Page 108 of The Devil’s Feather

I came apart, spasming around his cock. He cried out and thrust hard. Faster, deeper. Pain skated up my body, catapulting me into the heights of delirium.

Rafael leaned over me, wrapping his arms around me as best he could with the ropes. “I love you beyond words for giving me this gift, this freedom. Ah, you feel so good. I belong to you, body and soul.” He paused, panting, and thrust deeper. “You are mine!” The bass rattled my bones.

He bit my shoulder as his cock hammered me to pieces. I was liquid in his arms. Fire, smoke, ice. Our own inverted Tam Lin. If he released me now, I’d fall into hell. My reality dwindled to his embrace and the cock inhabiting my body. The heavy fullness accompanying each pulse of his orgasm.

I think I begged him to keep fucking me forever. Or maybe he begged me. The edges blurred. My limbs tingled. My mind aflame.

One last thump of his hips against me, and Rafael let out a ragged breath. He withdrew slowly this time. Cum spattered on the floor. Flashes and camera click-fizzing. I floated down from the heavens, landing softly on the padded bench.

Rafael untied the ropes with the same swift efficiency he’d knotted them. Each ligature mark revealed on my skin, he kissed with reverence and gently massaged. Once I was freed and properly shaken out, he gathered me into a sweaty, sticky pile in his lap.

The earliest photos had developed while we fucked. He’d transformed me into the sacred profane. I was stretched, trussed, and weightless, colorful ropes winding me into lovely new contours. They captured the transformation of kink: I progressed from nervous and unsure of myself to wild-eyed and demanding. Fierce. The more my mascara streaked, the messier my hair became, the more ferocious the fire blazed in my eyes. The shots of his cock in my mouth sent a flush to my face. The ones of his cum leaking from my gaping cunt made me want to start again.

“You see it now?” Rafael kissed my temple.

“I do.” I clung to him. “Next time, teach me how to suspend you.”

He laughed. “Let us start with some simple knots first.”

1 “SMUT” -- Jutes

EPILOGUE: SOULMATES

I stood outside Axidia at 8:57am, trying not to scratch my new tattoo through the leg of my pants. Trying equally hard to ignore the ache between my legs, since Rafael had fucked me within an inch of my life with every inch he had. The thought warmed me on the chilly morning.

I’d worked here for the last 12 years of my life. Strange to know I wouldn’t be back after this. I’d never have met Annie if she hadn’t worked briefly as a receptionist here, or Ross. Maybe it was time, even if I hadn’t been laid off. All my favorite coworkers over the years had left, with the exception of Princess. And if Molly’s father bought out the company…I shuddered. No, it was definitely time.

Waking up alone that morning had me a little forlorn. Rafael had left a note on the nightstand claiming coffee and breakfast were waiting in the café, and an apology for having to leave so early. The note promised he’d make it up to me. But I’d wanted a kiss and a hug to bolster my spirits.

Whispers cut off as I walked in the door to my department, and a gaggle of excited faces turned to me. Princess, dressed in bright yellow with an expression just as sunny, was leading the pack.

My hackles raised immediately. “Ok, what is going on?”

She hooked her arm through mine. “You gotta go see your cubicle.”

Blinking, I turned the corner. LEGO flowers⁠1 overflowed my desk and cubicle walls. The majority were red roses.

When had he done this? It must have taken days to assemble all the flowers and get them into the office.

“Go on, there’s a note! I’m dying to know what it says,” Princess prodded. “I’m assuming this is from the man you told me about? I really hope it’s not an apology for cheating.”

“Yes, the same guy; and no, he treats me very well.”

I picked up an envelope with a hard, rectangular shape inside it. On the front, in spiky script, it read, ‘If you are not Elaine Parham, do not open this envelope or I will have you fired’.

“Oh my god, Rafael. You’re so dramatic,” I muttered, tearing open the envelope.

It did not contain a note. Instead, it held a jump drive. I showed Princess so she’d back off. She never could resist an office secret.

I sidled around all the brick flowers to get to my workstation and plug in the drive. Luckily, there was an adaptor for my phone. A single file popped up, labeled “Dragonsoul theme.” I put in my earbuds.

It was the first song he’d played for me; the song I had partially inked into my skin, but polished to shining perfection. Piano dominated the melody, accompanied by cellos and light percussion. A double-bass added depth. Haunting, melancholy, emotional. A certain incredibly deep basso profondo singer joined in; an oktavist, one might say.

Once again, my face was streaked with tears when the song ended. I rested my forehead on my keyboard. This man really would be the death of me. I’d always been a crybaby, but I’d never cried so much in one week in my entire life.

“Glad you seem to like it.” That resonant bass rattled my ribs.

I spun my chair so fast I halfway fell out of it. Rafael propped his chin on his hand at the edge of the six-foot cubicle wall, smiling down at me. Of course he was tall enough to do that. The swelling had receded around his eye, but it was still purple and black.