Reaper: Devil's Rose MC #1

Chapter 31: Fiona Grace

"Because there are thousands of people that don't get justice in the patriarchal, white male government and religious environment. I do what I can to ensure that shitty people get what's coming to them."

"So you kill them?"

"Only when asked to kill. Sometimes I only beat someone up."

"That makes it any better?"

"No, but I'm not killing just to kill."

"That's fucked up."

"Language."

"Fuck you. You kill people and you're telling me that I should correct my language. Who do you think you fucking are?"

"I'm yours. And when I'm yours, you don't get to fucking talk to me that way."

"Who's gonna stop me?"

"I am."

"Bite me."

The fury in his eyes should scare the shit out of me. But it doesn't. It does quite the opposite. My underwear is soaking wet, my clit throbbing. He throws me over his shoulder and slaps my butt so hard tears involuntarily gather in my eyes. I pound at his back, but he doesn't flinch and continues walking up the steps to the bedroom. 

He locks the door behind him as we walk inside, tossing me onto the bed, and making his way inside the closet. I squirm against the sheets, desperately trying to have friction release some of the tension between my thighs. He comes out, shirt off, the rope and a leather, black belt in his hand. 

Sub space instantly takes over, which is something that rarely happens. Usually, it's gradual, but this time - I guess my mind knew it wasn't time to fight my punishment. 

Once my shirt and underwear are off, he slaps my breast, a red handprint printing on my skin. He questions me if I remember my safe word, which I do, and I know I have it in for me. It's too late now though. Plus, I am a bit excited about what he has in store for me. 

He ties my hands behind my back with the rope, wrapping it up around my breasts, around my neck (though not tight enough to afflict too much restriction of my airway), past my stomach, and under both my thighs - which spreads my pussy open for him while also creating the brushing sensation against my clit. The rope is a bit rough, but I like it. Once I've been tied together, he pushes my face down into the pillow.

"Don't move a fucking inch."

I whimper out, the rope tugging at different parts of my body. His scent fills my nose, and I can feel some more of my wetness drip down my thighs. The tingles of anticipation pass through me, my mind completely relaxed, my body at his mercy. I hear him shuffling behind me, but I can't see anything with my face pressed downwards. 

A soft clicking fills the room for a moment, the smell of smoke hitting my scenes. My legs are spread more, and I can feel them being tied to the bed using the frame. A squeal as an unexpected hotness lands on my back, creating a stinging sensation. 

Drop after drop pierces at my skin, making it itch slightly, but with my hands tied, I can't do anything. It drips over my shoulders, and I find that it's wax, candle wax to be more specific. Whimpers exit my mouth, pleas to stop even though I truly don't want him to (reason for the safe word) don't do anything to get him to stop the pleasurable torture. 

A hard snap sends my jolting forward, my pussy clenching, and I realize that the belt spanking is a more painful experience than the drops of wax on my back. I scream into the pillow, holding myself back from my orgasm until I'm given permission.