14
FREELY GIVEN
IVY
H enry’s moving fast and if there was anything left in my stomach, I’d have thrown up by now. I bounce around as he bounds up the stairs and I resort to pleading with him to slow down. The man stops dead, and my stomach drops and he almost achieves the impossible.
I retch.
“I’ll go slower,” he mumbles.
He’d better fucking do. He made a promise—several, actually—and I intend to make damn sure he keeps them. Not today. Not tomorrow. When I’m strong again. When I’ve had time to recover and I’m ready. When I can fight back and we won’t be so unevenly matched.
Henry’s carrying me to my room and I’m relieved. I never thought I’d be grateful to be back in its pale pink and cream and gold. A week in a fucking dungeon changed that .
Not that I’ve given up. Or given in.
I’m not surrendering.
I’m being smart. Conserving my energy. Picking my battles.
And I’m not falling for the man who’s a heady mix of light and dark, fire and its shadows. I’m not. I repeat my mantra over and over because it might manifest into reality.
Henry practically kicks the door down as he opens it and I swear my heart leaps at the thought he’s doing this for me. I should hate him for putting me through hell. I do. I loathe what he’s done, and I won’t forget or forgive.
But something’s shifted and it’s pointless denying it.
It’s a mistake to ignore it. It would leave a weakness unprotected and open to attack. I know it’s there and I need to guard against it. From Henry. From my own goddamn stupidity too.
Henry lowers me onto the sofa and the dirt caked onto me marks its expensive cream fabric. He doesn’t care and he’s careful, adjusting me like I’m a porcelain vase at risk of irrevocably shattering.
“Tell me where it hurts,” he says, grabbing cushions as he tries to make me comfortable.
“Everywhere.”
His brows dip and his jaw clenches. I wonder if he expected it to go this far. I assume he thought I’d crumble in a day, two at the most. Henry underestimated me and it was a dangerous mistake. For both of us, from the way he’s behaving.
“Stay here,” he says, racing away before I can stop him.
My treacherous heart aches, hurt he’s abandoned me so quickly. It wants him close and needs the comfort he provides. It’s lying to me, trying to fool me into thinking it can’t keep going without him. The accursed thing leaps when Henry returns and the asshole notices.
“I needed to arrange food,” he says, slowing his approach. He walks behind me and into the bathroom, emerging with a damp cloth. “I’ll have the doctor visit tomorrow.”
“I don’t need…”
He tsks and I stiffen. “Let me take care of you.”
I nod and he brings the flannel to my face, washing away some of the dirt caked on my skin. Henry’s patient, removing the dirt without hurting me and after the third trip to the bathroom to clean the flannel, I think about getting up.
“Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.” Henry says in a quiet but forceful voice. “You’ve done quite enough sitting on stone floors. You’re in pain. Now stay still.”
Henry draws the flannel down my skin and I practically swoon for the man who’s wicked and vicious and has hurt me in ways I’m struggling to comprehend. His bright blue eyes track my every movement and I sigh, giving in now I’ve decided this won’t hurt me.
“I’ll bathe you later.” He purses his lips. “We have to think of a name for you, pet.”
I sink forward and collapse against him, resting my head on his shoulder. I’m tired and I don’t want to face another fight. Not again. Not so soon.
His hands rub my back and Henry’s touch is a burst of pleasure in a world of pain. It’s sunlight bursting through the rain clouds and I purr, delighted he’s setting me on fire. It’s a confusing contrast to the stiff soreness he caused, and my head despises my body for its betrayal.
“Lea.”
I moan and Henry laughs quietly.
“Lea, it is. ”
I jerk my head up and he’s smiling, entirely relaxed and completely content. It’s another rule I don’t understand and my eyes question what the hell I’ve agreed to.
The knock at the door interrupts us and Henry transfers my weight to the chair. He rises and steps outside the room before I can see who’s at the door and returns a few minutes later. He’s carrying a tray of food and he places it down on the table, moving the furniture until it’s arranged the way he wants.
When he’s satisfied, he sits and picks up a piece of bread.
My stomach grumbles and Henry smiles.
“Open, lea.”
My eyes narrow and Henry’s jaw tightens. I gulp and he isn’t impressed.
“We’re not going backward, lea.”
Henry’s insisting he feed me and we’re approaching an impasse again. The hunger and exhaustion have weakened my resolve, and I tell myself I’m not performing this ridiculous ritual because I’ve accepted it. I insist it’s because I’m being smart and rebuilding my strength. I ignore the disgusting warmth building in my chest and decide this undignified moment is the lesser of two evils.
I open my mouth.
“A little wider, lea.”
“What does it mean?”
He grins and I refuse to like it. It looks damn good on him, and he’s got me smiling back at him like a smitten teenager. It’s disgusting. It’s unacceptable. It’s nice. Really nice.
“I’ll tell you later if you behave. Open.”
I giggle like the lunatic I’ve become and open my mouth. Henry pops the bread into my mouth and it tastes like heaven. I chew and my resistance crumbles, succumbing to the temptation of no longer being hungry. I’m practically begging for more as I swallow and Henry’s eyes light with something wicked and slightly unnerving.
He places the cushions on the floor and I don’t like where this is going. I tense and he ignores it, gently sliding me onto the softened floor and placing me on my knees. I whine and he shakes his head, ignoring my feigned protest about being sore. I whine a second time, and his gaze hardens.
“Quiet.”
A shudder heats my core and makes my clit throb. Fuck, this is weird. It’s wrong. It’s degrading. It’s unacceptable. It’s turning me on.
“Good girl.”
My clit throbs again and I don’t like it.
I’ve lost my goddamn mind. I’m enjoying this despite the horror of it.
“Open, lea.”
Henry holds another piece of bread in front of me and I don’t know what to do. My head’s trying to figure out all the thoughts and emotions swirling through it when I taste food and gasp, realizing I’ve already opened my goddamn mouth.
“You’re okay,” Henry mutters. “You’re safe. You’re adored.” His hand strokes my face and I fucking melt. “I adore you.”
My heart explodes and my clit throbs again. I’m wet. I’m fucking wet and confused as hell. This shouldn’t be happening. I don’t like it at all. It’s against everything I believe in, but it’s happening anyway.
Henry beams down at me and his hand keeps brushing my skin, petting me, and it’s not fair. “I know this is a lot for you, lea. I understand this is hard. Don’t overthink this. You’re safe. It’s all okay. Enjoy this for what it is. ”
“Which is, Henry?”
He doesn’t flinch and he isn’t disappointed. I’ve deliberately used his name and we both know it. I know he would have preferred something else, but I can’t quite bring myself to go that far. It’s too much, too deep, too intimate.
“A Master feeding his pet, lea. You’re accepting your place and taking pleasure from what I give you. It’s okay to feel this. I want you to. I give and you receive, and you give back to me. I enjoy providing for you and you enjoy me taking care of you. It’s that simple.”
He takes another piece of bread and asks me to open my mouth. I don’t fight it and he smiles, relaxing a little now I’ve stopped fighting.
“You’ll enjoy this more as you relax. You’ll start trusting me and then you’ll find you need more. Want more.” Henry reaches for a slice of cold meat and slowly folds it into a bite size piece. “Open, lea. Good girl.” Its saltiness explodes on my tongue and I moan. “You’ll understand the relationship and its rules, and things won’t seem so strange. Then you’ll trust me even more and you’ll let me have more control. We’ll be attuned to each other’s needs and wants, and you will fulfill me as I fulfill you.”
I fiddle with my hands and Henry threads his fingers through my mangey hair.
“It’s okay to be nervous, lea. It’s fine to ask questions. I don’t expect perfection. I expect effort and honesty.”
He pops another piece of bread in my mouth.
“I expect you to call me Master.”
I balk, and his grip tightens around my hair. He tsks and my heart pounds, certain I’ve made him angry. I’ve had a taste of something other than the dungeon, and every goddamn inch of me screams it doesn’t want to go back .
“You could do this earlier, lea. You can do this now.”
His tone is a force of nature and my clit pulses with excitement.
“This time, you will ask me to feed you. Properly. Politely. Using my correct name.”
Henry releases his grip and pulls me forward, resting my head on him. He strokes me again and it’s soothing. It’s nice. My hands slide onto his legs and hold them, and it’s strangely reassuring. He isn’t pressing, he isn’t pushing.
“Is this how it works?” I ask, quietly. “You make it easy to begin with and then it gets harder?”
“Yes, lea.” His smile is soft and it’s tempting to fall for its effortless charm. “But I will never ask for more than you can give and you find your way. With me.”
I drop my head and rest, tired and confused.
“You can do this, and the harder you think about it, the harder it will be. Stop questioning if this is right. Accept that it is.”
I sigh and stare at the buckle on his belt as I swallow my pride and choose to save my energy for a battle I can win. It’s uncomfortable and downright odd, but it isn’t entirely wrong.
“Please can I have food? Master?”
“Good girl.” Henry places some meat on a piece of bread and waits for me to open my mouth before letting me take it from him. He offers me more praise and my insides flip, and I’m damn sure he’s realized I like praise. A lot. Enough to repeat this cycle over and over in the hope of a different outcome. Or maybe one involving more praise. Damn.
We repeat this and every time feels less strange.
More normal.
Henry offers one last piece of food and I shake my head. I haven’t eaten much, but my stomach has shrunk after days without food. I’ve reached my limit but Henry tenses, misunderstanding my refusal.
“I can’t. I’m full. I’m not…”
He exhales. “Thank me and we’re done, lea.”
“Thank you.” I pause and he forces a cough. “Master.”
He hauls me onto his lap and peppers me with kisses. I squeal and he continues, laughing as his breath tickles me and his lips send electricity pulsing over my skin.
“Bath, lea,” Henry grins, lifting me into his arms and carrying me to the bathroom. He sits me on the edge of the tub as he runs a hot bath and removes my clothes. I wince and he slows, asking if my discomfort comes from pain or his gaze.
My fingers whiten as I grip the bathtub. “Both.”
“You’re my wife, Ivy. I adore you. You’re beautiful. You’re mine, as I am yours.” His head drops to my neck and I moan as he kisses me. “This isn’t negotiable, lea.”
He pulls back and removes his shirt. His body’s perfect and he knows it. He’s using it to put me at ease and it’s unfair. Unreasonable. Undeniably hot.
Henry smirks and helps me out of my underwear, offering me his hand as he helps me into the bath. I complain about the heat and he tells me to stop fussing as he undresses. I turn around and he laughs low, stepping into the bath and wrapping his arms around me.
“Relax, lea. I won’t play with you tonight.”
Warmth pulses between my legs and I’m more awake than I was moments ago. Much more awake.
I squirm and he holds me firmly, refusing to let me go. I groan and his hold loosens as he works my aching muscles, easing the stiffness and helping me relax. He’s washing me and taking away all the pain from earlier and I melt, collapsing onto him as the hot water starts to tire me out.
He pours water over my hair and shampoos it, making sure he cleans all of it and untangles all its knots. By the time he’s finished, I’m clean and content and he’s made sure he’s paid attention to every inch of my body and every corner of my soul.
“You are beautiful,” Henry whispers, and he pulls me onto his lap. His erection digs into me and I startle, moving away quickly. He’s faster and I’m yanked back against him. “This is why I didn’t fuck you on our wedding night, Ivy.” He trails a finger down my spine and it excites me in a new and surprising way. “I won’t fuck you until you’re begging for my cock, lea. I want you so damn desperate for it that it’s driving you insane.”
I hum and he laughs again.
“Do you need to tell your Master something?” he asks, still carefully cleaning me methodically. “Effort and honesty, lea.”
I groan and the heat spreading over my cheeks has nothing to do with the hot water or his erection. “I haven’t…”
He waits.
“I haven’t… I don’t know…”
Henry stays silent and makes me work harder.
“I’ve not… I’ve never…”
I groan and bring my hands down on the water in frustration.
“You’re a virgin.”
I nod and my humiliation is complete.
“I know,” Henry says without a hint of judgment in his tone.
My mouth falls open and I turn around, surprised. Henry isn’t fazed and he’s so damn beautiful that he steals my breath.
“Why do you think I didn’t fuck you? You weren’t ready and you’ve already had so much stolen from you. I couldn’t take what wasn’t freely given.”
He pulls my head against his chest and I lie on him, relaxing in the bath. It's intimate. It’s gentle. It’s nice. It’s the opposite of what I’ve endured and it’s enough to make me relax. My tiredness creeps up on me and I start to doze, barely questioning what the hell is happening as I fall asleep on him.