Chapter 42 Rule over Me
RULE OVER ME
Up and up we went, love more than lust propelling us forward like hot air, carrying us higher and higher along the narrow path through forests of Mount Oro and onto our secret outcrop.
There, shielded from the world by a resin-scented alder alcove, we lunged at each other, breathless from anticipation as well as from exertion.
“God, I couldn’t wait for you.” Einar lifted me and kissed me like he never wanted to stop. “Such torture to be away from you for even a single night.”
But then he let go of me abruptly and sat on a nearby boulder with his arms across his broad chest. Something had shifted in his visage, the air around us hummed with our unspoken understanding, and it was all I could do to suppress a smile.
“What about you, babydoll? Did you miss me?”
I dropped to my knees, palms laid flat on my thighs.
“Yes, Sir. I couldn’t wait for you to finally get back and rail me like your cock and my cunt are going to war.”
“Well said.” Einar nodded, the warmth gone from his mouth perhaps, but not from his eyes. “But you’ve not been a good girl for me today, have you? Not taking care of yourself the way I asked you to.”
Feeling anything but remorse, I did my best to rearrange my features into a semblance of penitence.
“No, Sir. I have not.”
“No,” he agreed with me quietly. “And do bad girls get master’s cock?”
“No, Sir.”
“What do bad girls get instead?”
As if of their own volition, my eyes quickly darted to his face to help me gauge his intentions.
“Handprints? Sir?”
“I cannot fault your conclusions, babydoll.” Amusement laced his husky voice. “Lose the clothes and come lie across my lap,” he instructed me, patting his knee as if to demonstrate what was in store for me.
I did exactly as he commanded while maintaining the balance between obeying without appearing too eager to do so, the carefully crafted game of make-believe between us as easily perturbable as a sandcastle.
The rounded wall of rustling trees around us was like a cotton cocoon, absorbing the sound of his hand colliding with my flesh, regular and sharp like the snapping of a branch.
The motions of his arm along its trajectory were deliberately slow, however, and their effects were distinctly more bark than bite. A caress rather than a chastisement.
“Aren’t you forgetting to count?” he reprimanded me.
I turned around to look at him. His broad torso towered behind me in the mellow light of the setting sun, and his right arm was raised, muscles bulging threateningly with the force to be unleashed unless held at bay.
Yet despite the pedantically arched eyebrows, there was a smile to be discerned in the lines around his eyes.
A warm, safe undertow beneath the imposing surface.
“Sorry. Fifteen,” I said, my voice strained.
When his palm connected with my skin for the sixteenth time, I could not help but let out a gasp.
“What the hell was that, babydoll? Are we having a good time down there?”
Pausing in his ministrations, he laid his hand flat on the swell of my hip, then traced its curve with his fingers, goosebumps erupting over my skin.
“Very. One of these days, you’ll make me come just from this.”
He chuckled.
“That sounds ... like an interesting challenge. Let’s try that soon, eh? But this right now is meant to be a punishment. You’re not supposed to be enjoying it quite so much.”
Despite the harsh note in his words, his touch conveyed nothing but affection.
“I can’t help it, Sir.”
“You can’t help it? Well, in that case, I’m going to help you, and you won’t like it one bit. Start over from zero.”
A vindictive smile spread on his face as he raised his arm higher than before, eyes sharp like shards of ice.
I shifted, recoiling only very slightly, but his features softened almost imperceptibly into an attentive look telling me plainly that he had recognised my subtle gesture of polite refusal for what it was.
I’m not in the mood for too much pain today, I told him without having to say a single word; a plea to which he, infallible as always in interpreting my desires, replied: Then I’ll be gentle.
And he was, right until the final, much sharper blow, the only one that made my skin burn as I jerked with its shocking impact.
“Owww,” I cried complainingly, and then, hearing him breathe deeply with mounting impatience, I added quickly, “Twenty-five.”
He exhaled with an air of satisfaction and massaged my rear.
I stretched and hummed with an intake of air.
I looked to my right, at the sky expanding into infinity, brilliantly orange.
Fluffy pink clouds rested suspended on the horizon, soft and precious like newborn lambs.
And I thought about how all water in the world is connected and how those clouds may have been carrying in them the lakes of my native Bohemia, as well as the glacier lagoons of Iceland.
And I felt intoxicated, drunk with an overwhelming feeling of safety such as I had never known, and could only ever feel when at his complete mercy.
I sighed deeply, shakily.
“You’re not crying, are you?”
“No. I am smiling,” I replied.
“Ah. Well, that’s allowed.”
His hands slid underneath my body, and he helped me up.
The sunset burned in his eyes, and his unruly hair was the colour of rose gold in the dying light, the roughly cut lines of his jaw softer and younger.
He had shaved recently, and I wanted to run my fingers along the side of his face, to be startled as always by finding it rougher to the touch than I would have expected.
But I didn’t, because that would have upset the balance between us, evicting us from a world that was just ours.
I didn’t touch him because he hadn’t said that I could.
And in restraining myself that way, I felt lust stab through me, so powerful it nearly toppled me to the ground.
My head swam with it, my whole body pulsed with the one command overriding all else, and lower below, I throbbed with anticipation so potent that it was like a phantom limb, a physical ache of knowing from memory the feel of him stretching me and filling me up, of completing me, belonging in me the way rivers belong in the channels in which they flow.
“Hm, and what do you think I should do with you now ...?” he mused as he looked down on me sternly over the bridge of his nose, likely aware of the mounting intensity of my desire.
And the thing that drove that intensity to what I felt was my breaking point wasn’t the implied threat of his withholding the pleasure that I craved, but rather my knowledge that his ungenerous act was exactly that, an act, designed only to add to my enjoyment, and not deny it.
“Take me. Use me. Fuck me. Please. I need you inside me so badly, it’s worse than not being able to breathe.”
“Do you? Show me.” His voice was suffused with malice, and his eyes gleamed, but he was flushed with his own desire, and the rock-solid bulge of his erection threatened to rip the zipper of his trousers apart.
Swallowing hard, I turned around and lowered myself until I rested before him on all fours with my legs spread apart. Entirely exposed and vulnerable.
He knelt behind me and his fingers brushed against the site of my desire, the friction against my clit brief and tantalising, and I shivered, thinking that I would start sobbing in frustration. He grumbled with satisfaction.
“I wish you could see how pretty your cunt looks right now, all dripping wet for me.”
“And I wish you would show it your appreciation by shoving your cock balls-deep into it. But here we are. Sir,” I quipped, unsurprisingly earning myself another hefty spank.
“You’re such a brat, babydoll.” He chuckled. “But alright. Even bad girls deserve a reward if they accept their punishment as uncomplainingly as you just have.”
I could hear him take off his shirt behind me.
A powerful tremor ran through me as I heard him undo his belt buckle.
He then leaned over, cupping my breasts.
He pressed the tip of himself against my entrance, and I didn’t even bother to stop the tortured moan that tore out of my lips.
Finally, he pushed into me with a sigh of his own relief, his journey to my core swift and devastating.
I raised my hips, braced on my knees to let him in deeper, as deep as he could go, until he pushed hard into my cervix and I cried with the exhilaration of an earth-shattering climax already building up in my throbbing walls.
“But ...” Einar whispered in my ear maliciously with the next thrust, pulling on my hair, “don’t think I’ll let you come any time soon.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Careful, babydoll ...”
He rammed into me again, roughly, his fingers digging deep grooves into my skin, their force a caution.
“Why, Sir?”
“Because if you’re not willing to take good care of yourself, why would you expect me to?”
Unable to contain them any longer, protests spilled out of me in a flood like dirty water from a broken dam, the pinnacle of them calling him an ‘arrogant, sadistic cuntivore’.
Einar straightened up and rested above me stoically with his hands on my hips, saying nothing.
My frustration released, the void it left behind was rapidly filled with slippery terror and treacherous excitement.
“Sir, please, I ...”
“Silence.”
The retribution I knew was coming threatened to be very bad indeed from the way I felt Einar harden inside me with cruel arousal.
Still on all fours, I turned my head to see him reach down towards his discarded trousers, wrenching his belt free of them.
I suppressed my initial instinct to bolt and run, knowing that he would catch me.