Page 12 of Fallen Petal

My hands are resting on yet another leather surface, as are my knees. There are shackles, again, holding my limbs in place while I feel his hands on my hips, pulling me closer to the back end of the bench with my naked core exposed to him.

The clouds in my head haven’t diminished. They’re still there, allowing me to see just enough to not get lost entirely, while keeping me at the edge of unconsciousness. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he drugged me, put something in my food or the water the girl keeps bringing on a regular basis. But I know that that’s not it. Not this time. I haven’t been drugged, but the effect of the cane was as close as it gets.

His touch brings sudden clarity to my mind. I can feel his skilled fingers where I have felt them before, parting my folds and gliding in between with ease. Shame heats my entire body while he fingers me from behind, using only one hand to toy with my swollen nub.

“I knew it,” he hisses, now moving next to me while his hand never leaves my center. He leans down next to my left ear, spreading me with two fingers as he leans in so close that his lips are almost touching my ear. “You are a pain slut, Petal. I always knew you were.”

I yelp in shocked desperation when he withdraws his hand from my entrance, only to land a sharp slap on the broken skin of my ass. The pain doesn’t equal the one inflicted by the cane earlier. It’s not as piercing and not quite as hot—but agonizing still.

Deliciously agonizing.

He straightens up, massaging my clit with his thumb while stretching me with a third finger. My sweet elation is only fueled by the afterburn throbbing through my behind that his spanking caused. When he first spanked me down in the basement, I never would have thought that I could ever like it, that I could ever feel the way I do right now.

But there are a lot of things I didn’t expect—and even more I have forgotten.

Did the girl in the video ask for this? Is this what she craved?

Did he do this to her, too?

My heart jolts when I hear him rummaging behind me. Buttons are opened and heavy fabric grazes along his skin as it travels down to the floor. I can hear the buckle of his belt and a zipper being pulled down, followed by the sound of more rustling fabric. My position doesn’t allow even the slightest turn to glance back over my shoulder, but I don’t have to look to know what’s about to happen. Finally.

“Do you want this, Petal?”

It’s the first time he’s ever asked me this question. The first time he ever cared for my opinion on anything. I gasp when he removes his hand from my core, replacing it with the thick tip of his cock. He’s so hard, pushing forward just enough to part my outer folds without being inside me yet.

“Say it,” he urges. His voice is breathless, telling of his own enticement. “Say what you want, Petal. Or you won’t get it.”

He puts meaning to his words by moving back, removing his hardness from my core—to which I respond with a desperate groan. I’m so aroused, so wet and throbbing, with a hunger that makes me dizzy with its intensity.

If he stops now, I’ll go mad. It’s bad enough that he stopped the fiery kisses to my skin just as I was beginning to enjoy them, but I won’t let him withhold this from me.

“Fuck me!” I plead, my voice resembling a frenzied cry. “Please, oh please, fuck me!”

It’s humiliating and wrong to beg my captor for this, and I try to tell myself that I’m only doing it because of the girl in the video, because she told me to trust him, because she must be the one who wanted this all along. Her, not me. We are the same person, but we’re strangers to each other still.

And I know I’m lying. I’m not doing this for her. I’m doing this for myself.

The strain that spreads through my core when he thrusts forward has no equal. I’ve had his size in front of my face before, barely able to wrap my lips around it as he asked me to clean him off. I knew of his magnitude, but I wasn’t prepared for this. I wasn’t prepared to be stretched by him with such ferocity. It feels like he’s tearing me apart, shoving his length in and out of me without consideration. The groans that accompany his thrusts are deep and pervasive, coming from deep within his chest and almost sounding as if he was in pain.

He grabs me by the hips, his fingers digging into my flesh and waking new stings of pain across my tortured skin. I wasn’t sure what he meant by what he said earlier, but I think I’m beginning to understand now as the affliction caused by his violent grip spirals my arousal out of control.

I groan, leaning back into him as he fills me with his massive length, each brutal push bringing me closer to my climax, each spark caused by his painful grip fueling my luscious vertigo.

I need more of this. More of his heated assault, more carnal brutality—more punishment by his strict hand.

More of it all. This is bliss, but it isn’t enough.

Even when my rapture tears me apart, I’m yearning for more, begging for more and crying as if it wasn’t euphoria ripping through my body but frantic deprivation.

It only gets worse as the waves of delight recede and the only solace I’m left with is feeling him inside me, his fierce tremors pulsating through my core as he finds his release with a despair equal to mine.

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