Page 213 of Sin With Me

“I won’t! Please!” I spread my legs further, my cheek lowering to the ground. The rice grinds into my knees harder, hitting new spots that aren’t numb and are a million times more painful.

I clench around the handle as the pain ricochets through my body. But Isaac doesn’t care or notice. He continues fucking me with it, not holding back. My clit throbs, begging for attention.

“Please,” I whimper. “Please. Please.” My hand itches to snake down my body, to rub my clit, to come harder than I’ve ever come before.

“Greedy, greedy little whore,” he scolds. “Naughty little temptress.”

I push back against him, riding the handle harder than he’s fucking me. The need to come overtakes me, and my mouth falls open, saliva spilling from it. “I’m so—I’m so close, my Lord. Please, may I come?”

His hand comes down on my ass, harder than the whip had, and I cry out, jerking forward. He spanks me again and again, the handle rubbing against a spot so deep inside me, my eyes roll back.

“Don’t you dare,” he grinds out. “This is a punishment, Evelyn. You’re not supposed to feel good.”

But I can’t help it. Not when his hand begins caressing the searing flesh of my ass, rubbing the sting in. Soothing me.

“I can make you feel good, my Lord,” I moan, my words a slurred, garbled mess. He lets out a low laugh, one that heats my body with embarrassment.

“I’m not giving you my cock,” he says. “You don’t deserve it.”

I whine, the sound so needy, so wanton, I don’t even recognize it as my own. He laughs again before he slides the handle from me.

“Wait!” I reach back, but he bats my hands away.

“What did I say?” His hand lands on my ass again, and I cry out.

“I can’t come,” I repeat his earlier words, and he nods. His hand slides into my hair and he wrenches me back to my knees, letting the rice grind into every inch of my battered knees.

“Open.” My head falls back as my mouth opens, his words guttural as he stares down at me. The handle slips back into my mouth, and this time, instead of just leather, I taste myself. It overpowers the leather, overpowers everything, and I moan. “Dirty little whore. You love the way you taste, don’t you?”

I try to speak around the tip, but I can’t. I nod, the whip waving, the tips ticking my skin with every movement. He strokes his thumb down my cheek, his eyes softening a fraction.

Gently, he pulls the handle from my mouth, and I take in a huge lungful of breath. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” he whispers.

“Okay,” I mutter.

Horny.

“Still guilty?”

I nod, my eyes dropping. His hand moves under my chin and I look up at him again. “You’ll stay kneeling until you’ve repented, understand?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Do you ever feel like you’re stuck on a ferris wheel with no exit?

Forced to see the same things over and over again, unable to stop. Except with every rotation, it gains momentum. The same sounds whirl by you and after a while, they all just become a chaotic, messy blur of static that you can tune out. Shapes become meaningless, colors abstract, people invisible.

Then, it’s just you, alone in a spinning world and you have no choice but to sit back and let the ride continue to fuck you up.

That’s how I feel now.

That’s how I feel most days.

Like I’m just stuck in one position, watching as a meaningless world passes me by. Life makes choices for me and I have to just accept them because if I didn’t, what kind of person would I be?

A bad one, riddled with the guilt of my choices, the mistakes of my past and the decisions that have tried to kill me.

Some days are worse than others, but most of the time, I’m just existing. Having out-of-body experiences that don’t feel real and I’m powerless to stop them.

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