‘No, not superstition. Knowledge. You can’t have a connection where one partner gets to bully the other. Hurt the other.’ This can’t be a component of a healthy relationship, and I should know. Look at my parents—look at my mother, for God’s sake.
‘Come off it. You’re not afraid of becoming a battered partner. Enough with the smoke and mirrors act. Tell me what this is about.’
With my hands on his forearms, I dig my nails into his skin through his shirt, holding back my snigger as he grunts, drawing parallels between the noise and hiscomegrunt. My triumph at pulling free is short lived as, hands behind me now, he pushes his palm between my shoulder blades, forcing me down against the bed.
‘I don’t believe you,’ he growls in my ear, pinning me down with his own body. ‘Stop struggling. I won’t let you up until you tell me what’s going on.’
Frustration tightens every fibre inside me as his weight pushes me into the mattress. My last lucidly angry, hot thought before he moves was at least he wasn’t enjoying this; his cock isn’t hard. Isn’t pressing into me from behind.
One firm hand against my spine pins me down while the other snakes under my body, pulling at the button of my jeans.
‘Damned fucking jeans,’ Dan snarls, fighting to drag them off while, hands at my waistband, I try to keep them on. ‘Maybe I should insist on you always wearing skirts.’
‘Fuck you,’ I growl, scratching his hand. My heart is racing, but it’s not fight or flight because I want this. I’m wet for him.
‘Ouch! Not tonight, my darling,’ Dan responds laughingly.
He’s much stronger than I am. Plus, my fight is partly fake, so it isn’t long before my dark denim and white panties are hanging below my butt cheeks. He slides two fingers between my legs, and we both groan at the wet sound, at how obviously turned on I am.
I place my forehead against the bed, giving in. Only, what I submit to is not what I receive. Yes, Dan’s fingers work me deliciously, but unseen, he drags the spines of the brush cruelly across my hip. My voice fills the room; is there such thing a as a squeal of ecstasy? The action is sadistic, the sensation sublime, as the bristled brush carries on down to the cheeks of ass.
‘Fight me all you like, darling. Fight me as your wet cunt contradicts you.’
My answer is just garbled sound as I begin to ride his hand, pushing back, my fists curled under my chest. I want the thorns and his fingers, and I want him to make me scream.
My mind hazy around the edges as my orgasm builds. Two fingers become three? Four? As I chant for him to do it—for him to fuck me like this. And all the while, I won’t look at him, won’t give him the satisfaction of my reddened face. My sick pleasure.
‘I was wrong,’ he rasps in my ear. ‘It does take a bit of imagination to make you properly submissive.’ His fingers are as rough as his voice. My answer is only to bite back a whimper as his fingers move away, sliding wetly down my legs.
‘There’s nothing like a bit of old school,’ he grunts, the paddle of the brush swiftly following his words. I hear it in the air before I feel the impact. It isn’t enough time to prepare.
My cry is like an expletive in the air, my insides pulsing emptily along with the bloom of pain.
Again. Two swift whacks. As hard as the first.
And this time, I do swear because itreallyfucking hurts. But I don’t move. And I could. I could roll away. I could tell him no. As though reading my thoughts, he asks me this time, a note of something quite sweet in his voice.
‘Are you ready?’ I nod a little eagerly. ‘Silly girl,’ he answers, raining down a torrent of blows until my cheeks are painfully warm. Smarting. Hurting. I cry, sob, but not for him to stop. Especially not as his fingers return, filling me. Rubbing my clit. Filling me again with something entirely else. Unfamiliar and unyielding, I realise at once what he held in his hand, I now hold inside.
The handle of the brush.
‘Necessity is the mother of all invention,’ he whispers hoarsely, twisting the handle. Moaning, I press my forehead to the bed as Dan pulls it out.
The following moments happen in a blur of sensory overload, from my burning skin to the heavy weight of him. The phrasebrooked no argumentseems appropriate as he drives himself inside, covering me as if his own body is my skin. His hands at my shoulders, grabbing and pulling in a frenzy, fucking me so hard I don’t know where I end and he begins. The knot inside me from earlier—my loathing and fear—is replaced by the aching sensation. This need of him.
I want to pull away, the sensation too much, but he anchors me there by the sound of his voice. By his touch.
‘That’s it,’ Dan rasps, pulling me back onto his cock again and again. ‘Fucking come. Come like this, now!’
And I do. The feeling builds and builds, and at his word, the sensation bursts like fireworks. I’m aflame. My whole body a blaze of sensation. Electrified. Sent heavenward. Behind me, Dan’s movements turn jerky as he slams into me one more time. I ache instantly with the loss of him as he pulls away, before his climax lashes my back in hot, wet bursts.
Moments later, we’re collapsed on the mattress, a tangle of creased clothing and sweat-shining skin.I shiver in the cooling air as Dan pulls the edge of the duvet over my bared skin.
‘Tell me that wasn’t hard on both of us,’ he says, still breathing heavily as he slides a tangled lock of hair from my face.
‘You’re a sadistic asshole,’ I murmur happily, allowing him to slide an arm underneath my waist.
‘But you love me for it,’ he growls in my ear, rolling me closer.
