Page 28 of Crushed
Her eyes reached mine with those words. Her red lips were open, drawing me in. She was so eager to please, to throw herself into the midst of chaos, and see what it really meant to be my property.
“I will never push you further than you can take,” I said.
“I know,” she said. “I trust you.”
I doubted that. Trust didn’t form this early in a dynamic. But I enjoyed that she was willing to go there. I stood and held out a hand, offering it to her. She stared at it for a second, then took it, using me to help her up.
In the Terrariums, I selected the dungeon room that had been prepared, by my request, for this evening. The metal Saint Andrew’s cross loomed in the corner, its X shape looming. A few wet towels were spread throughout on the concrete floor, and to the side, a table with a container of isopropyl alcohol, a fire extinguisher, and two instruments: a simple wooden cane, as well as a stainless steel cane with a kevlar torch on one end.
Her eyes rested on the wet towels, then flicked back to the canes, lingering over the kevlar torch. She connected their importance, then.
“Take off your clothing,” I said. She immediately began undressing, hastily. “Slowly. This is not a race.” She froze, then edged off her clothing, removing the layers. Her muscular arms, her toned stomach, her soft breasts hanging free.
No… I was not going to explore her body tonight. This was a test to see if she would accept what I had planned for her.
I restrained each wrist in a heavy leather buckle against the cross, but left her ankles free. I tilted my head, admiring her body, the firm muscles that showed she wasn’t simply mentally strong, but physically too, and the plush areas that stood out in their softness. To conquer a woman like Scarlett would be a treat.
After soaking the kevlar in the alcohol, I lit the fire cane, watching the kevlar overlay flicker into a bright light. The handle was sturdy in my hand, and the stainless steel stem of the cane was perfect for this kind of act.
I stepped forward, the thuds of my shoes soft in comparison to the flickering of the flame. I flushed the tip of the cane along her stomach, too quickly to burn, but enough for her to notice the heat. She shivered at the touch, her eyes following the fire, and I waited then, expecting her to call out safewords. To question me. But she said nothing, simply waiting for me to lick her skin with the fire again. I dragged the flame in a precise stroke along her breasts, flicking over the nipples, and she sucked in a sharp breath.
I had chosen fire for the simple fact that it was a hard limit to most of the women I had explored with. Fire was volatile; it moved too quickly. They didn’t trust the flames, or me with them. But Scarlett danced with fire on a regular basis; the danger of it didn’t scare her.
Perhaps it even drew her in.
I struck her upper thighs with the metal shaft of the cane. The stainless steel had a nasty bite to it, but the heat of the flame from the tip was such a unique sensation. A deep red line crossed her thighs, and she looked up at me, her eyes wide. Fear filled her gaze. Fear of me.
I lived for that face.
I struck her again, harder this time, a yelp escaping her red lips. A dash of flame flickered out on the floor and a purple line chased across her other thigh. In quick succession, I struck her again, and again, and again, each time hard and deliberate and waiting for those words to be called out, begging me to stop, telling me thatthiswas not what she had expected, that she couldn’t do this. But again, and again, backed by the steady whoosh of the flames, the striking didn’t stop until her thighs were striped in deep lines of red and purple. Scarlett bowed her head, her knees shuddering.
Her skin would be warm in those red and purple areas, the blood pooling to the surface, desperate to heal the body until it was unmarked again.
But bruises like this would linger. Even when the body healed, a trace outline would be there, signifying how I had once claimed her as mine.
When Scarlett realized I had stopped, her eyes met mine, and there was a fierceness there. It was more than her body was used to, but she was eager to see how much she could take.
I caned the tops of her breasts, with a quick flick of my wrist at first, then smacked harder. She groaned, the anguish decadent in her eyes.
She knew what to say, how to get out of this agony instantly, and once she did, I would stop. She would prove that she had limits, that she couldn’t be the property that I desired. After all, this was still a negotiation, still a test to find her limitations, proving to both of us that they existed.
I took the Terms sheet out from before, the one I had ripped from her fingers and crumpled into a ball. Our names were listed at the top. I held the cane’s torched end to the bottom of the paper and watched it light up in flames, then let the ashes fall to the ground.
“All it takes is one word,” I dared her. “Beg me to stop.”
“No,” she said.
“No?”
“No.”
I smacked her thighs with the cane again, then quickly moved the steel bar across her cunt, and struck her there too. She gasped, a sharp cry crashing through her body, and pressed her thighs together, hiding from the cane.
Her voice caught in her throat, and she stammered, trying to make sense of what had happened. I folded the torched cane inside of a wet towel and it sizzled out.
“Whatever you want,” she finally said. “Whatever you want.”
What I wanted, more than anything, was to find her breaking point, to see that I was right about her. She would never be what I wanted, what I had been searching for these last few years. I wanted her to prove to me that I was destined to always be on this path, trying to find that true and complete power exchange. That what I wanted would never exist.
But the fire didn’t scare her, nor did the pain. For better or for worse, I hadn’t found her breaking point yet, as much as I had expected to.
I picked up the other wooden cane and stood in front of her. She leaned forward, pulling on those restraints. She quivered, but there was a glow to her eyes. It wasn’t an antagonistic gaze, but one of desire. Arousal dripped down her legs, reaching her calves. When she saw that I had noticed, she blushed.
My cock twitched. There would be time to find her breaking point, even if we didn’t find it tonight.
If nothing else, tonight proved that I would enjoy finding that breaking point.
