Page 429 of Rage

“Are you sure?” His brow furrows.

I swallow down the lump in my throat and nod. “I need to face what happened or it will haunt me forever. I’m done with Carl, but that room and everything that happened there, I need to be there again.”

“Then let’s go.” He lifts me from the throne. I slide down his hard body, inhaling his spicy cologne, until my feet touch the floor. Blake drops a kiss on the top of my head, then takes my hand and we walk away from the mutilated man, almost like thisis an ordinary day. I’ve known violence all my life, but I never thought I’d be the person dealing out justice in this way.

Being in this room sends a shiver through me as my memory replays everything that happened here. The pain and fear Carl put me through, the glass shards in my feet, and even how Blake came to my rescue—again.

But that’s not what I want to remember at this club or in this playroom.

I face Blake. “Let’s make new memories here.” I glance around the space, taking in all the fun possibilities, and knowing immediately which one we’ll enjoy the most. “Tie me up and fuck me. Make all the painful memories go away.”

“That, I can do.” Taking me by the shoulders, he presses a kiss to my mouth. “Do you remember your safe word?”

“Cupcake,” I murmur against his lips.

“Good girl. Now I’m going to do something to you I haven’t done before.”

I frown up at him in confusion. “You’ve tied me up before.”

“Not like this.” He steps away from me, gathering up a bunch of coiled ropes. “This will take a little while, but it will be worth is, so be patient.”

I eye the rope. In the past, he’s preferred binding me with his silk ties, or even handcuffs, but never actual rope.

“Do you trust me, magpie?” he asks, his intense gaze boring into mine.

“Yes. Completely.”

“Good. Take off your clothes, then I want you on your knees.”

I do as I’m told, stripping, then sinking down onto the plush carpet. Blake positions me where he wants, then slides the firstsection of rope across my chest. It’s not as coarse as it looks. The fibers glide over my skin with silky softness. I release the breath I was holding and relax into my husband’s touch.

He expertly binds my breasts in a series of knots that form a crisscross pattern over my chest and shoulders. My arms he folds behind my back, then secures them in place with short lengths of rope. Moving lower, he creates intricate knot-work on my torso, between my legs, and round my thighs.

Each glide of the rope feels like a lover’s caress, each knot a firm embrace. I thought at first that the bondage might make me feel too constricted. Instead, I’m surprisingly able to let go, emotionally, mentally, and physically. I give myself over to Blake with complete trust.

The feeling is freeing, liberating in a way I’ve never fully experienced before.

When he has me bound the way he wants, a satisfied hum vibrates from his chest. He’s still fully dressed, while I’m not only naked but restrained and at his mercy. The power imbalance sends a thrill through me.

I let out a surprised squeak when Blake lifts me into his arms. He carries me over to the suspension frame, where I’m secured by my chest, waist, and ankles until I’m floating in the air. Suspended, the sense of weightlessness and surrender shoves the remains of my negative thoughts from my mind.

I’m completely present, submitting to the here and now.

“Good girl.” Blake caresses my sensitive flesh, and I shiver. All sensation feels heightened right now. Dipping his fingers between my spread thighs, he finds me wet. “Perfect girl. The binding was foreplay for you, wasn’t it?”

I murmur an incoherent response, too lost in all the sensations to form a clear thought, much less words.

Blake teases my clit, and an orgasm hits me out of nowhere. My entire body tightens and shudders, and a long moan leavesmy parted lips. Coming while bound and suspended is unlike anything I’ve felt before—total vulnerability.

My husband barely gives me a chance to catch my breath before he lines himself up and pulls my soaked, throbbing pussy onto his cock. He rocks us, gently swinging, until I take every inch of him. He’s in control of our pacing and the angle. Wrapping my hair around one of his fists, he eases almost all the way out before pulling me onto his hard length again, over and over.

Slowly, he continues his seductive torture. Every nerve ending in my body flames to life, verging on sensory overload as he diligently, reverently fucks me.

I whimper and moan his name, begging for more, until he finally snaps. The room fills with the lewd sounds of our flesh slapping, his grunts and my gasps. When he pinches my clit, fireworks explode behind my eyelids and white-hot pleasure steals my breath away. My cunt pulses around him and he follows me over the edge, tensing, he spurts hot cum deep inside me.

This, all of this, is exactly what I needed. This experience overrides everything else about this place, overshadows my past trauma so thoroughly that what happened before is a distant memory. One that can no longer haunt me unless I give it the power to do so.

I may be forever fucked up, but therapy has made me stronger, more resilient, and capable. I’m no longer ruled by the traumas of my past. They don’t cut as deep as they once did.

And this man, my husband, has helped me through so much. His love and devotion fill all my gaping wounds, making me whole in a way I never thought possible.

Catching our breaths, Blake buried deep in my pussy, he slowly rocks us. His deep voice growls in my ear, “Round two. Come for me again, magpie.”

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