Laura

 

 

 

I've missed these shackles. I've missed this collar.

I've missed this room.

My arms and legs are spread apart, tied to the outer edges of the cross as I stand, waiting for him. The collar around my neck has a leash attached to it, and he's been leading me through the room like a pet all day. When I didn't follow his instructions fast enough, or displeased him in any way, he yanked on the leash, causing the collar to tighten around my neck, stealing my breath away.

I've come to love the feeling of it, so much so that I found myself deliberately delaying my response to his commands, just to have him yank at my leash again. I wonder if he knows?

I don't know how long we've been back here. Time is a strange thing in this place. It passes without me realizing, and not only because there's no daylight to hint at the time of day. It's also the mental state he puts me in, the insanity that happens when we are alone, when he draws climax after climax from me, still leaving me feeling like I‘m in heat and wanting more. At one point, I found myself so dazed with lust that I couldn't keep my tongue inside my mouth; I was panting, yearning for more.

He used toys on me, he spanked me, he choked me, and most importantly, he fucked me silly, causing my entire body to rock beneath him, my shrieks filling the room as we merged into a sweaty union.

I've missed this, all of this. His blue eyes feasting on me, as his hands travel all over my body, his deep voice hoarsely whispering naughty things into my ear while I shiver beneath his weight.

I can't believe I'm back here.

Everything went so fast that it still feels surreal to me. When he asked if I wanted to repeat our "arrangement" from last year, I didn't hesitate to say yes. I didn't ask any questions, I didn't care if I would be paid again, and I didn't waste a thought about the aftermath. Just like the first time, this will be a one-night deal. And then I will have to leave and get over him.

Again.

I don't want to think about it. It casts a dreadful shadow over everything, and I feel like I'm only ruining things for myself by worrying about the future. I'm so much happier when I cast those thoughts aside.

Even though the conditions of our play are the same as last time, some things are very different than they were last year.

He's different.

Ryan has always struck me as a serious and solemn person, a man who's haunted by a past he will tell me very little about. He wants to come across as cold and obstinate, but I know him well enough to know that's not the entire truth. He has a very soft core. His heart must've been broken before, and that's why he's shielding himself from ever feeling anything with anyone ever again.

That must be it, right?

We flew back here in a private jet, and it offered a level of luxury that I never once imagined for myself. I didn't even try to be nonchalant about it, but gawked around the plane like a little kid, while he watched me. He was oddly serious, even for him, and he's looked tense ever since we finished our little sexual escapade in Griffith Park.

I hiked up there to find myself, and instead I found him. He robbed me of the opportunity to finally get my head clear, to leave him behind and get my life back on track.

And now I'm back exactly where I was a year ago, literally.

I shake my head, the leash rattling against the wooden cross behind me.

No dark thoughts, Laura. Not now. Those are future-Laura's problems. I'm only going to be here for twenty-four hours, and then I'll hop back on a plane to LA. I told Layla I'd be back in a couple of days, but I didn't tell her where I went, or that I went with Ryan. I don't know why I lied to her, but I felt safer this way. If there's any payment involved this time around, it would buy me more time, and give me a second chance to do things right, to go back to college and get my feet back on the ground, just like I intended to a year ago.

It'll be different this time around. It will be better because I'll be different. Even though I didn't do anything significant with my life over the past year, I still grew in my own way.

I'm smarter now. I must be. One learns from experience.

I nod, reassuring myself, and then I hear his footsteps outside. He left the room without saying a word. A part of me hopes he's bringing food.

Orgasms always make me hungry.

I smile at the memory of him saying that, and I know that it's true for me, as well.

The door opens and he walks in, wearing nothing but a dark pair of pants. His marvelous chest is still glistening with sweat from our play, and I blush at the idea of wanting to lick it off of him.

He hasn’t brought us any food, but instead he’s brought a bottle of chilled champagne.

I smile up at him. "A treat for me, master?"

The smile he casts me is laced with an affection that bores deeply into my heart. He came back for me, even though he said he wouldn't. He was very emphatic about needing a different girl every year. Maybe it was a lie – or maybe he realized that he really does care for me?

I want to believe the latter, especially now as he's approaching me, his blue eyes piercing into mine. He pops the cork, not minding the champagne bubbling out of the bottle as he moves it up to my lips. I eagerly taste the golden liquid, the bubbles coating the walls of my mouth and the delicate taste filling my insides with pleasure.

I'm only allowed to take a few small sips before he removes the bottle from my lips. He takes a sip of the bubbly himself before placing the neck of the bottle at my collarbone and slowly beginning to pour the champagne over my tits. The liquid is cold and it tickles my skin as it bubbles across my chest and down my stomach.

But the sensation is nothing compared to the thrill that spreads through my core when he leans forward to lick it off my skin.