I bite into her inner thigh as she tightens her fingers in my hair, dragging my head back at the angle she needs. I massage up her leg and slap her ass before pushing my hand between her legs from behind. Her lips part on a soft moan as I roughly push two fingers into her. She drops her hips, doing as she’s told.
My scalp stings from how tightly she pulls my hair, but I have her cunt on my tongue. I eat like a man starved, sucking her clit between my teeth, stretching my thumb back to massage her tight asshole.
“Fuck,” she moans low in her throat. “Kane.”
Good fucking wife. Use me.
I don’t push my thumb into her ass, not when the water is surrounding us and there’s nothing I can use to make it more comfortable for her. This is about pleasure, not pain. She needs to feel overwhelmed—worshipped. I need her to fucking combust. I need her cum to drip down my hand, into my cut, through my veins. For me to hold her pleasure within me so it’s part of me.
I fuck her harder, pushing a third finger into her as I press my other hand against the leg she’s standing on to get closer. My tongue meets my fingers, tracing the part of her open to me, sucking every drop her sweet cunt is willing to give me. I curl my fingers up, making her moans elongate, her hips moving wilder as she tenses. The pressure against my spine is perfect as I slap the marks I left on her ass. She pushes more weight into my back at the small bite of pain, riding my fingers faster, so I alternate between massaging the sting and causing it until little dots of blood break through the healing cuts.
I fuck her harder.
Harder.
When she holds her breath, close to the edge, I slow down to pay more attention to the sensitive nerves around her back hole as I mark a line to her clit with my tongue.
And my beautiful wife rips my head back.
My mouth is still open, tongue out, mourning the loss of her, but she spits down directly into my mouth before she orders, “Make me come. Now.”
“Yes, my God.” I push my head forward as I fuck her even harder with my fingers while making circles on her asshole. My fingers dig into her ass, directly around the cuts as she turns rigid, her tits to the sky and her head bent backward as she chokes on her screams.
I don’t stop when she tightens around my fingers or tugs at my hair, ripping it out. Penance and prayer are offered while kneeling. This is no fucking different.
I slowly bring her back down to a planet unworthy of her. Her thighs tremble around my head as I gently place her foot back on the floor. My fingers glisten, dripping down to the cut on my palm. I block it from the spray of the shower as I lower my head to kiss each of her knees then stand at my full height.
She watches me clean my fingers with my tongue, humming around the digits, savoring the taste of her. I gently hold her jaw and whisper, “In here, away from their cameras, you will only ever be my God, my religion, my church. This shower is a confessional, but out there? I’m a monster; you’re my victim.”
I step closer to her as she lifts her chin, her eyes hardening.
“I will degrade you.” Another step. “I will hurt you, mark you, bleed you, and fucking use you because out there no one knows a god is walking amongst them. When you’re ready to unleash your divine anger for everything they took from you,I’llbe leashed toyou. Never forget who holds the power between us.”
Delilah assesses me before she slowly nods.
I drop her chin, stepping back. She doesn’t look at me as she slips past me, waiting for me beside the door. Her hair is sopping wet, forming a puddle around her feet, but she makes no attempt to cover herself as I turn off the shower, then dry myself. I pullmy boxers back on, wrap a towel around my waist, then pull it down to add another so the first can’t be seen. The collar is next. I loosely hold it in my hand as I brush her wet hair away from her nape and press my lips against the red spot from the buckle pressing into her skin. My voice lowers as I gently wrap it around her pretty neck.
“This is because you’re allowing me to leash you,notbecause I’m like them.” At this point, I don’t even know who I’m trying to convince. “Do you want me to cover you from the cameras?” I ask.
“I’ve already had my dignity stripped away.” She looks over her shoulder. “This is my choice, like you said.”
I let the chain slide down her body so I have an excuse to touch more of her. There’s this…needinside of me. I don’t want to own her or control her, I want to be part of her, to exist somewhere between her strength and her ability to accept the brutal reality of our lives. As I slowly smooth my hand down the chain to grab the handle, I realize exactly what it is. I want Delilah to protectme.
I want her to offer me some of her power so my memories don’t have control over me. She’s able to become stronger with the knowledge she has. The entire time I was pretending to be Asher, I was fascinated with how she could forget when the smallest memories have plagued me for years. We’re opposites. She was weaker, broken without them. I’m nothing with the knowledge of my torment.
Those emotions—the reverence and awe—can’t have a witness so I bury it like someone from history who had to practice their faith in secret, hide it from the people who would punish them for daring to believe in anything greater than an insecure tyrant on an ego trip.
I roughly tug against the leash, dragging her through the room. She falls forward, her knees slamming against the flooras I say, “Whatever I tell you to do, you do. If you refuse, you’ll stay outside like a badly behaved bitch until you learn.” I pull the drapes to the side and widen the window opening. “Crawl up like a good dog.”
She doesn’t react to it as she climbs out of the window. Once she’s on the ledge, I drop the leash, making sure the handle is over the window opening before I close it, trapping the leash in place. I know she won’t fall, but I don’t want to leave her. It’s cold, windy, and she’s naked with soaking wet hair. I go back to the bathroom, searching for anything to take her water in. There’s nothing.
Fuck.
I go through the bedroom next. The bag I filled with food is still there, now empty with only two empty water bottles. I’ll need to find something to eat soon, but I don’t want to leave her alone once the sun sets. The wind usually becomes even more violent, so it won’t be safe for her on the ledge.
I fill the bottles in the bathroom before I wrap them in my t-shirt and grab the knife then go back to her. Extending my voice, I ask, “Are you going to behave now?”
There’s no answer as I slip around the drape to open the window. It covers me from the cameras, and I place the water bottles on the ledge with my t-shirt as I unwrap the extra towel from my waist.
