiple national newspapers. The hospital is offering us a sizeable settlement now, and we’re still deciding on our next step.

Maybe we should take the money and hold an exhibition for Peter’s artwork. Or, maybe we should donate it to struggling rehab centers. Or, we can also keep the lawsuit going and generate more awareness. With a lot of luck, maybe we can make some changes in the system.

The tattoo machine stops buzzing, and I let my thoughts dissipate into thin air. The sharp pain has forced me to go somewhere else in my mind, but now there’s only the dull sting of a fresh tattoo.

I remember this feeling from when Luca gave me the cat tattoo on my wrist—it was both a symbol of independence and something from home I could always carry with me.

This tattoo, though, stands for something else.

“All done, doll.” Luca’s voice is dripping with lust.

I may have been the one to come up with the idea to get a tattoo, but obviously, he enjoys branding my skin and watching me go through this pain, too.

I look down at my outer thigh, where one word is written on my skin in black ink. The skin underneath the fresh tattoo is raised and angry. The cursive script looks girly and flirty. It sits near the top of my thigh, so most people will never get to see it—except Luca . . . and medical professionals, I guess.

I read the word out loud. “Doll.”

“That’s right. That’s what you are,” Luca says darkly as he takes off his black gloves. He climbs up onto the bed and sits between my open legs. His hungry eyes are fixated on my soaked pussy. “You’re so wet you’re dripping onto the bed. What kind of a doll gets this dirty?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’m a bad doll,” I say.

“That’s right. And bad dolls get punished, don’t they?” Luca yanks his clothes off in record speed.

“Yes, Sir.”

Every time I see those six-pack abs and the V-shaped ridge just underneath, I get the urge to lick him all over. I still can’t believe I’m lucky enough to call this hot, tattooed hunk my husband sometimes. My gaze drops to the thick, hard cock in his fist.

Luca hovers over me, making my heart pound. My hands are restrained to the bed with handcuffs, while my legs are spread wide apart by a metal bar that’s attached to loops around my ankles.

I’m completely helpless. Utterly at Luca’s mercy.

“This may not be fun for you, doll, but I don’t care.” Luca’s eyes glint dangerously as he presses his shaft against my pussy lips. Keeping his eyes on me, he grinds against me, sliding up and down my petals.

Instinctively, I whimper and lift my hips up off the bed.

“What’s that, doll? You want me inside you?” he asks.

“Yes, Sir,” I moan.

“Okay.” Luca pushes against my opening, and I hold my breath. But instead of spearing into me, Luca stays still. His fist wrap around his shaft and he jerks himself off with just the head of his cock inside me.

“Please, Sir,” I beg. “Please . . .”

“I’m inside you, like you wanted,” he teases me.

“Please . . . I want you all the way inside me.”

“You should’ve said that,” he says, suddenly thrusting so deep he steals my breath away.

My eyebrows squeeze together and my lips part as I gasp. My breathing grows ragged, following the rhythm of Luca fucking me.

With my legs spread, all I can do is let Luca take what he wants and try to enjoy it. Even after being with him for a whole year, it still hurts the first few seconds he’s inside me. But the pain, especially if he’s being rough, only makes my arousal grow.

“You like that?” Luca asks, trapping my gaze.

I bite my lower lip and nod. “Yes, Sir.”

“Let’s see how you like this.” Luca smirks as he pulls out of me.

I moan in frustration as my muscles clench around air. It feels empty. I raise my hips, but quickly realize my mistake when I feel Luca moving to my ass.

“Are you going to fuck me in my ass, Sir?” I ask nervously.

“What if I am?” Luca rubs the head of his cock, slick from my arousal, between my cheeks.

I whimper. “Please fuck me in my pussy, Sir.”

“I just did.” Luca cocks an eyebrow. “Are you trying to tell me what to do, doll?”

“No.” Nerves flit around inside me. But whatever Luca wants, I want to give it to him. I want to please him, even if I don’t enjoy it myself. I want to be used. “You can fuck my ass if you want to, Sir.”

“Good girl . . . I’m going to reward you.” Luca pushes into my pussy, making me sigh with relief and relish. But it’s not long until he pulls out again.

I look up in apprehension and watch darkness take over his green eyes. He smirks.

“Now I’m all lubed up and ready to fuck you in the ass,” he whispers in my ear.

Luca puts his hand on my head as he slowly thrusts inside me, stretching me painfully. Every time I try to inch away, he pushes me down onto his cock.

“This ass is mine, and I can use it whenever I want. Right, doll?” he asks as he buries himself to the hilt.

“Y—Yeah,” I say as cold sweat dots my forehead.

“Does it hurt?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Luca starts his ramming into me, saying, “Take it.”

I give in to his demands, letting my body go limp as a ragdoll and letting him play with me however he wants.

Luca looks down at the place where our bodies meet, then drags his gaze back up to my face, watching me like he owns me.

His hand moves between my legs and I moan when he lightly pulls on the curved, barbell-shaped jewelry embedded in my clitoral hood. I’ve been so sensitive since I got the piercing, Luca only has to touch me on the right spot and that’s enough to get me off.

“Does it feel good?” Luca asks.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I see. So you like having my cock in your ass, don’t you?”

I can’t deny that it makes me feel dirty—in a good way. “Yes, Sir.”

“I knew it. You’re my dirty doll.” Luca pushes two fingers inside my pussy as he starts to earnestly slam into my ass.

I scream as the pain and the pleasure swirl together inside me, driving me mad with their all-consuming intensity. My body shakes involuntarily. Luca rams into me mercilessly until we both explode together, two entwined bodies quivering against each other.

“We’re not done yet,” Luca says as he gets up off the bed. As he puts on his clothes, he says, “Wait here. I’m coming back.”

“How long am I going to wait, Sir?” I ask as Luca’s hot cum starts to leak out of me.

“For as long as I want you to.” Luca walks out the door, leaving me alone and in bondage.

I let my head fall on the bed. A smile spreads across my cheeks. This is the best way to spend a day off. Maybe I should get more tattoos . . .

I wonder how long it’ll take until Luca wants me again today. Sometimes, he comes back in under five minutes. Other times, he makes me wait for hours. There’s no way to tell, and the uncertainty only adds to the thrill.

Even though Luca’s outside where I can’t see him, I know he wants me just as much. He tells me sometimes he spends this time watching me on his surveillance feed and stroking himself. It excites me to know he may see me wriggling in frustration, wishing I could touch myself, too.

Maybe this seems weird to some people. Maybe they’d look at us and see an abuser and a victim.

But it’s not like that between Luca and me.

Somehow, we’re both each other’s addiction and cure. Because we have each other, we don’t need anything else.

That’s why, even though Luca’s not here, I know he’s coming back. He said he is, and I trust him. He always comes back.

I may be the one submitting myself to him, but we’re both slaves to this love that we share. Like true addicts, we’ll always come back to each other for more.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed Sarah and Luca’s story.

Want more?

How about the story about Jessica, the girl with the poisoned Beagle?

(Ava’s story is coming in early October.)

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Nikki