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“Jules, love. I gotta run. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Her head lifts slightly off the pillow, her eyes fluttering like a newborn bird.
“Everything okay?” she asks through a yawn.
“Yeah, baby girl. The girls just got themselves into a spot of trouble. They need a big strong man to get them out.”
Julia tries to laugh at me, and in her sleep-addled state it comes out as a snort.
“Do you need me to come?”
Fuck no! The last thing I need is for Jules to see Remi trussed up like a pig and at Samuel’s mercy. Guess what—he has none. I’d have to have her sedated for sure.
“I got it, baby. Go back to sleep.”
“Mmmmskay,” she replies, before setting back into the pillows.
I pocket my phone, my wallet, my keys. Throw on my coat. The elevator ride takes forever, and I think I give our poor doorman a heart attack when I burst into the lobby.
Of course, of-fucking-course, there aren’t any taxi’s outside, because why would there be when I need one. I take a second to orientate myself to where I am and where I need to go, then take off running down the sidewalk.
NINETEEN
REMINGTON
This isn’t what I wanted.
I’ve watched Justin top Julia more times than I can count now, in almost every position imaginable. I’ve seen him bend her over his knee and smack her ass until she was gasping and panting in need and desire. I’ve seen him stretch her body across the bed or from the hook hidden discreetly in the ceiling. I’ve seen her arms spread in supplication as Justin lashed her with the flogger.
Her eyes would light up, and her face tighten in pain until that pain would morph into one of pleasure, and her fast inhale of breath would melt into a slow moaning exhalation. The gratification always overpowered any discomfort she felt she got from the experience. She could orgasm without her pussy ever being touched.
Or sometimes, we’d push her through orgasm after orgasm, taking turns torturing her clit again and again and again. I’d tie her to the bed and bury my face in her snatch while Justin fucked me through the first of our orgasms, then we’d switch and repeat the process. Then when she’d try to get away, to cry that it was too much, but refuse to safe word out, Justin would flip her around until her ass was in the air and spank her until she came one more time.
When Julia subbed, it was like watching a religious experience. She’d go all limp and spacey and smile and coo until she came back to her body to thank Justin for making her feel so damn good. She’d thank me too.
This is not that.
It hurts. Physically and psychologically, and it’s no more than I deserve.
The anticipation for the next blow is almost as bad as the blow itself. Almost. I never know where it’s going to land, and I never know the strength of it. Sometimes he hits me one after the other, barely giving me time to breathe. Other times he drags the strap between my shoulder blades, lulling me into a false sense of security before lashing my flesh with an unexpected slap.
The sound of the thwack of the strap across my ass and thighs is obscene. I don’t mean that in a good way. The Dominant standing over the top of me huffs and hisses as the leather strikes across my skin.
I grunt out at every impact, despite my best efforts, and my Dominant, whose name I can’t even remember anymore, mumbles filthy words of encouragement.
The combined sounds alone are enough to make me want to vomit.
It’s excruciating. It doesn’t temper off into pleasure after the sting of the strike goes down. The pain just builds on top of itself, until I’m clenching my teeth to keep from screaming when the leather lashes against my skin.
But it’s not enough. I’m not floating outside my body. I’m not wrapped in bliss, forgetting any and all of my pains and sorrows. I’m trapped, like a bear in a cage, only able to scratch at myself. Tears stream down my cheeks, but it’s not because of the humiliation, and it’s not because of the agony. It’s because all I can think about are Justin and Julia when the reason I’m doing this is to forget.
This was supposed to help me. Julia promised, all those months ago, that being a sub would make me feel whole. It did, for a little while, when Justin had me pinned to our bed.
But this is not that, and I can never have that again.
This is what I deserve.
I’m not floating, but I do feel rather weak. My skin is tingling in the places that don’t feel like they’re on fire. There’s a tightness in my chest that’s different from the pain I’ve experienced just from breathing. It’s spreading from my core, making it difficult for me to keep my body taught. There’s a fine tremble running from my fingers down to the tips of my toes.
