Page 20 of Rock Bottom
“Of course. Also, now that you have a little more control using Marco’s power, you need to experiment around with how far you can use it while feeding from the flock. Talk to your Master about how far he’ll let you go with the shifters while you learn.”
“Thank you for your counsel.”
He shook his head. “No need for formality with me during this kind of conversation. A question for you to contemplate.Where do you want to be a hundred years from now? A free vampire, assuredly, but what do you wish to do with your time, once it’s your call to make? Will you teach humans how to sing? Will you direct plays? Will you purchase property and manage it to build wealth? I’m aware you don’t know the answer now, and you may not know it for a while yet, which is perfectly okay. Eventually, you should figure it out.”
The idea of being free one day had just been a concept for so long, something distant and abstract, like a star you could point to but never touch. Now that I saw it as a possible reality, it was a little terrifying.
I’d have an income and be able to support myself because I’d still be Marco’s assistant, and he pays his people well, but would I always want to be an assistant? Would I be brave enough to want more?
Maybe I could consider someday moving to an identity who performs, when I must change names and locations. Or, as Mordecai suggested, perhaps I could teach, instead of doing?
* * * *
Silver
We had a wonderful evening, and then Ember took us both back to my place. She came inside with a tablet and sat at my kitchen table with it, completely ignoring us. Adelaide never so much as looked at her phone when she guarded us, so I found it odd Ember was so open about being occupied while she guarded us, and yet, I kind of liked her more for doing it.
Julian has pressed thepain equals affectionmantra into my psyche so much, I think I crave pain from him more than I have from anyone else.
Tonight, he took his time binding my legs together, wrapping and weaving the rope so pretty, it looked like art, and the ritual of it put me into subspace before there was even any pain.
When he finished, I kind of resembled a mermaid with one appendage below the waist, rather than two.
He turned my round ottoman up on its side and stretched me out over it, so I was shaped into a backbend, my spine bent backwards and taut. Helpless.
My arms were free, but only so I could brace them on the floor, over my head, to keep my skull from hitting the floor. It gave me the illusion of having some control, but I was completely at his mercy.
And then he tilted the ottoman up and ran the end of the rope under it, trapping my feet in place close to the ottoman, so I couldn’t shift them even a fraction of an inch. My view went from the wall behind me to the corner while I was tipped up, my stomach doing a somersault, my heart fluttering in my chest, and then I breathed through the tiny bit of panic once I was back on solid ground again, returned to the backbend I couldn’t possibly escape from.
The rope pressed around my legs a little tighter, enveloping them with my empty pussy trapped between them, my granite-hard dick waving above the rope with nothing touching it while it throbbed in time to my racing heartbeat.
Once he had me as he wanted, Julian proceeded to flog the ever-loving fuck out of my tits with zero mercy.
I screamed and thrashed, but I couldn’t move my arms because they were all that kept me from toppling. My skin felt electric, a thousand nerve endings screaming in chorus, my nipples standing above them all like flames over a candle, so hot — and yet the flogger kept coming, over and over, igniting the heat even more.
I choked on my own spit once, and he paused long enough to lift my upper torso, cradling me like I was precious until I was breathing again, and then he kissed my nose and put me back, careful my arms had my weight again before he let go.
And then he started right in with the flogger again, fast and hard, without mercy.
But he didn’t just use one flogger. He started with a normal one, about a foot long with a couple of dozen strands — a sharp sting, fast and hard — before he changed to a super-heavy one, several feet long with wide, heavy punishing strands that impacted with athwackthat pushed the air from my lungs.
He also used a horsehair flogger, all sting with hardly any impact, until my nipples weren’t candle flames, they were molten lava.
The plastic squid came out next — a hateful, biting torture device I detest no matter where it’s used — and then Julian went back to the first flogger, which hurt so much worse now that my skin was raw and abused, swollen and inflamed.
But with Julian,pain equals affection. Every excruciating strike was a promise, a statement of… I wanted to say love, but we hadn’t used that word with each other yet. It’s what it felt like, though, the kind of love that burns everything else away, so nothing else exists. Love and pain and affection blazing around and through me until I was consumed by the flames.
Finally, he tilted the ottoman up to release the rope under it, and then he lifted me and turned me over, so I once again had to brace myself with my arms, tilted forward on the ottoman now — and he stepped around to plant his boots between my hands, his lower legs framing my face, and he laid into my back and butt cheeks with the heaviest flogger, skipping over my kidneys, but firing up the rest of the skin he could get to until it matched the heat of my breasts, each impact pressing them deeper into the leather ottoman beneath me.
My dogear-pigtails came down on either side of my face, closing me in like a horse’s blinders while he whaled on me, strike after strike after strike, and all I could do was focus on drawing air into my lungs between blows and letting the force of the heavy flogger drive it back out.
I have no idea how long it lasted, I only know I lost myself in the terrible, beautiful pain, my head enclosed in the little cave made by my hair and my Sir’s legs. Trapped with no way to escape, but it meant I was free to completely sink into the experience. I could fight it because I knew I couldn’t escape.
Eventually, he pulled the spread and blankets down to reveal the fitted sheet, and he laid me face-down on the bed, my legs hanging off.
Two fingers in my ass. Three. I screamed when he added a fourth, but he didn’t back off, cramming his thick fingers in, opening and invading, and then withdrawing only to cram the head of his monstrous dick in me.
But he didn’t stop there, barely paused before he kept pressing in, unrelenting, stretching me wider and wider until I thought my asshole might split open, and he finally stilled.
