Chapter Ten

 

My mind was still foggy and my thoughts were still clouded, and so it took me a minute to find the right words and say them coherently. “That wasn’t…we’re still…we’re not finished yet?”

His low chuckle was silken and lush, and I shivered just hearing it. “I still plan on keeping my promise,” he said. “First, I need you to stay exactly where you are. But cross your legs at the ankles.”

I complied, feeling the copious wetness he had left on my skin as I did.

“Good.” He squatted down by my head, reaching over to plump my bottom. “What do you know about anal sex, Miss Leavold?”

What did he think? I’d been a virgin when I met him. “Nothing. Obviously.”

That earned me a hard slap on the flank. “Don’t get smart. Answer the question.”

I closed my eyes, feeling at sea with this new turn. “I don’t know anything about it, Mr. Markham. I know nothing at all.”

“Good. I like teaching you. And the first thing to know about anal sex is that you need lubrication. Lots of lubrication. Otherwise, it may hurt you quite a lot.”

I opened my eyes, the word hurt sending alarm pinging anew through me.

“I see you’re taking my meaning. Good.” The hand returned to plumping and caressing, and I sighed despite myself, my uneasiness immediately relaxing under his touch. “There are oils made for such a purpose, oils that can be scented or made to increase sensitivity or made to induce numbness or any other variety of things.” His other hand started stroking my hair. “I own all of them. And next time we do this, we will use them. I will make your ass so slippery that sliding into it will be as easy as sliding into your cunt. And I promise that when I fuck you there, you will come, perhaps harder than you ever have before.”

Another slap. I jumped involuntarily and his hand was caressing and gentle again, easing me back into relaxation. “But this isn’t only about pleasure today. This is about your actions and my discipline. I intend to mark you and make you my own. Make you completely my own, and you will learn that your ass belongs only to me, same as your cunt and your mouth. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mr. Markham.”

“Good girl.” He stood. “Today, the only lubrication you get will be from me. From what I just left on you. I hope your ankles are crossed tight, wildcat, because every drop that you let drip down that perfect pussy and onto the floor is one less drop for me to use when I take your ass. And I’m taking it no matter how ready or prepared it is.”

I whimpered, afraid again. All of a sudden, I was painfully aware of how his come was sliding away from where I needed it. I crossed my ankles as tightly as I could, pressing my knees together, trying to hold his essence where it belonged, but the curve of my body made it difficult. I squirmed up, pushing my ass into the air and making my back as concave as possible.

“Please,” I said into the carpet. “Please do it now.”

“I could,” he mused. “I am already hard again. Look at my cock, Ivy.”

I looked. His cock was indeed hard again, bobbing slightly as it pulsed thicker and thicker. I swallowed, lust overriding everything else. I wanted him inside so badly.

He walked around my prone form on the floor, absent-mindedly massaging his sack as he observed me. “You look amazing like this,” he said after a minute. “Back arched, dripping with my seed, begging me to take your ass. This, my future wife, this is the benefit of a good education.”

I was shaking now, with combined terror and lust, with my suppressed orgasm and with the effort to keep my body curved upwards. “You’ll need to relax,” he instructed. “If you relax when I push in, it will hurt so much less. Feel the fire on your body. Feel how it warms your skin and loosens your muscles. Imagine your entire body, from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, filled with the warmth of the summer sun. Imagine yourself stretched out under that sun like a cat, basking and purring.”

I was being petted again, his hands skimming my back and rubbing the outside of my legs. I did as he said, and I imagined it all, the warmth, the looseness, the catlike desire to be languorous and fluid.

“What a good kitten,” he murmured. “Oh, such a good kitten.”

I even felt like purring under his expert hands and his husky praise. I tilted my head into his hand when it came there, resting it against his palm. An arm wrapped around my waist as he knelt down beside me again. He pressed a kiss to the back of my neck. “You are perfect,” he whispered. “Remember that, because this next part will not be easy for you.”

The arm lifted me to my elbows and knees. I was trembling again as he took his place behind me and slid his shaft into my sex. I relaxed an infinitesimal amount, as if I’d been granted a reprieve, but then I felt his finger gently probe the tight ring above my cunt, glazing every secret pleat and crimp with the wetness I’d so anxiously tried to conserve. The finger pushed in easily, and I groaned, feeling nothing but pleasure as I pushed back into him, wanting more of his cock and his finger.

There was that low, silky chuckle again. And then another finger, which I didn’t buck into. I stopped, trying to adjust to the new feeling of fullness. The fingers were not still, but rather constantly in motion, moving in and out or tugging experimentally outwards, as if trying to widen the entrance bit by bit. The tugs made me tense, but then Mr. Markham found my clitoris with his other hand and began working it in expert circles. I moaned, pushing back against him then, his fingers no longer a distraction, but a darkly deep bliss.

“That’s it,” he crooned in my ear. “Good.”

And then—just as I was feeling that tension string through my pelvis once more—his fingers were gone.

“I will be honest with you,” Mr. Markham said. “I’m not planning on doing this gently. I’m going to fuck your ass as hard as I can. But I promise you that I will finally let you come. In fact, I will make you come. Do you trust that I will?”

Why was it that this particular act, more than anything else we’d done, seemed to require so much trust? Why did it seem like such a barrier? But I did trust him, and it was time for me to show it. I let my head drop as I felt him press against my anus.

“I trust you,” I said.

And without any further interlocution, he rammed his dick so far up my ass that I screamed. He didn’t gentle me or pet me like he had before, he didn’t tell me to be quiet, but he did grab hold of my waist with both hands as I tried to squirm away. My mind had gone blank, my lust had evaporated and all there could be was pain and invasion and the urge to flee.

Flee.

And then, out of nowhere: Bluebell.

Bluebell to make it stop, to make the pain stop. But I couldn’t even speak; my breath had been driven from my chest, every part of my throat and mouth felt closed and suffocated, yet I was gasping for air, for relief.

And Julian was fucking me all the while, fucking me so hard that his balls slapped against my sex every time he drove himself home. “Ivy, you are so goddamned tight,” he said over my whimpers and shrieks. “I wish you could see this, how your tight ass is gripping my cock as if it doesn’t want to let it go.”

I was still trying to squirm away, and he was still restraining me as he plunged mercilessly into me, and then he said, “You’re crying,” and I realized I was. I was sobbing, with shuddering breaths and thick tears and no coherent or conscious thoughts in my mind.

“Who is your teacher, Ivy Leavold?”

The words came even though I could barely breathe. “You are.”

“And do we leave our teachers? Do we walk away from them without so much as a goodbye?”

The tears were dripping fast and wet onto the rug now, and my chin was quivering. I shook my head.

Mr. Markham stabbed into me with a movement so brutal that I screamed again. “I didn’t hear you. Do we walk away from the one person who loves us most in this world without even a goodbye?”

“No!” I cried out.

“And why not?”

I shook my head. It was too much. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t even breathe.

Another pitiless thrust. “I said, why not?”

“Because…because you love me.”

“Almost. Try again.”

God, he was so deep. So deep in such a virgin part of me. And the pain—I found to my shock that it wasn’t quite pain anymore, although it wasn’t pleasure either. It was sensation, pure and simple, a stimulus that sent electricity to every nerve ending I had—even ones I’d never felt before. Something was kindling besides pain, something so primal, so strange and yet so familiar, and I couldn’t name it.

“Try again.” His voice was a little softer now, though his motions were not.

“Because,” I gasped. “Because I love you. Because I need you. Oh God, Julian, it hurts and it’s such a different hurt than I’ve ever felt, please, please stop.”

He slowed and then stopped, his dick still buried completely in my ass. He curved his body over mine. “Say it again.”

“Please stop?”

I felt him shake his head. “You know I won’t stop unless you use our signal. No, the other thing you said. Say it again, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.I felt a fresh wave of tears at that. He had never used such a tender word with me, not once in our affair. “I love you,” I repeated. “And I need you, Julian. I need you always.”

He pressed his lips to the curve of my shoulder. And then stopped kissing me and simply rested his face there, breathing in the smell of my skin. “When I saw the ring on the table in your room, I thought my life had ended,” he said, and there was no trace of cruelty or anger in his voice, only a tangible, strangled pain. “I know that I must not cage you, but you must promise not to abandon me. If you need to leave, then you must at least give me a goodbye.”

I won’t leave.But I didn’t say the words out loud, because even now, I couldn’t be sure that they were true. “I don’t want to leave you again,” I said instead.

“You are still crying, my love.”

“It hurts.”

“I know. But you haven’t given our signal yet, which tells me that you still want me to teach you this lesson. And you’ve been such a good pupil, Ivy, so obedient and so willing. Will you trust me a little bit longer?”

After a moment, I nodded slowly. The pain was slowly ebbing away the longer he stayed still, allowing that simmering sensation—the one I couldn’t name—to rise to a slow boil. I realized that my nipples were tight and hard, that wetness was dripping from my cunt.

“I want you to relax again. Be my wildcat, be my kitten. Purr and arch and let me pet you. Give yourself entirely over to me right now. Yes, out in the world and in our marriage, you are your own woman, and I would not have it any other way. But in our bed, you are mine; your thoughts, your actions, your gasps and your moans. They are all mine and I would not have that any other way.”

His words rolled over me, reassuring in their security, in the safety they represented. The safety I hadn’t known until today that I needed.

“Yes,” I assented, and I relaxed, feeling everything in me loosen and sigh with relief. “Julian?”

His hands tightened around me at the sound of his name. “Yes, wildcat?” His voice was husky and deep and he sounded near tears.

“I am yours. Take me.”

He held me with his strong arms as he rocked back, so that he was sitting on his heels and I was sitting on him, facing the fire, his cock still deep within me. His fingers found my lower lips and then delved in, curling up as his palm ground against my clit. I melted into him, the pleasure making me loosen, and he slid the tiniest fraction deeper into me.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Good. Now I’m going to set you down and start fucking you again. And you have my permission to come.”

He eased me forward and then helped me turn, so that I lay spread on my back. He slowly stroked in and out of me as he gently rubbed my clitoris, and the first jolt of true pleasure made me cry out.

“What is it?” he asked kindly.

“It…” I could barely speak, for that dark simmer had now erupted into something more intense than I’d ever felt before. “…It feels good.”

“It’s going to feel even better when you come with my cock in your ass,” he promised. “Just stay with me. Feel me.”

And I did feel him, every single inch of him, as he pulled out and pushed in. I was panting now, the past hour of denial catching up with me, my body demanding to orgasm even with this new type of pleasure that so closely resembled pain. Mr. Markham grabbed my bound hands and guided them to my swollen center, pressing my fingertips to my bud. “Rub yourself,” he commanded, and then he plunged two fingers into my cunt. I did as he ordered, watching his eyes grow darker and darker as he watched me—breasts moving, tied hands pleasuring myself, his shaft pistoning in and out of my virgin ass.

“Keep rubbing,” he said, and then used both hands to take my hips. He began pounding hard and deep, but instead of crying out, I grunted and moaned like an animal, feeling a deep surge of pleasure every time he slammed himself home. My hands worked faster and faster on my clit, and then, on a particularly deep thrust, I felt my orgasm coalesce, a looming shape gathering form and strength. It would pull me under, I knew, and I resisted it, twisting sideways and pulling my hands up to my chest.

“Oh no you don’t,” Julian growled, pressing my shoulder back into the rug. “I’m taking you with me.”

He pressed close enough so that the hard muscle above his cock rubbed against my center, and he fucked me with short, fast thrusts that kneaded my clitoris while his cock stroked my ass. I was writhing uncontrollably now, and I no longer knew if I was writhing away or toward him, only that there was nothing left but the fire he had lit and continued to stoke, and everything in me felt so deliciously wound up, so deliciously full and hot, and I was going to come so hard.

“That’s a good pet,” Mr. Markham said, still growling. “Come for me, sweetheart. I want to watch that pussy clench while I spill into your ass.”

It came like a storm—like a hurricane—an unstoppable and devastating force of nature that could not be stayed or diminished. His words removed the last line of resistance, and with a flutter, my clit spasmed, and then my core clenched and released, and then wave after perfect, impossible wave roared through me. I was crying or I was screaming—I was too far gone to know which—but as I rode out the fury of my climax, I saw the naked lust in Julian’s eyes as he watched my cunt, watched it pulse and weep. He drove in hard and harder and even harder, until there was no knowing where he ended and I began. And with deep long pulses, he jetted hot bursts of cum into me, pressing in and grinding his dick into my channel with a primitive, cruel strength.

It took minutes for my orgasm to fade, or perhaps it was hours, but when I came to, the fire was still popping merrily on the andiron and I was on Mr. Markham’s bare chest, wrapped securely in his arms.

“Give me your left hand, wildcat.”

I obeyed, every muscle limp and sated. I felt the cool metal of my engagement ring slide over my knuckles, and I sighed in pure contentment.

“There.” His voice was a deep rumble below my ear. “You are mine again, are you not?”

I nodded. I was irrevocably his, every square inch of me, no matter how hidden.

“And I am yours, Ivy. If only you knew how much I am yours.”

I nuzzled my face into his chest and let sleep drift over me, not realizing until I was almost past the threshold of unconsciousness that he was saying my name, over and over again, like a man chanting a prayer.

Ivy. Ivy. Ivy.