The Beast (13 page)

She swallowed every drop, she didn’t think she could, but she wanted to drink everything he gave her so she would please him. She could only think about pleasing him.

He released the grip on her hair and she felt him pull out of her mouth. She moved her lower jaw from side to side, loosening up her tense muscles. She had never worked that hard on a blowjob and she could feel the after effects. It had been worth it, he was stroking her hair and looking down at her full of satisfaction. He pulled her chin up to look at her face and said, “There you go, I knew you had it in you.”

He slipped his now soft cock into his pants, zipped them up and reac
hed down to help her stand. She still had to look up at him, he was so much taller than her, and her knees felt wobbly from being so turned on, but she loved being this close to him. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and hold her, she felt vulnerable for needing him. She didn’t know if she liked feeling this way.

“Are you ready to beg for more?” he asked, his voice annoyingly detached. She didn’t understand how he
didn’t want to get inside her cunt as much as she wanted him in there. But that stupid stubborn shred of self-respect, that defiance that had kept her alive wouldn’t let her say yes.

“No,” she whispered and looked into his eyes, daring him to make her say yes.

“We’ll see about that,” he growled and lifted her into his arms. She went limp, this time with lust and not fear. She melted against him and marveled at how small she felt in embrace.

He laid her on the wooden platform in the centre of the room, the place she had laid trembling in fear. The significance was not lost on
her; this was almost a ritualistic space, one where he had tortured her for information and where he would now torture her by using her lust against her.

He unclipped her cuffs and she rolled to her back, trembling with excitement. He didn’t say a word, so she decided to keep her mouth shut. She was very close to giving in to his demands, to begging him for his cock, but she wanted to hold out for as long as possible.

He went to the cabinet and took out a crop. It was similar to the one he had used on her previously, but shorter with a metal handle. It had a similar bulb on the end and looked almost elegant in spite of it being an instrument of pain.

She could feel the lashes on her ass burn from the pressure of the table. It was oddly pleasant, a reminder that he had worked so hard on her body.

He held the crop in one hand and tapped the palm of the other. He raised an eyebrow and looked down at her. “I see we no longer need to tie you to the table,” he said in a smug, amused tone. “You are craving something from me, aren’t you?”

She stared him down, answering yes in her head but her lips refused to obey. That stubborn streak was still winning out.

“Could you be craving more pain? Do you love the sting of the crop so much already?” he said and laid the whip across her stomach. He lifted it and brought it down hard. It stung but didn’t cause enough pain for her to react. She kept her hands at her sides and kept eye contact.

“Or are you craving pleasure?” he asked and stroked her thigh with his fingers. His touch was
fire; he left a burning brand along her skin where he traced his finger. “Do you know why I prefer a crop?” he asked.

“No, I can’t imagine why,” she said, forcing herself to keep her voice nonchalant. It was hard though, she wanted to roll her eyes back in her head and writhe like a woman possessed. She just didn’t want him to know that he had that effect on her. Not yet anyways.

“I use a crop because it gives a nice weight, whips sting and leave beautiful patterns on the skin. Much like your scars,” he said and traced the roadmap of healed slashes on her abdomen. “I don’t use a paddle because it seems too playful, I use a whip because this is something you would use on a horse, and animal...property. I use it to remind you that you are now my property, and you will give me what I want.”

“And what is that?” she replied and raised her own eyebrow to drive home that she was totally in control of herself. She realized this was not something she would be able to claim for much longer.

“I want you to want me. I want you to beg me, to need me and to crave me,” he said and stared down at her, his hand resting on her quivering stomach. “I will be inside of you, night and day, you will never escape your need for me.”

He took the crop and lashed her several times up and down her thighs. She gasped out of surprise, but closed her eyes and let the sensations travel up her body. This was like cutting, the intense pain followed by a rush of endorphins. She never imagined being hit would give her the same high.

Dimitri stopped as quickly as he had started, and immediately went to work to bring her pleasure. He ran the crop along her body; the metal knob was cold at first but warmed up on her flesh. He massaged her gently with it, circling her breasts and trailed it down to her pussy. He parted her legs and she squeezed her eyes tighter, thankful for the dim lighting in the room. She felt exposed and uncertain, but needed to see where he was going.

He took the crop and teased her clit with it, the knobby end slid up and down the vertical folds of her pussy while he fingered her hole. He dropped the crop and reached up to grab her throat. A jolt of panic raced through her, but she knew at this point he wasn’t going to kill her
; he would never kill her. The utter loss of control and helplessness thrilled her in a way she never thought possible.

He began to thumb her clit with two fingers inside, matching rhythm. His hand closed tighter around her throat and she started to slip away, into the oblivion she usually went to when experiencing physical pleasure.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he ordered and squeezed her neck, hard. He released the pressure when she snapped her lids open and stared at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said to appease him, but in reality this was more foreign to her than the abuse of her body thus far. She didn’t know how to maintain her conscious acceptance of what was going on with her body when she started to reach the heights of orgasm. Her usual route was retreat when the physical pleasure took hold. Previously she had been ashamed and disgusted when she felt this way, but now she was being forced to enjoy it.

“You will be present while I am working with your body, do you understand?” he demanded.

“Yes,” she whispered and nodded her head as much as the limited mobility of having his hand around her neck would allow.

“I want you to feel me,” he said and thrust his fingers into her pussy with each word for emphasis. He pinned her tighter against the platform without actually preventing her breath from flowing. She was panting in shallow gasps but more from the intensity of the moment than lack of oxygen.

She couldn’t help it, she closed her eyes again and began to retreat. It was too much to handle, him inside of her and holding her down. She wanted to feel him, she needed to feel him, but years of conditioning worked against her.

The hand around her throat squeezed tighter and he ordered, “Open your fucking eyes, look at me while I’m inside of you.”

She complied and forced her eyes open, blinking rapidly when she felt tears springing forth from the humiliation she was experiencing.

“I am inside of you, I own you now,” he continued and relaxed his grip on her neck. He continued to attack her pussy with his hand and waves of pleasure shot up her back and down her legs. She curled her toes and fought the need to close her eyes. “Can you feel that?” he asked and thrust his fingers inside again. “I am inside of you, I have your life in my hands. I could close my hand and break your neck, but I don’t...I pleasure you instead. I bring you pleasure, I bring you your life. Never forget that.”

She nodded and moaned, pushed her hips against his hand, wanting more of him. He added a third and fourth finger, but maintained the thumb pressure on her clit. She was moaning and sighing, her hands clenching and unclenching as her body responded to his demands.

She felt it then, like a dam breaking. Years of torture, self loathing, the night time rapes, the pathetic unrequited crush on Stuart, his disgust in the truck, her cutting and hating and giving up her life for Eden. All of it came crashing forth and hit her like a speeding vehicle.

She emitted a high-
pitched gasp that sounded almost surprised. Everything came to the front of her brain at once and she wanted it gone. She wanted Dimitri to exorcise the demons of her past and force her to move beyond them. She wanted him to hold her in place, examine her entire shitty life and let the worst parts flow out of her, flow forth from some deep well of self hatred and exit her body.

He was drawing the poison from the wound and she needed him to continue this time. Sh
e needed him to do this for her; she was convinced of it. She didn’t care where it was coming from, some might call it codependent, some might call it Stockholm Syndrome...some might even call it fucking sexual healing; she just knew she needed it to happen.

Her eyes were wide open now and staring into his. He had a bemused expression on his face, as though he hadn’t yet realized the importance of this event. He loosened the hand on her throat and let her rise towards him, cradled her in his arm and he fucked her pussy with his other hand.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voiced cracked and she suppressed a sob.

“Yes, what?” he asked, watching her face, waiting for her reply.

“Yes, I want to stay,” she said, “I want to stay with you, to come with you, I want to be with you. I want to fuck you, I want your cock.” She sobbed then as she admitted her need to him...to herself. In such a short time Dimitri had transformed her, from a stunted, terrified little rabbit to a woman...a woman who knew what she wanted and at this exact moment, she wanted nothing more than to come.

But she felt him pull out. He intended to torture her again, withhold her orgasm. She couldn’t let it happen, he had realized something was different this time, but she knew he didn't understand how important this was.

She needed to let her pussy flow, cover his hand with her juices and let him set her free. She needed to burn everything rotten in her mind and let this new acceptance of her perversion take root.

But he was
withdrawing; she could sense it in his body language. She could not let that happen. “Not this time, no,” she screamed and grabbed his arms. She pulled herself up closer to him and registered his surprise with satisfaction. She bucked her hips hard against his hand, enveloping him with her cunt and hung off him. Realization hit him the moment she sank her teeth into his bicep and screamed her orgasm. She bit hard; she felt him wince and admired his control. He did not pull back, did not push her away.

She kept her eyes open and stared right at the
Bratva
tattoo of the Virgin Mary as she came, fully aware and present in her body, for the very first time. She panted through her clenched teeth and rolled his flesh in her mouth. He groaned and whispered, “That’s it, now I have you, little dove. That’s my girl, come on, there you are,” as her pleasure peaked. She hung there on the precipice, the mid point in something new, hovering for a moment between who she was and who she was going to be.

He held his fingers still inside of her and circled his thumb slowly around her swollen clit. At once she felt a rush of energy coming from somewhere deep inside of her and she was released. She felt as though she left her body, as though she was looking down at this magnificent beast of a man, all muscles and tattoos and rough edges, and felt her heart swell. She didn’t even know if he knew what he had done. He had given her the freedom she so desired, by taking all
control; he had released her from the horrors that had haunted her.

Her consciousness slammed back down into her body and felt a gush of juice flowing from her pussy. She opened her teeth and slid her tongue along the skin where she had bitten. She could feel the ridged indentations of her bite mark and heard his sharp intake of breath and she sucked. He slowly withdrew his hand from inside of her, pausing when she twitched and clenched her aftershocks against his
flesh. He finally pulled it out and she knew he must be covered in the liquid evidence of her intense orgasm.

She looked up at him, almost embarrassed but past any sense of humiliation at this point. Her hair was tangled and wet with her sweat and he took his finger and brushed a tendril from her eyes, like a lover. She could smell the sweet tangy scent of herself on his hand as it passed her face.

“Now that is what I wanted to hear,” he said and smiled at her. This was the first genuine smile she had seen and his face radiated with it. He was a handsome man to begin with, but when his smile reached his eyes and they shone with his approval, she felt as though her fate were sealed.

She would be
his; there was no other option for her. She would follow him to the ends of the earth, the depths of hell, through fire and suffering just to be with him. She would never let him go.

When she came at him like a ferocious little wild cat, he had been taken by surprise. He thought they were going to settle into another slow build up where he advanced, she retreated and they repeated the process until she broke down and he denied her pleasure again.

She had been abused in the
past; tortured even if she was the one who had done the cutting, some fucking bastard had been the catalyst for her to destroy herself. He hated that man almost as much as he hated Sergei, every time he looked at her body, he felt an overwhelming desire to tear that man apart and let her bathe in his blood.

He thought she was helpless until she roared her need and
sank her teeth into his arm. The first shock of pain had startled him; he’d almost slammed her back down and dropped his fist in her face. If he hadn’t been deep inside her cunt at that point, he might just have done this. The pain elevated him though, his cock was raging hard as he played with her, the sight of her wiggling around on the end of his arm was almost enough to make him lose his mind, but her bite had taken it to the next level.

The look on her face had been ethereal. She never closed her eyes, even though he could tell she was fighting to keep them open. She stared at his arm, his tattoo, as though letting it guide her through some dark places. He realized then how important this was for her, and continued to fuck her cunt with his hand, kept his thumb on her clit.
Her intensity was almost otherworldly and he knew if he pulled away now, something in her would be broken. He was driven by her need for him; he pushed through the pain of her teeth in his flesh and took her beyond anywhere she had ever been.

He had a suspicion that he had been part of something big with her, a transformation of sorts. She looked completely different after she came. Her eyes were shining when she released his skin and sucked it tenderly. She looked up at him with her lips on his arm and he knew he had to have her at last. He knew he had to plunge his cock inside of her and release his own building madness.
Everything he had been through in his life had led him to this moment. Every woman he’d turned away from, every whore he’d paid and sent on her way...every single horrific thing that had happened to him came to this exact moment and he was overcome with a singular thought...to make her his, to claim her heart, body and soul.

He watched her face as she came back down to earth from the heights she had reached. She licked her lips and met his gaze again. Her eyes were lit from within, the look of a woman who had just discovered the source of her power, her pleasure. He wanted take her there, on the platform, but could not. It was too cold, too sterile, and she deserved so much more.

His arm ached from her bite; he brushed her hair away and rubbed the wound. It would leave a bruise, and potentially a permanent mark. She saw him do this and drew back, fearful of his reaction to her aggression.

“No worries, little dove,” he reassured her, “It was worth the pain to hear you agree to my terms, to stay with me.” He stroked her hair and she settled down, he wanted her to trust him.

He’d never felt this way before, not in the years he’d been on the planet, not with any of the women he’d ever been with. The whores, the girls, the women...all of them had passed through his life like water through his hands, leaving not a mark on him. This girl though, Columbia, as beautiful and fragile as a little bird...he wanted to cup his hands and lose not a drop. He wanted to hold her in his arms and carry her through his life, never let her go.

She stretched, a small gesture, but one that emphasized the natural grace of her body. Her orgasm had left a flush on her skin and her scars stood out, red against the creamy white. She was beautiful in the light, the sweat glistening on her forehead and a smug, content smile tugging at her lips.

“I want you to fuck me, Dimi,” she said and looked up at him from under her long, thick lashes.

“What did you call me?” he asked, it stirred some memory in him.

“Dimi, I think I shall call you Dimi,” she said and laughed, a tiny tinkle of sound that fell off her lips with an exhalation of breath.

“Not many people have ever called me that,” he said to her and swept her into his arms. She moved her hands to the back of his neck to support herself, but she was nothing for him to carry. “And I do believe I can fulfill your other request,” he added
, kissed her parted lips, and carried her out of the room, down the long hallway and into his bedroom.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked as he walked.

“Away from here, to a place you deserve to be,” he replied.

He had never shared this space with another human being. He had never spent the night with a woman, or slept beside one. His constant paranoia forced him to keep his distance, even before he was being hunted by his former mentor. She moved her head and took it all in, the obvious masculine touches in the heavy furniture and the odd item thrown in by the designer to give it...something. Dimitri had never been good at paying attention when the nuances of design were thrown at him.

“This is your room?” she asked when he set her down.

“Yes, my space,” he said. “I felt compelled to bring you here to…” he trailed off. Where was his manhood? Where was his voice?

“I like it,” she replied. “It’s very you.”

He didn’t have a
response; he was having the hardest time reconciling this situation. There was a woman in his realm, and a woman he thought of as his prisoner. Hours before he had thought nothing of punching her, making her bleed and beg for her life. He could have flicked his hand and ended her life as casually as ordering another drink in another life.

Not now. Now he felt like a giant in front of her, an awkward, bashful creature not worthy of her ethereal beauty.

“Are you going to kiss me?” she asked him. She stood directly in front of him, stuck her lower jaw out and defied him to say no. How could he at this point? He was so far gone that he was becoming a different person, a man unsure of his own heart.

He
was sure he wanted to kiss her though, to taste her mouth on his and feel her breath in his lungs.

So he did.

He reached out and pulled her towards him, she melted against his body, their heat burning into each other. She sighed and smiled, looked up at him and waited. He held her there, gingerly, not wanting to harm her. The same hand that had slapped her face hours ago now touched her with the careful study of a blind man feeling her features for the first time.

“You are a beautiful woman,” he said at last when he had drunk his fill of looking at her.

“Now who’s the liar?” she replied and laughed, the same ironic disbelief that he had barked when she claimed him handsome.

“No, you really are quite breathtaking, little dove,” he insisted and wrapped his fingers in her hair, knotting it in his knuckles. She had her mouth partially open as though to reply, but the anticipation hung thick in the air and she thought better of it at the last moment.

Her mouth was soft and pliable, hot and wet and waiting for his. He lost his indecision the moment his lips touched hers and he snaked his tongue against hers. He kissed her then, with a force and intensity that surprised even him.

Dimitri wasn’t really a kisser. He had kissed women, but it was always more of a perfunctory path to get to other places. He was immediately consu
med with kissing Columbia, he wanted to kiss her, he could imagine hours spent exploring her mouth with his. The heady feeling he had when he was entwining his tongue with hers was akin to several glasses of hard liquor. She intoxicated him.

She made a small noise against his
tongue; her breath vibrated from her throat and touched his mouth. It was strange to him, that he felt her voice against his flesh, adding another dimension to this experience. He wanted to devour her with all of his senses, to consume every inch of her, never coming up for air.

She ran her hands over his body, up to his head and rubbed the hair coming in. He touched her naked body, felt the scars along her arms and rib cage, and knew he needed to feel them on his body.

He pulled away from her, took a step back and looked her up and down appreciatively. He had never felt this vulnerable, this exposed before another human being, but he wanted to open himself up to her. She sensed something in his hesitation and said, “I need to see your body, I want to see you.”

She reached up and started to unbutton his shirt. He put his hands on her wrists and said, “Wait.” He could feel the cold metal of her wrist cuffs against the heat of his palms, he claimed her and yet he was afraid. He feared her disgust, her
judgment; in this moment he wanted her acceptance more than anything he’d ever wanted. And Dimitri had learned long ago that wanting anything would lead to crushing disappointment.

“I
need to see all of you, Dimi,” she told him and continued to the next button. “Nothing you show me will scare me,” she added and undid the next button. “I want to feel our bodies together, I don’t care if yours is ruined, so is mine. I want to feel you against me. I need this.”

He helped her unbutton the rest, slid his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. He opened them wide and said, “Here I am.” He lowered them slowly and pulled her against him
. Her breasts pressed against his flesh, his scars, he felt her heart beating against him in a fluttering betrayal of her own heightened emotional state.

She pulled back and looked up at him, her eyes were breathtaking from this vantage point, and she said, “After everything you’ve done, taking ownership of me, beating me, almost killing me...and I scare you?” She laughed and reached for his pants.

“This scares me,” he told her and let her undo the button, slide the zipper down. “Wanting this scares me, Columbia. Wanting you…” he trailed off as she reached inside and grasped his cock in her tiny hand. She wrapped an arm around him and held him tight while sliding her hand along the shaft, playing with the head and exploring him.

She removed her hands, looked up at him again and said, “I like what I’ve seen so far,” and reached out to touch his stomach. She started with the healthy side, ran her hands along the smooth flesh and smiled. She then trailed her hands along his scars, the burned side of him. She was tender,
careful; she knew this area would be more sensitive. He was alight with her touch; her fingers left trails of flame along his puckered flesh. He grabbed a handful of her hair and leaned to kiss her. She opened her mouth to him and he was lost in the whirlpool of sensation. Her own scars under his fingers, her hands on his burns, the feel of her tongue on his, and the taste of her mouth after she had swallowed him.

He needed to taste her. His urgency overcame any sense of hesitation, her acceptance removed all doubt and he wanted to plunge into this crazy, heady moment like he never had.

He stepped back and slid his pants off his hips, his boxer briefs followed. He was barefoot, so at last he was as naked as she. He liked the way she looked at him, she didn’t see his burns, she saw
him
and she wanted him.

“I need to taste you, little dove,” he said and swept her up in her arms. She giggled in surprise and he was immediately addicted to the sound. He needed to make her laugh more often.

He strode to the bed and laid her on her back, her feet at the edge of the mattress, she curled her toes in anticipation. His cock was raging hard, it took everything he had to not dive on top of her right then and fuck her like an animal. But he needed to taste her, he wanted to please her again, to make her come on his face and feel her need on his tongue.

He kneeled before her, spread her knees wide and crawled between them. She was staring down at him with a terrified look on her face. He almost laughed, after everything he’d done to
her
; this was when she managed to look the part of a captive about to be devoured? “Does this not please you?” he asked as he paused directly in front of her beautiful pussy. He could smell her earthy scent, his cock wanted to get in but his tongue was winning out this time.

“I’ve...I’ve never done this before,” she said and exhaled. He realized she had been holding her breath.

“You aren’t doing anything,” he reassured her. He reached up and stroked her face, ran his hand down her neck and settled on one of her breasts. He played with the nipple until it hardened under his attention, equal to his own hard cock. “I am going to be the one doing this. Your only job is to lean back, close your eyes if you must, and enjoy my face buried in your pussy, my tongue in your cunt.”

“May I watch?” she asked in a breathy voice.

“Oh yes, you most certainly may,” he said and smiled. She was a bold girl, this one. He pulled his hand off her breast and motioned to a pillow above her head, she wiggled a little and caught hold of it, put it under her head and settled in to admire his performance.

“This is...sexy,” she said, “I never thought seeing you like this would be such a turn on, but it is.” She sounded surprised as she discovered new territory. He wondered who she had slept with, he knew she was no virgin, but she seemed inexperienced. He suppressed the sudden urge to find each one of her previous lovers and put a bullet in the back of their heads. This was his now, and the thought of any other man enjoying his woman brought forth irrational rage.