Chapter 22
OF SINS AND SACRAMENTS
He set me down by the bed in the sun-flooded bedroom, the charcoal sheets glinting in the sharp light.
“Do you want to play a game?” Einar asked, breathless in a way that suggested he was so not from the exertion of the climb, but from excitement.
“Yes,” I replied, my own breath hitching in my throat.
“And do you trust me to only ever hurt your pretty pussy in ways that you’ll love?”
He laid his hands flat on my shoulders and upper chest, brushing my hair away.
“Yes.”
No sooner had the whispered word left my lips than Einar pushed me, and I landed on the bed, the sheets slick and cool under my bare arms.
“I’m going to go and get a few ... accessories,” Einar announced.
He turned on his heel, but stopped by the door to trap me in his gaze one more time before walking out with words promising danger. “When I get back, you’d better not be wearing anything, or else you may find that I made no promises about not hurting other parts of you.”
I practically tore my clothes off, throwing them on the floor in a haphazard frenzy. Not because I feared his threat, but because I craved his praise. I lay on my side, facing the door, long ready for him before his footsteps came near.
“What a good girl you are,” he cooed as soon as he saw me, and a powerful dose of pleasure burst through my bloodstream.
I inspected the items he had brought with him: a rope, hand sanitiser, lube, and a kitchen timer. He set these on his bedside table before taking two more articles from the wardrobe: a black scarf and a familiar, burgundy bathrobe belt.
“Since it served us so well the first time.” He shrugged with a smile. “You know already what to do, babydoll. Lie on your back and raise your hands for me.”
I did, and he leaned over me to tie me to the headboard the same way he had done on our first night together.
“That’s it, exactly like that,” he drawled. “You know how much I love rewarding my good girl.”
I smiled loudly. Not laughed but rather beamed with a euphoria-saturated moan.
Reaching over me to grab the rope, Einar brandished his knife from the sheath at his belt, and he cut it in half.
“Now put your legs up for me, wide apart and bent at the knees,” he instructed me.
I did as he asked, puzzled and uncomfortable with the way he wanted me to expose myself. He hooked the rope underneath my left knee and tied its ends to the corner of the headboard, before doing the same with my right side, preventing me from being able to close my legs.
“There, you’re almost ready.” Einar’s lips touched my entrance briefly, his tongue tracing my core, and the sound of his groan, suffused with yearning, filled the air at the same time as my cry of pleasure.
“One final thing.”
He leaned over me with an uncharacteristically tender, encouraging smile, blocking the light from the window. Then he tied the black scarf over my eyes.
“The game is simple.” His voice reached me through the darkness that had enveloped me.
“I’ll fuck you with my hand. I’ll set the timer to forty minutes, and in that time, you can come as many times as you want.
But each time you do, I’m adding a finger, until you’re taking my whole hand and then some. ”
“Oh no,” I groaned, trepidation and anticipation fusing in my voice in equal measures.
Being deprived of my sight made me more attuned to my other senses. I was suddenly acutely aware of a mild draught coming from the direction of the window, of the rickety creaks of the old house around us, of the faint flowery smell of the sheets.
And when Einar’s fingertips touched my hip, a joyful shock slashed through me like an electric current, no matter how soft and insignificant the contact was.
“There’s only one word you can say the whole time, and that word is ‘stop’. You understand?”
“Uh-huh.”
“If you can last the whole forty minutes, with or without completing the full hand, you get to come on my cock.”
The sheets rustled, and the mattress’s shape shifted beneath me as Einar moved.
Click ... click ... click, came the sound of the timer, dry and mechanical, with a slight resistance to each tick.
Then the indecent slosh of the sanitiser being applied, Einar rubbing his hands diligently somewhere above me, then by the sound of it pouring water onto them from a glass on the nightstand to wash the sting of the alcohol off.
In the meantime, I occupied my mind with a calculation of what was in store for me, trying to convince myself that I had nothing to fear.
If, say, I took fifteen minutes for each culmination, I would still just narrowly miss having to take four fingers.
I would have to take three, but that would be nothing but pleasant, as I already knew well from experience.
It was just the bondage and the blindfold that were causing my anticipatory thrill.
My sense of tentative reassurance lasted precisely until the warm, fleshy tip of Einar’s finger touched my clit, until he began rubbing it, circling it, his pace like that of a looping pirate ship, slower and faster, slower and faster, round and round, unhurried but relentless, his other hand closing around my breast, kneading its nipple, and, oh god, a violent spasm of ecstasy gripped me hard, and cat yowls tore their way up from deep within my chest . ..
I realised that no way in hell was that fifteen minutes.
And if there was one thing I had learnt in my time with Einar, it was that the first orgasm always took the longest, and all the subsequent ones followed fast, especially if he gave me no time to rest in between, if he chuckled diabolically like he did just then, his movements unceasing and unchanged bar the addition of another finger, reaching deeper inside me to touch that one spot at my front wall, where I knew I could not possibly be touched for long before . ..
“Gaaah,” I roared with a creeping note of defeat, arching my back, my legs struggling against their shackles until the rope cut painfully into the back of my knees.
“Are you even trying to pace yourself, babydoll?” Einar droned malignantly, his voice drifting towards me like wafts of sharp smoke. “It’s almost like you cannot wait until I fuck you with my fist.”
His spare hand left my breast to rap my upper thigh, the smacks loud, and the impact’s vibrations only adding to the next violent climax that had begun building before Einar even had the chance to plunge another finger inside me.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood, and I tossed my head from side to side, sweat erupting all over my body. I groaned and wailed in a wordless protest, but I was as defenceless as ever against the savage pleasure that Einar gave, as I earned the fourth digit all too soon.
I was stretched tightly apart, to what I felt was already my limit, the skin of my whole body flushed with effort like with fever, and rivulets of sweat running down my face and chest.
“You should see the beautiful mess you’re making on my hand, babydoll,” Einar rasped. “I’ve never seen you so wet. You might think you’re scared, but your perfect cunt knows exactly what she wants.”
I sobbed without crying any tears, quaking, my breath hardly making it in or out as if an iron fist had closed around my chest. But bliss overtook all other sensations in my body, and my hips seized, and I saw stars in the blackness of my blindfold.
“And that,” Einar drawled slowly with undiluted relish, “was number four, the last one.”
I howled without knowing myself what it was I wanted to convey that way. Refusal or eagerness? Apprehension or excitement?
“You’re being very noisy, babydoll, but you’re not saying ‘stop’. Which means my fist is going inside you now.”
The voice died in my throat, and the pressure of my rushing blood made me feel faint, my wildly thrumming heart threatening to give out. I tried to breathe deeply, but my airways constricted, and I wheezed, the way my asthmatic younger half-brother did when exposed to pollen.
“Relax. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’ll love it, I promise,” Einar said as he stroked my thigh briefly in a comforting gesture.
His seeming nonchalance belied the level of care he took.
He applied a copious amount of lube to my entrance, and then his other hand skimmed over my skin as he used it to help compress the one that was to enter me, frequently altering its angle in reaction to my whimpers and hisses as he made his way in very slowly, gliding gradually in with the aid of my abundant arousal.
Still. It hurt. It hurt a lot.
“I’m almost there. I know it’s hard but try not to resist me, there’ll be less pain that way.”
My eyes watered, lights flashing against the blackness of my closed lids, and the nails of my tightly scrunched fingers cut deep into my palms.
“AAAaaaooow,” I wailed, brief but sharp pain slashing through me, the kind that felt almost but not quite like a tear.
But it stopped immediately, Einar retracting slightly, the pressure of his knuckles against me changing as he adjusted their position.
“You’re okay, you’re fine.” He patted my hip gently.
“I know it’s scary as hell, especially the first time.
But trust me, I know what I’m doing, and I can feel when it’s not right.
And that’s when I stop and try it differently, alright?
As many times as it takes. I would never, ever damage your beautiful pussy.
” He touched my face briefly, his thumb running over my bottom lip. “Can I continue? Nod to say yes.”
Reassured by his words, I did with a soft, timid “uh-huh.”
“You’re doing such a good job.”
I didn’t think I was, because privately I thought that there was no way his whole, massive, intimidating hand could possibly fit inside me.
That I was simply too tight, too small, too unstretched.
I fully expected him to be obliged to give up after some time, knowing rationally that he would not be frustrated by my failure to accommodate him, but fearing his disappointment anyway.