Chapter 14
T he intimacy of being so close to Jacob hits me like a tidal wave: comfortable, flowing, washing over my body with a surprising warmth.
When he pulls me closer in his sleep, I nestle into him, craving this newfound feeling.
It’s been so… so long since I had someone to hold like this. The girls at the club for the most part thought I was weird and hated me, save for Lindsay. Mystery man was an outlier; someone who thought I was attractive when most guys vied for Barbie bitches.
And now… now I have a man utterly devoted to me. Who would probably kill for me if I asked him to. And I wanted more .
Literally. Just being next to him brought up memories of the first time we had sex, the time that was utterly consensual and just how I liked it. He made me feel good . Right and pure. And now I want that feeling again; the feeling that doesn’t come when things are forced on you.
I slowly reach over, grazing his cock over his clothes with my hand. Rubbing up and down, up and down.
He’s still sleeping, but he groans slightly, making me pause until I’m sure he hasn’t woken up.
Then I resume my stroking over the fabric, feeling his cock stiffen and harden beneath my fingers. Just the thought of touching him in such an intimate and vulnerable way does things to me. Makes my own core wet and slippery.
I reach down with my other hand to touch myself there, biting my lip to hold back a moan.
Without warning, Jacob turns over and pins both my hands above my head on the pillow. “Naughty little lamb,” he croons. “You know what you’re doing.”
I lick my lip where I’ve bitten it so hard, I taste blood. “I want to feel you.” The coppery tang is warm on my tongue.
Lowering his mouth to my neck, then sliding down to where my shirt exposes my shoulder, he bites me, eliciting a pained cry from me. It’s hard enough to draw blood, and he slides his tongue over the wound, ravishing me and my taste.
My hands are still bound above me, and I squirm against the pain and pleasure he’s drawing from my body.
He bites into the wound harder, and harder, putting so much pressure into my flesh that blood starts to drip in rivulets down my shoulder. It’s intoxicating.
When he lifts his mouth, it’s covered and smeared in my blood.
He kisses me, and I moan against the taste.
I should find this revolting. Twisted. And yet he’s enraptured me with the ministrations his tongue and mouth have made over my body.
Pulling back slightly, he starts to drag down my pants and panties with his free hand, then undoing his belt with the other and releasing his cock.
My eyes watch him hungrily, eagerly drinking in every new movement he makes.
I know what comes next. What pleasure I’m about to feel as he brings me to new heavens, new highs, with that beautiful, pierced cock of his.
I’m already so wet that I blush, and Jacob chuckles. “Naughty, naughty, naughty.” His eyes flick up to mine. “Keep those hands up. If you move, there will be consequences.”
Before I have a chance to nod, he’s lowered himself to my core with those bloody lips of his.
Oh. My. God.
I can’t hold back a moan as he caresses my clit with his tongue, suckling and slurping against me.
When he inserts a finger, I gasp, bucking against him and the pressure, lowering one of my hands to his luscious hair.
In a flash, he’s off me. “Tsk, tsk. I thought you’d be stronger than that, Amy Dean.”
Smirking and lowering his hand to the bedside table, he grabs rope from the drawer and locks eyes with me in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.
“We’ll just have to make sure you can’t move.”
His eyes narrows then.
“I want to make sure you’re okay during this, Amy. I’m going to do things to you that will hurt, that will feel terrible, but you’ll eventually see pleasure through that pain.
“We may need to establish a safe word.”
I lick my lips, testing out the phrase. “Safe word?” I ask.
“Something you can say and at any time, I’ll stop. I’ll respect your safe word, and this pleasure and pain will end.”
“Something like… stop?”
He shakes his head. “More something that has no place in bed. How about rutabaga ?” He smirks.
“Rutabaga,” I muse, shifting on the sheets.
“Good girl,” Jacob praises. “Now, are you ready?” He lowers his head slightly, and a few tresses of hair fall in his face, making him look that much more devastating.
“Yes, Father Jacob.”
When I use his title, he moans, already beginning to wrap the rope firmly around my wrists, leaving no room for squirming or escape.
He connects the rope to the headboard of the bed, then moves to my feet, tying one to one end of the bedframe and the other to next. I’m rendered immobile, save for my waist, which I know I could buck and thrust if I wanted to.
“Now,” Jacob says, flicking out his knife. “For the punishment.” He grins wickedly.
My scars on my stomach are already healed, so he moves on to another area of my body: my breasts.
I hold myself utterly still against the pain when he makes the first slice, even though liquid agony feels like it’s been poured into my veins. He makes five more over my two breasts, drawing enough blood to smatter over his hand.
It’s not super deep, superficial at most, but it still hurts. He finally pulls the knife away from my flesh, smiling down at his work.
“Very good, Amy,” he praises, voice smooth like velvet. He uses his free hand to squeeze my left breast, making me wince, then the other, covering his hand in more blood. “You’re taking your punishment so well,” he notes.
He licks the blood off his fingers, making me shiver and squirm, my core beginning to pulse.
“Hungry for more?” he taunts.
“Hungry for you, Father.”
This answer seems to please him, as he puts down the knife on the bedside table and moves to start laving his tongue over my mutilated breasts.
The pain and pleasure is like little else, with his tongue flicking over my nipples and his fingers digging into my newfound cuts. A ripple of pleasure sparks straight to my core.
And when his mouth moves to the sensual folds between my legs, I’m taken to new highs.
He eats me like his last meal, like I’m something to worship, to want , to need . I revel in this kind of intimacy.
But then he picks up the knife again.
“Have you ever had a knife here?” he croons, caressing my labia with the blade. He stops just in front of my entrance, and I freeze.
“I don’t know if I should?—”
“I don’t think your punishment is quite done, Amy. Not in the slightest.”
“Rutabaga,” I squeal, but he doesn’t stop. Why isn’t he stopping?!
Inching the blade into my entrance, my body goes on high alert. I’ve never felt pain like this before, so deep and alert inside me. It’s unbearable, and I start to cry. I fight against my bonds, but they won’t budge.
I don’t understand why he’d hurt me like this. What kind of gratification he’d stand to gain.
Is he some kind of sadist?
He must be. He has to be. He kills people, and maybe he truly would kill me, too.
“Rutabaga,” I whisper, my voice breaking.
He keeps going. He ignores my safe word.
Tears seep down my cheeks, and Jacob only smiles above me, inching the blade deeper, then slowly pulling it out.
If I thought it going in hurt, this is agony.
The ridges of the blade catch on my insides, pulling and tugging and ripping .
When he finally removes the blade entirely, I’m sobbing in agony.
“Why would you—” I stumble over my words.
“Because you didn’t obey me,” he deadpans. “And that deserves punishment.”
“I-I thought that the cuts were punishment.”
“Not enough.” He narrows his eyes. “You have to know that you cannot disobey me under any circumstances, Amy Dean.”
Getting up, he leaves me bound to the bed, fixing his pants as blood seeps from my vagina.
“I’ll return in an hour or so. I have things to do, and you need time to think about what you’ve done and how you’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
With that, he’s gone.
And I can’t stop the sob that wretches from my throat as I’m rendered immobile, unable to stop the blood flowing from me.
I hate him, I realize.
Even if he claims to show me love.