Page 9 of Fallen Petal

Chapter 4

J

Just a clear and simple answer for once. Was that really all she needed? Was that all it took to appease her and make her soft in my arms?

She has never responded to me like she does now, so affectionate and mellow. It’s not just that she doesn’t fight me off. She doesn’t simply let this happen—she seems to welcome it. I can feel her hand at the back of my neck, the tips of her fingers grazing down my spine and sending hot prickles through my body.

Her behavior stands in stark contrast to the way she looked when I first walked in. She looked so broken then, so lost, almost as bereft as she did when she first woke up. Her face only lit up when I started talking to her, when all I did was give a simple answer to a mundane question.

Maybe it was that. Or maybe she takes solace in knowing that she’s close to the sea. Or it’s not the fact itself, but just the realization that her assumption was correct. Maybe that’s what lifted her spirits like this.

I shouldn’t question it. I should enjoy her fondness of my approach.

I should take advantage of it.

Today could be the day. The day I will finally have her in the way we both want it.

She opens her eyes, casting a curious look to the side when she realizes that I’m not taking her where she expected me to. We’re approaching the door to the connected room that will scare her. Her demeanor might change as soon as we step inside, leaving the plush paradise she’s allowed to reside in right now and exchanging it with something far more intimidating.

She may argue and struggle, but it would be too late.

Her body tenses in my arms as she watches me open the door. It’s a simple lock, one of the few doors that can be opened the old-fashioned way, with a key. I’m always carrying it with me, attached to the belt I wear when I come to see her. It makes me feel like a prison ward, especially now as I trouble myself with opening the door without having to let go of her. She makes it easier by clinging on to my neck, seemingly seeking comfort by pressing herself closely against my chest.

It’s adorable—and so fucking alluring that it causes my cock to stand in attention.

Fuck, I can’t wait to bury myself between her legs.

She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t fight, doesn’t even flinch when the door opens, revealing the dark chamber behind.

But her face tells me everything I need to know.

She’s terrified, stunned in surprise, but most of all: intrigued. Of course she would be. There’s a dirty little nymph hiding beneath all that apparent innocence. I’m the only one who knows about it —and the only who knows how to please that part of her.

A gasp flees her lips when I step through the door, tightening my grip on her as if I was afraid she could try to run from me. She doesn’t. In fact, she does quite the opposite by tensing her embrace around my neck just as much, holding on to me in fear, ignoring the fact that I’m the one she should be afraid of.

The dungeon next to her bedroom is entirely dipped in the most common colors associated with the blend of pain and pleasure: black and red. Deep red wallpaper covers all four walls, while the wooden floor and ceiling are as black as the night, matching the leather that most of the upholstery furniture is equipped with. The St. Andrew cross to our left, facing the boarded-up windows on the opposite wall is my pride and joy in this room. It’s never been used before and it has been built with Petal in mind, adjusted to her measurements, just like everything else in this room, the bondage bench, the hooks on the ceiling that will allow me to suspend her. Everything.

The prospect of this room makes my length harden even more, and it doesn’t help that Petal starts to squirm in my embrace, suddenly realizing what she got herself into.

“No,” she breathes. “No, no, please—”

“Hush.” I cut her off, stiffening my grip around her. “Fight me and you’ll only make this harder on yourself.”

She inhales in shock, and her struggle intensifies when I take another step forward, trying to decide where I should put her first, what I should do with her first. Fuck, there’s so much I want to do to her, so much I’ve been thinking of ever since I knew this dream would become a reality. And now that I can finally put it into action, I’m overwhelmed by the possibilities laid out for me.

Once again, it’s Petal who makes the decision for me. Her eyes scurry through the room, jumping from one piece of furniture to the next, from one utensil lined up in the glass cabinets to another, never resting on anything for longer than a moment.

Until she spots the canes. A blush blossoms on her cheeks when she sees them, neatly aligned right next to the St. Andrews Cross.

The canes, of course. Why am I not surprised.

Evoking a gasp, she struggles in my arms while I carry her over to the cross. But once we reach it and I let her stand on her own feet again, she doesn’t do anything that could resemble a flight attempt. Instead, she freezes, her wide eyes glued to the cross right in front of her. She has seen it before, not this particular one, but a similar one, in a different house, at a different time. I wonder if she remembers? There’s a taste of recognition on her gaze, but I’m certain that she can’t place the sensation of déjà vu that may have taken a hold of her just now.

I didn’t tie her to the cross the last time we were standing in front of one like this. But she wanted me to. I can still hear her shy plea, mixed with such a strong color of shame that it was painful to witness. She was never allowed to wish for anything, to desire the things that make her heart jump.

The restraint that kept her from living the life she yearned for was so strong, it even penetrated her thoughts.

But all of that is gone now. Erased and freed, she’s faced with an urge she doesn’t understand. And it’s that need that allows for me to proceed. She doesn’t even flinch when I reach for her wrist with one hand while placing the other at the small of her back, giving her a little push forward so she’s pressed against the cross while I close the first shackle around her wrist.

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