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“Fuck me,” she whispers.
I twist the knife hilt inside her, and a true moan escapes Alena, surprising even her if the sudden blush down her throat is anything to go by.
“Easily,” I murmur, and I do just that. Slow, careful thrusts of the knife hilt start the rhythm with which I fuck her, and Alena drinks it up. Every thrust causes her body to jolt, and a light sweat breaks out across her skin. Wax continues to drip from the candle in my hand, painting across her breasts like liquid silk as I fuck her with the knife handle.
She pulls on the restraints, rocking back and forth and trying to twist in any direction as if trying to escape. The constant moans falling from her lips suggest otherwise, though.
“Look at you, you filthy whore. Waxed and fucked with a knife, and you’re moaning like it’s the best sex you’ve ever had.”
Alena merely whines in response, too caught up in her mix of pleasure and pain.
“Maybe I should start calling you pet, huh? You lap this up like a little slut after sleeping in your cage like such a good girl.”
“Oh, fuck!” Alena cries, and suddenly, her body arches hard off the bed. One last roll of wax drops down and hits her nipple, and she comes with a scream.
From this angle, I get to see every detail of her pleasure, her eyes rolling back, her head tossing from side to side, and her lips parting wide. Her body bows and rocks, muscles going so rigid I can make out the definition of her arms. Her thighs quiver against my arm, and when she finally collapses back down onto the bed with a series of panting moans, she shakes like a leaf with tears clinging to her lashes once more.
“Yes, Sir,” Alena croaks, and when our eyes meet, she smiles up at me. “Thank you.”
My heart swells unexpectedly. I set the candle aside and lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, then I slowly remove the knife hilt from her pussy. I replace it with my tongue, burying it against her pussy and gently licking through her folds to taste her post-orgasm. The heat is searing, and she whimpers above me, utterly overstimulated and satisfied. It’s just a taste, but it leaves me yearning for more, but tiredness from the day is beginning to weigh on me.
It takes twenty minutes to clean Alena up. Removing the wax is easy with a homemade solution, and in the shower, I kiss each of the small marks left behind by the wax. Alena is perfectly docile, resting against me with a blissful smile on her face while I wash her body, massage her scalp, and tuck her into bed with only two ankles and one wrist tied up.
“Kristof…” Alena catches my wrist with her free hand just as I step away, causing me to pause.
“Yes?”
“Was I good? For you?”
I frown immediately. Was my praise not enough to assure her of that? Did I leave her with doubts?
I turn back to her and take her hand, squeezing gently.
“You were exceptional. I have things on my mind, and you helped me feel better. Your obedience was admirable.”
Alena beams up at me.
“Just work on the respect,” I add.
“Yes, Sir.” Alena nods. I step away and turn down the light, closing the door behind me. It doesn’t escape me that this could be a trick of hers, a ploy to soften me up so she can escape, but even if that’s her goal, it won’t matter in the end.
There’s nothing she can do, nothing she can say that will let her slip past me.
With the search of properties looming, one thing is clear to me.
I’m not just getting Alena out of this house.
I’m getting her out of the country.
22
ALENA
Two weeks pass in a blur when you’re underground.
At a glance, not much is different from when I arrived here, and yet, at the same time, everything is different. Kristof no longer ties me completely to the bed. Instead, a single leather cuff rests around my right ankle attached to a chain that has enough length that I’m able to move around the room with much more freedom. I can reach the shower whenever I want to, curl up and sleep freely on the bed, and even jog around the open space for light exercise. Life is simple here.
And I love it.
