Read Online Trust Me (Rough Love #3) by Annabel Joseph - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Annabel Joseph
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least with that whip.
“You’re getting all thirty at once,” he continued. “No warm up. No breaks. You blatantly broke a fucking rule.” He traced the whip across my ass, a gentle caress and poisonous mindfuckery at once. “I don’t want a fucking sound. Not one sound. You earned this, and you’re going to take it without moving or complaining.”
I didn’t think I’d be able to do that. What would he do to me when I let out a scream? Seeing the painting wasn’t worth this. Simon wasn’t worth this. I was a crouching, cringing huddle of regret. He stood back and I held my breath as the whip-fire barrage began. One liquid, searing line bloomed across my ass, then another, then another, so quickly one after the other that I couldn’t recover between them.
I used every fiber of my strength to kneel there and take it. I wasn’t perfect. I jerked with every blow and clenched my ass. Before he was ten strokes in, I’d collapsed on the pillows, but I didn’t roll into a ball or try to run away. I wasn’t inhuman, after all. I wasn’t a robot who could take a whipping without reacting to the pain. I grabbed handfuls of the sheets to keep from reaching behind me, and shoved those handfuls between my lips to muffle my frantic sounds of distress.
Don’t scream. Don’t scream. I didn’t scream. Thirty. Oh my God, thirty. What number was he on? My ass was a network of throbbing, aching lines and there was always more, more, more to take. I started shaking with the effort to be still, to endure. I stopped trying to muffle my cries and bit down on the sheets instead, gnashing them between my teeth. I bit down so hard, my jaw hurt. Please, please, please.
The entire ordeal probably lasted less than two minutes, but in those two minutes, I felt like I died, like there could never be any pain this bad, or any way to survive holding myself still. When he finished, I continued shaking. I couldn’t move, not even to escape him if he started up again. I’d worked so hard at submitting to his punishment that my body was now frozen in place as an act of will.
He moved to put the whip in his luggage, then he was back, kneeling behind me on the bed. I heard his zipper, heard the sound of him shoving down his pants. I heard the cap from the lube, and I knew he’d be stingy with it. He parted my ass cheeks to lube up my hole. I flinched as his fingers squeezed my tortured flesh, and bit hard on the sheets to keep from wailing out loud.
He positioned his cock against my ass and eased the head inside me with firm, forward pressure. Tears rose in my eyes, tears I’d been too panicked to shed earlier. Now they overflowed, soaking the sheets as he pried me open with no attention to my discomfort.
Ow, ow, ow, it hurt. It was scary to be forced this way without any mental prep time. More panic noises choked out of my throat as I gripped the sheets and tried to stay open. I heard him shrug out of his shirt, but his pants were still bunched up at his knees, against my trembling legs. This wasn’t romantic and sensual, like this morning. This wasn’t sex. It was punishment.
And I’d known it was coming, pardon the pun. Bad girls didn’t get it in the pussy. Sometimes, when it came to Price, even good girls didn’t get it in the pussy, but bad girls…bad girls always got fucked in the ass so it hurt.
I clenched my toes, but kept my legs apart so he wouldn’t spank me for resisting him. I wondered if he’d drawn blood with the whip. It always felt like he was skinning me alive, but then I’d look later and there’d be no broken skin at all, just a lattice of welts to remind me that I belonged to someone who believed in strictly enforced rules.
Ow, my ass. He was taking his time on the way to orgasm. He’d drive inside me slow, prying me open, then pound me as hard and deep as he could go. I wouldn’t be permitted to orgasm, of course, but he would come in his own sweet time, usually when I couldn’t bear to have his
“You’re getting all thirty at once,” he continued. “No warm up. No breaks. You blatantly broke a fucking rule.” He traced the whip across my ass, a gentle caress and poisonous mindfuckery at once. “I don’t want a fucking sound. Not one sound. You earned this, and you’re going to take it without moving or complaining.”
I didn’t think I’d be able to do that. What would he do to me when I let out a scream? Seeing the painting wasn’t worth this. Simon wasn’t worth this. I was a crouching, cringing huddle of regret. He stood back and I held my breath as the whip-fire barrage began. One liquid, searing line bloomed across my ass, then another, then another, so quickly one after the other that I couldn’t recover between them.
I used every fiber of my strength to kneel there and take it. I wasn’t perfect. I jerked with every blow and clenched my ass. Before he was ten strokes in, I’d collapsed on the pillows, but I didn’t roll into a ball or try to run away. I wasn’t inhuman, after all. I wasn’t a robot who could take a whipping without reacting to the pain. I grabbed handfuls of the sheets to keep from reaching behind me, and shoved those handfuls between my lips to muffle my frantic sounds of distress.
Don’t scream. Don’t scream. I didn’t scream. Thirty. Oh my God, thirty. What number was he on? My ass was a network of throbbing, aching lines and there was always more, more, more to take. I started shaking with the effort to be still, to endure. I stopped trying to muffle my cries and bit down on the sheets instead, gnashing them between my teeth. I bit down so hard, my jaw hurt. Please, please, please.
The entire ordeal probably lasted less than two minutes, but in those two minutes, I felt like I died, like there could never be any pain this bad, or any way to survive holding myself still. When he finished, I continued shaking. I couldn’t move, not even to escape him if he started up again. I’d worked so hard at submitting to his punishment that my body was now frozen in place as an act of will.
He moved to put the whip in his luggage, then he was back, kneeling behind me on the bed. I heard his zipper, heard the sound of him shoving down his pants. I heard the cap from the lube, and I knew he’d be stingy with it. He parted my ass cheeks to lube up my hole. I flinched as his fingers squeezed my tortured flesh, and bit hard on the sheets to keep from wailing out loud.
He positioned his cock against my ass and eased the head inside me with firm, forward pressure. Tears rose in my eyes, tears I’d been too panicked to shed earlier. Now they overflowed, soaking the sheets as he pried me open with no attention to my discomfort.
Ow, ow, ow, it hurt. It was scary to be forced this way without any mental prep time. More panic noises choked out of my throat as I gripped the sheets and tried to stay open. I heard him shrug out of his shirt, but his pants were still bunched up at his knees, against my trembling legs. This wasn’t romantic and sensual, like this morning. This wasn’t sex. It was punishment.
And I’d known it was coming, pardon the pun. Bad girls didn’t get it in the pussy. Sometimes, when it came to Price, even good girls didn’t get it in the pussy, but bad girls…bad girls always got fucked in the ass so it hurt.
I clenched my toes, but kept my legs apart so he wouldn’t spank me for resisting him. I wondered if he’d drawn blood with the whip. It always felt like he was skinning me alive, but then I’d look later and there’d be no broken skin at all, just a lattice of welts to remind me that I belonged to someone who believed in strictly enforced rules.
Ow, my ass. He was taking his time on the way to orgasm. He’d drive inside me slow, prying me open, then pound me as hard and deep as he could go. I wouldn’t be permitted to orgasm, of course, but he would come in his own sweet time, usually when I couldn’t bear to have his
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