Coda (Songs of Submission #9)(6)

“Answer me,” he said. “And the truth. Are you happy?”

His face was foggy through my tears, but his voice was clear enough to focus on.

“No,” I said. “I’m not.”

As much as I broke down into tears and hitched sobs, he seemed unfazed by the news, as if he’d already known. And as if he didn’t give a shit about my happiness. He brought his hand over my burning cheeks and laced a finger in the crack, down to my opening.

I was soaked. Dripping. Gushing readiness for him. I wished he’d asked me for the truth after he’d f*cked me, because how could he now? I told him I’m miserable and expected a body-ripping, passionate screw? Crazy, magical thinking.

He slipped a finger inside me. I’d f*cked him a hundred times in the past six months, but that finger cruelly jamming into me, his palm lying against my scalding ass, was the best thing I’d had in half a year.

“Thank you for telling me the truth,” he said. “But you’re wet. And crying.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Poor goddess.” He pulled his finger out and slipped it onto the hard nodule of my clit. My eyes shut. My mouth opened. My cunt was awake with anticipation as he continued. “Even in love, you need pain.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

He drew his hand back and slapped my ass with full force. I bit back a cry.

“Don’t talk,” he growled. “There’s been wholly too much talking between us, and not nearly enough.”

I nodded.

He folded the belt in two and said, “Open your mouth.” When I did, he put the belt in it. “Bite.”

I bit the leather. It was still warm from hitting me. Had he ever been this cruel and hard? Had he ever been this dominant? I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t think.

Then Jonathan put his hands on my hips and let his cock touch where I was wet. I bit the belt as if I wanted to swallow it. He didn’t ask for permission to jam his dick into me in one stroke, making me grunt into the tanned skin. He didn’t ask if my happiness was required. He just f*cked me. He f*cked me as if I wasn’t even there, slapping himself against my burning ass cheeks, a frame of pain for the pleasure between my legs. He pulled my cheeks apart, stretching them, pain everywhere, and drove into me with everything he had, using me mercilessly. I lost myself in him, in the hurt, in the rising tide of my emotions. I’d told him I was unhappy, and the weight of the misery fell off, leaving an empty place for him to fill with his cock and his searing belt.

I grunted with every thrust. It was coming, the rush of pleasure.

My grunts turned to squeals, and he slowed to barely moving. “I didn’t say you could come.”

I hadn’t had to ask permission for an orgasm in six months. I hadn’t even thought of it. He removed the belt.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I gasped. “May I come?”

“When?”

“Now?” I paused for a hitched breath. “And later, if it pleases you.”

“No.” He slowed, letting me feel every inch of him. He opened my cheeks again, right where my legs met my ass.

I was red and sore, getting his whole length. I choked out a half sob, half moan.

“No,” he said, slapping my ass. “The answer is still no.”

“I don’t think I can stop it.”

He pulled out. I gasped. As much as I expected him to continue f*cking me, I didn’t expect what him to quickly guide himself into my * and mercilessly push forward.

“No!” I shouted.

He yanked my head back by the hair. “What?”

I couldn’t repeat it. Safe word or no, he’d stop, and I knew, more than anything, that I didn’t want him to stop. “Nothing. Please, go on.”

He pushed the rest of his cock into my ass without preamble.

My soft weeping turned into face-soaking sobs. “God, oh God, it hurts.”

“Pain is the point, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your ass is mine, whether I warn you or not. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He yanked my hair again, pulling back until I faced him. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

The first few strokes were murder. I felt torn apart, ripped from the inside. We’d done some gentle, well-lubricated anal in the past few months, but not like this. Not as a beating.

“You’ve been a bitch, goddess. That’s over. From now on, you step when I say walk. You eat when I feed you. You come when I allow it. If I so much as look at your knees, you get on them and open your f*cking mouth.”

I grunted. He reached around me and put his palm on my throat. He pulled me back, and though I felt as though I was falling, I trusted him and put weight on my aching legs, shifting backward. He sat on the piano bench, and with my back to his front and his cock in my ass, I sat into him.

“Spread your legs.” Not giving me a chance to obey, he yanked my legs apart, squeezing my ass cheeks together and tightening me around his cock. “All the way. I want your cunt out.”

I bit back a cry of pain. I spread my knees, on tiptoes to the floor, fighting for balance. My elbows were still tied behind my back, and when it looked as if I’d fall, he pulled me upright.

“Reach back,” he said. “Spread those gorgeous cheeks apart.”