Page 23 of Hard Limits

He gave me a wicked smile as my pussy clenched around him. “Like that, huh? Tell me how much you like it, beautiful.”

I cried out as he slammed into me again, my body lifting into his. He held me there, suspended as he fucked me hard and deep. I forgot to breathe as he continued to penetrate me, the sensations rocketing me into another space. My head felt light, my body soared as he took control. He was hard yet careful with me, knowing just where my bruises were, where not to hurt me. His mouth ran along my neck, leaving hot open mouth kisses and then words slipped out of his lips. Those words that meant everything to me.

“I fucking love you,” he whispered, and I shattered.

My body convulsed uncontrollably, and he grunted, trying to keep my hips lowered as I came undone. I felt his release, his powerful thrusts sending me over the edge again, and through our pleasured turmoil he whispered it again. A mantra that fell from his lips as he made me his. After a moment, there was peace. A soft, wordless, peace that hovered over our drained bodies.

At some point he’d flung me towards his chest, and I sat there, his dick still inside of me, pulsing in union with my heartbeat. My lips fell onto his and I smiled.

“What did you do to me?”

I felt his lips part and he sighed. “I did what you asked. I made love to you.”

“No. I didn’t mean that. I mean I never thought I could love someone, as much as I love you.”

He leaned back and gently pushed a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I told you once, and I’ll say it again. You can fight me all you want, but you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

I wrapped myself around him and kissed him with all that I had in me. This… this was happiness. I had to trudge through all the pain to find it, but it was here, and I was holding onto it, and I was never letting go.

EPILOGUE

“Do you know why you’re here, Aracely?” He tugged my hair back and I held completely still as the cold steel was pressed against my neck.

I kept my shudders at bay as my pussy dripped within the lacey panties. Ones he’d forced me to wear. He liked to see me in soft lace and silks, thin materials he could easily rip away. Not that I minded, I liked him rough and demanding.

Tonight, was his night. His night to dominate, to show me off, to declare me as his. Denying him was off the table. I had already done it twice and he wasn’t going to let it slide. He’d promised punishment, and I was willing to endure it.

“Answer me, Aracely,” he growled in my ear.

“Because I denied you.”

“What did you deny me?”

“My body,” my voice broke as he whipped the blade out, the tip playing along the hollow of my throat.

“Such a pretty neck you have, I bet you bleed a bright crimson, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” I whispered already held in his trance.

His grip tightened on my hair as he yanked it back further. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice rang out crisp and clear for everyone surrounding the stage to know that I was his.

There was something so alluring about being held at blade’s edge. It was instant submittal into the arms of the dominant, in my case, my lover. The knife he held at my throat he had gotten from Alondrea. It was a fixed blade, about five to six inches in length, with a three-inch blade that was sharp on one side, and dull on the other. It had a wide wooden base, that gave him a good grip and he was better able to wield it. He’d taken classes with Liam who was a master with the blade. Liam also made sure I was ready mentally and physically to escape into this sub role.

Our teacher stood to the side of the stage in case one of us needed him, but Eric had become a master at it. Already a weapons expert, his skills had only been homed in, and the other night he’d made me cum just from stripping wax off my back with the dull side of the blade. To get me used to it, he’d said, as he dipped his finger inside my pussy while scraping my skin with the sharpened edge of the blade. The experience had been intoxicatingly intense, and I’d never cum so hard in my life.

Now he had me strapped to a St. Andrews Cross in the middle of the stage. A white silk nightie my only apparel. It ran high on my hips, my white laced panties peaking at the hem. He dragged the tip of the knife down across my breasts while wrapping his fingers around my throat. His gruff voice, whispering sinful things into my ear, keeping me at the brink of subspace.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed as he swiped the sharp edge of the blade along the curves of my breasts, slowly gliding it below the straps. As he yanked, I yelped from the exhilaration of not knowing what he was going to do next. The garment fluttered to the floor, my breasts exposed. He continued to play with the knife along my skin, the sharp end digging dangerously deep as he swiped it along my nipple. I was surprised at how agile he was with the blade, taking care not to make me bleed, but still causing a deep sting.

“I bet if I did cut you,” he dug the tip of the knife around my taught nipple. “You’d cry out as your pussy creamed for me.”

I gasped as he slapped the blade along my plump breast, the shock of it ricocheted through me, but I managed to keep still. A drop of blood appeared along the top curve of my breast and he moaned, leaning in and running his tongue along it. His mouth on me, another drug that I let consume me.

He swept the blade down my belly, sinking the tip in before he dragged the dull edge along my waistline, circling me until he was right at my back, the blade pressed to my side.

“You like to play with knives, lover? What if I told you my cock got hard from the power you’ve handed to me?”

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