5. - – Killian
CHAPTER FIVE
-
KILLIAN
I find it cute that she thinks she’s getting a reward.
Here, rewards and punishments are one and the same.
Both designed to teach and remind her who holds the power.
I guide her towards the bed, where cuffs already wait.
Her breath stutters when I reach for her wrist, but she doesn’t resist when I fasten the leather around them.
“You’ve earned this,” I murmured.
I start slow, kissing down her body, stopping just above where I know she wants me most. Then I pull away, reaching for the flogger hanging on the wall. Her eyes widen; her pulse quickens beneath her skin. I drag the tails across her stomach, tracing lazy lines on her flesh.
“See here’s the thing, Sera,” I whisper. “You want to hate this. You want to hate me.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I move first. The first strike is light, more sound than pain.
She jumps, the restraints biting into her wrist. I follow with another.
Each lash pulls another sound until the rhythm takes over.
By the tenth, she’s shaking, slick with sweat.
I toss the flogger aside and trace my fingers over the red blooming across her thighs. She whimpers, arching into my touch.
“Breathe, Sera,”
She exhales shakily, and I reward her with a single soft kiss where the last mark still glows. My hand slides lower.
“Already so wet,” I murmured.
Her head thrashes against the pillow. “Please–don’t–”
“Don’t what?” I push two fingers inside her, slow and deliberate, until her back bows. “Don’t prove myself right?”
A strangled sound leaves her throat. I keep my pace steady, relentless. Every time her body starts to tighten around me, I pull back just enough to make her gasp.
“You’ll come when I tell you,” I warn. “Not a second sooner.”
She nods frantically as I curl my fingers again, thumb circling her clit until she's half-crying, half-begging.
“Sir–please–please let me–”
“Not yet,” I whisper, dragging my mouth along her jaw. “You haven’t earned it.”
Her entire body trembles under the strain. I can feel her getting closer to the edge, so I stop completely. I catch her chin, tilting her face towards mine. My hand slides down her throat, firm but not cruel, keeping her grounded as I lean close.
“Who do you belong to?”
She shakes her head, panting. “No one.”
I click my tongue, sliding my fingers back inside her, much deeper this time.
“Try again, little captive.”
Her voice fractures. “Please–”
“Say it,” I growl, pressing harder, curling until she’s teetering again. “Who do you belong to?”
“You,” she gasps. “You, Sir.”
The sound hits something raw inside me. “Good girl,” I held my hand still for a moment, just watching her shake. “Come for me.”
She shatters on the next stroke, release so violent and beautiful, crying out as if it could save her. I hold her through it, forcing her to ride every wave until she collapses against the bed.
“That’s what happens when you obey,” I murmur.
Her breathing steadies, the smallest sound of relief slipping past her lips before sleep takes her.
I carefully pick her up and place her back into the cell, just for one more night.
She looks so peaceful. My little captive is learning what it means to surrender.
I lock the door behind me, her words still echoing in my head. You, Sir.