Page 22 of Absolution
He clicks the button on the remote, and the vibrations inside me increase to a ruthless intensity. My pleasure crests again, but it doesn’t abate this time. It goes on and on, and all I can do is moan and shake as cruel ecstasy consumes me.
He holds his glass in the same hand that grips the rope leash, and with every sip, he tugs on the hook, stimulating me to the point of madness. Idle snaps of the crop against my ass make fresh licks of pain stoke my lust, and I don’t know the difference between pleasure and pain. There’s only erotic sensation and my master’s control.
He takes his time, savoring his drink while he keeps me pinned in his imperious stare. My dark god’s attention is a divine mercy. I don’t have meaning without his rapt focus. If he looks away from me, I won’t exist. I’m his, completely and irrevocably.
When he finally finishes his drink, he sets the glass down on the counter and retrieves the slim jewelry box from his pocket.
“I think you’ve more than earned your diamonds,” he rumbles. “Are you ready to accept your new collar? Once it’s on, you will never take it off.” He says the sweet promise like a warning. “You’ll wear it every minute of every day, and you’ll know that you’re mine.”
He drops the crop so that he can unbuckle the gag. It falls from my mouth, and I immediately begin to babble my devotion.
“Yours, Master,” I vow. “I’m all yours. I love you.”
His slow grin appears almost drunken, as though my words of devotion grant him the most intoxicating high he’s ever experienced.
“Sweet pet,” he praises. “My Abigail.”
The diamonds settle around my neck, draping just above my collarbones. The delicate clasp closes at my nape, more permanent than the rose gold padlock on my leather collar. A sense of security and peace bathes me in a warm glow, and I bask in the perfection of being his.
“Hold onto me,” he commands, his voice dropping to a deeper register as he loses himself in our connection too.
My hands fly to his hips, and I cling to him like he’s the only solid thing in my world. His powerful muscles flex as he quickly frees his thick, hard cock from the confines of his jeans.
He doesn’t have to order me to open my mouth to accept him. I greedily part my lips in wanton invitation, and his precum wets my tongue as he enters me in a slow slide. He doesn’t stop when he hits the back of my throat, and I struggle to suppress mygag reflex so that I can take all of him. When he’s deep inside me, he stills for a moment, fixing me in his emerald stare.
Then he tugs on my leash, and I cry out around his cock.
He curses and withdraws, allowing me to draw the breath I so desperately need. His fingers tangle in my hair, and he starts to fuck my mouth in a steady rhythm. With each ruthless thrust, he toys with the leash, so that the hook gently fucks my ass in time with his cock in my throat.
I lose count of my orgasms, each peak crashing into the next. All I can do is cling to him and breathe when he deigns to allow me oxygen. The ecstasy is vicious and all-consuming, burning me up inside.
My desperate, blissful tears stream down my face, and I taste the salt on his cock as it slides between my lips.
“One more,” he snarls. “Come for me, Abigail.”
My final orgasm claims me in a violent crescendo, and I scream around his dick. He roars out his own completion, and his hot cum spills onto my tongue. I greedily swallow everything he gives me.
I’m his, and he’s mine.
My beautiful, cruel, perfect master’s knees buckle, and he sinks to the tiles before me. His strong arms close around me, pulling me into a careful embrace as though I’m made of glass. I’m his precious pet, his most treasured possession. He’ll never let me go.
And I’ll never release him either.
8
ABIGAIL
Terror grips my mind in a vise, and all of my muscles tense with the survival instinct to flee from an encroaching threat. A shadow in the shape of a man looms at the bedroom door, a dangerous silhouette against the moonlight at his back. A copper tang coats my tongue, and I open my mouth to scream.
No sound comes out. I try to scramble away, but my bones are made of lead. I can’t so much as twitch my limbs in an effort to fight him off.
I can’t move. I can’t speak.
Fear climbs up my throat in a choking vine, cutting off my ability to breathe.
The shadow draws closer, flickering toward me like a malevolent apparition.
Sweat beads on every inch of my skin, but I’m frozen. My skin burns, but my flesh is icy, and the dichotomy makes nausea churn in my gut.
