Chapter 38
Genevieve
“Good, good girl,” Grady praises, dragging the flat end of the crop up my spine, tapping me softly, yet correctively between my shoulder blades. “Straighten up.”
Immediately, I obey.
Grady has been working with me three days a week for the last two weeks, and he’s quickly become my favorite client. I look forward to each of our sessions, holding my breath until I can see him again.
He spends two hours teaching me to be the perfect submissive. Sometimes it ends in pain, sometimes in pleasure, but it always concludes with aftercare. I’ve come to look forward to that almost as much as the rush I get from pleasing him.
Afterward, I go home and message with the man who reminds me more of a boyfriend than any of the relationships I’ve had.
Things are good. Even Leo has mostly left me alone. I’m scared I might jinx things with the turn my life seems to have taken, but I’m in a better place than I’ve been in for the last couple of years.
“I want to edge you tonight. I typically use edging as a form of punishment, but I want to be clear that this is not a consequence tonight. I simply want to test you. Do you understand that?”
Keeping my eyes on the floor in front of me, I dip my chin reverently. “Yes, Master.”
I’ve learned that he prefers being called Master, even if he claims that my using his name is acceptable.
“Stand up. Clasp your hands at the small of your back.”
Getting to my feet as gracefully as possible, I do as he asked, spreading my legs wide the way he likes. Blood rushes to my lower limbs after being on my knees for so long.
With my eyes downcast, I don’t see him approach until he’s standing in front of me, wrapping black silk around my eyes, blindfolding me. While it’s not the first time he’s done that, it hasn’t lost its thrill.
As much as I enjoy submitting to Grady, giving him the power to control my pleasure, I continue to clutch a thread of control. I’m scared to give myself to him completely, even if I’m beginning to think he’s earned it.
“You will count the number of orgasms I ruin for you, alright?”
“Yes, Master.” He only asks me to repeat the number half the time, but I keep count every time anyway.
Something cool, not cold, presses against my clit a moment before it vibrates. Gritting my teeth, I bite back my groan, refusing to allow it to escape. He hasn’t given me permission to make noise.
“You may make noise for me tonight, but no words.”
A breathy moan tumbles from my lips as warmth floods my body, my blood heating as arousal coils in my stomach. My orgasm speeds toward me, like a train headed in my direction, blaring its horn.
Just as I’m about to get hit, the vibrator is yanked away, and my breaths morph into pants as my head slumps. I whimper at the loss, but just as I’m recovering, he lands a blow straight to my clit with the flat side of the leather crop.
I scream, my overly sensitive clit thrumming in blissful agony. The blindfold dampens with my tears as he presses the vibrator to my pussy once more, my legs already beginning to shake.
Once again, the moment before my orgasm slams into me, the vibrator is removed, followed by a stinging kiss of the crop to my aching, engorged clit. My entire body ignites with fire, sweat coating my skin and my muscles quivering with the effort to keep myself standing.
I want to beg him to stop, but he hasn’t given me permission to speak, and the craving to please him outweighs my desire to plead with him to let me come.
“Your clit looks angry with me, but you’re not, are you? You love this,” he remarks coolly, as if he’s entirely unaffected. “You’re taking this very well.”
His praise floods me with the determination to make him proud, and when he places the vibrator to my clit again, I drop the last shred of my control, the one that holds me back from wholly submitting to this man, and I give him my entire trust.
When the vibrator disappears again, he repeats his assault with the crop.
This process goes on for longer than I think I can stand.
Just when I think my legs will give out and I’ll collapse from the force of the orgasm the vibrator is about to pull from me, he yanks it away.
Tears stream down my face, the blindfold as soaking wet as my cunt.
Arousal drips from my core, and I’m sure Grady’s floor is as messy as my thighs.
The crop comes down on my clit, hard, and Grady commands, “Come for me. Come on my crop, whore.”
Painful pleasure radiates through my battered body as he flicks the leather against my cunt again, and I erupt. The most powerful orgasm I’ve ever experienced washes over me like a tsunami of rapture, and I bask in the sensation.
My knees buckle, my eyes rolling into my skull as tingles spread through me, my toes curling into the hardwood floor almost painfully. Grady catches me before I hit the ground, scooping me into his arms.
Before I know it, I’m sobbing into his dress shirt, curling in on him as he moves us to the couch.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m proud of you,” he murmurs, wrapping me in a sense of safety.
I think I’m in trouble.
I feel raw, like every nerve ending is sawed off and exposed.
I can’t seem to stop overthinking every decision I’ve made in my life.
I’ve thought about texting Grady about a hundred times, and I’m battling the overwhelming urge to cry.
Gritting my teeth, I swipe on the blood-red lipstick, trying to pull myself out of this headspace by sheer will.
Emotionally, I’m a fucking wreck. I like to think that I would’ve noticed if someone like Henry had dropped like this. Grady should’ve seen the signs of the sub drop. Right?
Though, I suppose he can’t be expected to read my mind. I should’ve spoken up. Either way, the sub drop is lingering, and I’ve been moping around the apartment all day, trying to avoid Corinne so I don’t accidentally lash out or burst into tears.
I need to find a way to pull my shit together before my meeting with Henry tonight, though. Just as I’m thumbing through the clothes in my closet, Corinne saunters into my bedroom.
“What gives? You’ve been sulking since you got home last night.”
I should’ve known that she’d see right through me, and that makes me smile a little. Corinne is a sub, and the thought occurs to me that she might be holding the answers, so I reply honestly, “Sub drop.”
She winces. “That fucking blows. He didn’t give you any aftercare?”
“I needed more than what he gave me, but I’m not really his sub. I’m just the girl he pays to dominate.” I shrug.
Leaning against the doorframe of the closet, she folds her arms over her chest and arches a dark eyebrow. “Have you considered talking to him about that?”
I shake my head, sighing. “Not yet.”
“Well, I think you should talk to him…or at least someone about that. You know I’m here for you.”
I smile, her words floating in my mind long after she leaves the room. Outside of Corinne, there’s only one person I feel comfortable talking to about this. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I realize I have time to check my messages before leaving.
There’s no way I can wait until tonight to crack open my computer. That’s hours from now, and the thought of walking out the door without checking to see if he replied hurts more than usual. My blistered nerves need soothing, and he’s the only one with the ointment.
Logging in, I find a notification.
@livingh3ll: Great idea, but I think we should practice a few hundred times first. If you give me your number, I’ll call you. I’m eight and a half hours ahead of East Coast time.
Thank God, I didn’t wait until tonight to check my messages. I find myself breathing heavily, gnawing on my lip as my mouth spreads into a grin. I like this guy a little too much to keep myself safe.
Hurriedly, I type out a reply.
@dc_d0ll: Only a few hundred? If there aren’t at least half a million trials, I’m not interested.
I add my phone number, followed by a winky face to the message and hit send as more butterflies stir in my belly.