He groans when I pull back my arm with the whip in my hand. It's not a frightened sound. No. It's a sound filled with desire. Sickening desire. One that I'll never understand.
"Do it," he growls, before he bows to prepare for the whips first strike. My hand shakes as I throw my arm forward and the leather strikes the skin of his back, and the more closely I look, I see the markings of old scars.
"Again," he rasps, and I wince as I deliver another strike. This time a groan leaves his lips and he shudders as if excited for the next lash of pain, as if it awakens something inside of him that's been asleep for a while.
When he doesn't move, I know he's silently commanding me to continue. So I do. Every painstaking, cringing blow, I whip him.
How could someone love this? How could someone be so self-destructive; So self deprecating that they force penance by the hands of others in the form of torture? How broken is this man?
After a few more whips, I can't bear anymore. I drop to the ground, shivering as if I'm cold but it's more than that. I'm appalled - ashamed even. My head bows, tears stinging my eyes as I wrap my arms around myself and imagine who has done this to him before.
It's a few minutes until I hear the unmistakable clang of chains, and the sound of his voice.
"Sasha," he calls gently to me, but there's a weird edge to his voice. It's not soothing, it's alarming, as is everything with him.
"I'm sorry," I rasp, aware now of just how dry my throat is from my tears that I continuously blink back. "I didn't want to hurt you."
"Why?" He hisses. I don't look at him, I don't want to see the pain in his eyes. Pain created by my hands. "Why wouldn't you want to hurt me? After what I'm putting you through? After the pain - the fucking humiliation? Why?" His confusion is mixed in with disgust, as if my unwillingness to torture him is unbearable in the sickest sense.
As if I'm the broken one.
"B-because, it's not who I am," I say softly, fingers flexing on my thighs until tears have begun to sprinkle the flesh.
"Why are you so different," he replies. It makes no sense to me. Different? Than him? Than who? I tense beside him, as he curses, and turns and that's when I spare him a glance that makes my blood run cold. Welts line his back. Red and angry.
Regardless of what he's putting me through, I don't believe it's warranted this punishment.
"Why did you make me do that?" I press, wobbling legs helping me stand. He doesn't look at me, instead he moves to the whip which now lay motionless on the floor. He swipes it up, corded muscles tensed as he shoots me an unapologetic expression and replaces the whip on the rack.
"Control, Sasha."
He whips around fast, and levels an unwavering eyes on me. His eyes make me shiver because I know they’re peering deep into my soul, to the most vulnerable parts of me. Where the death of my family, and the blackness inside of me slowly eats away.
I don't want to reveal my secrets. Especially to him, but that doesn't matter, because a man who's been dealt the same losses, the same searing disappointment, doesn't have to look hard to find them.
"A year ago, I was a different man." He glances at my clenched fists, and a sadistic humor makes a small grin appear. "Your defiance would've drove me violent."
Violent? A cool breeze blasts me at that word.
"You think what you see now is bad? No," he says hoarsely before a bitter chuckle leaves him.
"You haven't seen me at my worst."
I don't think I want to.
"I can tell by the look on your face, you wouldn't be able to handle it."
He flexes his hips and my gaze shamefully slides down to his pants where a thick erection awaits like the whips have spurred his cock to play. As if it was arousing.
I gasp, horrified about the notion that he could be aroused by his own pain.
"Are you surprised?"
It's all over my face. I can't shield it. Especially as he steps forward, and added to the sadistic gleam is a desire that scares me. He may be a different man, but I can see a hint of the one from the past. Just a hint. But it's the one who's dying to fuck me. The one who calls out that woman's name. The one who took one look at me and stole an auction out from under tons of other men. He gets what he wants, and right now? He wants me.
"I've wasted enough time waiting for you."
"S-stop," I whisper, but the sound barely leaves my lips.
"You don't want me to."
I'm surprised he's heard me but at this moment, the silence is filled with sexual tension, and you can hear a pin drop.
"Yes."
He nods to me.
"Why are your thighs pressed together like that. Tighter and looser, over and over again, as if you're tempting yourself with the pressure. Teasingly satiating that fire in your pussy, that delicious fucking clit."
He tilts his head as he slowly stalks forward.
"I could do it for you." He smirks deviously. "I could use my dick instead, rub it all over that wet pussy. Make you come like a good girl, for obeying me."
Why? Why is my body powerless to the enticing words that drip from his tongue? That tongue that I know can do magical things to my clitoris. That tongue that I haven't stopped thinking about, even while whipping him.
As if he knows, he licks his lips when he stops in front of me. He cups my chin, fingers firm to tilt my head back, before he lowers his mouth a centimeter above mine, and whispers with tantalizingly warm breath that smells of sex and sin.
"All you have to do is tell me you want it, baby."
I open my mouth, prepared to tell him no. Prepared to save my dignity one last time, but it's not what comes out.
"I want it."
It's as if alarm bells go off. His face contorts into a victorious expression that makes my heart pound in my chest, my cheeks flush, and my head spin.
"Fuck yes," he growls, and I gasp as he reaches down to the white, sun dress I'm wearing and loops his fingers in the hole that is just between my cleavage and he powerfully yanks his hands apart to rip the fabric in half.
I'm speechless. Utterly fucking speechless. Did he buy this knowing he could tear them from my body? Knowing his sick fascination with pain and destruction, probably.
My surprised gasp makes him groan, before he leans forward and captures an aching nipple in his mouth. With ragged breaths my chest heaves and grind against his face, and the faster he swirls his tongue around my nipple, the worse my breathing becomes.
How can he manage to make me come from a touch so simple as this?
I feel an orgasm teasingly building, just from the soft velvety strokes on my breast. He hasn't even touch my pulsating clit, which is so greedy and desperate at this point, I've angled my hips forward as bait, hoping he'll decide to claim a taste.
He pinches and rolls my other nipple with his other hand, until I'm moaning softly and my fingers are tangled in his hair.
I should be ashamed.
But shame is long gone.
Passion has stolen its place, and it's here to stay until someone forces it away violently.
When he pulls back, his eyes move downward to my pussy and I clench my walls. He sighs.
"I fucking saw that," he says huskily, before he lowers himself to the ground so his mouth is parallel to the wet heat of my pussy.
"How badly do you want to grind those pussy lips against my face?"
He arches a curious brow, and I look away from him for a moment because I can barely contain my arousal and his words are too much. Too blunt. Who talks like this?
He puckers his lips in a mocking kiss for a moment before he snickers amused and slowly drags his tongue along his mouth once again.
"Just making your seat nice and ready for you. Come," he commands and I'm straddling his face in seconds.
When my pussy makes contact with his slick mouth and his tongue slides out expertly, I throw my head back, and cry out. It's too good. Too hot. Too fucking wet. The pressure of his mouth all over my folds has me mewing like a kitten.
"O-oh, god, Levi," I moan, the sound almost a growl in my throat. He doesn't say anything. He's too busy being humped. I grind and grind my hips forward until that heat in my core blazes, and I can't hold on anymore.
"I'm coming!" I yell, and my legs shake as my body shudders and my orgasm claims me relentlessly until my legs are wobbling and moving out from under me.
He catches me before I fall. Standing, before wrapping his arm around my waist, and carrying me to the bed. An intimidating bed. One in which he'll truly have me as he's planned.
And he knows this time I won't deny him.
This time, I don't even think it's physically or mentally possible to. My body wants him, and my mind has been tricked into needing him, it scares me. But not enough to kick in my common sense and make me run right out of this club.
He undoes his pants while standing at the end of the bed. His eyes move along my naked body. My hands tremble and I move to cover myself but his sharp stare stops me.
"Don't you fucking dare."
I stop.
"Don't deny me any part of yourself."
I nod slowly and his mouth spreads upward in a victorious smile.
When he pushes his pants down, and steps out of them, his powerful thighs frame his monstrous cock. It sways like an extra limb, intimidatingly, and I remember just how thick and filling it is.
"Oh god," I choke out and he lets out an amused puff of air that makes my eyes widen.
"I see you remember the feeling, Sasha." He wraps his hand as much as he can get around the thick shaft and strokes himself slowly, keeping his eyes trained on me. "I remember exactly what that cunt felt like wrapped around this like a glove."
I clench and he inhales a sharp breath and steps forward. He grabs hold of my thigh, yanking me until my ass is on the end of the end of the bed.
Wordlessly, he presses the head against my slit, and I moan when he rubs the tip upward, guided by my wetness to my sensitive clit which jolts pleasure through my body with each teasing thrust of his hips.
"So eager you're angling your hips to try and capture my length before I've decided I'm ready to fill you."
He clicks his tongue and continues rubbing teasingly.
"Levi, please," I whine, and his gaze goes dark from the sound of me begging, and he enters me swiftly, stretching and filling until I'm panting.
He thrusts powerfully. Skillful strokes of his hips that have the room filled with soft moans. Moans I pray don't slip from the room so the whole world knows I caved for my captor.
He pounds into me until I'm incoherent.
I dare a glimpse of him for a moment, admiring how relaxed he looks in a fit of passion with his eyes closed briefly and his mouth slack. A sheen of sweat beads his tan skin, and my eyes steal away at his sculpted face until I'm clenching and throbbing around his cock.
"Christ," he groans, and his eyes snap open and they make contact with mine. A dark swirl of lust. Sending me into an oblivion of ecstasy that I'm sure is supernatural, because it shakes the entire room.
"Levi!" I cry out, as my orgasm claims me, stronger than the last. It causes me to arch my back, and in that moment he lets loose his boundless desire. His hands cinch my waist, and begin to slam me so hard down on his cock that I'm sure I'll break in half.
"Fuckkkkk," he rasps, the sound of his groans, my soft cries and the wet promise of relief fills the room until it drowns out all other sound.
I feel him swell inside of me, because it only shatters me unrecognizable, pain and power and passion all in this man, and with another stroke of his unending length, he erupts inside of me. The warmth of his orgasm seals my fate, and I feel my walls squeezing and milking him from another orgasm that sweeps through me.
“Yes!” I shout, the word thick on my tongue.
He remains inside of me for a minute until we both come down and he’s decided he’s had enough for now.
He pulls his pants back up, fixing himself, before he moves to his shirt and tugs that back on. He glances back at me, now propped up on elbows on the bed.
“Let’s go,” he instructs and I scramble to sit up.
“I- I need clothes. What will I walk out in?”
A snide look moves over his face.
“Nothing.”