Dangerous Love

Chapter Seventeen

An inner battle rages within me when suddenly there is a knock on the door. I jump in surprise. "Miss Morgan," I hear him say. "I'm coming in." I immediately turn around; he must be standing right behind me. His breathing is almost audible. "Paige, what's going on?" he asks with a noticeable tension in his voice. "What's going on...?" I answer involuntarily. I can't find an answer. "Turn around," he orders, and I am forced to obey his command. My breathing becomes shallower. "Oh Paige," he murmurs as he walks towards me. "You have no idea how much I want you right now." A slight smile plays on his lips as he pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand glides gently over my pale skin. He moves closer until I'm pressed against the wall and I feel his hot breath on my ear. "Paige, please try again," he whispers to me, and my blood boils with desire for him. "Okay, I'll try." He takes a step back, and a look of joy comes over his face. "Are you sure?" he asks, and without hesitation I nod.

 He takes my left hand and leads me to the dark room. "Who cleans here anyway?" I ask curiously. "Of course, Ms. Johnson," he replies. A shock runs through me when I realize that she sees everything. "Oh dear," I think to myself as he opens the door. I carefully enter the room; the light is switched on. And wow, everything looks even more oppressive in the light. I carefully walk past a wooden dresser on which various whips and sharp objects are lying: thick, thin and even sharper. The room shines in a light wood tone, while the floor is covered with a concrete-like carpet. A little further on there is a massive wooden device with nails, which is obviously used as an instrument of torture. "What kind of device is that?" I ask curiously. He takes my right hand and leads me over an iron device with sharp nails attached to it. We walk slowly and reach a massive wooden table with ropes attached at the top and bottom.

 On the left there is a brown chair with a collar and handcuffs and leg shackles. On the wall there is a huge picture showing old torture methods. I glance at him while his curious gaze is fixed on me. On the walls there are various handcuffs made of iron, leather, ropes and belts. The black mask lying on a small table is particularly frightening. I lean over it. "Will you wear it if I agree?" I ask incredulously. "Yes, if you do, but only for certain things." "What exactly should I do?" I ask somewhat hesitantly. "Take off your dress." A sigh of relief escapes me. I slowly unzip it and let the dress slide gently off my shoulders. He looks at me curiously and I feel a touch of respect and fear for him. "And now?" I ask. Without answering, he pulls me towards him. "Paige, look at me.

 Kneel down and stretch out your hands." I kneel obediently and stretch out my arms in front of me. He takes out a leather strap and ties it tightly around my ankles and wrists. "I expect you to show me respect here in this room. Do you understand that?" "Yes, how? Yes, sir," I answer, feeling like a well-behaved girl. My gaze is lowered as I kneel on the floor in my panties. He leaves the room briefly and returns a little later in a black shirt and light jeans. I can hardly believe my thoughts. "Good girl," he whispers and I feel a tug in my lower abdomen as he says this. Even though my eyes are lowered, I can see him. He is standing right in front of me. I find it difficult to tear myself away from him. He pulls me to the large wooden table, lays me on my stomach and ties me up. Then he goes to the wooden dresser and takes out a whip. My heart is pounding in my throat, I... start to sweat. Stay calm! His tone is authoritative.

He gently runs the whip over my neck. My body reacts. I moan. Do you like that, Paige? Yes, louder! Yes, sir. Good. He stays on my back for a moment and gives me two hard slaps that make me scream. He asks again: "Yes, please?" "What, yes please, sir?" I can hardly put the feelings into words, but they flow through me. My whole body. He slowly pulls down my panties and reaches over to the dresser to take out a condom. Without reacting to him, I lie motionless on the table. "Damn bondage," I think to myself. He presses me down even harder than I already am. Without warning me, he starts to bite me.