Chapter 26
Tuesday rolled to her stomach, went to hands and knees, crawled to him, and obediently put her wrists and neck in the holes.
The sound of the latches clicking closed made her stomach flip and her pussy clench hard.
A deep, instinctive rush of helpless surrender flooded her with both fear and dark, aching arousal.
But at least she could breathe now.
He pulled the egg from her pussy and then undressed behind her, the rustle of fabric loud in the quiet room. The mattress dipped as he crawled onto the bed and settled behind her, knees pushing her thighs farther apart, and then he drove himself into her pussy in a single, merciless thrust.
She was still bruised and swollen inside from the night on the steel pole, and she cried out sharply.
He fucked her hard, hips slamming against her ass, each stroke battering her tender cervix.
The pain shot through her with a gnawing, cramping agony that blended with the pleasure of the friction and the satisfaction of finally being filled.
But he drove so deep, and she was trapped in the pillory, unable to move forward, unable to pull away, forced to take every brutal inch.
When her screams grew louder, he only went faster. Harder. His cock hammered her cervix ruthlessly, turning the pain into a dark and intoxicating soup of sensations. She sobbed, helpless, her body locked in place while he used her exactly as he pleased.
Then he pulled out without warning and shoved into her sore, well-fucked ass. She was so swollen and raw, it took him four shoves to get all the way in, and the burn was vicious.
He’d focused on fucking her asshole all weekend and then again once they got home, and she’d swear he was growing fatter inside her.
He fucked her ass with the same savage rhythm, then switched back to her pussy, then her ass again — using whichever hole he wanted, whenever he wanted, with no mercy and no pattern she could anticipate.
Every shriek, every frantic scream, made him drive harder, as if her sounds fed his sadist. His hands gripped her hips, and his hips pistoned like a pile-driver, using her to slake his own dark needs.
She was nothing but a vessel for him in that moment, locked in wood, spread open, unable to do anything but take it.
After hours and hours in his ropes, she didn’t want to be anywhere else, and that feeling only added to the helplessness and vulnerability, trapped in the pillory with her shoulders pressed against it, no way to move forward even another millimeter, forcing her to accept every deep, punishing stroke while her bruised cervix and raw asshole screamed.
His fingers reached around to her bruised, swollen clit, and he pressed down on it. Hard.
She yelped and jerked, the pain a surprise, but the prison strap had battered it, and it hurt so fucking much.
He chuckled, and his fingers moved to the side, massaging all around it, firm movements that dragged over the bruised, hypersensitive flesh.
The pain and pleasure twisted together so violently she could only pant.
Her legs spread a little farther apart to give him room because every stroke sent sparks shooting all through… everything.
Her empty pussy clenched hard around nothing, and her asshole tightened around his thick cock while he continued fucking her — slowly now.
The change in rhythm opened a crack in the wall of pure sensation, and she drank it in while Knife’s fingers teased, massaged, and hurt her clit.
The hands of the man who could’ve had a submissive who lived for the power exchange, who’d chosen instead a painslut who didn’t like being told what to do.
She loved him so much it hurt, and her need roared through her like wildfire, building higher and higher until she was shaking, whimpering, fighting with everything she had not to tumble over the edge because he hadn’t given her permission.
But his fingers kept working her clit with cruel perfection while his cock hammered deep into her ass, and the devastating mix of pain and pleasure pushed her right to the razor’s edge again and again.
When her body was about to plunge over the edge despite her attempts to hold onto it, he pressed directly over her clit again, yanking her back, and her screams filled the room.
The pain had held it off for a second, but now it was back again, and tears streamed down her face. Her body shook. She was right on the edge again, so close she could almost taste the orgasm, but he never gave her permission.
She thought she might lose her mind. Every thrust, every circle of his fingers, every denial pushed her higher until she was sobbing, begging with her body, her hips pushing back desperately even as fresh tears ran down her face and landed on the floor.
She needed to come so badly it felt like she was coming apart at the seams.
But he didn’t let her.
Eventually, he grabbed her hips again and fucked her harder, deeper, claiming every sore, aching inch of her until he finally buried himself in her ass and came with a low, guttural growl.
She felt every heated pulse of him inside her while her own denied need roared through her like wildfire. She was shaking, sobbing, dripping, completely wrecked.
But he merely went to the bathroom, returned, put his jeans back on, and walked down the steps.
Leaving her in the pillory, wrecked and needy.
She was so exhausted she nearly drifted off to sleep, but the hard wooden board under her throat meant every time her head started to drop, the edge pressed into her neck.
She couldn’t relax, had to hold her head up, so she hovered in a strange, aching half-sleep, body throbbing, mind floating while all her bruises and strained muscles kept her just aware enough to remember exactly where she was and who she belonged to.
She could hear him downstairs, could smell the scent of chicken cooking, and later, various spices.
Eventually, she heard him on the steps, and he pulled a table in front of her face, put a chair beside it, and fed both her and him, with her still trapped in the pillory.
He’d put together chicken and pasta with a few veggies, and at the first bite, she recognized the pesto as her own from-scratch recipe. He’d also followed her instructions for the shaved parmesan on top, and it hit the spot.
She ate slowly, savoring the flavors, and let the simple act of being fed by him settle into a deep warmth inside her chest.
When he finally unlocked the pillory, he lifted her, carried her into his large closet, and settled her on all fours facing a cabinet.
He slid a panel to the side, and she was surprised to see the bars of a cage. How had she not known he had a cage in his closet?
He opened the door, pointed, and said, “In.”
She crawled into the cage without hesitation and was pleasantly surprised to find the thin mattress was actually comfortable.
She couldn’t stretch all the way out, but this was still heaven. No ropes. No cuffs. No plug or egg tormenting her. She curled up tightly on her side, knees drawn to her chest, and was asleep before the closet door clicked shut.
- - - ? - - -
Tuesday didn’t know how long she slept. It could’ve been ten minutes or two hours, but she was jolted awake by a racket — his large belt buckle being dragged back and forth across the bars.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, and she was still groggy and disoriented when he opened the cage door.
“Out, and don’t dawdle.”
She crawled out on shaky limbs and took a left turn toward the door, not fully awake yet, but before she could get her bearings, he was behind her, one hand fisting her hair, the other pressing his lubed cock into her dry asshole.
He pushed in hard, spreading her wide, and she cried out as the thick head forced its way past her sore, tender ring.
He didn’t give her time to adjust, to deal with the blazing fire of being suddenly forced open and invaded.
He simply gripped her hips and pounded her ass — hard, fast, ruthless strokes that made her scream while the unrelenting brutal friction threatened to undo her.
He fucked her like he was claiming her all over again, hips slamming against her ass, cock driving deep. She was no longer asleep, but totally overwhelmed, and her arousal levels didn’t seem to understand she wasn’t allowed a fucking orgasm.
She braced as much as possible, and her head hung low while her clit throbbed and her empty pussy clenched desperately, threatening to tip her over into a forbidden release, her need so intense it bordered on madness.
When he finally buried himself to the hilt and came with low, gravelly sounds, her head dangled, heavy with exhaustion, and she trembled with surrender. She’d been utterly conquered, and he still hadn’t let her come.
He lifted her without a word and carried her to the bedroom, her body limp with exhaustion despite her nap. He sat her on the edge of the bed, quickly swapped her ankle cuffs for the heavier suspension ones, then locked her wrists together behind her back.
Then she was in his arms again, then lying on the floor on her back while he connected her ankles to the lowered beam, then watching him walk to the wall and reach for the ropes.
The pulleys worked over her, lifting her until she dangled upside down, her head a foot off the floor, her arms trapped behind her back so she had to hold them up. There was no way to let them down.
“Crunches,” he ordered. “Lift your head towards your knees. Get it as high as you can.”
His voice was flat, hard, all business.
She hesitated, trying to figure out how the hell she was supposed to do that while hanging upside down with her arms trapped behind her back, and he brought the thin cane down across the backs of her thighs with a sharp crack.
“Move.”