39. Ivory
“Ouch,” she whispered, unable to look at Adrian as blood welled over her fingerprint.
“Are you okay?” He took her hand to inspect it.
“Yes. I’m sorry, sir.” Her skin burned more out of shame than pain. Even while half-naked and bent over a desk, she’d managed to mess up.
He sighed. Picking up the knife, he put it back in her palm and closed both their hands around the handle. She lifted her gaze to his, relieved not to find anger or disappointment, although his expression remained firm and commanding.
“I use my fists as a warning,” he said. “And I’ll use them as much and as often as I need to. But when I use a weapon, I do it once—to solve the problem permanently.”
She nodded. This wasn’t a toy.
He brought his other hand in front of the blade. “I have no problem with you picking up the knife, but when you hold a weapon, you do so with the intent to use it.”
Moving the knife in her hand along with his, he pressed the tip into his finger and made a mirror of her wound. He didn’t flinch, watching her face instead as blood pooled in the shallow cut.
She winced for him. It was all fun and games until real harm came into play.
Even when he toyed with things like pain and punishment, there were real consequences that he had to hold himself accountable for, and she ought to do the same. Tentatively, she raised her finger to his and pressed them together.
He closed his thumb over their fingers and pinched them in place. “Your blood is as good as mine, Iv,” he whispered. “If you hurt, I hurt.”
“I know.” Her weakness had become his. If she wasn’t more cautious, she could get them both in trouble. Not just with their games either, but in a world where innocent kids got shot in a park and entitled frat boys took advantage of whoever they wanted.
He released their fingers and wiped them off with the inside of his shirt. “I will do everything to protect both of us, but try to keep yourself safe.” She nodded and offered a small smile as he folded the knife and slipped it back into his boot. The sober expression on his face softened. “I’ll clean the cut for you when we get back.”
Something flickered in his eyes as he pressed her finger to his lips, making the gold flecks more distinct and the emotion clearer. Here she was, supposed to be turned on by presenting herself, by waiting to please him, but instead, it was his concern that flooded her sex all over again.
He let go and walked behind the desk, cutting himself off from her line of sight. Goosebumps rose over her skin, and static danced in the air, separating and connecting them with an almost tangible energy.
“Do you remember your safe word?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Say it for me.”
“Violet.”
He hummed in approval. A tug came at her ankle and brought her foot against the leg of the desk. It forced her stance to widen as the smooth leather of the belt locked her in place. “No matter what, you’ll use it if you feel the need?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He straightened and gathered her hair, placing it over to one side. His lips ghosted across her shoulder, and then his teeth pulled at the ribbon around her neck. It unraveled, her pulse pounding in its absence.
“I’ve never done this before,” she blurted, breaths quickening. Even if she used the safe word, she’d be stuck. Tied to a desk in the middle of a warehouse owned by criminals.
A reassuring hand smoothed up the back of her thigh and spread her legs further apart. Her knees bent from the strain of the position, back arching to push out her hips. Her forehead dropped down to the desk.
“You please me very much, Iv,” Adrian murmured, crouching down. “That’s all you need to remember.” He secured her other foot, though it wasn’t as tight as the first, and stood. “One ankle is tied with the belt, the other with your hair ribbon. If the ribbon breaks or gets untied, you’ll get double the number of spankings we left off at, understood?”
Double…that meant if he only planned to spank her ten times, and she broke on the tenth, he’d give her twenty more. She couldn’t move as is, but if she tried, it would only make things worse.
“Yes, sir.” Her voice wavered, hands gripping the edge of the desk.
“I’ve always had a certain requirement,” Adrian began to muse, but she could hardly focus as she braced herself, watching the toe of his boots disappear and reappear in her line of sight. “When I started with my arrangements, I decided everything would be earned—rewards, punishments, even the chance to be fucked.”
“What?” she breathed.
“You’ll have to earn my cock,” he clarified. “Inch by inch.”
She sucked in a breath. What would that take to earn it all? It didn’t matter. She’d do it.
“You’ve earned two inches so far,” he said. “One as part of the reward for driving the bike, and another for being exactly how I asked when I walked in.” His hand traced over her spine, then ran down her flank. Her pussy practically begged for more, but she knew relief would come only after the punishment. “Are you ready to earn another?”
“Yes, sir.” As soon as the whispered words left her mouth, his palm cracked down on her ass. She tensed, body rejecting the pain as it bloomed over her skin.
Then his mouth pressed hot kisses over her vulva, sampling her before pulling back. She moaned and bucked at the loss of contact.
“This is where you say thank you .”
“Thank you, sir,” she repeated. As the sting from the first strike receded, he struck with another. The heat seeped lower, curling into her core and making her gasp.
She thanked him again, gritting her teeth.
“Too much?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, sir.”
The next two hits came in quick succession, harder than the first and with an undeniable sting that bit without shame. Her face contorted. She had to hold her breath as she thanked him.
“Hard enough?” he asked.
“I don’t think I could handle much more— ahh .” She squirmed, barely able to stay still as his tongue swept up her slit, circling her clit and then her asshole. The restraints pulled at her ankles as she became torn between chasing pleasure and running from pain, craving every touch he offered but unable to do anything but take what he dolled out. She refused to move an inch—and it was the most difficult thing she’d ever done.
Two more hits, both unforgiving and with enough of a pause between each for a thank you.
His hands were rough as they gripped her, squeezing, smoothing, and kneading as he saw fit. The metal of his rings pressed into the hot sting. “My handprints look so good on your ass,” he murmured. “You have no idea, sweetheart.” He exhaled, still rubbing her sore skin. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly.
A hit cracked down harder than the rest. She yelped, hinging on the point of impact. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Do you feel good?”
Her core clenched, aroused, and not aroused enough. Her thoughts wandered no further than the experience of being in her own body, of surrendering it to him. All she wanted was more, for this infinity to stretch on into the next.
“Yes, sir,” she answered, as honestly as she did first response.
“Good girl,” he replied. The tear of a foil package sounded from behind.
“Don’t—” She pleaded, sweat beading on her forehead. “If it’s okay…I don’t want you to use a condom. I haven’t slept with anyone in months, and I’m on birth control.” She’d never ached like this. Never felt like she would perish if she didn’t get to feel him, skin on skin.
For a moment, he left her hanging. Then admitted, “I’ve never fucked raw before.”
Her face sunk into the desk, no longer able to keep her composure. This man. This glorious god of a man, who had reddened her ass and soaked her pussy, now wrecked her spirit.
What she wouldn’t give to be his first. To take his seed and have it spill out of her, to earn every inch and then swallow him whole. She didn’t need to answer, her pussy fluttering and legs quaking, chest aching, and lungs straining for air as she hoped he’d take her offer.
To claim her body as a willing sacrifice.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Hush,” he commanded, tone strong yet with a clear rasp. Then he spread her with his hands, and his bare cock nudged her opening.
She moaned, clenching her fists.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “Dammit, you’re so hot.”
Whether he meant literally or figuratively, she couldn’t find the strength to care. In the next moment, the flare of his cockhead dipped into her sex, and she squeezed her eyes shut, dying and reviving over and over as she held herself in place. Even with two inches, he felt thick, stretching her walls and nudging a place inside that could easily send her over the edge.
A smack came down on her ass, and her legs involuntarily tugged against the belt. Oh no. She was losing it. She didn’t know how many spankings she'd taken but knew she couldn’t take much more.
A harder hit struck over the other. The sting hooked in deep, counteracted by the clench of her pussy on Adrian’s dick and followed by a rush of pleasure.
“What do you say?” he snarled.
“Thank you, sir,” she squeaked.
He pulled out, then pushed back in. They gasped in unison.
Two more hits. Two more thrusts. Two more thank yous.
She was going to break. There was no choice. Her orgasm built from deep inside, as unavoidable as the descent of a falling star or the unrelenting pull of gravity. Then it hit.
And it hit hard.