I seized around him instantly, bliss sharp as a knife slashing through my nerve endings. I felt as if my veins had dissolved, and hot blood flowed through me free and unconstrained. I shuddered as I climbed higher and higher on waves of ecstasy. Succumbing fully to the thrill of the darkest of my fantasies coming to life. The unspoken one that I hadn’t dared acknowledge even to myself. But one that had possessed me ever since I saw Einar for the first time on that distant plain, dancing his seductive dance of death with a fury. Like a bird escaping captivity, a restrained, shrill cry accompanied my climax.
“See,” Einar drawled, and I detected a note of satisfaction in his voice at making me come so quickly. “You like being fucked into the ground like a one-use toy, don’t you?”
“No. Stop,” I rasped, not because I wished him to, but because I wanted to fulfil his desire, grant him my resistance so that he could destroy it.
“Have it your way,” he growled, barely concealing the anticipatory pleasure in his timbre, but to my surprise, he slid out of me. “But you’re not going to be happy about this.”
He flipped me over, slamming me back down so fast that I barely managed to protect my face with my arms, still wrapped in my tee. Einar grabbed my waist, jerking me onto my knees. His intention became clear to me as he pulled my hips further back, until the backs of my thighs nearly touched my ankles.
“No, dammit!” I cried out in earnest when I heard him spit into his hand. “Not that!”
I wanted to crawl away, but he grabbed my hair close to my scalp and pressed my face into the dirt and needles, pinning me in place. From further back, wet sloshing sounds came as he rubbed his spit over himself first and then over a part of me that I certainly did not wish to think of as an entrance, but which I had to concede could be used that way if my opinion on the matter was not a factor to consider.
“I said I was going to make you bleed, didn’t I? I didn’t say how,” Einar pointed out harshly.
I squeezed my eyes and whimpered, because I knew from what little experience I had that it was going to hurt, especially given his size and the complete lack of preparation.
He pressed the tip of his hard-on against the tight, resisting place, teasing it, allowing me a chance to give my stop signal should I choose to.
But I didn’t. If my suffering was what he wanted, then he was going to have it, and something about that thought excited me despite the unpleasantness of my imminent prospects.
He drove into me without holding back, and then out again, and I nearly blacked out from the searing agony that he left in his wake. His hand left my hair and, pushing the tee out of the way, it closed around my throat to stifle my yells.
“That’s right,” he droned, holding my hips in position by a much-protesting fold of skin and flesh. “Let me hear how much it hurts.”
And I did let him hear that, with each thrust, much as I was able to while struggling for breath against the clasp of his fingers.
I suffered intensely as he stretched me in ways I was not supposed to be stretched, no part of me enjoying the experience in the physical sense. But on another level, I revelled in his ownership over me as he claimed my pain. As I did in knowing that my agony wasn’t random or pointless, that it was decidedand controlled by him, and it wasn’t for me to concern myself with trying to stop it. All there was for me to do was ... accept it. Willingly, and with something close to relief.
Likely aware that he tortured me with each of his thrusts, Einar didn’t take long. With a moan almost pleading in its nature, I felt him throb and shudder inside and heard his voice break like that of a man lost and a man saved. As he pulled out of me, a thin trail of hot liquid followed his trajectory, and I could not tell whether that was just his cum or whether he had made me bleed as he had threatened. In any case, it wasn’t that much, and I did not mind.
I collapsed to the ground as soon as he let go of me and rolled to my back, breathing hard. His fingers brushed over my face as he peeled the fabric off my face.
“God, are you alright, Ren?”
His visage appeared above me in between the cascades of his ash and gold hair. He peered at me worriedly from behind the slightly crooked nose. Guilt rested on his shoulders, and his eyes were full of pleading.
He cradled me in his arms like a fragile bird as I re-discovered breathing to my full lung capacity. Whatever it was that flowed out of me stung against my thighs. Wrapping my limp arms around his shoulders, I nestled against his chest, feeling smaller than I ever have in his embrace.
“I was right before,” I panted, but without a note of reproach in my unsteady voice. “You are a brute.”
“I swear I’ll worship the ground you walk on for today ...” he promised, flustered and solemn, and he bent his head to kiss my forehead gingerly.
“As if you didn’t already.”
“You got me there.” He returned my smile, but his shoulders were hunched with tension.
“Are you scared you’ve gone too far? Or that you’ll want to go further yet?” I asked him, straightening up to look levelly into his face. “Are you afraid that one day you’ll demand too much of me? Don’t be, because youcan’t.”
My face was inches away from his as I crowded him, not taking my eyes off his.
“Do you want to hurt me? I’ll bleed for you and think it nothing but a privilege. Do you want to mark me? I’ll wear your brand like a badge of honour. Do you want me to cater to your every wish and obey your every command? There’s only one thing I can say to that:yes, master.”
Finally, I saw understanding flash in the arctic pools, and the creases in his visage smoothed out, only to be replaced by contours that were keen with comprehension as deep as it was dark.
“For as long as we’re together, you don’t have to be afraid of yourself ever again. Youcannottake too much from me. Youcannottake anything from me. Not when there’s not a thing I wouldn’t willingly let you have.”
33
