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"Good girl," I praised her, the words tasting bitter and sweet.
Leather straps bit into her wrists, the clink of chains following soon after. I fixed her up on a hook, dangling from the ceiling like some kind of angel.
"Fuck, Chris. What are you doing?"
"Teaching you," I grunted, securing the last strap around her ankle. "School's in session, baby."
I stepped back, admiring the canvas of her body—flesh painted with blood, now strung up like the masterpiece it was. The flogger felt right in my grip, an extension of my own twisted desires.
"Scared yet?" I cocked my head, studying her. She’d repeatedly denied being scared. It was almost like she was a penchant for punishment and my God if I wasn’t going to cash in on that.
"Of you? Never," she shot back with that defiant spark. Shit, she was brave, or stupid, or both.
"You should be." A smirk tugged at my lips.
The first stroke landed across her thighs, a whisper of leather that drew out a soft gasp. Second one, harder, left a pink welt—a promise of what was to come. My arm swung in rhythm, each hit a crescendo of pain and pleasure intertwined.
"Fuck!" Her curse was music to my ears, mixed with the hiss of her breath.
"Like that, huh?" My voice, a growl of approval.
"More," she panted, the word a plea wrapped in velvet.
"Greedy girl."
The flogger danced across her skin, each hit harder than the last. She writhed, chains rattling, each movement a beg for more. I obliged, 'cause who the hell was I to deny such a sweet request?
"Fuck, please." Her voice broke.
"Please what, Ella?" I leaned close, my breath hot on her ear. "Tell me what you need."
"Need you... all of you."
"Shit, Ella." I pulled back, admiring the red patterns blooming on her skin. One was a deep purple. Broken blood vessels. "You get under my fucking skin."
"Then take me," she urged, hips bucking in their restraints.
"Patience, little ember. Every good thing takes time." I flicked the flogger again, eliciting a shudder that sent a jolt straight to my groin. "We're building something here, aren't we?"
"Chris..." Her voice faded, lost in the haze of heat and hurt.
Gaze locked on her; every fucking inch of my being screamed to claim her. The air thick with the scent of leather and lust, I reached for the chains and released Ella from her restraints. She slumped forward, her body a canvas of red welts and dried blood.
"Hurt..." Her voice was a ragged gasp, but I cut her off with a kiss, hard and hungry, devouring the plea on her lips.
"Stand up," I commanded, voice low and rough. She obeyed, legs trembling. My hands roamed over her, mapping the territory that was mine. Mine to scar. Mine to heal. Her pulse raced under my fingertips.
"Turn around." The order snapped like a whip. "Face the wall."
She spun, palms flat against the cold concrete, ass presented like a goddamn gift. A growl clawed up my throat, and I pressed myself against her, letting her feel the full weight of my need.
"Fuck, you're so damn beautiful like this," I muttered, hands gripping her hips.
"Please, Chris..." Her moan was muffled by the wall, her body pushing back against mine.
"Shh, doll. You'll get what's coming to you." I slid a hand between her thighs, finding her wet and wanting. "So fucking ready for me."
"Yes," she breathed out, and it was the sweetest fucking surrender.
