Page 38 of Love on the Run

Before I can blink or register what I’ve done a hand hard as steel circles my neck slamming me against the window.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Teeth clenched hard in fury. Then. “You would dare strike me?” He roars.

Something snaps. Months maybe years of holding back. Trying to be good, trying to be worthy. Trying. Trying. Trying. All I can think of is the way he smiled at that bitch.

“You,” I scream in his face. “You are what’s wrong with me.” I start to swing wildly as he holds me out of his reach like a rag doll pinned to the window. I use my feet to kick, snap at his hand with my mouth. Scratch his arms.

The motherfucker in unfazed. Just holds me away from him until I’m spent.

“I can’t fucking stand you.” I heave, trying and failing to stop the raging sobs bursting up through my chest and out of my mouth like a volcano.

“You stupid ass, trifling ass bitch,” I snarl. “Let me go. I don’t care what you do. You two timing-ass, coward-ass, bitch.”

All the posh elocution classes melt like ice on asphalt in my hometown of Birmingham, Alabama leaving nothing but my southern twang as I curse my severely conservative Japanese husband out. And it feels so dang good. I feel free.

It's quiet as I collapse into myself exhausted from my futile efforts to attack his strong ass.

Still pressed hard against the glass, I finally feel the pressure of his hand on my throat. He’d just been holding me, keeping me from hurting him moments ago. Now that I’m calm another realization comes to me. Like a super predator, he’s been waiting no different than a jaguar for me to exhaust all fight before he pounces.

Cold onyx eyes spear me like daggers. His hand slowly tightens around my throat. He slowly lifts me, sliding me up the glass until my eyes meet his and my toes barely brush the ground.

“If you ever speak to me like that again. I will not only spank your ass like I will in a very short while, but I will also take it ruthlessly. Now, I realize it’s something I should have already done to make you fully submit to me. Don’t worry though, you’ll like it.” He looks almost feral when her says it.

“If you ever strike me again.” He squeezes my throat closing his eyes trying to gain some semblance of control. When he opens them, all emotion is wiped from them. He is utterly devoid of emotion. For the first time I feel fear.

He leans in his breath brushing my ear as he whispers. “You will wish you were dead. You will beg for it. Know this, I will not heed your cries. I will revel in you sobs for release. Your misery, pain, and pleasure will be all mine. I will make you debase yourself before me again and again until you become a shell of yourself, and you will thank me for it. Never question my loyalty to you ever again.” He pulls back his face a hard mask. Not a flicker of humanity to be found. “Do you understand me, Flower?”

I swallow against the hard hand pressed against my throat.

“Hai. Hai, Takeda-sensei.” Sobs clouding my words. Tears streaming down my face.

He lifts me higher, pivots and throws me on the massive bed.

I bounce so hard the wind is knocked from my chest. I see a cascade of stars as I struggle to drag breath into my body.

He gives me no quarter. I barely inhale a decent breath before Akchiro is dragging me over his knee. I’d decided to get in a yoga work out in this morning rather than give into the call of the pins. He traps me between his thighs both my legs restrained, my pants pulled taunt. With a hard slap on my ass, he grabs the material. Hard fingers rend the material with loud ripping, screeching sound exposing my bottom to him. Squeezing me between his muscular thighs he murmurs, in Japanese to himself, “I failed by not doing this earlier.”

“You are a very disrespectful sub. A heartless wife. You beg for my face, Flower-chan, but I will have yours,” he says louder to me.

A hard smack steals my soul. It reverberates through my body, so jarring it shakes me to my core. My pussy floods. My essence slicks us both. Down my thighs on his slacks. My pussy is throbbing so hard.

“Akchiro,” I scream his name already in the throes of an orgasm I can’t control. I know I like the pain he makes me feel. I just didn’t realize just how much.

“You dare scream my name yet doubt me?” He taunts. “Such a bad fucking wife.” Hard smacks follow shoving me relentlessly into torturous bliss.

My hips undulate of their own accord, grinding, welcoming the stinging blows. There is nothing I wouldn’t let him do. The problem is he knows it. His words earlier ring true. He could make me debase myself and I’d thank him for it. Harder and harder the pounding smacks on my ass bleed into one another. I’m sobbing, tears streaming down, loving it despite myself. All questions about why he's acting this way fade as I only seek the pleasure he gives me.

Words are lost as I promise and beg. Willing to be his subslut, his whore, his anything and long as I’m his.

Wrenching me around, spreading me on the bed like a feast, he demands, “Will you yield?”

“Yes,” I gasp at the shock of the soft covers on my bruised bottom.

“What is your safe word, Hana?”

“L-Lotus” whimpering, I reach for him.

He grabs my hand in his ruthless grasp. “Never fucking doubt me again.” His eyes are hot and black as death as he speaks in low, urgent tones.

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