Chapter 5 #2
I move carefully, blind and bound and completely at his mercy. My thighs hit the edge of the padded bench.
"Bend over."
I fold myself across the leather, my bound hands stretching out in front of me. The position leaves me exposed, vulnerable, my ass in the air and my legs slightly spread for balance.
"Color?"
"Green."
The first strike catches me off guard.
It's his hand, not the paddle, landing on my right cheek with a sharp crack. The sting blooms into heat almost immediately, and I gasp.
"That's one." His palm smooths over the spot he just struck. "Count for me."
Another strike, the left side this time. "Two."
"Louder."
The third lands harder. "Three."
He works me up slowly, alternating sides, varying the intensity. By ten I'm writhing against the bench, my ass burning and my pussy throbbing with need. By fifteen I've lost the ability to form words, just moaning the numbers as he wrings them out of me.
"Look at you." His voice is rough, strained. "So beautiful like this. Pink and wet and desperate."
"Please." The word escapes without permission.
"Please what?"
"Please touch me. I need... I need..."
"I am touching you."
"Not there. Please, Callum, I need you to touch my pussy."
"You'll get what you need when I decide you've earned it." The paddle. Cold leather pressing against my heated skin. "Five more. Count them."
The paddle is different from his hand. Sharper, more concentrated. Each strike drives a cry from my throat that sounds like someone else entirely.
"Twenty." The last one lands directly on my sit spot, and I sob with the intensity of it. "Twenty, sir, please, please."
"Good girl. You did so well." His hands are on me immediately, soothing the burn with gentle strokes. "So good for me. So perfect."
The praise melts through me like honey. I'm floating somewhere outside my body, aware of sensation but detached from everything else. Just feeling. Just existing in this moment where nothing matters except his voice and his hands and the pleasure pain still radiating through my skin.
"I'm going to fuck you now." His weight settles over my back, his jeans rough against my sensitive ass. "You're going to come when I tell you to. Not before."
I hear the rasp of his zipper. Feel the head of his cock pressing against my entrance, thick and hot and exactly what I've been craving since I woke up in his bed.
“You on the pill?”
"Yes, Sir. Please. Fuck me raw. I’m clean and cant wait."
He pushes inside in one long stroke, and I stop breathing.
He's big. Bigger than I expected, stretching me in ways that border on overwhelming. I'm so wet he slides in easily, but the fullness is intense, almost too much.
"Color."
"Green." It comes out strangled. "Green, don't stop, please don't stop."
He doesn't stop. He fucks me with deep, measured strokes that hit something devastating inside me with every thrust. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me exactly where he wants me.
"You feel incredible." His voice is ragged now, the control starting to crack. "So tight. So hot. Like you were made to take my cock."
I can't respond. Can only moan and push back against him, chasing the pressure building low in my belly.
"You want to come?"
"Yes. God, yes."
"Then ask nicely."
"Please let me come, sir. Please, I need it, I can't..."
"Not yet." He pulls almost all the way out, leaving just the tip inside. "Not until I feel you fall apart around me."
He slams back in and I scream. The blindfold is soaked with tears I didn't realize I was crying. My wrists strain against the rope, searching for something to hold onto.
"Now, Nadia." His hand snakes around to find my clit, circling with devastating precision. "Come for me now."
The orgasm isn't a wave. It's a detonation.
I shatter into a million pieces, clenching around his cock so hard he groans and follows me over the edge. I feel him pulse inside me, hot and deep, his hips jerking through his own release while mine keeps crashing and crashing and refusing to end.
Time stops meaning anything.
When I come back to myself, the blindfold is gone and Callum is holding me in the bed, stroking my hair while I shake against his chest.
"That was..." I can't find words. Every part of my body feels like it belongs to someone else.
"Intense." He presses a kiss to my forehead. "You did beautifully."
"I don't think I can move."
"You don't have to move. Not for a long time." His arms tighten around me. "Just stay here. Let me take care of you."
I close my eyes and let the aftershocks roll through me. His heartbeat is steady under my cheek. Solid. Real.
"Callum?"
"Hmm?"
"This doesn't feel fake anymore."
He's quiet for a moment. Then his hand finds mine and their fingers intertwine.
"No," he says finally. "It doesn't."
We don't talk about what that means. We don't make promises or define terms or do any of the sensible things two people with an expiration date on their arrangement are supposed to do.
We just hold each other while the snow falls outside, and pretend that tomorrow isn't coming.