Tears of Tess (38 page)

“Yes,”
I breathed, and just like that, I became Q’s whore. His doting, willing, eager
little whore.

Q
vibrated with unbridled sexuality as he grabbed my hand and carted me from the
room. I followed my drunken master down the rich corridor and up a set of
private stairs only visible behind a wall panel.

Circular
steps led up and up, until Q pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked a medieval
looking door.

He
practically threw me inside, before slamming it, and locking it with the same
key.

Eyes
widened as I took in the cylindrical room. It would’ve been a tower, if the
additions to the manor over the years hadn’t evolved and hidden it from view.
It reeked of masculinity—a dark undertone sending hot need through my veins.

A
massive white rug rested in front of a ginormous fireplace. It was so big, I could’ve
stood inside and not reached the mantle. Weapons and ancient paintings covered
the walls, along with a bed three times the size of any other.

Q’s
domain.

The
décor screamed hunter; an insight into his wishes, desires to ravage and ruin.
The huge room announced how much he loved to control and dominate. He brought
me here to do anything he wanted.
How many other girls have been in his
space?

I
scowled, ignoring those thoughts. Tonight was about Q and I. Past and future
didn’t belong in this exquisite present.  

Sitting
at the end of the monstrous black coveted bed was a mirrored chest. Studded
with silver rivets, it reflected my tussled hair and trembling form.

My
heart raced, absorbing so much at once.

Q
came up behind and slapped my ass. “Stand in the centre of the room.” The scent
of alcohol warned Q’s inhibitions were completely gone. Maybe I shouldn’t have
agreed until he was sober.

When
I didn’t move, Q grabbed my throat, sending arcs of fear and want through me.
“Obey,
esclave.
”

He
let me go and I scampered to the centre of the room. My feet sank into thick, silver-white
strands of the carpet. Facing the magnificent fireplace, I noticed carvings of
foxes hunted by hounds, and deer impaled on spikes. At first glance, it was
pretty and fanciful. But when studied, it writhed with hunger to kill and maim.

A
sliver of terror darted down my back; I looked behind for Q. He stood by the
wall, pulling on a lever.

Tinkling
sounded from above, and I craned my neck as chains with leather cuffs descended.

My
throat closed. He wanted to restrain me like he had in the sparrow room. Panic
flared, turning my heated blood into a volcanic eruption.

Q’s
hot form pressed behind mine. I trembled as he rubbed his erection against my
ass. “Put your hands up
, esclave
.”

I
agreed to do anything he wanted, but I didn’t have the courage to go through
this again. All I could think about was the Russian and his knife.

Shaking
my head, I whimpered, “I’ll do anything but this.”

He
sucked in a harsh breath. “You’re disobeying?” His tone held nightmares. “I’ll
punish you if you don’t put your arms up immediately.”

I
bit my lip. The force of the command buckled me, and I slowly raised my arms. Everything
Q was about to do would put my entire mind set to the test. I would either fall
head long into love, or break completely. I wanted this to hurt. I wanted to
feel every inch. I wanted to remember it for the rest of my life. And if it
meant tying me up again, so be it. Perhaps it would replace the memories of the
Russian and his knife, just like Q replaced the rape with himself and the
shower.

My
eyes fluttered closed as Q secured my wrists in the leather cuffs. When the
last buckle was tight, I whispered, “I have one request, if I may, master?”

Q
pressed his face against my neck, licking the bite he’d given earlier. “One
request and no more. Make it count.”

I
trembled and opened the remaining barriers inside. This request was for me.
Only for me. “I want you to call me Tess.”

He
froze, cock hard against me, chest against my back. A minute ticked past before
he murmured, “You want to link your name to this? But you fought so hard to
keep it from me.”

I
nodded, swallowing as he rocked his hips once, causing me to sway forward in
the bindings. “I know. But I want you call me by my name. I want to know you
own me.” My core clenched and I moaned as Q found my breast, twisting my nipple
so hard it erupted into flames.

“As
you wish,
esclave
. Every time I call you Tess, remember I can do
anything I want to you. I fucking own you.”

“Yes.”

“After
tonight, every time I say your name you’ll get wet for me. I not only own your
body but your identity, too. Do you deny it?”

“No,
I don’t deny it. I’m yours. Through and through.”

With
another twist of a nipple, Q strode toward the fireplace. I stood meekly in my
cuffs, watching.

He
didn’t load the fire with logs or fumble with matches. One click and gas flames
roared, immediately searing.

Q
faced me, running hands over his head. He shed the remaining tipsy haze,
cloaking himself with sovereignty. Stalking forward, he pulled silver scissors from
a pocket.

I
gulped and didn’t say a word as he stopped a breath away. Snipping the scissors
once with a tight smile, he grabbed the hem of my t-shirt and cut.

The
blade tickled my stomach, up between my breasts, until the collar broke apart
and it hung in tatters. Q clenched his jaw, cutting away my bra and shorts. With
a hot look beneath heavy eyes, he snipped my knickers and watched as they
fluttered to the floor.

I
stood in naked glory, spreading wings of fearful happiness.

Gathering
the ruined clothing, he threw them in the fire. The smell of burning filled the
room and the drunken lust on Q’s face magnified to desperate proportions.

I
couldn’t stop how fast I breathed, and hated when Q disappeared behind me. I
heard the sounds of latches being undone and a heavy lid creaking open. Things
tinkled and clanked sending imagination into overdrive. I strained to look over
my shoulder, mouth hanging open by the toys and apparatus in the mirrored
chest.

Silence
descended, apart from the hiss of flames; I grew more and more uncomfortable. Anticipation
played with my mind.
What am I doing? I don’t want this. I don’t want pain
and humiliation.
I should say the safe word and admit this was a huge
mistake. I shouldn’t be chained, naked, allowing a man to do anything he wanted.
He could kill me and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  

A
slithering sound came from behind, and I tensed. I didn’t want to know what it
was. Q paced behind, footsteps almost silent on the carpet. “Seeing as I’ve got
you in such a compromising position. I’m going to use it to my benefit.” His
voice was gravelly with sin.

Oh,
God. I wanted to ask what he meant, but he stopped directly behind, a few
metres away. Why was he so far?

“How
long have you fantasised about being
fucked?
Tortured? Used completely?”
He stressed the word fuck; it resonated with erotic waves in my belly. It had
to be the most graphic, raw question anyone ever asked.

But
it was also a question begging for a lie. I couldn’t tell him that ever since hitting
puberty I craved something I didn’t know. I gave myself orgasms to thoughts of domination
and fear. I pressed lips together, not answering.

Out
of nowhere, my shoulder blade licked with the pain of a thousand bees. The snap
and crack of a whip echoed around the room.

I
cried out, jerking in the restraints.

He
fucking whipped me! The pain radiated along my back, warm, hot, biting. My
stomach tangled with regret. I didn’t sign up to be hit and abused. I signed up
to be fucked ruthlessly. Tears erupted as another crack and kiss of agony
landed. My spine screamed and the wetness between my legs increased.

“Answer
me, Tess. How long? How badly? I need to know.”

I
whimpered, hanging my head. “All along. My mind’s been sick for as long as I
can remember. It horrifies me. I can’t control it. It ruined my relationship
with a sweet man, all because I need to be fucked, rather than made love to.”
The truth cascaded off my tongue in one seamless stream. “I need it. So bad you
have no idea.”

He
chuckled. “Oh, I have some idea.” The whip struck again, licking with agony.

“Stop!”
I cried, letting tears run free.

“Does
the whip make you wet? Make you desperate?”

“Yes!
Shit, yes. So much.”

Q
laughed, it was dark and edgy, and so full of need, my heart twisted. He needed
to inflict pain—I couldn’t take that from him.

The
whip cracked again, but instead of tensing and bracing, I welcomed the lash. My
body melted into acceptance and flesh became pliant.

“Tell
me your darkest fantasy,” he ordered, pacing, the slither of the whip trailing
soft footsteps.

I
moaned, images flashed into my head of hair fisting, spanking, and bondage. He
knew what I liked—he
knew
. But I didn’t know what he liked. I curled my
bound hands. “Everything you do to me is a fantasy. I want to know yours. How
dark do you want? How much further would you go?”

Q
hit lower, licking my lower back and ass. “You aren’t allowed to ask
questions.” Every strike burned, but rather than cripple with abuse, it changed
me. I became a phoenix with a flaming back, welcoming the whip’s kiss. My body
accepted the lash, not on my back, but in my core. Heat cranked to bonfire.

“Please,
I need to know. Please…”

Q
stopped whipping. I didn’t think he’d answer, but his breath kissed my neck,
whispering, “You aren’t ready to hear the depths of my depravity,
esclave.
”
He spanked my ass with one firm, biting hand. I groaned.

Even
though the pain was multi-dimensional and I equally enjoyed and hated it, I tried
to get free. It wasn’t the whip punishing—it was being held in perfect
submission. I couldn't retaliate. I couldn’t twist or run. I could only hang
and accept whatever Q gave.

Q
backed up, murmuring, “Your skin is beautiful whipped, Tess, blooming pink and
red. I think a few more colours are needed. Perhaps a deep maroon.”

The
crack gave a second warning, before an intense sting buckled my knees; I swung
in delirium. The lash held pent up emotion. Fear overrode again. Gone were the tantalizing
questions, this was pure violence.

“This
is for calling the police on me.” Q whipped hard.

“This
is for running away.” Another agonising kiss.

“This
is for making me so consumed by sin, I can no longer think straight.” Q grunted
as he connected with flesh. I sobbed, wailing for him to stop. The crisscross
burns stripped me to my soul.

Q
threw the whip at my feet, cradling me in his arms. “It’s okay… stop crying.” His
linen suit rasped against my tender back as he soothed. The throbbing heat kept
time with heartbeats. I sucked heavy lungful’s of air.
Is it over?
“You’re
fucking with my mind,” I breathed through tears.

Q’s
hand headed down my belly, inching lower until he cupped me. “No, I’m fucking
for
your mind. I told you, I want to own you—body, heart, everything.”

I
moaned as he circled my clit, nibbling my ear. “Tell me. Did you like being
whipped?” He thrust a finger inside with no warning, arms banding tighter as I
bucked in surprise. “Tell me the truth.”

I
couldn’t think straight; I mumbled, “I didn’t like it, but I liked giving you
what you need. It made me wet knowing you enjoyed it.”

“You
think you didn’t enjoy it… but your body bent to the whip. Listen to what it’s
telling you. Let it be your master.” Q sucked in a breath, finger pulsing
inside before withdrawing. He brought his hand to my mouth. “You’re wet. So
wet. Suck my finger, Tess.”

I
opened, welcoming. My nose was stuffy from crying and I couldn’t get enough breath,
but his taste of citrus mixed with me and the pain he caused branded with lust.

I
rocked into his erection, silently pleading.

He
stepped away, leaving me hanging like the captive I was. Q was wrong when he
said being owned by him wasn’t romantic or sexy or fun. I’d never felt this
way. This uninhibited. This
free.

The
world went black as Q fixed a blindfold over my eyes, tying it securely. Fingers
grazed my neck, sending goosebumps and shivers skimming over my nakedness. I
grew too hot thanks to the fire and perspiration dotted my upper lip.

“I’m
going to take control of you now, Tess.”

I
nodded erratically, heart beating wildly out of control.  

Q
grabbed my breast with one hand. Something sharp pinched on my nipple. I wished
I could see what it was. Cupping my other breast, the weight of whatever he
clamped dangled with an uncomfortable sensation.