28. Abigail
28
ABIGAIL
D ane holds me for hours, and I drift, simply indulging in his reassuring presence. I doze off for a while, and when I wake up, it’s dark outside.
I blink, disoriented. “What time is it?”
He kisses my forehead. “Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep, pet.”
“You don’t sound sleepy,” I observe. “Have you been awake long?”
“I haven’t been sleeping.”
I sit upright and turn on the bedside lamp. “I’m sorry. You must’ve been bored. I didn’t mean to drift off.”
He strokes my hair back from my cheek. “You needed the rest. And I could never get bored when I’m holding you.”
Pleasure flushes my cheeks. “That’s very sweet.”
Sometimes, I struggle to process his intense declarations and praise. No one has ever treated me like this, like I’m precious. Valued.
And after the awful altercation with my family, my old feelings of unworthiness are raw and exposed.
He hums, considering me as though he’s trying to puzzle out my complex emotions.
“There’s nothing sweet about me,” he replies. “That’s not a word I would use to characterize myself.”
I giggle. “Are you offended? Should I say you’re a very scary, very intimidating master?”
He grabs my hair, and suddenly, I’m trapped beneath him with his other hand around my throat. His wicked grin takes my breath away, even though he doesn’t apply pressure with his fingers.
“Exactly,” he drawls. “I’m very cruel and entirely selfish. And you love being afraid. You love when I make you tremble and whimper.”
My heart flutters, and my blood heats, but I tip my chin back in an act of reckless defiance. In the wake of my difficult day, I want him to completely overwhelm me. I want to revel in the darkness we share, not hide from it.
I don’t want to feel ashamed anymore.
“I’m not trembling,” I challenge.
His eyes flash, and his grin sharpens. “Is that how you want to play tonight, my naughty pet? You’ve been so docile for me. Am I going to have to tame you?”
I suppress a shudder as desire courses through me, and I meet his glittering gaze without an ounce of fear. If he wants me to tremble for him, he’ll have to make me.
I’m not truly afraid of him, and I’m ready to engage in a more twisted game. I’m completely safe with Dane, and I can push the boundaries of my darker fantasies without fear of judgment.
“Your pet has claws,” I retort.
It’s so similar to what I’ve said to GentAnon in the past.
But this is Dane.
This is real.
He’s warm and solid, caging me in his corded arms. And he’s all mine.
He quirks a taunting brow at me. “I don’t feel you using them.”
His fingers tighten around my throat. “You’re so weak and fragile. What do you think you could possibly do to hurt me? To deny me?”
Blood begins to pound in my ears as he applies pressure to my arteries, but I can still breathe. I can still speak.
“I am not fragile.”
I’ve never fought back in real life; the fantasies that blur the lines of consent have always been nothing more than words on a screen. But now, I’m safe enough to finally indulge in this game.
Summoning all of my strength, I bend my knees between us and try to leverage them against his abs to force him off me. At the same time, one hand shoves at his chest, and the other rakes red lines into his forearm with my nails.
He doesn’t bother to restrain me further. He just laughs and presses me deeper into the mattress.
“Careful, pet,” he coos. “I don’t want to break you.”
I’m starting to float, and black spots dance at the edge of my vision. My struggles grow more frantic as fear coils low in my belly. It snakes up my spine in a slow, slithering slide that makes me quake. My responses are becoming more primal, a true impulse to escape danger rather than a teasing game.
“You’ll never break me,” I manage to hiss through my constricted throat, and my fingernails dig into his wrist.
But his firm grip is unbreakable. The world is softening, sliding out of focus until the only thing I can see is his cruelly perfect face, split in an almost maniacal grin.
My fear morphs into a thrill that shivers through me. It undulates all the way to my fingers and toes, making them tingle as though my nerves are hypersensitive. My nipples are hard peaks that rub against his chest as I writhe, and the forbidden stimulation is darkly erotic.
“No,” he agrees softly. “I won’t break you, my pretty pet. I like you just as you are. But I will tame you. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll kneel at my feet and worship me.”
It’s a threat, but his intense declaration mirrors what he said in my defense at the wedding.
Abigail is perfect just as she is.
With that sweet reminder, he slips past my defenses, and I start to soften in his ruthless hold.
Or maybe that’s the lack of oxygen flowing to my brain.
Darkness creeps in, gentle and alluring. I blink hard, desperate to keep his glittering eyes in focus. I don’t want to lose sight of him. I need him more than I need the breath he denies me.
His grip loosens, and euphoria floods my system. My body is weightless, and my mind is floating. He presses a tender kiss to my throat, and the gentle flutter of his soft lips is an intoxicating dichotomy with the ruthless way he was handling my body only moments ago.
A low moan issues through my parted lips, and my core pulses in a heavy throb that matches my racing heartbeat.
He grabs my cunt in one hand, grinding his palm against my clit as his fingers easily slide inside me.
“So wet for me,” he rumbles, dropping another featherlight kiss on my neck.
He strokes the sensitive spot inside me once, and my entire body convulses at the answering burst of ecstasy.
Then he withdraws entirely.
His weight no longer pins me to the mattress, but I’m limp, my mind still sapped by primal chemicals elicited by fear and lust. Adrenaline and oxytocin mingle in a potent cocktail, and I can’t gather my wits.
I barely manage to stir by the time he retrieves the tools for my torment from beneath the bed.
My eyes widen when I see the gag in his hand. Earlier, I’d thought it was nothing more than a sexy threat.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I challenge, but it comes out as a breathy whisper.
I try to scramble away. I’m almost on my feet when he launches his bigger body across the bed. His arm loops around my waist, and he drags me back to him. I kick out at nothing and shriek my defiance. He pushes me onto my front, and his weight traps me again. His hand pins my nape, forcing my cheek into the pillow.
“I will do whatever I want,” he says, a cool statement of fact. “And you’ll take it for me like a good girl. I won’t hear a word of complaint.”
The gag appears in my line of sight, hovering near my face. I try to turn so that I can snap my teeth at his fingers, but his grip on my neck immobilizes me.
“No biting, pet.”
The red ball presses against my lips. I grit my teeth together and growl in staunch refusal.
His hand leaves my nape, but before I can twist away, his fingers lock around my jaw, applying steady pressure.
My mouth opens despite my stubborn defiance, and I taste rubber on my tongue as it slides so deep that I almost gag.
He buckles the leather straps tightly at the back of my head, and I struggle to draw in deep breaths through my nose to calm my mounting panic.
When I’m thoroughly silenced, his hand returns to my nape, gentler this time. He stares down at me with raw hunger tightening his square jaw. His other hand traces the shape of my lips where they’re forced apart around the gag. My sensitive nerves tingle and dance beneath his reverent touch.
I still beneath him, and my eyes roll back as euphoria soars through me once again. The sense of complete helplessness is the greatest release I’ve ever known. I can’t fight him. I don’t have to pretend to be stubbornly independent.
I’m his, and there’s nothing I can do but accept him as my master.
“Isn’t that better?” he asks, as though his cruelty is a mercy. “My pet is so calm and sweet now.”
I give a halfhearted jerk beneath him, and he shushes me gently.
“You don’t need your pride.” His low, accented voice is deeply alluring, drawing me into temptation. “You only need me . Submit.”
A shuddering sigh convulses my chest, and he kisses the cathartic tear that rolls down my cheek.
His weight lifts off me, and I whine at the loss.
His arrogant chuckle rumbles over my skin like a caress, drawing a shiver from me. He grasps my shoulders and pulls me upright, so that I’m on my knees in the center of the bed.
I want to turn to face him, but I’m meekly compliant and don’t try to defy him again. I’m bound by his will: his control chains my mind, and my body is now his to use however he wants.
Rope wraps around my wrists, and my elbows are forced to bend with my arms behind my back. I give the restraint a gentle tug, testing it. I relax further when it holds firm without biting into my skin.
My master might give me pain, but he will never cause me harm.
The rope winds around my chest, looping beneath my breasts. He weaves it around me in a complicated pattern that my mind is too hazy to follow. There’s only the delicious tension of the hemp and his long fingers brushing over my sensitized skin as he slowly binds me. It’s a sensual act, and my body flushes with carnal heat. Arousal drips down my thighs, and my swollen labia ache with every heavy beat of my heart.
He ties off his work at my back, and then he fists the complex web behind my shoulders. The rope draws tight around my chest, stimulating my trapped breasts until they throb in time with my core.
He reaches around me and tweaks my nipples, and my shocked cry of ecstatic pain is muffled by the gag. He toys with me, pinching and rolling the tight peaks between his deft fingers until I’m writhing in his ropes.
I try to plead for mercy, but I can only moan and whimper around the gag. His mocking laugh rumbles into me, stimulating my pussy like a vibrator pushed deep inside me.
“Are you going to come while I torture your pretty nipples?” he asks, giving them a particularly vicious twist.
Pain bursts through me, ravaging my psyche. My tormented mind interprets it as pleasure, and I scream out my orgasm. He rubs my abused nipples, and sparks dance directly to my clit. My release goes on and on, until I sob from overstimulation.
Finally, my master shows mercy and releases my breasts.
“I’m going to use you now, pet.”
Yes, I want to babble. Please use me, Master.
But I can’t speak. I’m just his pet, his plaything.
I close my eyes and float in a blissfully peaceful headspace, where nothing exists except for his will. More than anything, I want to please him. It’s not even a coherent thought; it’s a primal need.
He lowers me face-down against the mattress, but he grasps my hips so that I remain on my knees. My ass is lifted like an offering, my dripping pussy waiting for his cock.
I hear a condom wrapper tear, and then there’s a quick spike of pain when he enters me in one deep, rough thrust. I release a raw, ragged cry, and he reaches around me to stimulate my clit.
I come again on a scream, my pleasure ripping through me in a tidal wave. My inner muscles contract around him. He growls, and his fingers bite into my hips, hard enough to leave a mark.
I want him to mark me. I love being owned by Dane, and I’ll proudly wear his bruises.
As he fucks me hard and deep, I give myself over to him completely. I lose count of my orgasms. I’m not sure if they’re even separate peaks. There’s only relentless ecstasy, and every moment of him inside me feels like the most perfect peace.
My pussy flutters around him helplessly, and I sob into the gag as sensation and emotion overwhelm me.
He roars out his release, and he thrusts deep one last time. He keeps me pinned there for a long minute as his cock pulses inside me. We linger in our mutual pleasure, our bodies connected in the most intimate way possible.
This is exactly where I want to be.
I’m his, and he’s mine.
Our souls are bound by darkness, and in this safe space, we can indulge in it together without shame.