Chapter 10
Tuesday had thought the scene was over before and had been disappointed, but now, when he rolled her over, she knew it was over, and both the human and the wolf were at peace with it.
He released her arms slowly, working the knots with careful hands while she lay face-down and concentrated on breathing.
Every joint in her body hurt, every muscle, every nerve ending, and she was already thinking about the sweet relief changing to her wolf would bring.
Standing on four undamaged legs with a spine that didn’t hate her would be pure bliss.
“I’d like you to hold off until tomorrow to shift.”
The words hit her like a physical blow, and yet, her voice said, “Okay,” without giving her a chance to argue.
Apparently, she was incapable of denying him anything in this moment. She was certain that would change once they were outside of a scene, but for now, his words were her law, even when articulated as a request.
He rolled her gently onto her back and looked at her face for a long moment before telling her, “I love you doesn’t say enough, but it’s the best I can come up with right now.”
And then he was gone, before she could respond.
He returned with an insulated bag she hadn’t noticed, put it on the table beside the bed along with two bowls and spoons, then returned to lift her and carry her to bed, leaning her against the wedge, which she decided she no longer hated.
The mouth-watering smell hit her as soon as he opened the container — caramelized onions, rich beef broth, and good wine. Not the shit people call cooking wine.
French onion soup. The ultimate comfort soup.
He poured a bowl and handed it to her, and she set the spoon aside, lifted the bowl to her mouth, and then her arms decided they might not be able to manage what she intended.
He saw it happen and supported the bowl for her, so she only had to tip it up to her mouth to drink it straight from the bowl — and she drank nearly the entire bowl before she came up for air.
He put more into it and then brought it back to her lips.
She finished the next bowl slower, actually tasting the sweetness of the onions, the way the flavors worked together.
She lowered the empty bowl to her lap and met his gaze. “The soup said more than words ever could. I love you, too.”
He took the bowl from her hands, and she said the part she didn’t want to have to deal with, but there was no way to avoid it.
“I need to use the bathroom, and I’m not sure my knees and hips will be able to manage it.”
“I know they can’t,” he told her, and he lifted her into his arms, walked her into the bathroom, and settled her on the toilet with more gentleness than she’d have thought those hands capable of after the day they’d had.
And then he stood there.
She looked at him.
He looked back.
“You could wait outside,” she said.
He didn’t move. Didn’t say a word.
She peed, and it burned so savagely she had to hold her breath to keep from screaming. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and one managed to spill over.
He watched her face through all of it, but she stared at the wall in front of her and tried to pretend he wasn’t there.
But when he offered her baby wipes so she wouldn’t have to use rough, dry toilet paper, she had to thank him. It was thoughtful, and that deserved acknowledgment, even if it was hard.
He carried her back to bed and looked her over carefully, checking each place he’d spent the day destroying with the same methodical care he’d used to completely wreck it.
He applied salve to her asshole and clit with a gentleness so at odds with the day it made her throat ache and tears threaten once again.
Then he turned the lights out, crawled into bed, and pulled her against him. His hand moved over her in slow, unhurried strokes until the world faded around her and sleep took her under despite every ache and pain still screaming and throbbing, bodywide.
- - - ? - - -
Tuesday woke on her stomach, face pressed into the pillow, with Knife’s thick cock already working its way into her sore, raw asshole.
The first thing that went through her mind was, ‘Of course he’s back in your ass. He always re-hurts what he tortured.’
There was no gentleness this morning. He thrust into the hole he’d fisted for the first time the day before, knowing how fucking sore it would be, and clearly feeding on her pain while he stretched her wide open before she could even fully awaken.
The burn was worse than his fist had been the day before, and she gasped and yelped, her hips fighting to escape, but he gripped her waist and kept driving into her until he was buried to the balls.
There was no time to get used to him before he immediately pulled out and thrust in again. And again. He found a fast rhythm and fucked her hard, hips slamming against her bruised ass with every merciless thrust.
She was still so raw, every stroke felt like he was reclaiming territory already marked as his.
When he pulled her arms back and up behind her, the strain on her shoulders flared white-hot, and she moaned brokenly into the pillow while he proved just how much she belonged to him.
Proved without a doubt her body was his to use, even when it hurt.
But he was frustrated. She could feel it in his energy, though she couldn’t explain how. She knew she’d been right when he pulled out of her, lifted her, turned her around, and settled her neck into the pillory in the footboard.
Seconds later, her throat and wrists were locked in, and her bruised, battered knees had to bear most of her weight, which was unbearable even on the soft mattress.
She heard him walk away and return, but couldn’t see what he’d gone to get.
Then came a line of fire on her ass, and she immediately knew he’d retrieved a cane. She completely forgot about her knees, because he rained down fire on her ass and the backs of her legs, still bruised and hot from the cane, belt, and flogger the day before.
As if a mirror of the day before, alligator clamps with weights went on her nipples, the short chains pulling downward with every breath.
He tried to fist her ass again, but it was as if it’d tightened up from the damage of the day before. She tried to relax and let him in, but her sore muscles fought him every step of the way. His fingers pressed in slowly, until he had four inside her with his thumb tucked tight.
Her hole gradually stretched until it felt wider than ever, though he wasn’t all the way in, so clearly it wasn’t. The ravaged ring of muscle burned and spasmed while forced to yield under the relentless pressure.
Her screams filled the room as he pushed deeper, her body jerking hard, but the pillory held her firm.
He growled low in his chest every time her asshole clenched desperately around his knuckles, fighting him even as it opened. He kept working, twisting, pressing, trying to force his entire fist inside while she sobbed and shook, tears streaming down her face.
Eventually, he yanked his hand out. She was relieved until she scented the lube again, and her heart sank that he’d be going at her ass again.
But he didn’t. He worked his fingers into her pussy now, stretching the delicate, swollen folds, pressing harder, trying to force his fist past the tight resistance, and once again smashing her inner lips against bone that kept him out.
Tears streamed down her face, but he kept at it while her entire body trembled violently, and her cunt fluttered and fought around his hand.
He couldn’t get all the way in there either, but the brutal, relentless attempts shattered her.
Partway through, he ordered her to come, possibly thinking it would help him get in.
When one orgasm died down, he’d order another, and orgasm after orgasm ripped through her — each harder and more devastating than the last while he kept pushing, kept stretching, kept owning every desperate, clenching inch of her.
When he eventually gave up, he left. She watched his naked ass walk across the room and head down the steps, and didn’t protest.
Then listened to him downstairs cooking breakfast. She used her nose to try to guess what he was fixing. Bacon, for sure. Steaks.
When he returned, he fed her from his fingers while she stayed bent and displayed — eggs, steak, bacon, and toast with peach preserves. Every bite from his fingers.
And damn if her tortured, raw clit didn’t throb in time to her heartbeat a little more every time his fingers touched her lips.
But when she was finished eating, he took the plate back downstairs and cleaned the kitchen before returning.
Her knees were on fire now, and she opened her mouth to tell him when he returned, but he shook his head and put his finger to his mouth, so she closed her mouth and didn’t speak.
But then the bastard added fresh weights to the alligator clamps still biting into her nipples, and she could only whimper at the sudden extra pull, the chains swinging with every shaky breath.
While she was still reeling from that, he climbed onto the bed behind her and rammed his dick back into her asshole, her stretched muscles unable to fight him, despite the fact she felt as if she’d swollen closed while she ate.
He gripped her hips and pistoned in and out like he was marking territory all over again.
Her sore, abused hole burned around him, the stretch and friction too much to survive, but she pushed back into it anyway, needing the reminder as much as he needed to give it.
Each thrust sent fresh sparks through every tortured joint and sent waves of pain deep into her gut, but she arched her back and gave him full access because despite her exhaustion and pain, despite how raw she felt inside and out, she was still completely his.
Based on what she could see of the sun outside, she figured it was around noon when he slowed, buried himself deep, and asked in that rough, commanding voice, “Do you want to change now, or wait another two hours?”
She was right on the edge of another orgasm, body trembling, clit throbbing, every nerve screaming, and she understood exactly what he was doing — holding her release hostage, making her choose.
“Two more hours,” she gasped, the words barely making it out.
His low, satisfied growl vibrated behind her, and he started moving again, harder and faster, like he was rewarding her for the right answer even though his next words were, “Don’t you dare come until I give permission, little painslut.”