Tears of Tess

  Q captured my jaw; I opened unwilling eyes. “You can’t stand it. Can you?” His sexy five o’ clock shadow glistened from eating me out. I swung forward, wanting to lick him, to clean him. My mouth watered at the thought of sucking him. I wanted to bite his cock just like he'd bitten me. I wanted it so much, I’d explode if I didn’t get it.

  I tried to make sentences form. “I can’t stand the thought of not having you fuck me.”

  His eyes snapped closed before he regained control, murmuring, “You’ve submitted completely, and you have no idea what that does to me.”

  I had an idea. The same insane, mind-crippling feeling he did to me. If I wasn’t restrained, I’d pounce on him and fuck him till the tingly, urgent, consuming need disappeared. The only problem was, I didn’t think it would ever disappear. And I didn’t want it to.

  “Say it again, Tess.” Q let me go, unbuttoning his blazer.

  I breathed hard, panting as he ripped the jacket off, dropping it on the floor.

  “Fuck me, master. I can’t stand not having you.”

  He groaned, kicking off his shoes as he undid his tie. An evil glint entered his eyes. He slid the cream tie in his fingertips, looking at it then back to me.

  My heart lurched as he advanced. “Open.”

  I shook my head. “No. I won’t be able to breathe.”

  “You’ll breathe around it. You can bite down.”

  I clamped my mouth, moaning as he forced the tie between my lips, tying it. Once secured, he kissed my gagged mouth, running the tip of his tongue along my bottom lip. “You look incroyable gagged and bound, esclave. I’ll suffer the embarrassment of coming in my trousers every time I think of tonight.”

  Stepping back, he stripped. Not bothering to undo buttons, he tore his shirt open. Pings of plastic sounded as buttons flew wild.

  My mouth dried, taking in his perfection. His smooth chest, cut with perfect muscles. Sparrows fluttered, inked in blacks and browns, seeming alive with their feathered detail. He undid his belt, then his fly, and stepped from his trousers.

  Standing proud with only black boxer-briefs remaining, Q fondled his thick erection while staring. Eyes zeroed in on my nipple clamped breasts. “Your flesh is so swollen, Tessie.”

  I jerked. Tessie. Brax’s nickname for me. Guilt washed over me like a tsunami and I coughed with pain. I betrayed Brax in the worst possible way. I was a disloyal bitch.

  Q prowled close, looping fingers though the gag. “What did I say? Why do you hurt?”

  I looked down, trying hard to push Brax away. I shouldn’t care, but I did. It was mistake to ask Q to call me by my name. Tess might love the sadistic erotic games with Q, but Tessie… she belonged to a simpler past.

  Our eyes locked, and Q seemed to understand. “You don’t like it when I call you that.”

  I wished I felt differently but a tear rolled, and I nodded.

  He licked the droplet. “I don’t care for Tessie either. You’re mine. My Tess.”

  My eyes glazed and I swooned into him. Guilt evaporated and my lust returned a thousand fold. I came to life under his stare.

  And he knew it. He pulled his cock free, wrapping fingers around the thick girth, stroking hard. “Do you like it when I call you that? Mine? All fucking mine.”

  I shook my head, just to be troublesome. I couldn’t look away from Q stroking himself. I arched my back, trying to find relief by rubbing tortured nipples on his chest.

  He shuddered, pumping his cock. Reaching with his other hand, he speared two fingers inside, stealing my wetness to smear over the tip, using my lubricant as his own.

  I groaned and my body unravelled. My pussy clutched nothing, needing him inside. Nothing else mattered in the world but having him. I wanted to scream at him to fuck me, but the bloody gag turned my words to moans.

  He pressed his cock against my stomach, hitting me with it. I moaned and thrashed, trying to get closer.

  “Put your legs around my hips.” Q held out his arms, ready to catch me.

  Finally. Yes. Yes.

  I jumped, spreading my legs at the same time, using the binds to hoist myself. I fitted snug against him. His hotness against my wetness. His throbbing cock so close, it made me insane.

  His eyes flashed as I rocked, smearing sensual liquid all over his cock and balls. He groaned as I thrust unashamedly, providing much needed friction. I could come like this. Humping my master like a dog in heat.

  Reaching between us, he pushed me back. Guiding his cock, he angled to meet my entrance.

  In one fast move, with hands on my hips, he pulled me onto him. Impaling me completely. His length hit the top of my womb, bruising, stretching. The invasion turned my mind to mush. I went rigid, moaning like the whore I was.

  Q’s face darkened with savage lust as he thrust once, fingers stabbing into flesh. “Fuck, my cock belongs in you.” With one hand, he slapped my breast, activating the clamp to squeeze, sending hurt and spasms of eager dampness between my legs. I wouldn’t last long. Shit, I was so close, I rippled with release already. An orgasm teetered on a knife-edge—sharp and deadly.

  He rolled his hips, meticulously slowly, dragging every ridge of him along every ridge of me. I wanted to scream. I didn’t want slow. I wanted a rampage.

  “Raise your eyes,” Q ordered.

  I guided super heavy eyes from watching his cock fucking me, locking with his. Pale jade fire blazed with demons he kept locked away. They flittered ghostlike, swarming, urging him to lose control.

  He growled and thrust once.

  Twice.

  Three times with ecstasy.

  I tossed my head, chewing on the gag, needing to moan, to vocalize just how much he violated me—how much further I wanted him to go.

  He bucked again, grinding his teeth. “I hate you for making me break my vow.” His face twisted with self-loathing and black delight. “Ce que tu me fait?” What are you doing to me?

  Before I could answer, Q lost all control. Baring his teeth, he dropped the barrier to his demons, pounding into me. There was no rocking, or gentle lovemaking. He pistoned hips into mine, grunting, sweating, a crazed look in his eye. His manicured nails raked my ass, digging deep like rabid claws, inflicting pain in other ways.

  The gag barricaded my screams. I bounced in his arms, breasts jiggling with every thrust. The room erupted with the sounds of heavy breathing and slapping sweaty skin. The air temperature was too hot. Q was too much. My body couldn’t handle the sensory overload.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. I’m coming…

  “Tu es à moi.” You’re mine. Q leaned back, using my weight as a counter leaver, driving upward. His cock so hot and hard, stretching me to breaking point.

  My heart sprouted wings, and flew. The build-up of the release rose and rose, never peaking. Fear laced with need. Too intense. I didn’t think I’d survive it.

  The gag blocked air, and the lack of oxygen made my head swim. All I could think about was Q and his nails and his cock and his ragged breathing.

  Q leaned back further, head falling as he fucked impossibly harder. His hipbones bruised my inner thighs as he gave me the rampage I needed.

  “Fuck, Tess. Fuck yes. Take it. Putain, ta chatte s'adapte à ma bite si bien.”Fuck, your cunt fits my cock so well.

  I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hold it any longer. My entire body split in half, but the release still didn’t crest.

  Please, please, God. I need… I can’t. I… I…

  “Look at me,” Q growl-panted.

  I obeyed and drowned in his smouldering green. Tension thrummed, consuming, and another element stole us. We were no longer master and slave. We were two rutting animals focused on one goal.

  “Master, please…” I begged around the material in my mouth.

  Q stiffened with power, thrusting as his eyes flared wide and lips parted. “I’ll give you what you need.” His body convulsed and a low angry groan ripped from his throat. A hot pulse of semen filled and that was all I needed.
r />   I combusted.

  Every atom in my body detonated and fired. My pussy fisted around Q’s relentless erection and I screamed. Q’s mouth latched onto my neck, biting. I transcended from my mere mortal body, riding wave after wave of eye-popping, brain-splintering euphoria.

  Q grunted, thrusting in time to my release; teeth never let up on my collarbone and a slick trail of blood trickled from my throat where he bit. Some primal part of my brain went wild. I loved that he needed me so bad, he broke my skin. I loved how delicate his tongue was, lapping up my essence.

  I shuddered as swell after swell continued, slowly getting less intense. My feet cramped and my entire body felt as if I’d been run over.

  With trembling fingers, Q undid my gag, then my wrists. Catching my weight, he cradled me, folding us the floor. We fell in a tangle of limbs onto the thick white carpet, covering it with sweat, come, and drops of blood.

  Q didn’t withdraw, and somehow managed to twist me so I faced away. Not saying a word, he tucked me closer, spooning me with his hard body.

  His heart thudded against my back, matching the erratic pace of mine.

  I snuggled closer, blissfully content. Q hurt me, but adored me, all at the same time. He gave me everything I needed. The intimacy between us couldn’t be described and I shivered as he unclamped my nipples, rubbing them gently.

  He sighed deeply and yawned. The alcohol in his system no doubt left him depleted.

  You used me, but you kept me safe. I tried to transmit the thought. My body wasn’t capable of speech. Q mumbled something, pulling me closer.

  The sun pinked the sky outside and Q twitched, already drifting into oblivion.

  Tonight had changed my life. Q may make my soul weep and tear itself into pieces but he made it operatic with joy, too. My soul didn’t just sing, it rejoiced.

  I finally found a place where my twistedness belonged.

  In Q’s arms.

  *Pheasant*

  Pain and achiness woke me.

  Memories of last night swirled, thick and fast. My body clenched, remembering Q’s rampant fucking, his drunken ramblings about girls and winter. He gave clues; I just had to figure out the metaphors to understand.

  And I wasn’t capable right now. My brain was sludge, body hissing with lashes and bruises. I felt used, abused, and entirely adored.

  I shifted, trying to get comfortable. The thick carpet cushioned, but also tickled. Q moaned and held me tighter, a muscular arm banded around my stomach. Incredibly, he was still inside, flaccid but still big enough to be very aware of the intrusion.

  I rocked my hips a little, trying to rouse him.

  His breathing changed from deep to shallow. Slowly, he stiffened, filling me like a balloon, stretching until I ached with reminders of how hard he took me last night.

  I bit my lip as his nose brushed aside tangled hair, kissing softly.

  With a soft groan, he rocked.

  My eyes closed as dexterous fingers captured my nipple, rolling tenderly. So different from the angry dominance from last night. Q wasn’t the one fucking me this morning. It was Quincy.

  I moaned, pushing back, matching his rock. We languished and delighted, not chasing a body-splitting orgasm, but more a gentle glow.

  His hand trailed from breast to core, playing with my clit as the rock turned serious, claiming.

  I whimpered as Q wrapped his leg around mine, trapping me. With the extra purchase, he thrust, pressing upward, hitting the top of my womb.

  “I never thought I’d enjoy vanilla,” he mumbled into my hair.

  I froze. What did he mean? He’d never shared intimacy before? The gentleness of sex compared to angry rutting?

  His breathing caught, not noticing I’d withdrawn, trying to analyse what he meant. His fingers smeared my clit with wetness, rubbing erotically, giving me no choice but to pay attention.

  “Come for me, esclave.” His order was breathless; his leg wrapped around mine, tensed.

  He thrust harder, tainted with some of the violence I was used to from Q. Pinching my clit, he forced me to come. My body clenched and quivered, welcoming Q’s orgasm as he filled me with his seed. His soft moan sent my heart fluttering, and I smiled.

  * * * * *

  We must have drifted again. I woke to a knock.

  Q flinched, unwrapping himself from around me. Our skin popped slightly as suction tried to keep us together. Q grumbled, holding his head. “Merde, how much did I drink last night?”

  I laughed softly. “Enough to ramble about birds and girls and…” My voice drifted. Sadness replaced my post conjugal glow. “I’m number fifty-eight.”

  Air chilled as Q froze. “What?” Eyes flared with panic. “I said that?” He scooted upright, wincing.

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his trim, toned body. His heavy cock still glistened from being inside me. The sparrow tattoo filled me with sorrow for some inexplicable reason.

  “Can you tell me now? What do the birds have to do with the fifty-seven slaves you’ve had before me?”

  Q swiped a hand over his face, pacing away. Gathering his trousers, he refused to look at me. Pulling them on, he didn’t bother with underwear. I hadn’t seen his tattoo from behind, but the cloud looked ominous and evil. A nightmare of thorns and branches trying to devour innocent little birds.

  My gaze fell, unable to look any longer. I gasped. Everywhere, my skin was purple with faint bruises and pink with abrasions from the flogger. I twisted, hissing between my teeth to look at my back. Lashes crossed in a lattice pattern, flaming with soreness. He hadn’t broken the skin, but damn, it hurt.

  Slinging his buttonless shirt on, Q spun around. He passed me a fur blanket from the bed. “You’ll have to wear this to your room, seeing as I burned your clothes.”

  I glared. “Are you deliberately ignoring my question?”

  He shut down. Eyes hazy with a hangover, jaw clenched. I couldn't understand his aloofness. His coldness.

  The knock came again, interrupting the building tension.

  Q sighed, withdrawing even further. “I have to go.”

  I stood proudly, not covering myself in the blanket. I wanted him to see what he did to me. How I wore the marks with passion. They showed everything I’d become. I was no longer virgin snow. I was claimed. Used. “You’re going to leave in the middle of a discussion?”

  His eyes fell to my ruined body, heat and distress flickering over his face. “Don’t confuse what happened last night. It was fucking between a drunk master and his slave. You gave me what I wanted. But it’s morning, and other things demand my attention.”

  He couldn’t have hurt me more if he tried. My eyes narrowed, stinging with tears. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”

  He shrugged. “Believe what you want to believe, esclave. I’m leaving.”

  My heart shut down. Esclave. Not Tess. He disowned me so simply.

  Before I could ask what the hell was going on, he unlocked the door and disappeared.

  * * * * *

  I took the walk of shame down the circular stairs and into my bedroom. I showered and rubbed arnica into my bruises, before slipping on a beautiful grey dress I found hanging in the wardrobe.

  I no longer had aversions to Q dressing me. After what he did last night, a simple wardrobe preference seemed trivial. I let him flay me open in every sense, but instead of feeling treasured and complete, I felt empty and regretful. He did things I never thought I could agree to, yet I never used the safe word. Because I felt safe with him.

  But that was another lie. He ruined that safety when he left with no explanation. My jaw ached from clenching so hard. Q had no right to shut down and leave. He has every right. He’s your master.

  He’s more than that—even if he denies it until he passes out.

  I brushed my hair with fierce strokes. Maybe I deluded myself into believing he felt more than he did. He admitted to having fifty-seven women before…what did little ole me matter?

  His drunk r
ambling echoed in my mind. Winter. Birds. Thawing.

  I dropped the brush.

  Holy fuck. Could it be true? Q bought women, not to abuse them, but to save them?

  My mind couldn’t comprehend it. Not after the music of demons inside, not after everything he did to me. But my heart fluttered with hope.

  Needing to learn the truth, I bolted from the room.

  I found Suzette in the kitchen slicing carrots; she barely acknowledged me. Dark clouds rolled over the spring sunshine, casting shadows.

  Mrs. Sucre gave me a half-hearted smile before disappearing into the pantry. My skin pricked with unwelcome. I was a traitor, an outcast.

  I moved forward, pressing against the countertop, not entering the massive kitchen. I wasn’t brave enough to encroach on Suzette’s domain while she glared machetes at me.

  Unbearable silence thickened; the house had a weird vibe. Tense, static, as if a storm brewed within.

  Whiplashes twinged as I hunched. I had no right to feel ignored. What happened with the police was my fault.

  “Suzette… what happened last night? Why didn’t the police arrest Q?” I started with an easy question. I needed to break the ice before confirming my suspicions. It made sense though—Suzette told me all along Q rescued her, but I’d been too pig-headed to listen.

  She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed. “What do you think happened? The police came and accused Q of kidnapping you.”

  “But they left. They must’ve found Q innocent, if they didn’t press charges.”

  Suzette scoffed. “So much you don’t know, esclave. Things you’ve lost the right to learn.”

  My stomach twisted. I didn’t realize how much I valued Suzette’s friendship. “I didn’t call the police. I called my boyfriend and told him about Q, but… that’s all.”

  She stopped chopping. “And you think that makes it okay?” She closed her eyes, visibly forcing away her black mood. When she reopened, her hazel eyes sparkled, but no longer furious. “I know you were terrified when you first arrived. I know you suffered in Mexico. I know you missed your boyfriend—I can’t hate you for being a fighter, for running, for being brave. I just wish you’d given us more time before judging and making a bad decision.” She picked up the knife and resumed slicing.