42. Emily
42
EMILY
The door closes shut with an ominous thud .
I flinch as the world outside the two of us disappears.
“Oh, Kitty Cat.” He turns around. “You should’ve said no when you still had a chance.”
Maybe it’s the way the door locks, or the absolute murderous gaze in his eyes, but clarity hits me like a train and snaps me out of my madness.
“I—”
“I gave you a chance.” He starts rolling his sleeves up as he approaches. “And you threw it away.”
Despite my pounding heart, I’m wetter than I’ve ever been before.
Oh God … Oh fuck.
His arms circle me from behind. Thrashing wildly, I struggle, but he’s so much bigger than me. With a single hand, he carries me effortlessly even as I kick and thrash against him. His huge cock stabs at my back as he presses my body against his and drags me towards the chair.
He doesn’t bother replying as he pushes me into the chair, knocking the wind out of me in the process. The chair is bolted to the concrete floor, four circular cuffs attached to the arms and legs. Before I can react, he presses into me, using his weight to keep me still while he attaches the cuffs.
When he finishes binding my last ankle, he steps back to observe his work.
The outline of his cock is jutting violently against his pants. A dark wet spot stains in the front. He follows my line of sight and that dark smirk on his face curls up even higher.
“What’s wrong, Kitty Cat? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
I respond by squeezing my legs together.
He’s right …
I do want this.
I want to surrender everything to him.
I want him to do whatever the fuck he wants to do to me.
I want him to hurt me.
Because if I can get him to hurt me, then it’s easier for me to hate him.
And if I hate him, then it’s easier for me to find a way to escape him.
Pacing around my chair, he begins lifting items off the wall. My pulse goes wild when he holds up a riding crop, studying it like he’s judging its quality before smacking the leather tip into his opposite palm with a thwap that makes me jerk in my cuffs.
Sweat rolls down my spine, and my pussy is salivating at the thought of what he’s about to do.
“Oh God …” I whimper
“No God,” he replies. “Only me.”
Wandering close to me, Konstantin drags the soft ends of the crop across my chin, back, and forth, his voice unnervingly calm. “Do you know the best places to strike someone?”
I twist away, trying to escape the tool as he drags it across my lips and across my face.
“It needs to be somewhere that inflicts maximum pain .” He drags it down my neck, drawing a shuddering gasp from my core. “A place where the skin is sensitive.”
The tip of the crop starts drawing circles around my right nipple, and my eyes widen in panic.
“No, not there.” He chuckles darkly. “The skin is too thin around the nipple. A single errant stroke, and you risk permanent damage.”
I can’t go anywhere with the cuffs holding me to the chair. My breath quickens as the whip moves down along my stomach, slips under the hem of my dress and press against my hole.
I whimper as the end of the crop pushes inside me.
“Not there either,” he says. “It’s the same problem as the nipple.”
He withdraws the crop almost as soon as he inserts it, and slips it under my neck. The scent of my own arousal fills my nose from proximity, and the slippery wetness coats my chin as he tips my face up, forcing me to look at him.
Heaving in the chair, I wrench from side to side, not caring how it makes my wrists burn.
Yanking the crop away, he throws it unceremoniously back on the shelf.
He stands and walks slowly around my chair. I turn my head to keep him in sight, but I can only crane my neck so far. He’s in my blind spot.
“You don’t scare me.” I taunt.
“I don’t need to scare you, Kitty Cat.” Konstantin’s breath tickles my ear. I stiffen. “I know all of your weaknesses.”
A tiny tremor begins in my knees. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
“I know everything about you.” His fingers slip down my neck, trailing over the neckline of my thin dress.
I can’t see his face, but I can hear his smirk as his palm brushes lightly over my chest, and his fingers tighten around my nipples to give them a hard squeeze. I can’t stop myself as a yelp of pleasure punches out from my lips.
“You love this, don’t you?”
Holding my breath, I try to distract myself from how amazing his touch feels. My lungs are screaming for oxygen as I try to keep myself from moaning in his hands. But it’s not enough to cancel the sparks of desire he’s stoking in my blood. My nipples firm up, eager to be played with.
Konstantin is tenacious, and his large hand works at my breasts with the expertise of someone who knows exactly what my body craves. He traces my nipples through the cloth, tugging gently, insistently, all the while making my clit thrum to life.
“Ah,” I blurt, sucking in air when I can’t hold my breath any longer.
“Did you want to say something?” he asks with faux interest as his other hand joins the mix.
I clench my jaw and hunch forward. I can’t escape his large hands as they knead and massage the sensitive flesh. “Not a fucking thing.”
“In that case.” Fondling me, he gives both my nipples a light twist, and my lower belly jumps with maddening heat. I wriggle on the chair, thighs rubbing together and pussy growing slick with desire.
I turn my head, trying to bite his arm. He laughs and dodges the clumsy attempt. As further punishment, he tugs my nipples until I moan again. The pleasure from pain is incredible. It’s overwhelming.
And suddenly, he releases me just as my pleasure starts to crest. My hands open and close in their restraint, and I curl my toes in frustration.
I hear things clattering on the shelves, and when he returns, he takes both his hands at the neckline of my dress. Then, with a single hard motion, he rips the dress straight down the front to free my breasts.
I yelp.
“These pink nipples,” he whispers as he caresses one before he gives it a light pinch. “So beautiful. So delicate. So easy to ruin.”
A trickle of fear slides up my brain stem when I see him holding a pair of rubber clamps with a chain strung between them.
“Don’t worry, Kitty Cat.” He smiles. “I’m not a complete monster despite your accusations.”
“Yes you are!” I scream at him.
He chuckles darkly. With an accuracy that leaves me breathless, he carefully pinches each nipple in a clamp and then gives the chain a slow, torturous downward tug. The weight and compression combine in the perfect dazzling mix of pain and pleasure.
I don’t dare admit it, but the way it hurts is exactly what I want right now.
Konstantin gives the chain another tug. Pleasure ripples from my nipples to my pussy, as if they’re connected.
“If I am, as you say, a monster.” He murmurs as he increases the pressure, dragging a low, obscene moan from deep inside of my core. “What does that make you, Kitty Cat?”
“I … Ah!” I whimper, pushing my knees together.
I can’t escape the pressure he’s creating inside of me. I hate how much I love this. I hate how wet it’s making me. His absolute control of the situation wakes up a filthy part of my psyche—a dark part of my mind that’s practically screaming for him to do more.
To show me just how much more he can hurt me.
To revel in the pain that he can bring me.
His hands release the chain, and I moan in simultaneous relief and frustration. My body is screaming for release, and I can feel the seat growing slippery from how soaked my panties and my dress have become.
Konstantin moves in front of me, and inhales deeply, licking his lips.
“I think you like this, my little slut.”
He suddenly forces my knees apart and wedges his shoulders between my knees, spreading my legs so far apart that I can’t close them no matter how hard I struggle.
Staring into my eyes, he brushes the remnants of my ruined dress out of the way.
“You’ve made a mess of my chair,” he notes.
Blushing in humiliation and another flash of arousal, I try to push my legs together. All I achieve is squeezing at his upper body.
He can do whatever he wants to me and we both know it.
He hooks his finger under the soaked material of my panties, and raises his other hand. One of the knives I saw on the shelf is pinched in his grip. When the hell did he grab that?
“W-what are you going to do with that,” I beg, terror growing in me again as he comes closer to me.
Ignoring my complaint, he tucks the flat side of the blade against my skin. Cold metal presses against my fevered pussy, and I shut my eyes, whimpering as I tense up.
“Relax, Kitty Cat,” he chuckles harshly. “I’m not going to hurt you with this.”
The knife flashes, and my panties are cut away. I’m shaking, hyperventilating, as I open my eyes. He throws the knife away into the distance, and it clatters far away in the room.
I hope I never see it again.
My naked pussy is exposed to the air. Gently, he spreads it open to reveal my swollen clit and leaking hole.
“You’d let me fuck you right here and right now, wouldn’t you?” he asks. “You’d beg me to cum inside of you like you have been ever since our wedding.”
“No,” I lie.
“Liar.” His smirk rends my heart apart as he runs his fingers along my slippery folds. The sensation leaves my body aching for more, aching to be filled. My legs knock together only to be blocked by his shoulders again.
“I’m not giving you that. Not yet. You haven’t earned my cock yet . ”
Slowly, he inserts a finger into my hole, and then another, and another until he’s slowly pulling me apart. He leans in closer, and inhales deeply again.
“I can smell your fear,” he says. “I’m going to enjoy tasting it so much more.”
My pussy flutters around his fingers as I gasp.
“Do you like it when I spread you open like this?” he taunts me. I fight to bite back the moan aching for escape from my lips. His thick digits push knuckle deep and I feel myself stretching to my limit.
“I …. I don’t …”
“No.” He hisses as he starts licking along my thighs, lapping up the juices that have coated it. “Lying.”
“I’m not lying!”
“Your soaked cunt tells me that you are.”
He curls his fingers, their tips scraping deliciously along my sensitive insides. My pussy comes to life, buzzing with the need to orgasm, as my body spasms. Dirty wet sounds fill the air around us, and I close my eyes as I start to pant.
I’m afraid.
Not afraid of him, or what fresh tortures he has in mind for me.
I’m afraid that he won’t let me come.
My mind is splitting apart.
“I hate you …” I whimper as he tightens his other fingers around the crook where my leg meets my body, and repositions me until both my asshole and my pussy are exposed to him.
His sigh is black as a shadow. “You haven’t even begun to hate me yet, Kitty Cat.”
Thrashing in my restraints, I kick my legs uselessly against their restraint. He repays me by pushing his fingers even deeper in my pussy, curling them to stretch me even further while the thick knuckles move in concentric circles.
My toes curl again as my thoughts become nothing more than a haze. I’m growing dizzy from lust, and lightheaded from panting. My body becomes hypersensitive to even the lightest touch.
He continues to push and prod and tease, and I’m leaking like a ship sinking in a storm. I feel myself dripping down onto the only hole that he hasn’t touched.
I moan and twist against my restraints again helplessly.
When he pulls his fingers out of me, I almost beg him to shove them back in.
But before I can speak, I feel them somewhere else.
Somewhere forbidden.
A third place that he promised me that he’d destroy.
Panic rises in my mouth again.
“You’re so fucking tight, Kitty Cat …” he murmurs darkly as he kisses his way along my thigh, nipping at my skin as he gets closer and closer. “So tight that I almost feel bad that I’m going to ruin it all.”
That’s the last warning I get as a thick finger teases my ass apart. Heat sears my mind and I cry out as it burrows deeper. Just then, he inserts two fingers in my soaked pussy and starts pumping in rapid strokes, forcing me to leak downward so that he can finger-fuck me in both my holes.
I’ve never felt so dirty than I do in this exact moment, and my eyes roll back inside of my head as my core tightens and spasms.
“Do you want to come, Kitty Cat?”
“Yes …” I whimper.
My limbs are weak; they’re giving up on me. The last bit of my pride is being crushed by the ever-pressing need for an orgasm. It’s as if my joints, my muscles, my fibers are all being pulled in different directions. The only point of focus is my thrumming pussy, my quivering asshole, and the sensation of being filled endlessly.
His voice shrouds me, filling my ears the way his fingers fill my insides, and I never want him to stop. “Who do the filthy, greedy holes belong to?”
“You!” I sob, convulsing in the chair, desperately trying to grind his fingers deeper inside of me.
“Who do you belong to?” His voice brings me out of my own mind and back to our dark current reality.
“You!”
It’s the truth.
No matter how many times I claim that I hate him, I know that in the deepest part of my core, I can’t bring myself to hate him.
No matter how much I ask him to hurt me, I will never forget the way he brushed away my tears. The way his soft lips feel against my body as he whispers Kitty Cat in my ear.
He pulls his finger out of me, leaving me restless and panting. He’s denied my orgasm on purpose. He adjusts his cock in his pants before pulling the zipper down. I stare as the massive length throbs in front of my face.
A single drop of precum falls silently from the tip, beads in the valley of my breasts, and slowly rolls down the length of my body.
His smile is as wicked as all seven sins combined. “Let’s start with hole number one.”