His hands are rough as he secures my feet with the rope at the legs of our bed. It hurts how quickly and hard he shoves my legs apart, but somehow the pain grounds me. A sudden calm sits in my gut against the roughness of his approach.
“You think this is losing control?” he breathes.
His hand slips beneath my panties, trailing a soft touch between my wet folds before rearing back and slapping me with full force across the face, smearing my arousal across my cheek. I moan despite myself.
Shock courses through my veins as my wrists pull at the ties, but beneath the fear is something much more sinister: I don’t want to be free.
“Be a good girl and thank me for slapping you.” He says arrogantly as I wail out, barely able to contain my shock.
I sob into the room, so goddamn furious with this man. And terrified—because there is a pain inside me that only he can release. When my husband gives me pain, it shatters something open. It floods me. It frees what I can’t reach on my own.
But while he’s reminding me who I belong to, beneath all of my comforting submission and fear of his violence, the true part of my soul knows I’m not ready to submit.
So I grit out the words I know will push him just a bit farther, words that will, in turn, bend my will to his hand.
“Fuck you, Hayden.”
He tuts at me, displeased as he rears back and delivers a slap to my other cheek, forcing my head to whip into the side of the bed.
He pinches my cheeks together with one hand, his chest rising and falling as he licks his lips, taking me in.
I’m a wriggling, crying mess, shocked by his sudden brutality, but dripping with it as though my body has no concept of this betrayal.
“Thank me for hitting you, and beg me to do it again,” he huffs out, his voice hard and edged with the sound of his arousal I’ve come to love.
But I can’t concede, I can only sob as my husband stares at me, one hand reared back, ready to slap, and the other coming forward to grip my throat.
“Beg,” he snarls.
“Fuck,” I pause, sobbing quietly and trying to regain my voice, “you.”
He roars, both hands finding my neck, my thighs clenching together as I gasp for air. Struggling to breathe, my vision becomes spotty as my body betrays me and nipples harden.
I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, I can barely think, it’s all too much. Too much good, too much intensity. My toes curl against the hatred coursing through my veins.
I’m so close to conceding. I’m so close to coming apart and unraveling under his touch. Am I going to orgasm from his vicious slaps alone?
I need air soon, or I’ll pass out.
The stars are approaching, and my vision is becoming spotty as I utter the words I finally truly mean, and my dripping pussy is desperate for me to say.
“Thank you, Hayden,” I cry, choking and sputtering, saliva falling to my lips as I gasp for breath, and the last sliver of my will crumbles, and he gives me a bit of space around my throat to speak, “please hit me again.”
“Hmm,” he muses like he doesn’t believe me, “I’m not sure you mean that, you little whore.”
I gulp against his palms, struggling to breathe as I thrust up to wriggle against him, hungry to be near.
“I swear it, please. Please slap me. Thank you, thank you. I’ll be good, I promise!” I cry out to him desperately, my thoughts a jumbled mess as I try to gasp in the slightest bit of air he grants me as everything turns fuzzier and fuzzier from lack of air.
And right now, I want nothing more than to be claimed. I want to forget any pain that doesn’t come from his hand because anything else isn’t real.
A sinister smile takes over his face as one of his hands leaves my throat and grants me the air I was about to pass out from lack of.
“You belong to me, you little brat. And the only thing you get to feel,” he says as he caresses my hot red cheeks, giving me agentle rub after another painful slap, “Is what I tell you to feel. Your pain belongs to me.”
But I want to challenge him. I want his answers and his words, and if we continue down this dark path, neither of us will come up for air. But instead of challenging him, digressing, I bare my teeth and growl at him through my clenched jaw.
“Please hit me, I promise I’ll—” I beg, wanting the pain to go away, but craving more of it from his hands.
