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This place stitched an invisible thread between us. I caught glimpses of it behind his dominance—the way his own chains rattled each time he moved to enforce Priscilla's will. It was fucked up, finding solace in the person breaking you, but there it was, undeniable and twisted.
"Turn around, face the wall," he commanded. The time for wordplay was over.
My hands found the cold stone, searching for stability as I presented myself to him. Vulnerable, exposed, and yet... underneath the terror, something else flickered to life—curiosity, maybe even anticipation.
"Relax, little ember. I’ve got you." His words somehow eased the tension coiling in my muscles.
I felt him close, his breath ghosting over my skin, his touch surprisingly gentle as he prepped me. Each stroke sent shivers up my spine, stirring a heat that had no right to kindle.
"Fuck, Chris..." I cursed under my breath, hating how my body responded, how it arched into his caress as though seeking more.
"Let go, Ella. Let me in." His finger slid deeper, coaxing a gasp from my lips, my mind spiraling as he danced across my nerves.
"God," I breathed, my voice a mix of desperation and surrender. The sensations he stirred were foreign, intense, and terrifyingly addictive.
"See? Not so bad when you trust me," he murmured, his fingers working their magic, drawing moans from my throat I couldn't contain.
"Trust?" The word was a bitter laugh, but even as I said it, I felt the barriers between us shifting, reshaping into something dangerous.
"More than you think." His lips trailed fire down my neck, marking me in ways that transcended flesh.
"God help me, I—" The rest of my thoughts shattered as he pushed me over the edge, my body singing with a release that left me trembling, clinging to the wall for dear life.
"Good girl," he praised again, and this time, I didn't have the strength to fight the sliver of pride that cut through the shame.
The cold steel glinted in the dim light, a curve designed for control, and my heart hammered against my ribcage as Chris laid the anal hook before me. "This," he rasped, "is about dominance, Ella. About taking you to places you've never been, making you feel things you can't even imagine."
I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat pulsing with fear and something darker, something that shouldn't be there, but was. The room felt charged, etched with the promise of pain and pleasure so intertwined I couldn't separate them.
"Ready?" His fingers brushed mine as he handed me the hook, the metal cool and unforgiving.
"I guess," my breath hitched. "I’m... curious." The last word came out a whisper.
"Good." His lips curved into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. They were serious, intent. "Fear's part of the ride. Makes the high that much fucking sweeter." He stepped closer, maneuvering me to the bed. "Ready to fly, little ember?"
My nod was hesitant. I handed him back the hook, the weight of my decision settling heavy in my stomach. It wasn't really my decision. In the end, I would have to do this. Better be him...
"Brave girl." He took it, fingers grazing my palm in a way that sent a jolt straight to my core.
His touch shifted then, from soft brushes to insistent pressure, as his hand found the warmth between my thighs. Waves of pleasure crashed through me, each stroke lighting up my nerves like a goddamn Christmas tree. A moan spilled from my lips, raw and needy.
"Fuck, you're tight," he growled, his fingers plunging deeper, setting a rhythm that had my hips bucking into his hand. "Gonna make you come so hard; your head will spin."
"Oh..." I gasped, clutching at his forearms, all tatted muscle. His fingers, relentless and knowing, played me like an instrument—each push and curl drawing out notes of ecstasy I'd never known.
"Let it out, Ella. Fucking scream for me."
And I did. The world narrowed down to the push and pull of his fingers, the mounting pressure, the sheer intensity of sensation that spiraled tighter, coiling like a spring. When the release hit, it shattered me, pleasure so acute I thought I'd died.
"Christ," I panted, boneless and spent. Sweat slicked my skin, and my pulse thundered in my ears. He'd broken me apart, and in that moment, I wasn't sure if I could ever piece myself back together again.
"Name's Chris, but Christ will do," Chris murmured, and though I wanted to rail against him, fight the hold he had on me, all I could do was collapse into him, my sunshine bleeding into his darkness.
"We're not done yet, Ella."
I blinked up at Chris, my chest heaving, the remnants of my shattered climax still echoing through my veins. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat. His blue eyes were unwavering, a storm I’d willingly drown in. "Ready for the next step?" His voice was deep and husky.
"Y-yes," I stammered, my throat dry. The hook lay on the table beside us.
