39. Chapter 39 #3
He taps the stick against the back of my thigh, a silent, chilling promise of the next strike. "Hands back on the tree. You don't look at me unless I tell you. Do you understand?”
I nod quickly.
“I need you to say the words, baby.”
“Yes. Sir.”
I hear a groan. “Good girl.”
Then I feel the stick make contact with my skin again. It stings. He soothes the burn with his hands. He does it again. The physical pain manifests itself into something primal. It’s a relief from my thoughts, my shame. “I hate you,” I tell him.
“Why?”
I don’t answer. The stick makes contact with my skin again.
“Tell me.”
I can feel my hands digging into the bark of the tree. I hear motion in the direction of the river. I turn, but I don’t see anyone.
“I can’t,” I whimper as tears escape my eyes.
Another sting.
He moves his hands between my thighs and thrusts two fingers inside me. A moan escapes me, and I keep my hands on the tree as I’m told.
“Oh, baby. You love this, don’t you?” It’s not a question. It's a fact he’s basking in. “Tell me why you hate me.”
I’m a mess. Tears are running down my face, my feet are covered in dirt, and my nails are jagged. I lose count of how many more times the stick makes contact with my skin. “Baby, you won’t be able to move tomorrow.” I can hear the accomplishment in his voice.
“Please, I need you,” I beg. Fuck, I’m so desperate for him. What a contrast to months ago.
“Tell me why you hate me. Then I’ll fill this pussy.”
I start to cry. Full-blown crying. “I hate that I can’t hate you.
I hate that I let Tony use me. I hate that I can’t look at myself in the mirror without seeing the shame.
I hate that my family saw those photographs of me.
I hate that I can’t picture not having you in my life because all I wanted before was to get away from you.
Now I can't bear the thought of you not being near.” He throws the stick to the ground and slams into me.
God, does it feel amazing. He grabs my hips and fucks me without holding back.
My hands hold on to the tree, anchoring me.
He pulls me up and wraps his hand around my throat while his other hand rubs my clit.
“You can run to the ends of the earth, but I will always find you,” he tells me. And I believe him.
I don’t hear anything but the sound of his flesh and mine.
His grunts and my moans. My pussy is greedy.
It wants more. I’m delirious from the pain and the pleasure.
Then we come together—as one. We’re catching our breath.
His arms are holding me up, and I rest my head against the tree. After a couple of seconds, I face him.
“Lie down,” I order. And he does as he’s told, not caring about the jungle floor. I get on my knees and position myself between his thighs. He’s always hard for me. His eyes never leave mine. “I want to taste us. Then I want you to taste us.”
“I’m yours. Yours to do with whatever you want.”
I love having control over him. I love that he gives it to me without hesitation.
I lower myself and put his cock into my mouth, licking him clean of our arousal.
Then I move up his body. My lips are hovering over his.
He opens his mouth, and I spit us into him.
He swallows everything I give him. I take his cock in my hand and position myself over it, then I seat myself on him.
“Such a good fucking boy,” I tell him as I move my hips. “Now let me sit on my throne.”
“Fuck, baby, I'm not going to last long if you keep talking to me like that.”
He’s right—he doesn’t last. So he makes it up to me by fucking me against the tree. My legs wrapped around his waist, and my arms around his neck.
“I love watching your tits bounce up and down while I fuck you.” He moans as he takes one of my nipples into his mouth.
The flowers, the trees, the moonlight surround us.
He claims me. He claimed me long ago. I dig my fingers into his back.
His reaction sends me over the edge, and I take him with me.
He carries me back to the house. My back and ass are red, naked, and dirty.
He runs me a bath. After a good soak, he carries me to his bed and applies ointment to my scratches and marks.
"I'm going to be a mess tomorrow," I manage to say. I’m physically and emotionally exhausted.
He doesn't look up, his thumb tracing the edge of a particularly deep scratch.
"You’ll be sore. But you won't regret it.
I saw the way you looked at me when you finally broke.
You weren't fighting the pain; you were chasing it. "
"It didn't feel like a punishment. It felt like…the only thing that could finally quiet the noise. I want it again.”
“If that’s what you want. We will need to choose a safe word for you.”
“Okay.”
“And one more thing, Veronica. I don’t share. You’re mine and only mine.”
“Does that make you mine and only mine?” I tease.
“Yes. I’ve always been yours.”
Then he takes me in his arms and lays me on his chest. His hand caresses me. I listen to his heartbeat. The rhythm lulls me to sleep.