Page 35 of Stutter

She took my degradation along with my praise wonderfully. Like wax, melting into my mold – made for me with every spank. Pushing her plump ass back into the palm of my hands, seeking the comforting pain and pleasure I willingly provided.

Fuck.

I should have recognized what I felt for her then. Should have told her I loved her then. I should have… there were a lot of things I should have done. Even more I should havesaid.

Icouldcrawl to her. Beg her to give me another chance, to love me the way she once did – but that is not what she needs and that is not our dynamic. I need her subservience, crave it more than I need air to breathe like she needed my dominance and my aggression. No. I know once I open the door to Room Seven she would already be waiting for me bootless, and in position with her hair braided.

I pass the guards standing outside of each room, looming closer, my pulse quickens with each step, my dick aching to be released, to feel her lips, her hands, her pussy, her ass squeezing me, tasting me, fucking me, taking me the way I’ve taught her how I love it.

So malleable, my Siren.

Made for me.

I open the door to Room Seven, and just as I suspected she’s kneeling, bootless, heart-shaped ass on her heels, hair braided back loosely, head bowed and hands on her stocking covered thighs, wings resting on either side of that perfect fucking ass. I swallow a groan of satisfaction.

“Palms on the ground and slide forward, forehead to the ground,Chloe. Ass up.”

She obeys, baring herself to me, that strip of fabric from her body suit and her fishnets the only barriers hiding her from me. I hum lowly, allowing her to know she’s pleased me. I swear I see her tremble in anticipation as I remove my jacket, hanging it on the coat rack behind me and lock the door.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” I stand behind her, admiring. “This is the humble position. But when I order for you to be in this position,” I tap her inner knee with the tip of my shoes, and she spreads her thighs further. I hum in satisfaction when I see just how easily I could pull it to the side and bare her to me, but when it comes to her destruction at my hands, I have always been a patient man.

“Perfect.” I praise, kneeling behind her. I lightly hover my fingertips from the backs of her knees, up her thighs. I don’t touch and she doesn’t move. No, she knows better than to move, but she quivers so much her wings shimmer in the low light of the dimly lit room.

I stand, unbutton my sleeves and roll them upwards, the inked runes on my forearms a dark contrast to the olive tone of my skin. My fingers itch, tremble to touch her, dying to feel her smooth skin underneath my palms, to tangle those silky strands of chocolate and silver in them. “Rise slowly, Siren. Palms back on your thighs…. Good.” I round her until I’m front row and center at the devastating sight before me. Head still bowed, hands on her thighs… those wings… God, those wings of hers instill every fucking image of ruining her in my brain. Image after image like a reel of an old film.

Room Seven is not only the only suite without a voyeur window, it is also the room least used. After every couple leaves,each room is disinfected, new sheets brought in even if the bed wasn’t used, in the corner, a side table of unopened toys sits with cleaning and disinfectants. On the wall next to it, whips… chains… restraints. And beside it, a first aid kit, along with a mini-fridge containing small bottles of water and cooling packs.

It is the only room with a saint Andrew’s crossandties that are lowered from the ceiling, along with a breeding stand. It’s sick.I’msick. I’m a horrible man with sadistic tendencies, but the only one I have ever wanted to sic them out on was her – my fallen angel.

I make my way to the sidebar, choosing various instruments to use on her, to hurt and heal, to cause both pain and pleasure. To help her unravel just a little bit more but only for me. “To make this easier for you, we will be abiding by the color system. Green is good. Yellow is to slow down or yield and Red… red is absolutely your safe word.” I say, opening the packages then spraying what I’ve chosen down with the cleanser and washing it in the basin provided by staff. “Use your mouth and say the words for me. It will be theonly timeit is used freely before we begin. Now, Siren.”

“Gree..nn. Ye..llow… Re…d.”

My heart thrums with pride at the rasp in her voice. “Utter it, whisper it, scream it, stutter the word and I will stop. Do you understand?”

“Ye..sss..sir.” The way she hisses it makes me think she tried very hard not to fuck up. To speak. Forme.

I feel nothing but astounding pride race through me as I finally, delicately, crook a finger and place it under her chin, tilting her head back so I can look at her. Brown eyes like caramelized bronze meet mine and it’s nothing but a dagger to my chest. There’s makeup on the scar on her temple, removing it from sight but I know it’s there. I’ve placed my lips upon every perfect flaw that mars her body. The silver streak in her hair shines beside it, strands like spider silk I wholeheartedly adore, and I know I will love her even more when she sprouts them all over and not just this one spot.

“You are so tragically beautiful; it hurts every atom of my being to look at you. To be near you and not touch you and yet Ican’t stop craving you. A drug to an addict. I have tried to rid myself of these feelings and yet theystay. Persistent so that I can’t think. I can’t eat. I can’t breathe. I can’tsleep, unable to function because youhauntme… these eyes, your lips,” I pause, running my thumb over them, her lipstick not smearing like I want it to. “Memories of how good you feel squeezing my cock when you come for me… yourscent… god, your scent iseverywhereas though you still float around my house like the silent little specter you are.”

I leave out the part where I haven’t changed my sheets or pillowcases because they still smell of her. Unable to wash the clothes she left in my hamper, t-shirts of mine that I need and still… can’t bring myself to rid me of her scent. Jasmine and berries and a hint of cinnamon or something akin to that.

I am pathetic and the frustration of not having her eats away at me and darkens my mood into somethingfoul.

“Rise, Raven. On your feet.” I growl instead of cradling her in my arms the way I want to.

She rises, my finger still under her chin. The top of her head reaches the bottom of my chest, and I ache, ache, ache to kiss her. Holding back hurts me more than touching her does. Squirming to rut, to fuck up into her delectable little cunt, I reach for the restraints that come down from the ceiling, ordering her to show me her wrists and tie them on. I know things touching her wrists bother her, but we had made slow work of this before everything went to shit so I check in.

“Color?”

“Yel..low.”

I nod once. Progress. I make my way to the wall and turn on the pulley system that tugs at her restraints, watching her arms slowly rises above her head. When they pull up, I watch until she stands on the balls of her feet and toes. She gasps softly so I check in, stopping the pulley, the soft whirring above us dying down.

“Yellow.”

It seems many a thing will beyellowfor her as this is all new until they’re green or red, but I’m willing to find out becauseshe’s strong. She’s as resilient as she is tired of being resilient, but like me fucking her with Damon and Jonas,thisneeds to happen. Letting her see the darkness that resides in me… yes,this, along with other things, needs to be just between us so we can move forward, and trust can be built.

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