Page 69 of The Crimson Lily
One more time.
“Four,” I wail—or is it now a moan?
“Keep looking down,” he dictates, and I comply.
Another clash. Five to go. A warm sensation covers the places he’s struck. It’s no longer pain I feel. Something else is getting to my head.
“F…five,” I murmur, and he counters with another hit.
I don’t make a sound for the next five minutes. Warm tears are rolling again. My head is tucked between my arms. I am paralyzed, defeated by cries and shallow pants. I am clutching the sheet so hard my nails could tear through it.
“Six,” I belatedly say.
He strikes me again, this time even harder. I become woozy. My vision blurs, and I can barely speak anymore. Oh man, how I love that feeling. How twisted am I? Never mind, I figured that out long ago.
“Seven,” I whisper.
The next hit comes. And the next. The last one falls harder than all the previous ones combined. It snaps me awake. I scream so loudly that all of Rome can hear me. It’s like Maksim doesn’t care for privacy anymore.
“Ten,” I rasp, my broken voice ending in whimpers.
I am almost lifeless, sitting on the wooden floor, my legs folded beside me, my head rested in my arms on the bed. I am sobbing. But Maksim isn’t going to let me off that easy. A few seconds later, he kneels behind me. I’m anxious about what he’ll do next, but instead of more anger manifesting, his hands softly cup my hips, and he pulls me toward him. He tests the waters first with two fingers, then raises me up and enters me. I don’t have the energy to scream, but I don’t need to becausehe’s gentle and slow. It feels so darn relieving. After the pain, the excruciating fire that now blazes my skin raw, I am conquered by a torrent of absolute, delicate pleasure. Maksim holds me there, steadily, kissing my shoulders and neck. Right at that moment, he comes inside me, and I join in with silent moans.
My knees are numb. I have trouble walking. Maksim has to carry me to the bathroom to take care of my wounds. He’s prepared a warm bath for me and lets me sink into the water to soothe my skin. He rubs my back gently with a wet, lukewarm towel. I feel a thousand tiny needles lodge into my back. It itches, but I can take it. It’s not that bad. It could have been much worse.
Maksim leaves me to relax for a moment, my body enjoying the warmth of the water. He sits on the edge of the tub so I can rest my head against the side of his thigh. A few minutes pass, and he goes to fetch a tube of Bepanthen cream. He makes me sit up straight and spreads the cream on my skin carefully, checking how I react each time he touches me. I’m reaching my limit of how much I can take for today. My head feels heavy, and Maksim does his best not to let me faint. He wants to make sure I won’t fall asleep from the haze.
“You went really hard on me this time,” I whisper with a sly smile, peeking over my shoulder to see him between slow blinks.
It’s like I’m high, entranced by Maksim’s intoxicating touch.
He responds with a proud chuckle. “I don’t go soft when it comes to punishment.”
I hum a laugh, which follows my head as it rolls to the side. I feel the world slowly slip away. The way he treats me right now makes me feel like I’m his everything. He knows exactly what I need and how to take care of me after such an intense session of pleasure and pain. I find myself a little crazy for findinghis response endearing. Mr. Business Class likes to punish with force. How cute…
“I know,” I giggle, feeling silly, and I don’t know if I say or think:That’s why I love you.
I hope with all my heart that I dreamt saying that last part. There’s no way I can tell Maksim what I feel for him. I can’t tell him how much I love him. I’m too afraid he won’t say it back. At this point, I’m not even sure I’m in the tub anymore. Probably not—it’s too soft to be the tub. Maybe I’m wrapped in a towel. Plus, I’m sure I’m lying on my side, and it’s Maksim’s scent that is just within my reach.
18
It’s in Maksim’s arms that I wake up this morning. I could be dreaming, but I can hear his slow breathing. Did he finally sleep next to me? I’m not sure, but here he is, stroking the nude skin of my back. I don’t move for about five minutes, savoring the way his fingers caress me, wanting nothing more than for this moment to last forever.
“How bad is it?” I ask with a little voice when he ventures around the flaring places his belt touched last night.
He runs his finger along them. “It doesn’t look too bad,” he informs, nibbling on my ear as he ends his sentence in a whisper. “I could have done much worse.”
I turn around to give him a tender kiss. As I move, I can feel my skin burn. I have to go to the nearest mirror and take a look. I stagger to the bathroom, having difficulty walking from last night’s events. The pain is not the issue; it’s more like my muscles want to fail me. As if they want me to stay put so my body can recuperate.
All right, it doesn’t look bad at all. Four of the marks are more like scratches from a teddy bear rather than a mad beast. Two of them are flashing red but are rather superficial. They itch a little, but it’s nothing to worry about. The one Maksim strucklast, right underneath my right shoulder blade, is the worst. It’ll definitely leave a bruise, like the mark on my leg that lingered for days after the last time I received the infamous belt.
Maksim appears behind me with the ointment. He squeezes the tube a little to get some out on two fingers and begins to rub my skin. I’m enjoying how Maksim is taking care of me right now, with the same tenderness he showed last night. This is my reward—him, with his soft hands, mending me.
Oh, darn it! I’m so lost in this moment of rapture that I’ve completely forgotten about my appointment with Doctor Rossi.
“What time is it?” I urge.
Maksim still coats my skin. “It’s almost nine,” he replies, his voice dark as he touches the reddest mark, like he’s enjoying exploring it. He massages it for a bit longer to help it heal.
