Chapter 19 #3
My thoughts whirl. I don’t really want to be caught, do I? When I started out, I wanted to break for freedom. But somehow the hunt became more about giving Leith a hard time at finding me. This isn’t like the night on the train, when I thought I was going to die. This time, I know he won’t hurt me.
Suddenly two large hands grab my hips and hoist me up so I’m on all fours. A slashing sound follows, and I look back to see that he’s used a knife to slice off the bottom of my trousers and my panties, leaving my bahookie exposed to the elements.
I gasp, trying to scramble to my feet.
“Stay,” he commands. “I’ve caught you. Now you’re going to take your punishment like a good girl.”
“Punishment?” I whimper.
“For running from me, when you should’ve known I’ll catch you every time.” He bends over and binds my wrists with rough rope, then does the same with my ankles. I feel the drag of a thin, coarse branch across my backside. “A switch I just cut from a birch tree.”
Oh, fuck. I’m done for. But an inner voice tells me I deserve this, when I’ve been working for Galiene, likely against Leith.
“Count the strokes up to eight,” he directs.
Flicking the switch against my buttock, he delivers a painful stroke to my flesh. The sting radiates outward like a throbbing nerve when you chew on an infected tooth.
Sobbing, I cry out. “One!”
He deals a sharp blow to my other cheek, and I yelp. “Two!” That hurts like the bejesus.
He whips my upper thigh, and I jump. “Three!” Oww. It’s an especially sensitive area, and I didn’t expect him to hit there.
Another strike comes fast on my other thigh.
“Four!” I get out hoarsely.
He pinches and kneads my buttocks, rubbing in the pain. “Four more, sweetheart.”
My breaths come thick and fast as I wait for the next.
The switch hisses through the air and lands on the globe of my arse again. I suck in a breath and count five.
So it goes for three more excruciating blows. By the time he’s finished, I’m shaking all over, but I’ve gone into a trance of sorts. I’m floating above the ground, my mind light as a feather and my body tingly with need. Leith is my deity, and Leith alone holds the key to my satisfaction.
Tears streak down my cheeks, and snot runs from my nose as I hear the swish of his trousers. He strips and straddles me from behind, poising his tip at my opening.
“You’re soaking wet, wee wife.” He collects my arousal and screws a finger into my tight hole.
Holding it there, he delves his cock straight through me, and I groan from the ecstasy of it.
The fact that I have no control over what he does enhances the pleasure.
“That’s it. Take everything I fill you with like a good whore,” he praises.
“I’ll break you over and over, so you’re nothing until I put you back together. ”
Each bang of his hips against my backside intensifies the sting from the welts. Yet I welcome it all as pain that makes me feel alive while worsening my need.
He fists my hair and snaps my head back, pounding me so forcefully I slide toward the big oak in front of me with each brutal thrust. My building orgasm is as inevitable as it is swift. I feel its prickly waves coursing through me in warning.
“Leith!” I wail.
“Not yet, Iona.” He slows his strokes, and I nearly weep from desperation.
Gradually he stokes the furnace again, growing larger inside me with each punch of his pelvis. Digging his fingers into my hip, he holds me steady as he speeds up. Once more the fires lick at my insides and grow toward a conflagration.
“Come now.” He pulls out and buries himself deep in my soft gulf.
Screaming, I succumb to the raging heat, juddering as he slams into me over and over, defining my purpose in this life.
I’m meant to be consumed by this bonfire that grew from a spark in my core and was fed by his potent cock.
In the throes of my O, I realize he’s sunk a second finger in my snug hole and that the sensitive nerves back there are intensifying the pleasure.
My bliss is at once waves crashing over me and flames rolling through me. My scream dwindles to a moan then a whimper, and he stills inside me, though I still feel the twitch of his length, threatening me with its power.
He pulls out and unties my wrists then my ankles. I’m too tired to twist and watch him dress, but I hear the zip of his fly and the clink of his belt. He pulls my sliced slacks up and lifts me in his arms, carrying me toward the house.
I burrow my head in his chest, too done-in to focus on how far we walk or who might see my walloped bottom. Eventually he’s bringing me inside and climbing the staircase to our bedroom. He strides directly into the bathroom, lays me on the settee, and starts a bath.
I tremble all over as he undresses me and sheds his own clothes. Then, before I know it, I’m reclining between his legs in the hot, lavender-scented water. At first, it burns my sore backside, but I quickly get used to the sting.
He massages my wet scalp with soaped-up fingers. “How do you feel?”
“Drained,” I answer candidly. “You tricked me. You framed this as a game, then it turned into me running away and getting punished.”
I hear the smirk in his voice. “I found out you don’t really want to escape, Flame. That’s all I set out to confirm.”
I groan. “Your experiment will make it hard for me to sit for a week.”
“Good.” He thumbs a nipple. “I want you to remember what happens when you run from me.”
There’s my question from earlier answered.