Torment Me (Rough Love 1)

If he didn’t want the fight, that was fine. I didn’t have a lot of fight left.

“I’m going to fuck the shit out of you,” he said, shoving my dress down over my hips. It fell to the floor, and his fingers were in my pussy, probing me, searching for my spot. I went up on my toes with a moan.

“That’s right. I know you’ve been waiting for this. You’ve been waiting to be fucked and hurt the way you deserve.”

The way you deserve. Yep. I moaned again, because I felt guilty and shitty and sad. I pushed at his waist and he answered by trapping my wrists and popping my cheek again. “Bad girl,” he said. “You don’t push me away.”

He took his belt from his pants. He smacked me twice on the front of my thighs as I danced and cried in alarm, then he turned me around and struck my ass five times while he muffled my screams with his hand. Next, he grabbed my wrists and wrapped the belt around them. More pain to bring me out of my drifting sadness. I loved him for giving me this pain.

“Stop,” I said, because I knew he would want me to. “Let me go.”

“You don’t fucking want to be let go.” He held the belt with one hand and smacked my ass with the other. Somehow his hand felt way worse than the leather. I shifted on my toes and begged again for him to stop. He put his cheek beside mine.

“I’m not stopping. You’re mine to hurt, to use. Are you my slave?”

How could I be his slave when I didn’t even know his name? “I don’t know,” I cried.

“Yes, you’re my slave. Whenever my hands are on you, you’re my slave, and I’m your Master.” He stopped spanking me and gave the belt a shake. “When we’re together, you’re mine, Chere.”

“I’m not yours,” I said, just to anger him. “I’m only your whore.”

“You’re whatever I say you are, and you damn well better pretend you belong to me.”

This might seem weird, but looking back, I think that was the moment I broke up with Simon, there with my cheek to the door, with W’s cock pressed against my spanked ass, and my hands cinched in a belt behind my back. Not that I envisioned some new future “belonging to” W. I wasn’t that stupid.

But that was the moment I realized I felt nothing for Simon anymore, while I felt everything for W. That was the moment I understood that I was falling in love with W, that he was doing all the things Simon wasn’t: accepting me, appreciating me, trying to engage with me.

I never would have said any of this to the man gripping my neck, not even under torture. But that was the moment I admitted everything to myself, that I loved W, and that if I stayed with Simon, it would kill my soul. Two facts—and both of them scared me. Jesus, all of this scared me so bad.

W kicked off his pants, lifted me up and carried me to the bed, and I thought, what the hell am I going to do now? How was I going to hide these feelings from him when they were so intense, so strong? Everything inside me felt dangerously close to the surface, like a volcano about to blow. W wouldn’t be into lava. I knew that.

He rolled on a condom. His cock was so hard it scared me. I turned on my side, away from him. “No,” I said, because no had become my word for “I love you.”

“You don’t tell me no,” he snapped, which maybe, a little bit, had become his words for “I love you too.”

I let him flip me onto my front and mount me while my hands struggled in the belt’s grip. His cock surged into me, driving deep, taking away all my words and willpower. I didn’t want to want him. I didn’t want to have feelings for him, but when he tugged at my wrists and whispered in my ear that I was his slave, his toy, I had feelings for him.

The first time he fucked me like this, back at the Gansevoort Hotel, I didn’t know how to process it. I interpreted his passion as hatred, anger, fear…but it was none of those things. It was something pure, some drive to break down walls and connect. I didn’t understand before, but I did now.

I tried to pull away, but he whacked my ass and kept on going, and I realized that the only reason I ever pulled away from him was to be pulled back. It was so simple, so honest. So pure. When he was in control, I felt peace. How strange, that his violent lovemaking was the one thing that could bring peace to my conflicted existence.