Eternal Ever After (22 page)

I was grateful for the queening stool supporting my weight. If I wasn’t sitting I felt sure that I would faint. If not from the blood loss then from the erotic situation; one I’d fantasized a few times, but never quite like this. Part of me couldn’t believe I was doing this, while another part of me couldn’t wait to see what Arie would do to me. And if I was honest with myself I wanted it just as much as he did. I wanted him to make me come again and again, now that I knew it was possible for someone else to make me orgasm.

Without speaking Arie walked past me, and when I looked over my shoulder my eyes widened as he grabbed a red riding crop from the table by the cross. He walked back to stand in front of the stool, looking down at me. Admittedly, I wanted to feel the sting of the riding crop. Arie trailed it down the side of my neck, across my breast, and slid it over my nipple. I inhaled the soft smell of leather running over my skin. Its smell reminded me of Arie’s leather jacket. It reminded me of every good and pleasurable experience I’d ever had rolled into one. Somehow it amplified my imagination, breaking its boundaries.

He pulled the riding crop down the skin of my taunt stomach and through the blood smeared across my inner thigh. The feel of leather running down my skin sent shivers through me. I could absorb all the sensations and observe but felt powerless to articulate my feelings or fears, or the unbelievable desire at the thought of the riding crop welting my skin. And knowing how he got off on fear, I didn’t think it would matter if I did. I trusted him and I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. Not without my consent, and the over-riding feeling that went beyond my fear is that I wanted this. With him looking down at me naked and strapped to the queening stool, I felt powerless to question how or why I wanted this. But I did. More than anything I’d ever wanted or needed. And I did need it. Spanking, or my supernatural bond to Arie, had kept the visions away once before and I wanted to see if it could happen again.

“You’re not afraid?” he asked.

“Oh, but I am.”

His mouth quirked in amusement and he held the riding crop in one hand and palmed the other end. “But you want me despite this.”

“Despite it, because of it, and more,” I said, while my heart hammered against my chest.

“I’m going to hurt you.”

“Yes. I know. I want to do this with you, very much.”

“Why?”

I blinked while I considered my answer. “You want to know what I’m afraid of? What I’m really afraid of?”

Arie arched an eyebrow, looking down at me while holding the riding crop that would bite into my skin just as he did.

“I’m afraid I’ll leave here and never feel the rest of my life the way I feel when I’m with you. You make me feel things I’ve never felt before. And that’s the thing of it, isn’t it? Even if you hurt me, you accept who I am. Just like I accept you,” I said breathlessly.

Arie closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them, he looked almost apologetic. “You won’t get what you’re looking for out of this kind of arrangement.”

“Arrangement?”

“Submitting to me, pleasing me—I would like it very much to have you submit to me. I’ve tried to deny it, but the simple truth is that I want you regardless of the past.”

I knew then that this wouldn’t be about love, whether I was falling for him or not. At this moment it would be about submitting, nothing more and nothing less. And that’s what I wanted. I realized that he needed this perhaps even more than I did. I didn’t care that he couldn’t love me just yet. It was a revelation that I accepted the baggage that came with his past because I felt more alive than I’d ever felt, every time he touched me.

“Okay,” I said, looking down at my feet as Tessa had instructed.

“Okay?”

“Yes. I want this. I want you. I want you to fuck me.”

He walked across the room to the armoire and pulled a towel from the bottom shelf. When he returned he wiped the remaining blood from my legs. He looked down at me and then released my wrists from the cuff restraints that had restrained me to the chair.

“Kneel.” He pointed to the floor in front of the queening stool.

Obediently, I knelt at his feet.

“Now hold out your hand.”

I held out my hand and he grasped it, turning it palm up. So fast that I didn’t even see him move, he brought the riding crop down, swatting it across my palm. I was surprised it didn’t hurt—it only stung.

“Does that hurt?”

I shook my head and my mouth felt dry.

“Stand up.”

Remembering what Tessa said, I kept my eyes on the floor as I rose to my feet.

“Good. Now walk over to the bed. Stand and spread your legs hip-width apart.”

I obliged, feeling a little scared and excited at the same time. This was the single most erotic thing I’d ever experienced. Arie walked over to the armoire and removed a pair of handcuffs from its depths. He strode across the room, standing between me and the bed. He set the riding crop on its surface.

“Hold out your hands in front of you. Side by side.”

When I did, he secured the cuffs around my wrists. The steel felt cold, yet made my skin feel hot and prickly. Arie crouched in front of me like a jungle cat. He trailed the riding crop down my navel and then down even further, across my swollen clit. I quivered at the feel of leather brushing my most intimate area. Rising from the floor, he trailed the riding crop around my midriff as he circled around me. Without warning he flicked the riding crop just below my bottom and I felt the sting across my pussy. Its bite sent fire through every nerve ending and brought tingling shockwaves of pleasure.
It doesn’t hurt.
He circled around my front and whipped the riding crop across a nipple. Unexpectedly, I let out a moan.

“Hush,” he said in a whisper that brushed my ear as he walked around me again.

Arie pushed me down onto the bed. I landed flat on my stomach with both arms stretched and cuffed in front of me. He used the riding crop to guide my legs so they were spread further apart. I felt the sting of the riding crop under my bottom and across the swollen folds of my pussy again. This time I anticipated the waves of pleasure that followed as I felt heat trail down my thighs. He hit me again across my ass.

“Please…” I moaned.

“Please what?”

I needed release. I needed to feel him inside of me. He trailed the riding crop from the base of my neck, down my spine, and stopped just above my ass. Slowly, he trailed licking bites with the riding crop up my thighs, and this time when he hit my clit, I cried out. I could feel the wetness between my legs.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“Yes what?”

My mind went blank. I knew the response he was looking for, but in the haze of pleasure I’d forgotten Tessa’s instruction. He bent down close to my ear and he smelled musky and masculine—a complete turn-on. “You will address me as sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to fuck you now.”

“Oh, please, yes…sir.”

He laughed.

I heard the zipper on his jeans as he unfastened his pants and with one thrust I felt him inside me. He thrust again and again, his face at my neck where I felt his breath, hot and heavy. I could feel him bury deep inside of me as he fucked me from behind, my body bent over the side of the bed.

His fangs penetrated my shoulder, but I could feel my pussy clench around him in an earth-shattering release as the pleasure-pain sent me over the edge. Arie followed, disengaging my shoulder, and I felt his final release as he plunged deeper inside of me. His weight felt like lead on top of me and he stayed like that for a few minutes, resting inside of me. I felt a warm gush roll down my thighs when he pulled out of me. I pushed myself off the bed and turned to sit on the edge. Arie unbuckled my cuffs and I stretched my arms out, rotating my hands.

“Did I hurt you?”

I gave him a reassuring smile. “No.”

He reached forward and brushed an escaped tendril of hair out of my eyes. I should’ve felt tired but I felt energized and alive. Still fully dressed, Arie zipped his pants. I had wanted to feel his skin against mine and for him to hold me. I padded barefoot across the cool marble, retrieving the pile of my clothes heaped behind the queening stool where Tessa had kicked them.

I pulled my shirt over my head and threw on my jeans. All the while Arie watched me, almost possessively, and I felt my cheeks flush. I finally knew how to keep from having visions. Pain. Pleasure. And a supernatural bond. All combined and rolled into a confusing swirl of emotions that I didn’t have time to process. Sliding my army satchel over my shoulder, I headed for the door, following Arie’s lead. He opened the door for me. I looked back into the room over my shoulder.
Holy hell!
Never had I experienced something so hot in my whole life.

CHAPTER 16

Under a painting with a red star on South Clark Street, I shivered. I knew it was a vision and that I’d been pulled into someone else again. I just didn’t know who the hell I’d been pulled into this time. It certainly wasn’t Katarina. I pulled a compact out of my oversized purse, grimacing at my sick-looking skin, framed by a flash of bleach-blonde. It was disconcerting looking into a mirror and seeing someone else staring back at me. The cool night air had little to do with the chills. I couldn’t wait to take a hot shower. At the end of a two-day run I almost couldn’t remember the last time I ate. I had some cheesy fries with ranch dressing at some bar but that had to be yesterday… maybe the day before, even.

A man walking along the sidewalk looked away from me and picked up his pace. The drug-induced weight loss made me so thin that my collarbone and cheekbones protruded despite renewing my makeup. I dabbed a cotton swab with powder over my face. He hurried past, refusing to make contact with my dark circled eyes that sunk into my skull. I looked down at my shaking fingers and put the compact back in my bag.

Just a little bump to pick me up and then I won’t be so edgy.

I knew I would crash hard if I didn’t get off the street soon and get another line.

These bugs…these bugs under my skin.
I picked at an open sore on my arm. My prematurely aged features had scars that I began to scratch just like the sore. I stopped scratching at my face to return my attention to my arm. With claw-like fingers I picked and picked its rawness. It stunk of infection. I looked down, sickened but unable to stop.

I shifted from one foot to the other in the cold, wearing silver hooker boots with buckles. A tight jet skirt stretched over my ass. You could see everything as I bent to pull a cigarette from the pack tucked into a tattered boot. When I stood, I pulled down my dingy low cut shirt. It used to highlight revealing cleavage before I became so skinny. I lit the cigarette and inhaled a long drag. I felt my stomach coil in revulsion, trapped in a drug-induced haze, trapped in a body I didn’t want to be in.

It had been a slow night except for a freebie trick to an off-duty cop in an unmarked vehicle. Then I managed twenty-five for manual from a date who couldn’t afford his usual. Stan, better known as Stanford Slim, wasn’t going to like hearing about the freebie. He gave enough kickbacks so nobody should hassle me
.
The air felt damp with the drizzle that spit on the litter-lined sidewalk at my feet. Rubbing the goose bumps on my arms, my lips began to tremble.

The cigarette between my shaking fingers had burned down to the filter. So I flicked it into the gutter. A black sedan started down the street in my direction. Sighing as it passed me, I looked down. Brake lights turned red and then the sedan reversed, stopping only a few feet past me. I looked up at the dark tinted windows of the car; a dark shade covered the license plate as well. With a lethargic stumble I moved up the sidewalk and stepped off the curb, leaning toward the window.

When the window rolled halfway down, I managed an almost toothless grin, leering at the driver. My teeth had decayed and some of my regulars weren’t so regular anymore.
I’ll be damned. This better not be one of those stupid social workers.
Some of the braver ones from a local non-profit group trawled for sex workers they wanted to get clean. One of them stopped me once. Dumb bitch wrote me off—called me a waste of time. So I spit in her ignorant face. I don’t need no one to save me, especially not some high and mighty bitch looking down her nose, passing judgments like she’s so much better.

This didn’t look like the same social worker, but my memory felt foggy. I couldn’t remember her sneering face. But it was unheard of to be picked up by a woman looking for a date. In this neighborhood I’d never pulled that kind of trick.

Spreading my index and middle fingers to form a V, I placed my fingers over my mouth and moved my tongue from side to side, gesturing obscenely. Then I held up five fingers to indicate fifty dollars. Gesturing instead of speaking my prices aloud, in case the woman driving turned out to be a cop, would be safer. Oh well, I charge forty for oral but I don’t do hoes. And this hoe looked like she could afford fifty. Stan wouldn’t give me any ice if all I brought back was twenty-five.

I couldn’t see her eyes.

The woman driving wore Oakley sunglasses despite the overcast sky. Her glasses covered most of her face, except for a cunning smile. It revealed pearl-white teeth that were almost too bright.

“Get in.”

She looked like money and I figured it would get me out of the cold. She leaned over and opened the door and I slid into the passenger seat. We drove until the woman pulled into a darkened alley. Its menacing length stood between two boarded-up row homes. The cold and uninviting stretch made me shiver, but it could have been the cold. Maybe I was just coming down.

The stale smell of urine and vermin that shuffled along the edges of the building went with the job description. And the rain that dripped down the graffiti-covered brick only added to the dank, musty smell that I recognized all too well. It’s funny. You never think you’ll get used to the smell of piss, but then you do. It’s amazing the things you can get used to.