Chapter 20
Dorian
K atherine is prey beneath me. I take enjoyment from the way her body shakes with anticipation and fear.
I’m shocked at myself. I’d never wanted to truly hurt her before…and in this moment, it isn’t what I want. It’s control—to be the center of her world.
If I want Katherine to feel pain, she’ll feel it, much the same with pleasure, joy, anger… I want to be the source of all of it. The cause, the cure.
The Devil knows she’s mine.
True to her word, she doesn’t protest while I splay her out across my lap. The first time I spanked her, I hadn’t put any real effort into it. She jolted in surprise, but I knew I hadn’t hurt her. Before, I believed that I wasn’t capable of harming her. Back then, I thought my darker tastes shouldn’t be explored. But now, I’m addicted to the sounds that escape her.
When I crack my hand down across her skin, and she lets out a soft cry, a strange feeling unwinds inside me. She wriggles, unbalanced on my lap. She can only grunt and writhe, even as I continue to spank her, reddening her cheeks with each strike. With each hard slap, her cries intensify, but she does not fight me or pull away.
I’m almost disgusted with myself. Before, I was a man more than happy with her resentment and hatred of me. I was fine with her wanting to use me so as long as I could keep her all to myself. Now? I want to punish her, but I also want to see how much she’ll obediently take from me.
Katherine’s gasps and soft cries become shouts. I’m not sure I’ll ever be truly satisfied with the sound. At what point will I think she’s been punished enough? Do I want to take her past her limits? Even I don’t know.
Eventually, my breath picks up. I pause, marveling at her skin in the room’s dim light. Her ass is bright red, and when I rest my hand against her skin, it’s hot. She’ll definitely be bruised; I haven’t gone easy on her.
With my free hand, I crane her neck and angle her head back enough to see her face. I pull the blindfold from her eyes long enough to study them, looking for tears. Instead, I find a flicker of anger. A rush of satisfaction surges through me. Her hating me is the safest place to be. To throw the word love at me is cruel, even for her.
“Will you behave now?” I ask, out of breath. Another surprise. Usually, I’m in great shape; how hard was I spanking her that I feel winded?
“Yes,” she snaps, a pop of irritation I’ve never seen on her face emerges.
I hoist her back onto the bed and get to my feet. Returning to the closet, I sort through the boxes on the bottom. Many years ago, I purchased a mystery box to try to spice up an old relationship, and its items—a few collars, gags, a blindfold, rope, and various other items—have gone unused until now.
I doubt anything could have saved that relationship or any other, especially knowing, in hindsight, that Katherine was out there somewhere. In my lust-soaked brain, I can’t quite see past my appetite to gauge the depths of my feelings, but I know it to be true. I want us to be together; I want her to see how perfectly we slot together; how can I do that if she keeps trying to escape me?
I return to the bed, untangling the rope. By the time I reach her, the frustration dissipates. The glint of anger is replaced by a haze of excitement and a touch of fear. Yes, the woman of my dreams loathes me, but if she wants to conceal her need for me, she’s failing.
I don’t have to pin her to bind her. She tenses beneath my touch but watches anxiously as I bring her arms together against her chest, binding them from wrist to elbow, rendering her completely helpless. She whimpers at the tightness of the binds, but I ignore it and reach down to yank the blindfold from her forehead back over her eyes.
“No,” she protests weakly. She eyes me pleadingly before I cover them from view and cast her into darkness.
I stand only long enough to strip and abandon my clothes on the floor before I crawl back onto the mattress, pinning her onto her back. She continues to whine and struggle against the rope.
Katherine’s ready for me. I’m unsure if it’s the binds that excite her, the spanking, or something in between that’s gotten her so wet, but I don’t linger. I push her legs apart and slip myself into her with ease, placing one hand on her waist, the other at the crook of her neck.
I thought for so long that nothing could compare to the excitement of our first night together, but I was wrong. Before, we were equals, a push and pull existed between us. Now, as I pin her to the mattress and hold her to me, I know all of that was a facade.
She belongs to me, doesn’t she? What say does she have in any of that?
I have to temper myself. Slowly thrusting into her, I feel her hips fight against my grasp, trying to match my movements. Katherine’s moans fill the air around us, and once again, she dares to try and lie to me.
“I love—”
I press my palm to her throat, enough to silence her. I cut off her air, thrusting my hips in a steady, slow rhythm. She stops her useless squirming, angling her hips upward and rocking her body against mine, even as her face tenses from the lack of air.
Satisfied and confident she won’t try to lie again, I let up on her neck, allowing her to suck in a few breaths. It doesn’t stop me. I dig my fingers into her thighs, picking up the pace.
We remain like that for a while, riding wave after wave of pleasure. Now and again, pressure builds in me, and I have to fight to stave off my peak. Perhaps my body’s ready to finish, but I’m not.
Then she does it again. She cries my name and manages to slip out “love” before I choke her again. I vastly prefer the music of her pleasure, but if she won’t be honest—won’t tell me how she really feels while being taken—then I don’t want to hear it. I know I’m hardly being gentle toward the end, yet she’s insistent, and the cruelty of my fingers cutting off her oxygen doesn’t lessen her excitement, and if anything, she only grows wetter.
Katherine’s climax spasms and ripples around me. Her body tenses, but I don’t let up my grip, don’t let her cry out.
With one final thrust, hand on her throat to keep her quiet, I come with a huff. The rush of pleasure is almost enough to ebb away at my frustrations. Almost.
When my climax subsides, I let go of her throat. I move my hand to the back of her neck to crane her head slightly, letting her suck in a lungful of air.
By the time she’s calmed, I slip out of her. Not using a condom again is not one of my best decisions. Then again, what does it matter if we take care of it now or later? And what’s another round?
“Will you behave now?” I demand. “Will you try to run away from me?”
“No!” she proclaims. Her voice sounds raw. “I swear, I won’t run away!”
This time, I believe her. But it doesn’t matter.
Getting to my feet, I hoist her over my shoulder once more without undoing her binds. She lets out a few more whimpers as I walk her out of the room. She kicks with only token resistance.
I take her to the living room. With the entire estate empty, no one will hear us. I carefully swing her downward and lower her to her knees on the floor. I sit on the couch in front of her and run a hand down the length of her neck. I worry that my grip on her will give her bruises. This touch elicits a shudder from her that stirs me again.
“I don’t know if I believe you, kitten,” I murmur, edging on a growl.
“I swear I won’t run,” she says. I do, but I haven’t gotten my fill yet. And worse for her, there’s no one around to discourage me.
“I don’t think you’ve been punished enough.”
“I promise I’ll behave,” she pants.
Without another word, I yank her up from the floor and lay her across my lap, her bound arms tucked between her and the couch cushion. In the brighter light of the living room, I see that her cheeks are bright red and likely very tender. It doesn’t temper my enthusiasm. I deliver another round of slaps, and the sound of my hand against her skin bounces off the walls of the room, only matched by her gasps.
Katherine clenches her teeth between her cries, obediently remaining in my lap. She doesn’t fight me and even lifts her hips halfway through as if to meet the punishment I rain down on her tender body.
Even if a new part of me hungers to inflict such pain on her, it has little to do with punishment and everything to do with control.
I slip a hand between her legs, strumming her swollen clit. In response to my prodding and the relief from the end of the punishment, she drops her face into the couch cushion and unleashes a groan. The sound falls somewhere between frustrated, embarrassed, and desperate.
Coiling an arm around her, I flip her onto her back on the cushion. Her trembling stops. She’s ready for me again, and I, her.
Katherine and I have gone at it before, but neither of those times would I have been crass enough to say I fucked her. But this time, I fuck Katherine.
I force her legs apart as wide as possible, pinning both to the cushion below and plunge deep into her. I’m not gentle, not slow, and she’s not quiet. With her legs forced down and her arms bound to her chest, she can’t move her hips or legs. She can only take what I give her, as deeply as I can give it her.
This time, she doesn’t proclaim her love for me. I let her cry out my name as loudly as she wishes. It’s only me here to hear her, and it serves to tell me how desperately she needs this, too.
I ram into her without abandon. I don’t stop to question that it’s Katherine I’m brutally driving myself into. I give into the animalistic part of my brain that’s been dying to ravage her since the first night. I groan as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm me.
Pain isn’t the only thing I want her to feel. Slipping my hand up from her leg, I press it to the apex of her thigh and press a thumb to her center. Her clit’s swollen. I stroke it, and the movement transforms her panting to deep moans; if a world exists beyond her and me, she’s no longer aware of it.
Katherine comes first. Even as I pin her tightly between the furniture and my body, I can still feel her buck, the depths of her trembling as another orgasm rocks through her. If I thought her shouts of pain were loud before…they don’t compare to those of her climax.
I try my hardest to make it last, but I’m thrown over the edge. I give way to that summit again and shudder involuntarily against the pleasure that hits me. When my senses return to me, I pull from her, unsure of whose fluids belong to whom.
As I catch my breath, I bend over toward Katherine and unbind her arms, tracing the impressions the ropes left on her skin.
I want to apologize to her now that I have my wits about me, but I know I can’t. I committed to punishing her to obtain control. Without it, everything in her life will be compromised. I can’t let her go, and I can’t let her stray.
When I remove the blindfold, she whimpers. She defensively pulls her legs together, curling her knees toward her chest. With her arms tucked at her sides, she folds them under her legs as if to shield her backside from me. How can she be so adorable in such a state? Her lip quivers, and tears trickle down her face.
Either the fear has returned, or the intensity of the whole affair has finally gotten to her. I pull the knitted quilt from the back of the couch and wrap her in it. She doesn’t flinch or pull away from me; I count this as a good sign.
When I pull her into a carry, she curls up against my chest. I take her back to my bedroom. When I lay her on my bed, she folds in on herself, wrapping up in the throw and trying to hide her face.
Retrieving a set of clothes, I step into the bathroom. I lean down in the tub and engage the plug before running lukewarm water into the bath. After washing myself off with a rag and tossing it in the basket, I get dressed.
When I return to the bedroom, she continues to hide, body trembling beneath the blanket. I sit next to her, peeling the blanket away from her head, only for her to bury her reddened face into my sheets as if she doesn’t want me to see her.
“No more hiding, kitten,” I chide her softly.
Reluctantly, she lifts her face and glances up at me with reddened eyes, making the blue tones in them vibrant. She’s extremely adorable in this state. Even so, it isn’t the only state that I find her cute; I enjoy her highs just as much as her lows, and I’ve dragged her very low.
I remind myself that her emotions are scattered. She’s been pushed to her limit. She’s desperate for comfort from something, and even if she resents me, I’ll make her need me.
When I peel back the rest of the throw and begin to pull her toward me, I expect her to rip away or flinch. It’d be a rational response. Yet, she clings to me, more unwelcome tears flowing down her cheeks before she can stop them, humiliation etched on her features.
I lift her again and take her to the bathtub. I lower her into the water, and she flinches when her ass touches the bottom. Positioned on one knee, I dip my hands into the water, check the temperature, and then bring them to her face, washing the tears and trying to cool the heat of her cheeks.
“Your watch is getting wet,” she mumbles.
I want to laugh but refrain. After what I put her through, she cares about my watch getting wet? “I’m not worried about it, Kittie.”
I angle her head slightly to get a better look at her neck. There is no bruising, so I feel a touch less guilty.
“It’s expensive,” she says in a tiny voice. To my relief, her body relaxes slightly when I smile at her.
I take my hands away from her long enough to remove the watch from my wrist and set it aside. I honestly don’t care if the damn thing falls down the drain. I’m too focused on her.
I grab a clean rag from the corner of the tub, dipping it in the water. When I lift the rag to her arms, Katherine recoils from me. Guilt stabs me, but I remind myself that good things come in time.
“I…I can do it,” she argues.
“Are you embarrassed?”
Katherine nods.
“And what are you embarrassed of? I’ve seen everything,” I tell her, trying to speak more casually. I want to show her the facade of the beast with a new-found gluttony for her pain has fallen. “And, for the record, you’ve seen everything as well.”
But she shakes her head. “It’s…it’s not that.”
In the bedroom, my cell phone rings. She flinches at the noise. I could break the damn thing.
Ignoring it, I bring the rag to her arm again, and this time, she doesn’t pull away as I bathe her. I soften my tone, “Then what is it?”
“I don’t think that I deserve it.”
I lower the rag. I could perish just to get a glimpse into her head. “What…to be clean, or…?”
The phone goes silent just as I’m tempted to get to my feet and snap it in half.
Looking down at the water filling the tub, she quietly replies, “Your kindness. I… I didn’t listen.”
Ah, that makes more sense. I place the rag on the edge of the tub and put my hand on her chin to lift it. Her eyes glisten with new tears.
My poor girl.
“Haven’t I told you that my love is unconditional?” When she stares at me, I continue, “Do you doubt me?”
I catch a flicker of worry in her glistening eyes, and she tries to shake her head.
“When you behave, I want to treat you well. When you’re disobedient, I want to punish you. Neither have any bearing on my feelings for you,” I explain. Katherine blinks as she listens, spilling one of her tears into the water below. “Don’t question whether or not you’re worthy of kindness. If I’m being kind, it’s because you deserve it. Do you understand?”
Katherine nods, and I kiss her lightly. I assume that the reverse permeates through her mind: anything I inflict on her—punishment, pleasure—is because she deserves it.
Before I can continue bathing her, my phone rings again. I sigh and get to my feet, turning off the running water.
I left my phone on the nightstand before I joined Katherine in the living room, completely forgotten that morning. The caller ID says James , and right now, I want to kill my bastard of a coworker.
Reluctantly, I answer the call and don’t bother being polite. “What?”
“Oh, hey, man. Sorry for blowing up your phone,” James stammers. My tone clearly takes him by surprise. “I know it’s last minute, but I got a call from the Sanderson Company, and they want to come up and settle the deal. They want a night on the town, discuss the details over dinner, you know the drill.”
Turning as he speaks, I glance at Katherine in the tub, her back to me as she sits up and hugs her knees. The anger returns, as does the urge to snap my phone in two. Meeting the members of the Sanderson Company will likely take me late into the night. After what became of us, the idea of leaving her for so long seems impossible, like leaving my lungs behind.
“This week? How long?” I ask, trying to wrangle in a decent, amiable tone.
“I don’t know. Your uncle set it up.” James seems intent on blaming the one person whose disdain for me isn’t a secret. Very classy. “He mentioned taking them to that steak house downtown tomorrow and having drinks after. What do you say?”
I study Katherine. She reaches out and takes my watch from the corner of the tub. She carefully looks over the silver-blue face. I want to know what she’s thinking.
James misinterprets my silence. “And by ‘what do you say,’ I mean, we don’t have a choice.”
“I know,” I snap. Even if I want to break the man’s jaw, I know he’s nothing more than an annoying messenger. “I’ll make a reservation.”
“Okay, that sounds good. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening,” he replies, I assume trying to read into my attitude.
“It’s fine,” I say, tracing the curves of Katherine’s shoulders and back with my eyes. “I just had better ideas of how to spend my Friday night. No offense.”
“None taken,” James grumbles before hanging up.