Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ashleigh
P ain sizzles along my synapsis, frazzling my nerves until I’m unable to fully think, fully process everything around me. Sounds and voices keep going in and out as if I’m losing consciousness, but that’s absurd. I’m not blacking out. This isn’t what’s going on.
Yet, I have no words for it. No way to tell or comprehend what it really is. All I know is Dean Anderson stands before me, his cock jutting into the air as he stares me down. His tight muscles glint in the light with every shift of his body. Every breath draws my attention to the sculpted perfection on his pecs.
Of his perfection in general.
Yes. I’m smitten.
Yes. I’m irrational.
No. For once, I don’t fucking care.
“I believe Chastity is waiting for you, Doctor Andrew. Please tell the others we will not be here that much longer. I know many of them have their own women waiting at home. Your assistance has been noted and appreciated.”
The ominous click of his shoes as he walks away is the only indication he leaves. I don’t dare look over at him for fear Dean Anderson will disappear in a blink, leaving me in this horny, needy state.
“Ahhhh, my little snoop,” he breathes, running his fingers in between the designs of the painful rope. “No one here to rescue you. Will you scream for me? Will you cry out as I punish you for your wrong doings?”
“W- what have you been doing this whole time then?” I stammer out as confusion floods my brain.
“Foreplay, my sweet. All of this is merely foreplay.”
His fingers drift from me, leaving me bereft, alone, and cold. Unbidden, a shiver races up my spine, setting my jaw to clenching. The unwelcomed ache niggles at my brain, threatening to pull me out of this spell and thrust me into reality.
“Poor thing,” he murmurs. “Yes, my plaything. I know it’s cold. We’re almost done here.”
Only then do I notice a dark duffle bag off to the side. Dean Anderson hunches down and rummages through it until he pulls out a few items. Dark gems gleam in the bright artificial lights as he waves the odd jewelry back and forth.
“Time to dress my little fae up.”
His hot breath against my nipples force them to jut out painfully from my chest. It doesn’t help that the rope holds my breasts aloft better than any bra. Doctor Andrew wound the irritating rope round them so tight they basically stick out straight from my chest.
The ache is nearly unbearable as the weight of my breasts strains against gravity. Sadistic doesn’t even cover it. No matter how I move, the ropes seem to be there, coiling in on me, tightening with every breath. Blood pools in the distended tissue, leaving me aching and raw.
“There now, my pet,” he murmurs against my skin as he teases me. “It will all be over soon.”
The contrast between hot and cold is so startling, so breathtakingly painful, I can’t help the pitiful whimpers as they claw in my throat. Soon, however, his lips engulf the taut peak as he pulls my nipple hard into his mouth. The sounds turn feral, animalistic as he sucks on me, teasing me with his lips, teeth, and tongue.
Pulling away, he goes to the other, allowing my mind to blank a bit as pleasure washes over me. As his fingers trail downward to tease the knot resting at my clit, I forget about the pain and become so consumed with the relief he gives me that I barely notice the slight pinch on my nipple just moments before the agony flairs to life.
The instant my brain registers, however, it’s all I can think about. Shrill wheezing floods my mouth as I try to process it and fail.
“Breathe for me, Ashleigh. Stop for a moment and breathe. Your panicking will do nothing but make the pain worse.”
His warm hand smothers the nipple with the torture device on, granting me a bit of soothing heat. It lessens the agony but doesn’t drive it away completely. In that liminal space, I find I can breathe just a bit. It’s not a lot, but enough to stop the racing of my heart.
“Good girl,” he whispers against the other nipple. “See how well you’re doing for me? How well can you take the pain I deliver? Such a good fucking girl.”
It’s all worth it to hear the praise dripping from his lips. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on breathing, doing my utmost to be the best little pain slut he can ask for. Perhaps I should have researched that part more, but even then, I don’t think it would have prepared me for this.
“Next one. Now, I want you to keep an even breathing. Okay? Breathe in.” I do as he commands. “Good girl. Now breathe out. In again.” As I take in the breath, he places the other piece on me. “Push it out. Breathe out the pain. You can do this. I know you can do this.”
The very fabric of my sanity fractures as I put all my concentration into this one action. Agony blossoms through me, and yet, I’m so very keenly aware of just how insistently my clit throbs with each new painful sensation. Such a whore pussy, but there’s certainly no denying now just how much I crave this bite of violence.
“How pretty you look,” he murmurs. “All trussed up for me. You look so pretty when you cry. I thought it was enough when I paddled and caned you in my office, but nothing compares to this.”
My heart pounds in my chest at his lurid words even as my soul shatters, taking me even higher until nothing else makes sense. All there is, is him, the pain, and a massive heat warming me from the inside out.
“Remember this moment, my little pet. Remember when I render you unable to speak except to cry out and beg for more.” He wedges his fingers between the rope and my lower lips, stretching everything even tighter until I fear I’m about to be crushed under it all. “Remember the feel of me possessing you, and you not being able to say a fucking thing about it. Because, at the end of the day. You want this. You want me. Monster and all. Tell me, Ashleigh. Convince me.”
I blink at him, doing my best to process the words rattling through my skull. There’s something about his face. It’s almost as if he’s unhinged. And yet, it’s the same man. The same face. The same exacting glare.
“P- please.” I manage to stammer.
“I hear you, pet. I hear you.”
I barely feel it as he glides the knife under the first bit of ropes. It’s only when everything starts to loosen and release that I realize what’s going on. Slowly, the discomfort dissipates, leaving me a floaty mess. Groaning, I lean into it, arching a bit as I stretch things out and allow blood to come back.
With each bit he removes, other things begin to tickle my consciousness. Cold air nips at my skin, making me shiver once more. We’re still outside braving the elements while he takes his time with me, caressing each revealed bit of skin with his fingers and lips.
Soft moans vibrate along the column of my throat as he teases me, drawing out any pleasure until I find I’m on the edge of orgasm, only to have him pull back away. In some ways, it’s even more painful than the ropes. At least with them, I could picture an ending. Here, I’m still completely at his mercy.
Still at his mercy.
There hasn’t been any point of this where I’ve been free.
Finally, he gets to my breasts. By this point, every bit of skin aches as blood engorges them, making them stand straight out from my chest. Instead of taking the ropes off right away, he takes the pieces he added, removing one, then engulfing the nipple with his tongue and lips.
Somehow, it quiets the pain. Probably, it gives my brain something else to latch onto. Once he’s satisfied with that one, he goes to the other and repeats the process. Relief floods my very soul, causing me to sag forward. Nothing Doctor Andrew gave me to research comes anywhere near what I’ve endured so far today. And maybe that’s a good thing.
Would I really want to endure all of this if I knew?
Even as the thought flits through my mind, my pussy spasms as his tongue swipes against the swollen peak of my left breast. I’d endure this and more. The pain is addicting somehow. It’s able to morph and move within me, settling down when I think I can’t take anymore, then surging up as he plays me like his own personal instrument.
Or maybe it’s just him. Maybe he just knows how to play me, how to tease me, how to fuck with my mind until all I want is to be here at his mercy.
“Let’s get you warmed up, little pet,” he growls against my sore skin as he finally releases the bonds around my breasts.
Pain rushes in, clouding my mind for a moment. As my lips open on a scream, he’s there smothering them, drinking them into his body. His tongue forces itself between my teeth and explores me, leaving me shaking and bare to his invasion. Soon, the uncomfortable screams turn to wild moans as pleasure rushes in, leaving no trace, no memory of what pain is.
Pulling away feels far more agonizing than anything else I’ve already endured. I wish to grab him and haul him back against me, to feel the way his skin grazes mine as he rubs against me. The dark spice of his cologne mixed with his natural scent swirls through my mind until babbling words fall from my lips as I beg and plead with him not to leave me.
Such desperation.
Such neediness.
It’s as if I don’t even recognize myself anymore.
Never before have I felt like this. Never before have I craved like this. Never before have I wanted to cut someone open just so I could burrow inside their body and never leave.
It’s a madness, an addiction, and an insanity I’m sure I’ll never be free from.
“Shhhhh, my pet,” he whispers against my thigh as he kneels down to undo my ankle. “I’m not leaving you. I’m right here. I’ll always be right here.”
His words wash over me, comforting me like a balm. Any past pain, any discomforts and hurts from our rough games ease out until I lie there limp on the cross. I’m far too easy. I’m far too eager to please.
But I can’t find myself to care. Not when he likes me like this. Not when he seems to want and crave me with the same intensity as I want and crave him.
After undoing the other one, he rises and guides my thighs upward, spreading my pussy open as he wraps my calves around his back. The underside of his cock rubs against me, drawing another delicious moan from my lips as reality begins to set in.
He’s going to fuck me.
My dean is going to fuck me.
I’m going to lose my fucking virginity to someone who’s supposed to be forbidden, off limits, taboo.