First Debt

Jethro sucked in a breath. “Goddammit.” His voice was alive and full of need. More alive than I’d ever heard him. Gone was the cold precision and careful calculation. He was hot-blooded and raging, and some part of me was flattered by his desire.

He wanted me.

A lot.

That power turned the burning fire on my back into something twisty and wrong. But I didn’t succumb. I couldn’t.

If I did, there would be no hope for me. No chance at ever redeeming myself if I let him take me like this.

I wanted to seduce him.

I wanted the power of winning.

This…this would be rape, and it would reinforce in his head that he could take whatever he damn well wanted and suffer no repercussions.

“Stop it!” I screamed as his hands drifted down my front. The fight inside intensified, blotting out the awful radiating pain in my back.

Something hot and silky nudged against the small of my spine. “Christ’s sake, woman. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

What is that?

All senses shot to where he stroked me with a hard throbbing…

It’s his erection.

My heart leapt into my throat.

Jethro rocked harder, his body heat scalding every inch. His naked cock lurched against my bloody back.

I hissed as pain intensified.

He grunted as I jolted in the bindings. “Please—” I begged.

The tips of my fingers scrabbled at the post as I tried to keep my balance. His knee worked harder to unlock my thighs.

“You can’t stop this. Neither of us can.”

The truth in his voice daggered my heart.

If we did this, we would slip from humanity and turn over our souls. We’d become animals, forever fighting and cursing each other.

My back flared with flames as his arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me from the post and into his twisted embrace. I wriggled against him, blocking out the agony. “Jethro!”

His cock nudged me again, bruising me with his need.

“Shit, let me—”

“I won’t! Not like this.”

He groaned, a savage mixture of a growl of frustration and grunt of regret.

My vision blacked out then returned, masking the pain and encouraging me to drift. I expected a longer war. In complete truthfulness, I expected to lose and be taken like a common slave against the whipping post with my blood smearing between us.

It was better to give in—get it over with.

Then I could rest.

Yes, rest. Sleep…

Fight siphoned from my limbs, succumbing to the inevitable.

But Jethro…the moment I submitted, he stiffened.

He…he let me go.

His body heat stayed blistering and all-consuming behind, but he didn’t touch me.

Neither of us moved. I was too shocked to ask why.

Then, a noise hit my ears. A noise I wasn’t familiar with yet knew exactly what it was. Some primal part of me needed no confirmation, painting a vivid scene in my head of what Jethro was doing.

My heart sped up as the rhythmic sound grew louder. His breathing came short and sharp, sending my skin prickling with knowledge.

My mind filled with images of him. I pictured his head tossed back, his chest rising and falling, and legs spread for balance. I bit my lip as I let my imagination wander, bringing into focus his strong fingers wrapped around his cock, punishing himself with a grip that worked up and down, up and down. Faster and faster.

His breathing matched my sick daydream. My tummy clenched at the thought of him masturbating while I stood there prone, bleeding, and silent.

A soft groan decorated his harsh breathing as something hot and stinging splashed across my lower back.

Did he just—?

He moaned louder as another stream lacerated the cuts on my spine.

He grunted one last time as a torrid spurt marked my skin, seeping into my wounds like acid.

My eyes shot wide as my lips thinned in repugnance. Like some crazed beast, he’d marked me with his cum. He’d respected my plea and not taken me, but he’d had to service himself.

I shuddered in the cuffs as Jethro’s forehead landed on the base of my skull. “Fuck, you’re ruining me.”

The atmosphere changed instantaneously. It switched from abuse and debt payments to fragile and perplexed.

I couldn’t calm my heart or ignore the fiery sting of his cum on my wounds.

Wordlessly, Jethro stepped away. The faint sound of a zipper being refastened was the only sound apart from our tattered breathing.

Awareness slowly came back—I wished it wouldn’t.

Inch by inch, pain on top of pain made itself known. My muscles bellowed; my back hummed like a hundred bee stings. And the questions that bombarded me made nausea swirl with confusion.

Tears stole my vision as everything became too much.

The whipping.

Jethro’s desecration and confession.

It felt as if my skeleton had been ripped into view, hanging bony and stripped bare with every colliding thought on display. The licking flames of whiplashes stole the remainder of my energy.

I buckled, giving up all control to the cuffs.

I didn’t want to cry again.

I didn’t want to seem weak in front of the monster who’d not only hurt me but gotten off on it. He’d been turned on so much, he had to mark me with ownership. Like I was his territory—his possession.

No matter how much I wished I were stronger, I wasn’t. I couldn’t stop the tears rivering from my eyes or the hiccupping sobs building in my chest.

Softly, silently, the winch released, dropping my arms so I only remained standing by leaning against the post.

The buckles on my wrists were removed, cuffs no longer imprisoning.

Jethro’s touch was infinitely gentle and kind.

My legs gave a second warning before they collapsed from beneath me.

I braced myself for the fall. I gritted my teeth against more agony.

But I didn’t tumble to the travertine floor.

I landed in strong arms.

And the only thing that registered was shock.

The arms weren’t cold.

But hot.

I came to being placed gently on my stomach.

Whatever I lay upon was soft as a cloud and smelled just as fresh.

I snuggled deeper into the fluffiness, wishing for oblivion once again, but the agonizing pain from my shredded back wouldn’t let me fade.

My hands balled the sheets beneath me as I struggled to stay still and not squirm.

It hurts. Crap, it hurts.