Chapter 43 Sophie
Sophie
We’re driving for about twenty minutes when Luka makes a sudden left turn on a dirt road in the middle of an empty field.
The poor sedan jumps and rattles before we reach a metal airplane hangar.
It’s lit with bright fluorescents, but Luka steers the car to the back, parking in the darkness.
Once again, he circles the car to open the door for me.
My hand feels small in his as he takes our stuff, including both dogs, and brings us to the front of the hangar.
I’m blinded by the lights, but I still spot the centerpiece of the space, a small, yet terrifying Cessna. My legs freeze in place, my heart rate picking up again.
“Wh…” he starts to say when he notices I stopped, but one look at my face is enough for him to realize. I was still in shock when he mentioned the private jet, and didn’t realize we would actually fly to our destination. “You’re afraid of flying?”
“Sort of.” I shoot him an awkward smile. He’s this invincible, fearless guy. And I’m a girl riddled with anxiety.
“That just means I’ll have to work extra hard to distract you.” He winks, and my heart races for a different reason.
Alan barks, hurrying me along, so I follow up the stairs and right into the fragile-looking metal box. The inside screams luxury, with cream leather sofas and mahogany accents.
“Welcome to Sky Lounge! I’m Kyle, and I’ll be your flight attendant tonight.” A guy in his early twenties jumps out in front of us, dressed in a messy-looking dress shirt. His gaze drops to where mine is, and he quickly adds, “Sorry for my appearance. It was a last-minute call.”
“The pilot?” Luka grunts.
“In his place and ready. We just got the clearance so we can take off as soon as you get settled.”
The dogs both jump on him, demanding attention. He gives them a couple of scratches before directing us to our seats.
Luka drops the bags to one sofa and pulls me to sit right next to him on the other. “I just need you to be a good girl for the take-off. I’ll handle the rest.” He buckles me into my seat and leaves for the cockpit.
My mind is swirling with both anxiety and anticipation, and it’s hard for me to form a coherent thought.
I read in an article that nearly seventy plane crashes happen every single year.
The number of total flights is massively larger, but seventy is still a lot.
Alan places his head on my lap, and immediately, my shoulders relax.
“I missed you so fucking much.” I massage his neck the way he likes it.
As soon as Luka gets back to his seat and buckles his seatbelt, the plane moves. I inhale sharply, the scent of the leather penetrating my nostrils, and Luka’s hand lands on mine.
“Remember what I said. Just get through the takeoff.”
The flight attendant’s voice booms over the intercom, but I’m too distracted to register what he’s saying. The place where Luka’s skin connects to mine is burning, and the fire is spreading all over my flesh. My nipples tingle and my core pulses, expecting what comes next.
The seatbelt sign shuts off, and I exhale a relieved breath. The click of the seatbelt makes me realize that Luka already unbuckled both of us. Standing up, he reaches his hand out to me, and I follow.
He leads me to the back of the plane, to the bedroom divided by a wooden partition.
The mere fact that there is a bedroom on a plane is extravagant, but this one is even more fascinating.
Massive bed with what looks like silk sheets.
Dark furniture with random hooks in every corner.
There’s even an unfamiliar contraption hanging from the ceiling, one with leather straps and metal chains.
“Is this…another sex dungeon?” I ask, stumped by the room.
Luka lets out a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess so. Charles, the owner, also owns a franchise of sex clubs. And he obviously likes to keep things on hand.” He approaches the wall hooks with different tools on it.
Crops, whips, paddles. He takes a leather paddle, testing it out on his hand.
I suck in a breath. “I guess my task of distracting you just got a whole lot easier.” He smirks.
Liquid pools between my legs.
His gaze flips to me, his eyes darkening. “Now strip.”
His tone, along with the tool he’s holding in his hands, gives no room to argue, so I rush to take my hoodie, leggings and underwear off.
He drinks in the sight of me, licking his lips. I can’t stand seeing my body, not with the marks I hate, but with the way he’s looking at me, I can almost appreciate it.
Turning back to the dark wood dresser, he leaves me standing naked and vulnerable, waiting for his next move. Drawer after drawer, he digs through it, extracting various items I can’t discern from way over here. He closes the last drawer, letting out a low hum.
“Bend over the bed,” he says, his voice hoarse.
I do as he says and bend over the tall bed, exposing my ass to him. It obviously isn’t exposed enough because he kicks my legs apart, lowering me to be the perfect height for the bed. My chest presses to the cool silk sheets, my core now dripping with desire.
“Good.”
His light praise travels over my skin, tightening my nipples. I don’t see what he’s doing, but he gently lifts my head, wrapping my eyes in darkness.
I gasp as I realize he placed a blindfold over my eyes. It’s pitch dark, cutting out my eyesight completely. My heart pumps faster.
Next thing I feel is the cold metal on my ankles.
A click. A shake. Another click.
I search my brain for ideas and come up with the only rational one. He shackled my ankle.
He does the same thing with the other one and I test my theory out. I try to move my leg, but it barely budges. Just as the vulnerability becomes too much, fear wrapping itself tightly around my lungs, a featherlight touch sneaks up the backs of my calf and thighs.
“Relax, mila. I got you.”
His voice pierces my chest, unraveling the fear. He’ll take care of me. I know that. I know that more than I know anything else in this world.
I sense him moving to the side of the bed. The cold metal now touches my wrist, and my arms meet the same fate my legs did. I try my restraints, only to find out I’m unable to move. A lump forms in my throat, while my stomach burns with suspense.
Just as my lungs tighten, calloused fingers gently trace my back. My skin rises with goosebumps. Breath whooshes out of me, my stomach settling, and all the blood moves south. It’s Luka. And there’s nothing to be afraid of. He skims the skin of my ass before a sharp zing of pain travels through me.
“Ah,” I yelp.
“Tsk-tsk. I don’t think I like the idea of sharing your sounds with the people on this plane.”
My blood heats, the cool sheets giving mind-numbing friction to my nipples. A smooth leather surface glides off my ass cheek, and I realize it’s the paddle. Another wave of panic hits me. “I won’t be able to stay quiet. I can’t.”
Suddenly, his voice is right next to my ear, his breath tickling me. “Don’t worry, mila. Open wide.”
He bunches my hair, wrapping his hand around it. Carefully, he lifts my head. With my hands and feet tied, it’s an uncomfortable position, but he wastes no time, slipping a ball of some sort into my mouth, then tying it behind my head.
Saliva pools in my mouth at the pressure of the ball on my tongue, and I’m unable to stop it.
I try to test it out, but the only thing that comes out is a muffled noise.
“Better,” Luka says, and I hear the smirk in his voice. “Two snaps of your fingers for me to stop. Got it?”
My head dips as much as it can, and he lowers it back to the bed.
Inhale. Exhale. I try to control my breathing to get my racing heart under control. Three deep breaths and I’m almost there.
Until the sharp crack cuts through the air. I register the sound before the pain, my heart jumping into my throat. When the sting finally registers, it burns my nerve endings and contracts all my muscles.
I moan around the gag, tugging on my restraints to get away. But escape isn’t possible.
I’m bound, gagged, and completely at Luka’s mercy.
The second strike confirms the same. This one lands on the other cheek, and I have no doubt it will leave a mark.
The skin of my ass burns, sending much-needed endorphins to my brain.
“So gorgeous,” Luka coos. “But you can take more.”
I can. I know I can.
The next three strikes are in succession, each one more painful than the last. At some point, my eyes start watering. Tears make their way under the blindfold, blending with my spit on the luxurious sheets. Unrecognizable moans and hisses accompany each strike.
“This is for thinking I don’t love you,” he says, landing the hardest strike so far.
My hips jut forward, as far as they can, as my knees buckle, held together only by the shackles around my ankles.
“This is for thinking I wouldn’t run away with you.” Another strike.
The hits are excruciating now that the skin is sensitive, but his words are elating. My chest expands with air.
Punishment. Pain. It’s what I know. It’s what I get off on.
The next touch to my flesh isn’t the paddle. It’s his meaty hands kneading my ass. It hurts differently. More of a dull pain.
But then his fingers make their way to my center, and I whimper.
“Look at you. Dripping all over the expensive floors.”
His fingers slide over my pussy with ease, because he’s right—I’m soaked. The touch to my clit leaves me breathless, making me bite on the ball gag.
Fuck, I want to scream. I want to move. And, in another sense, I want just this. Whatever he gives me.
His hands are gone before another strike lands on me. My mind gets jumbled. The fear is long gone, along with any rational thought I had.
Another strike.
I feel the contact of the paddle with my skin, but the pain doesn’t register anymore. My muscles are goo, the use of them involuntary. I’m liquid, spilling across the bed. The tears are pouring from my eyes, but I don’t feel the wetness on my face.
Nothing hurts. Not my body. Not my heart. We’re twenty thousand feet in the air, but I’m flying even higher.
And just as I reach that state of transcendental bliss, Luka enters me in a long, smooth stroke.
“Mmm,” I moan behind the gag.
Every nerve ending in my body is connected to the ones in my core, singing in perfect symphony with his thrusts.
“Fuck, Sophie,” Luka mutters, his hands finding purchase on my hips.
Each stroke is heaven sent, his cock hitting just the right spot to make me feel again.
And all I feel is him.
Hard and thick, and so deep, I wish he’d leave marks inside of me. He fucks me just how I like it, rough and fast, bottoming out thrust after thrust. I feel his weight on my back as he leans over me to place a single gentle kiss on my shoulder blade.
The caring, loving gesture, amongst the decadence and filth, sends me over the edge.