Page 34 of Freaks
No, it wasn’t cord.
Small, polished beads of obsidian shone in the dim light. Something dangled from the loop of the beads, undistinguishable at first, and then forming the shape of a carved, stone cross. A crucifix. Fix was holding a rosary.
Taking my right hand in his, he looped the rosary around my wrist, once, and then again, and then he took my other hand and slide the heavy, cool rope of beads around that wrist, too, repeating the process until the small, hard orbs of stone were pressing firmly into my skin. My fingers tingled, the blood flow to my hands immediately restricted.
Fix took hold of beads and looped them over the wrought iron bedpost to my right. There was nothing stopping the loop of beads from sliding down the post, all the way down to the mattress, where my bound wrists came to rest on top of the crisp white sheets.
“Spin over, Angel. You know what’s coming.”
My heart stuttered, climbing up my throat, but I swallowed it back down. I obeyed. With my bare back to him, and my buttocks on show, I felt suddenly very exposed. Fix climbed off the bed, was gone for a split second, and then he was back, his body bracing mine, arms and legs either side of me.
His skin didn’t touch me anywhere, but I could feel the blazing heat coming off him in waves. He reached around and his hand came into view. In it: something white, bundled in his fist. “Open your mouth.” The order was low and brooked no argument.
The white material he slid into my mouth was rough and rigid and tasted faintly of chemicals. What the fuck was it? What the fuck wasonit? My mind cartwheeled out of control for a moment, but then…I knew what the piece of material was. The chemical taste on the fabric was starch; it was the Roman collar he’d tried to hide from me.
Holy fuck.
Flames licked at my face, down the skin of my neck, across my chest. There was probably a crimson blush covering half my body. A rosary and a Roman collar. His choice of restraints said a lot.Once, these items had been a sign of his faith.Toolsof that faith. Now, he was using them to tie me up and gag me while he fucked me. I got the feeling that he was making a point. Here, in his father’s house, who had been cruel and harsh with him his entire life, who had forced him into a life he wouldn’t have chosen for himself otherwise.
His actions were a fuck you to a man long dead, but I didn’t mind. These were relics of a religion I didn’t believe in. Fix could use them as he saw fit, especially if that use brought him some kind of closure.
He rocked his body over the top of me, grazing his chest along the skin of my back. Over my buttocks, I could feel the long, hard length of his cock, pressing insistently against me. He was so fucking big. So fucking hard. How the hell was he going to fit himself inside me?
“Shhhh. Don’t tense up. I’m going to look after you, Angel.” Fix could read my mind, or perhaps he was just really fucking good at reading my body. Either way, he knew I was wondering how badly this was going to hurt, and he was doing his best to put my mind at ease. Kissing the nape of my neck, his rough stubble caused goosebumps to spread down the backs of my arms and my legs.Shit. The sensation was devastating. I whimpered around the collar in my mouth, my muscles softening like butter beneath him.
I couldn’t move. If I moved, the rosary strained against my skin, making my hands throb like crazy, so I stayed as still as I could while Fix slipped his fingers down between my legs.
“Fuck me, Sera. You’ve drenched the fucking sheets.” I could hear the hunger in his voice. It coated his words like thick, warm honey. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good,” he swore.
He’d already begun. My thoughts were splintered all over the place. As he slowly inserted his fingers inside me, and a string of colorful expletives formed on my tongue; mercifully they were muffled by the collar, otherwise Fix would have heard me call him something rather offensive. He was teasing me, moving too slowly. I needed him inside me right fucking now.
He chuckled darkly under his breath. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. You can take it.” The timbre of the statement suggested I was going to have to figure out how, one way or another, because he wasn’t going to give in to my screaming desire before he was good and ready.
I closed my eyes, breathing heavily down my nose, bracing for whatever was coming next. I didn’t have to wait long. With fingers slick from my pussy, Fix slowly began to rub between my ass cheeks. The tips of his fingers worked over me, moving in small circles, working me until I relaxed against the contact. It was going to hurt. I knew it was going to hurt, but when he slipped one of his fingers inside me, he did it gently, carefully, moving a millimeter at a time.
His prediction came true; I began to sweat like crazy, beads of perspiration breaking out across my brow and down the center of my back. The feeling was so intense, the pressure so great, almosttoogreat, but Fix took his time, moving at a snail’s pace, until gradually I began to feel myself sinking into the mattress. It was starting to feel good.
Soon, Fix replaced his finger with the tip of his cock. I locked up all over again when he started to work himself into me, bit by bit. I had to bite down on the collar to stop myself from grinding out an uncomfortable growl between my teeth, but soon even that discomfort waned, and I was left with a pleasant, burning hot sense of pleasure instead.
“I’m so fucking deep,” Fix panted. “Can you feel me all the way inside you?”
I could. His touch was agony, and I was addicted to the pain. I couldn’t separate myself from it, even if I’d wanted to.
I rocked my hips back against him as he drove himself forward, and a carnal, desperate pleasure spread through me, taking over. I was so close…
So close.
And so was Fix.
We both summited the peak of our climaxes together, and Fix roared as he came. I stumbled, tumbled and fell, soaring and falling all at once, and the pressure at my wrists increased as I strained to feel more of him, to take more of him.
The rope of beads that held my hands together strained, and then…snapped. Suddenly the pressure was gone, and a shower of obsidian beads exploded all over the bed, rolling off the mattress and scattering to the floor, each of them a prayer.
Fix curved over my body, his breath ragged as he stroked his hands over my prickling skin. “Now you’ve heard my confession,” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “What will be my penance?”
I pressed a kiss against the arm he’d wrapped around me as I closed my eyes. He was still inside me, and he still would be, even after he’d withdrawn and I’d washed the evidence of our sins away. “No penance required, Mr. Marcosa. You and I are square.”
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