Chapter 40 #3
“Am I going to be punished?” I questioned, pressing up on my tiptoes, arching my back, trying to coax him back into fucking me harder again.
I leaned forward more, putting my forearms on his desk and watching him over my shoulder as he stared at my bare pussy. He reached down to grab the backs of my thighs, using his thumbs to spread me open more, his eyes going heavy-lidded.
“Some corrective action might be in order.” He smacked my ass, just hard enough to make me gasp. It was almost comparable to the sting of pine trees on my cheeks when running fast through the shadowy forest. Not enough to debilitate me, but enough to feel it.
“With your belt?” I managed to ask, trying and failing to hide the desire in my voice.
“Fuck.” Micah bent forward, his head hanging down, lips pressing to my shoulder as he breathed harder. His hand ran along the curve of my ass possessively. “Fuck, Dakota. This is a can of worms. I hope you know that.”
“I know. I want to go there with you,” I breathed, nervous but certain. “You can show me.”
“Once we do this, there’s no going back. If you don’t like what you see, I’m not going to be able to change that.”
“I understand,” I promised. I knew this was something he wanted but often didn’t allow himself to have.
There was a moment when he said nothing, and my palms began to sweat, afraid he’d deny me.
But he didn’t.
“Wait here,” he instructed, his tone switching back to the one he’d been using before. The professor tone that made me wet and pathetic. “Hold the edge of the desk. Don’t move your hands while I’m gone or I’ll be angry.”
I curled my fingers around the carved wood, my heart hammering a frantic beat against ribcage.
Break me, make me yours.
He disappeared and I heard his footsteps upstairs after a minute, then descending the stairs and coming back down the hallway to where I was bent over in his office. He was holding a bundle of his favorite black rope.
“Stand up.”
I obeyed, staring up at him. He turned me to face away from him, then began to work on tying my wrists together behind my back. Once the rope was secure, he carefully bent me forward again.
The slide of the belt off the desk and into his hand made me shiver.
I was nervous. Really fucking nervous.
But my desires were bigger than my nerves.
“I’ll do one, to start. Stay as you are.”
I nodded.
He barely gave me any time to prepare before the belt came down hard, branding a stripe of white hot heat across my skin.
My entire body tightened, my nails pressing into my palms, my eyes squeezing shut.
A choked noise escaped my lips, something wounded and desperate. The sting was fading slowly as Micah stood silent and motionless behind me, the heat dissipating, my muscles relaxing.
“Can you handle that?”
“Yes.”
“Can you handle a lot of that?”
I paused. “I think so.” It doesn’t matter if I can, it only matters that I want to, and I will.
“You’ll tell me if you need to stop.”
“Yes,” I affirmed, knowing I’d never tell him to stop.
Even though he didn’t respond again, I knew he was thinking the same. He knew I’d never stop him, never end this. My instinct for self-preservation had never been very strong.
I waited quietly as Micah ran the belt over his palm, the whisper of leather sending a wave of goosebumps over my skin. He folded it in half, gripping the end with the buckle, and then he hit me again.
I cried out, my spine twisting.
The belt landed on the back of my thighs next, harder than before, making me bite my tongue to keep quiet.
That type of pain was enough to wipe away everything else, to do nothing other than draw me closer and closer to him, all my trust spun into threads that pulled us together. And he didn’t stop. The hits kept coming.
Again.
Maybe this was Micah’s version of water. If Mason could force me into a new headspace underwater, Micah could do it with pain.
He hurt me like a ritual, a prayer, a promise.
My blood came up to kiss the inside of my skin while his leather kissed the outside.
Again.
Again.
I wanted to know more about him. He hurt me like he understood how purifying pain could be.
Maybe it wasn’t something I’d suspect of him at first, but it made sense to me now. All these fragmented parts of him fit together, constructing a maze as intricate as it was beautiful.
Pain, to escape vulnerability. Control, to escape exposure.
Don’t touch me.
I know more than you think I do.
His pale blue eyes, hiding so many secrets, holding so many shadows, seeing me more than anyone else.
I gritted my teeth, my eyes burning around the edges, the rope pulling tight around my wrists. It was overwhelming and terrible and perfect and everything I’d ever wanted. I was trying to be brave, to take all the pain and hold it tight inside of me, but it wasn’t easy.
Micah gave me a minute of reprieve.
“You’re allowed to cry, you know,” he murmured, brushing my hair off my flushed cheek. There was so much emotion in his gaze. “You’re doing so well.”
The force of his gentle words was enough to push me over the edge, tears instantly streaming down my hot cheeks, sobs choking up in my throat.
I gasped my inhales, trying to keep breathing through the sharpness of leather.
My ribs expanded against the wood, broken cries escaping my lips in a steady stream.
“Are you okay?” Micah questioned, his voice low and steady.