Elizabeth
MY ENTIRE BODY IS ON fire. Muscles screaming in protest. Flesh burning from bites and friction. My brain spinning so fast, smoke seeps from it. It’s him. Master or Monster or whatever his name really is. He’s intense, and I think he’s obsessed with me. The thought causes my lips to quirk up.
Pulling away, he regards me with a curious stare. It’s as though he’s searching for something in my eyes. Hesitation, maybe? Regret? Well, he won’t find those things. I’m consumed by him. I’ve never felt so high and wanted and revered in my entire life. Sure, I have groupies, if you will, on my fetish site, but this is different.
This, I can feel all the way down to my toes.
My heart aches and my brain bleeds.
What’s churning through my veins is dangerous. To him or me, I’m not sure.
“Now that I’ve been inside you and tasted your lips, I’m not going to be able to stop. I won’t stop.” His tone is cold almost—a threat wrapped in a somber warning. I shiver.
“Nobody’s asking you to stop,” I tell him bravely.
His brown eyes narrow at me. “I want to take your dress off and see all of you.”
I chew on my sore lip and nod. Everything feels bruised and used, but I’m already excited for him to take me again. His cum leaks out of me, and I like the way it feels. My heart thumps in my chest. We didn’t use a condom. It makes me wish I wasn’t on the pill. Just to have the possibility of us being bound by more than just this overwhelming connection. I shake the stupid thought from my head as soon as it manifests.
Elise is right, I’m sick.
These aren’t logical thoughts.
Yet…I can’t stop them from whirring in my brain. I certainly can’t stop from saying them.
“I want to be with you like this always,” I whisper, shame coating my voice.
He frowns, and I know I’ve ruined it. I’m too eager. Too obsessed. Too high off his undivided attention. Drunk on his possessiveness.
“You want to stay here?” His dark eyebrow arches, and it makes my thighs quake with need.
“I do.”
I do want to stay with him. Forever. To never to feel lonely again.
We both stiffen at my word choice, but I can’t help but flip through a girly fantasy that has no place in a situation where I just slept with a man I don’t even know. You do know him.
I’m confused, yet everything feels so clear when I look at him. It’s as though I’m seeing for the first time in my life.
He sits up, then slides off the bed. Up close, I realize his beautiful tattoos cover mottled scars. What caused such damage? A car accident, perhaps? I want to ask him, but decide we can chat later. Right now, I want more of him touching and tasting me.
Elise told me about sex once. She said the first time is awful and hurts. She was right about the last part, but I found no awful in the pain. It makes you feel alive. Anchors you to the moment so you can remember it, relive it over and over.
The rest of his clothes get kicked off while he devours me with his gaze. I raise my hands in the air, waiting for him to undress me. The growl in his throat is one of approval. Once the dress is gone, he drinks in my bare breasts. Dolls don’t wear bras.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he tells me simply, his jaw clenching in an almost furious way.
I nod and eye the rope in the corner. “Are you going to tie me up?”
More heat floods to my sex. He must like that idea. His still wet, limp cock bobs back to life, and I can’t believe that big thing was inside me. I’m on fire from where he took me, but crave more of the burn.
“Lie back. Close your eyes. Sing me a song,” he barks.
I do as he says, singing the nursery rhyme he seems so fond of. My voice isn’t the best, but I sing it extra carefully so I hit the notes and my voice doesn’t crack. I want him to like the song. The heavy pounding of his bare feet signals him pacing. Lifting my lashes slightly to sneak a peek through them, my heart stammers. He’s tugging at his hair, looking at the saturated mess on my inner thighs.
Reaching down, he grabs his belt before waltzing over to the bed. “Open your legs wider,” he barks. “Don’t stop singing.”
My body trembles with trepidation. Can I handle what he is?
Thwack.
Oh God.
Ouch.
Thwack.
Pain. Hot, searing pain ignites over my exposed sex.
“I’m sorry.” He almost sobs as he hits me again.
A small cry rips from my chest, and it takes all the willpower in the world not to close my legs completely and hide from him. To tell him no.
I won’t, though. I can’t.
The thud of him dropping to his knees and hitting himself in the head makes my soul ache. My thoughts drift to the scars hidden beneath the monster inked over his skin. Maybe he was abused and damaged. We are all damaged somewhere along the line. It’s not a bad thing.
“Let your darkness flood out, Master,” I choke out, encouraging him. “Soak me in it. Drown me. I can take it.”
My words are like holding a flame to his fuse. My eyes squeeze together as he stills his breath. His hands seem to worship over my skin as he binds my ankles and ties them to each end of the bed. I have no idea what he’s tying them to—maybe the bed frame below?—but I don’t care. I love the fact that my pussy is still wet from his climax and stinging from the belt.
I didn’t break. I didn’t fade. I didn’t tell him no.
He’s keeping me. He’s really keeping me.
Next, he binds my wrists, but he doesn’t tie them to anything. I rest them above my head on the pillow, hoping my boobs look good on display for him. I don’t dare open my eyes to look. I return to singing his song, the words dying in my throat.
His mouth is on me.
Oh. My. God.
My eyes fly open, and I stare in shock as he laps at my sex, licking away the pain with his soft yet powerful tongue. His dark eyes bore into mine, pinning me with just a glare. Owning me. Making promises I don’t understand but want to. The magic he creates with his tongue is out of this world, easing the burning from moments before. Healing me. I thrash and beg, overcome with sensations I’ve never reached before. He makes me feel tingles up my spine and the hole he violated with his cock throbs and contracts. So easily. I don’t even understand it. I don’t want to understand it. All I know is I love it. I love everything about this new, mysterious man in my life.
The pain.
The pleasure.
The small flicker of light in his ever-growing darkness.
I’m still trembling from my orgasm when he climbs off the bed and disappears. Moments later, he comes back wielding a big knife.
“W-What’s that for?” I whisper. I should be worried about him hacking me to pieces and eating me or something, not about how delicious he looks with an evil glint in his eyes. I shouldn’t be wondering if he’ll fuck me again.
“I want your blood.” His brown eyes are melted chocolate, warm and delicious.
“All of it?”
He laughs, surprisingly boyish, and my sex clenches. “No, Doll. I just want it. On you. On me. I want to own it. To own all of you. I’ll make all the bad good again.”
His words make me melt. “You’re going to cut me?”
“I’m going to mark you so everyone knows your mine,” he states, his voice possessive.
A whimper escapes me. “I want them to know I’m yours.” I don’t even know who them is, but it’s true.
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs as he climbs on the bed between my spread legs.
Closing them, I’m rewarded with a worshipping caress over my stomach. I’m expecting the bite of the knife, but instead, he inches his cock back inside me. He’s careful and gentle, and it makes tears spring beneath my closed lids. What’s wrong with me? How can I fall so hard and fast for someone who hasn’t even told me his name?
Nothing, I decide. Nothing is wrong with me. I’m happy, and that’s all that matters. I’ve been searching for happiness for as long as I can recall, and this is the first time I’ve felt like I’ve belonged in this world.
“My cock belongs in you. I’m going to fuck you all the time,” he tells me, his words chopped and gritty. He’s on his knees, lifting my bottom to rest on the tops of his thighs. Every part of me down there hurts and begs for mercy, but I don’t want him to reward me with it. I want to hurt. To feel him. For him to leave me with the lasting pain so I know whom I belong to.
“I’m going to own all your holes. Your tight ass and perfect goddamn mouth.”
I whimper and smile. “I want that. I like the way you feel stretching me to the point it hurts.”
He grinds the heel of his palm against my clit, and I groan, not sure if it’s pleasure or agony. “Stay still, keep your pretty eyes closed, and let me make you bleed.”
The first slice is shocking, painful as hell—a small fire licking over the skin. I choke out some tears as his assault begins just to the left above my naval. The slow movements are torturous. A rivulet of blood slides down my ribs and tickles me. Tears stream down from my eyes, and I bite hard on my lip to keep from sobbing.
He’s marking me.
I don’t want him to stop.
I want him to make me his.
Elise would certainly think I was crazy now.
Am I?
I’m suddenly distracted from my thoughts and the pain. With his rock hard dick situated inside me and hand drawing pleasure from me, it’s easy to ignore the sears of pain from getting carved across my stomach. He’s careful and doing it with great care, I can tell. Not too deep and with steady movements.
“You’re my doll. My everything. My Bethany,” he murmurs.
I’m dizzied by his words and his assault on me. My heart lurches with disappointment at being called the wrong name. For a brief, jealous moment, it makes me wonder if he does this to other girls, or merely misunderstood when I told him my real name.
“Mine,” he snarls, the word spoken so viciously, it’s every bit as sharp as his blade.
His body covers mine and our skin slides against each other. My blood is slippery between us. I moan when he smears his hand across my battered stomach and goes back to massaging my clit, this time with his fingers. Everything is too intense, yet not enough. He’s fucking me and he hurts me and I just need more.
“Master,” I plead. “I need…”
The point of the blade digs into my throat where he bit me. It stings, but nothing like my stomach. I like the scald of it. I find myself seeking it. Leaning into it.
“No, Doll,” he breathes against my mouth as he brutally bucks into me, “too much. This isn’t to scar your perfect, pale flesh.”
He pulls the knife away, and I whimper, but then his mouth is on me, replacing the blade, his tongue probing the slit in my flesh as he seeks my blood. I’m dizzy and lightheaded and in love. He pinches my clit, then twists it so hard, I nearly pass out from the pleasing pain. It hurts. It feels good. It’s not enough.
With a screech from my lips, he buries himself so deep inside me, I don’t know if he will ever not be a part of me. My body jerks beneath him, high on the endorphins zipping throughout me. This signals his own release, and he’s once again coming deep inside me. I find myself wishing the door to the exit would become stuck and that I'd be trapped here with him. For him to fill me up with his cum until we suffocate from each other’s love. If I don’t take my pills, we’ll be bound by a creation of love. I’m losing sense of reality, but I don’t care. He’s pulling me into the darkness, and I’m letting him. Gulping it all in—in hopes I’ll drown in it.
Blackness. Beautiful dark abyss.
Waking with a start, I look around, but he’s no longer in the room. White gauze is wrapped around my stomach and I’m no longer bound by my ankles or wrists. Instead, rope hangs heavy around my throat. I touch my sore neck, noticing I’m bandaged there too. The bed is a bloody mess, and it’s dry and flaky. I must have been asleep for hours. The thought makes me smile. I climb out of bed and marvel over the fact that one end of the rope is tied to a leg of the bed. There seems to be plenty of slack to allow me to explore. On trembling legs, I wander out of the room and down the hall, finding him sitting at the kitchen table staring at a laptop.
“Hey,” I croak out.
His dark gaze snaps to mine and he stares at me in appreciation. It sends currents of excitement coursing through me. “Hey.”
“Why’d you leave?” My tone holds a hint of hurt.
Standing, he strides over to me, his delicious body bare except a pair of low-slung jeans. My mouth waters for a taste. I’m drawn into his powerful arms, and he cradles me, raining kissing down the top of my head.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. And now I’ve feasted on you in more ways than I can count. It only makes me hungry for more,” he growls. His palms roam to my bare bottom, and he clutches me there. “How are you feeling? You lost quite a bit of blood.”
“I feel a bit woozy,” I admit, defeat in my voice.
He chuckles, and it vibrates my chest. “Don’t sound so upset, Bethany. I’ll get you something sweet to perk you up.”
He’s so adorable about it, I don’t even correct him. Truth is, it’s close enough. I like that name. He helps me into a chair, then starts rooting around in the kitchen. I admire his butt as he moves about the space. My skin is cold and I shiver, but I like being on display for him. He eventually locates a soda and pours it into a glass. Once he’s set that down in front of me, he opens a package of oatmeal cookies.
“These are my favorite,” I tell him with a wide grin. “Thank you.”
His brown eyes shine with an emotion I want to see more of. Adoration. Love. Desire. Want. So many flicker in his warm gaze. I want them all aimed for me, always.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
His features darken, and I immediately chastise myself for ruining the moment. “In time, Doll.”
I chew on my bottom lip, disappointed when he sits back down at the laptop. His attention is gone from me, and it stings. I want it back.
“I like when you call me Bethany.”
His eyes dart back to mine. “I like when you wear that rope around your bloody throat like a necklace. So. Fucking. Beautiful.”
I melt under his praise. “Does it make your cock hard?”
His brown eyes are liquid heat as he stares at me. “Fuck yes it does.”
“Good.”
When he starts to turn back to his screen, I have this overwhelming urge to distract him from it. I rise from my seat and take his hand.
“I need you to hurt me some more. I like it.” I know these types of words provoke him, and that’s exactly what I wish to do.
Fisting the rope, he twists it around his wrist, then yanks so hard, I nearly fall into his lap. “Hurt you where?”
“Everywhere.”
“In time,” he growls, his eyes soaking up every cut and bruise marred on my skin by his hand. “I like you naked, but I prefer my dolls to look pretty in their dresses.”
“Dolls, as in plural?” I whisper, my brows crashing together.
“Just you, Bethany,” he assures me. “There is only you.”