The seventh and eighth go by in a blur, my face contorted in anguish as I’m wracked with pain, shivering as it becomes a part of me, like a hot blanket soaking into my skin, easing away everything else.
“That’s better,” he says, pulling my hair out of my face, but I can’t see him with the blindfold still on. I take in a shaky breath when Ellis touches my back. “So beautiful seeing the way you give in, let it replace every thought in your head. We’re so close, aren’t we?”
I can’t answer him. I’m still in a fuzzy blur of pain and peace, but I know what’s coming, so I feel myself bracing again.
“Eight more.”
There’s a small gasp across the room, and my ears perk up. I forgot she was here, and suddenly my attention is on Hanna, knowing she’s seeing me like this, afraid for me.
“Hanna wants to know you’re okay. Tell her. Tell her how much you need it.”
“I’m okay,” I whisper, my voice shaky, but fuck, I wish I could touch her. Feel her skin under my fingers, crawl into a warm space where there is no more pain. “I need this.”
Ellis slaps my ass and I wince. “You came here and asked for this. Remember that because what you felt so far is nothing compared to what you’re about to feel. We’ll let Hanna count these ones out.”
Suddenly, it’s like a lightning strike against my back, and I open my mouth to yell but there is no sound. I know it’s the crop now, that thin piece of leather that delivers the sharpest pain against my already sore back.
As the pain skitters across my body like fire ants, I struggle against the restraints again. Somewhere in the last thirty lashes, my cock has gotten unbelievably hard. Shoved against the ramp, I settle myself from struggling since the friction would easily have me coming all over this thing.
“One,” Hanna says, her voice tight and low, like she’s trying to hide something. Is she crying for me? God, I want to look at her.
He strikes again and again and again. Hanna’s voice grows tighter, a slight shake and gasp with each syllable.
I don’t know much anymore, but I know I’m sobbing again. I know the end is near, and I know everything inside me is raw. The dam is broken, my pain and emotions spilling out through the now gaping cracks.
What’s the strangest by the seventh crack is how I feel almost closer to him. He’s inflicting my pain, but I welcome it. I love it. And I know he’s letting up. That is until he gets to eight, and he delivers the hit against my back that makes me scream the loudest, my howling cries drawn out as I melt against the bed.
The tension in my arms eases as I feel someone loosen the restraints and then my wrists are pulled out of the cuffs. Still, I’m shaking, crying like a child, and I don’t know if it’s because of Preston, or Zara, or Hanna, or Ellis. Or just for myself. My spent anger and years lost to regret. The pain I inflicted on others now directed back at me.
The night I found Zara at the strip club and treated her so badly, forcing her into something she didn’t want.
The night I forced myself on Hanna, wanting her to hate me for it.
The night I broke everything between me and Ellis like it was a person I could murder, like the monster I am.
For all of those things, I drown in my pain and my tears.
Suddenly, I’m being lifted, my back held against his body, warm hands on my chest and lips against my shoulders.
Fuck me, please. My mind chants as my rock hard length rubs against the soft friction of the pillow, but mostly I want him inside me. I need him inside me. To truly own me, use me, take his pleasure from my body.
“Fuck me.” The words slip from my mouth, and with the blindfold still around my eyes, I feel him there, his cock already slick and hard against my entrance. He enters me easily, my body pliant and open for him, but his thrust is harsh. Then he grunts low and gravelly into my ear, and I swim in the sounds of his pleasure.
Clutching his arms, he holds me up when I notice the sudden absence of the ramp that was pressed against my legs. Then, she’s there.