Page 22 of Broken Hearts

9

Alex

“How does that feel?”

Celeste moaned gratefully. “It’s helping.”

“Good.”

At first, she looked scared when I approached her holding silk scarves and a silver windmill-like object with sharp spikes, but I told her firmly that she hadn’t done anything wrong, and this was designed to help.

I still felt terrible for the mistake I made yesterday. Although Celeste’s nerve condition had improved dramatically since I brought her here, it still plagued her from time to time, and I’d really fucked up when I tried to make her feel better yesterday. I knew when she saw Dan die that it made much of her pain seep away, and I thought her going down to the shelter and seeing Baldwin would have the same effect. I hadn’t anticipated that it would make her feel worse, bring her neural pain right back, but it did.

I couldn’t stand the thought of her in that kind of pain. I dealt with chronic nerve pain sufferers at work frequently, and I saw the hell they went through. Celeste didn’t deserve that. The only pain she should ever feel was the kind of pain she wanted. The kind she begged for.

This nerve syndrome wasn’t that.

“What exactly are you doing, sir?” Celeste asked breathlessly. She was lying face-down on her bed, wrists bound in front of her with one of the scarves. The other scarf was wrapped tightly around her eyes, preventing her from seeing anything.

“It’s called a Wartenberg wheel,” I said as I gently ran the spikes over her delicate skin. She squirmed, and I patted her ass. “Don’t move too much, or it will hurt.”

I kept tracing patterns on her back, and she did her best to stop writhing and twisting beneath me, though little moans frequently escaped her mouth.

The Wartenberg device had originally been designed for medical reasons to test nerve function. However, a lot of people had started to use them on their partners for pleasure. When the spiked wheel was gently run over the skin, endorphins would be released, creating a pleasurable sensation akin to the afterglow of an orgasm.

The sensation also distracted the brain from other physical feelings, so in Celeste’s case, it was dulling her nerve pain. Taking away one of her senses with the blindfold intensified the tickling, slightly-sharp sensation.

“God… this feels amazing, sir,” she murmured dreamily.

I smiled and ran the wheel over her skin one more time before getting up and putting it away, leaving my girl writhing on the bed, begging for more. She’d been better since yesterday. I thought she’d been distancing herself, hunting for an escape, and it hadn’t occurred to me that it was more like she was searching for reasons to stay. I wasn’t giving her enough of what she wanted: affection. I wasn’t spending enough time making her feel good, and I could’ve fucking kicked myself for it.

It was hard for someone like me, who spent so much time being detached from emotions, to pick up on the needs of a girl like Celeste. I initially thought that by giving her everything she’d ever dreamed of in her old life—the luxurious room, beautiful clothes, all the books she could ever need, good quality food, and so on—that it would be enough. It hadn’t even occurred to me that she needed more. She needed quality time, needed to know she was the only one in my life right now.

To me, it seemed ridiculous that she even needed that kind of reassurance. Of course she was the only one in my life right now. In the dark spaces of her mind and the soft curves of her body, I’d found exactly what I needed. Found what I didn’t even know I needed until I discovered her. It was something no other woman had ever been able to spark within me; something wild, fierce, demanding. I fell for her innocence, but I also fell for the fiery nature she kept so carefully hidden beneath that mask of purity. A beautiful duality. Perfectly imperfect.

Every time I left her, I had to force myself to walk away, but I thought I had to give her time and space to process things slowly. I hadn’t realized I was making her feel bad, making her crave more of that connection we shared. That sort of stress could actually make her nerve pain worse.

My own damn fault for being so blind to her needs.

“How is your back now?” I asked.

Celeste managed to roll onto her back, her hands still bound above her head. “So much better,” she said. “Thank you, sir.”

She was practically panting, and I could see her wetness leaking through the thin white fabric of her panties, the only clothing she was currently wearing aside from her collar. I could smell her arousal from where I was standing. I smiled, proud of how far she’d come. She didn’t seem to be ashamed of her body anymore, didn’t seem to be embarrassed by the dark needs that had always lingered deep in the shadows of her mind. No, she embraced it now. Openly allowed me to explore those needs with her.

I couldn’t see her eyes through the blindfold, but I knew if I removed it, I’d see a fiery lust burning in her gaze. My touch always drove her wild, and judging by the way her legs were twitching and the way she was biting her lower lip, she was ready to be fucked into a mess.

I leaned over her, trailing kisses along her jaw. She shuddered, then let out a blissful sigh. “Please….”

I kissed her full on the mouth, crushing myself against her. She moaned into my mouth as one hand tangled in her hair, pulling her head forward so I could deepen the embrace. The kiss lit me up inside, and my cock stiffened to the point of soreness. I needed to have her. Needed to claim her again.

“Spread your legs,” I grunted in her ear, pulling away from her soft pink lips.

She automatically did as I commanded, like the good little slut she’d been trained to be. I slid down the bed, lowering my mouth to her bare tits, circling one of her stiff nipples with my tongue before biting it gently. She cried out, and I repeated the action with the other nipple, leaving it red and swollen.

My cock was harder than it’d ever been, aching to slide into that tight, wet little cunt before me, but I held back. I liked making her plead and cry. Teasing her till she couldn’t take any more. It was what we did, what we both needed. She needed me to claim her, mark her as mine, show her the force of my desire. I needed her to fucking beg for it. Beg for the pain, beg for my cock inside every hole.

I slid down between her open legs, ripped her panties off, and pressed two fingers inside her pussy, working them against the ridged spot on her front wall that always drove her wild. She cried out again, goosebumps populating her skin, and I lowered my mouth to her pussy, sliding my tongue over her clit as my fingers worked away inside her. Her legs shook wildly, and she moaned beneath me. “Sir, please... fuck me. Fuck me now.”

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