WARNING: This chapter contains disturbing and especially violent material, as well as graphic (but consensual) sexual content. If violence bothers you, please do not read this story.
This is the last chapter of my twisted, fucked up love story. Notes at the end.
It was that new intern, Jacob Black, standing in my doorway, holding papers and grinning. He looked at me like that every time he saw me now, like he thought he knew something.
So I ignored him.
After a few minutes of him standing there waiting for me to acknowledge him, which I refused to do, I heard him snicker.
I could feel my control slipping the louder he got, the longer he stood there, and I knew I had to rein it in before I did something that I regretted in a very public and very irrevocable way.
I could picture it already, I could taste it, feel it in every cell in my body - my office door closed, a quick zap of my taser, and that big lumbering bitch would be fucking mine. Oh Jesus, the look on his face when he woke up and realized he couldn't move. And then the cherry on top - that it was me that had done it. The angry sounds of his screams... deep, booming sounds… growling, roaring like a trapped animal. His anxiety increasing as he pulled harder and harder on his bindings, the realization finally setting in that he was at mymercy. Sweat beading on his forehead. Rippling muscles contracting and releasing... The noises he would make...
Jessica was standing next to Jacob, and she stared at me with a furrowed brow, obviously confused by my actions. I quickly covered my fantasy lapse with a burst of anger, which was normal behavior for me, and somewhat expected, and I snapped at Jessica.
"What, Jessica? What do you want? What is so fucking important that you have to barge in here when I'm obviously fucking working and harass me like this?"
Jessica, having worked for me for several years now, didn't bat an eye.
"I sent Jacob to your office with these contracts that need to be signed. We have to messenger them out before closing. When he didn't return promptly, I came to check on him."
She said it so matter-of-factly, so calmly. I've often wondered what it would be like to have her in my basement, tied down, and whimpering, but the fantasy always stopped there because the thought of her naked body with that bored smirk on her face made me fucking sick. But it would be nice to teach her some fucking manners.
I didn't look at Jacob. I willed myself not to, and I was incredibly strong when I needed to be. I trained my eyes on Jessica and held out my hand impatiently.
"Well? Give me the goddamned contracts! What are you waiting for?" I screamed at her, a little excessively, even for me.
She grabbed the folder out of Jacob's hand, walked calmly to my desk, and laid several documents out for my signature, complete with red Post-it Note arrows pointing to the signature line.
"Sign here, here, and here," she pointed, bored.
I huffed and grabbed my pen, scrawling my name on each paper, then thrust the stack back at her.
"Thank you, Ms. Swan," she said tersely, grabbed the papers, and walked out. "Jacob, come with me," she told the intern as she breezed out into the hallway.
But he didn't move. He just stood there, looking at me, hungrily, his grin growing, slow and wide. Like a wild dog eyeing a piece of meat. It was unnerving.
I had to get my shit together.
"Black!" I barked at him. He was still staring at me - he had never stopped - so I leaned forward slightly, lowered my voice to what I hoped was more than slightly dangerous, and ordered him away. "Get the fuck out of my office, and close the fucking door."
He didn't move for a second or two, and his grin grew even wider, his nostrils flaring like a fucking animal.
"Yes, Ma'am, Ms. Swan," he chuckled, still glaring lasciviously at me, actually running his eyes up and down my body, assessing. After a moment, he laughed again, turned, and left.
I stared at the door for several minutes, my anger building past anything I had ever experienced at work, and I knew something had to give. Eventually.
But who would it be? Me? Or him?
I walked through the front door of my house, slamming the door loudly behind me. I hadn't called first, as I usually did, to give Edward a small notice of my arrival, allowing him a brief window to prepare himself. I wanted to catch him off guard. I knew that wasn't playing fair, but I had no interest in anyone's needs but my own at this point.
I stood in the foyer, heart pounding, fists clenched, my misdirected rage growing quickly beyond control.
"Edward!" I bellowed. "Get the fuck down here... now!"
He was upstairs, and I could hear him scrambling across the upper floor, a loud crashing noise as something fell to the floor, and then the pounding of his bare feet as he barreled down the stairs. He was panting, out of breath, when he finally appeared in front of me, shirtless, shoeless, wearing only a pair of worn, low slung jeans.
"Bella, you're home –" he started, then his demeanor quickly changed as he noticed my expression, my stance, my growing rage. Confusion crossed his face for a brief moment, then fear, regret, and immediate submission.
He fell to his knees before me, staring at the floor, not daring to meet my eyes.
"Isabella," he corrected. "Please forgive me." The confusion was still evident in his voice, obviously not knowing what he had done wrong, what error he had committed to cause such extreme displeasure and disappointment. Poor boy. It had nothing to do with him, but he was here, and Black was not. Someone had to pay.
I grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back, but he still refused to meet my eyes. Wise move.
"Get your ass down to the basement, boy. Now," I growled at him. "Apparently, you need a fresh lesson on who's in charge in this house, and what your role is here." I pulled his head to the side, towards the basement door, and dragged him behind me. He followed on his hands and knees, the humiliation of the position feeding a growing need in me at that moment. He crawled down the wooden stairs, clumsily, falling a few times, but I pulled him along behind me, until we reached the bed.
"Get those pants off and get on all fours," I barked. He quickly complied, his confusion growing, but never questioning me. Once he was naked, his beautiful body presented for me, I grabbed a few items from the cabinet on the far wall, then gave him a brief explanation.
"I'm not going to tie you down tonight, but if you flinch or move away or disobey me in any fucking way, you will feel pain like you have never felt before. Do I make myself clear?"
"Y-y-yes Isabella," he mumbled softly, his voice trembling.
"I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't fucking hear you. Try that again." I had the leather strap in my hand, and I brought it quick and hard across his bare ass. He screamed, not expecting my unexplained wrath and the quick pain, but he didn't move from his position.
"Yes, Isabella!" he replied louder, his voice wavering at bit at the end.
I struck him again and again, waiting for the screams that I so needed to hear.
Eventually, they came, and they fed my cruel desires. I dropped the leather strap to the floor and stared at his bright, hot ass, pleased with my work.
When I entered him with the strap-on, it was quick and hard, and he screamed again, unprepared. He didn't move away from me, however, knowing what was in his immediate future if he did. I grabbed his hair and yanked his head back again, pulling back in rhythm with each hard thrust of my plastic cock. I closed my eyes, reveling in my power, listening to the grunts and moans that Edward was making, and I imagined that I was fucking that cocky Jacob Black. I pushed and pulled, harder and harder, picturing the moment when he finally broke, tears streaming down his face, begging for my mercy. I wanted to own him. I needed to own him.
It was only minutes later that I came, hard and long, Edward a broken, whimpering lump beneath me.
I should have felt guilty. I should have taken immediate care of him, apologized for my unexplained behavior, reassuring him that he had done nothing wrong, that it was me, that I was obsessed and needy, and he was simply there.
But I didn't. Because he wasn't my Edward at the moment. He was still Jacob Black, and I still needed to put him in his place.
I crawled off the bed, leaving my toys and tools scattered about the room.
"Clean this up, I'm going upstairs. You're staying down here tonight." And I turned and walked up the stairs, hearing his soft sobs behind me, never looking back.
I went to work early the next morning, feeling somewhat refreshed and slightly more in control.
The events of the previous nights played over and over in my head, but I felt no guilt, no need to go downstairs and check on him, reassure him. All that he had given me, all that we had together, but I couldn't. I just couldn't. I had to keep my strength, my secret release, so that I could deal with that cocky bastard at the office.
Turns out, I didn't have to wait very long to test my new resolve. Black sauntered into my office in the middle of the morning, same cocky expression, same secret smirk.
The rage was still there. What I had done to Edward the night before hadn't erased any of it, hadn't sated me in the least. It had only made it worse.
I fucking hated him.
And I couldn't get him out of my head. Edward had been everything I ever needed since the first day I met him. I never thought I would ever want again, and now, here I was, obsessed and torn. Wanting, but not wanting to want. Needing, but not wanting to need.
I felt completely out of control. I felt that there was nothing I could do, no way to stop this progression. It had taken hold of me, and I was losing my grasp.
When I arrived home that night, I resolved to try to make it up to Edward. To leave my obsession for Jacob Black at the office, to try to repair things with the boy who had given his life and body and soul to me. He didn't deserve this.
The basement door was still closed and locked, and his obedience only filled me with guilt.
I unlocked the door and walked quietly and tentatively down the stairs. I was quickly reminded of another time when I descended these stairs and found my sweet boy, broken and suffering because of me, and here he was again, for no fault of his own. It was all on me. Again.
He was curled in a ball on the bed, still naked, harsh red stripes on his flesh. I sat gingerly on the side of the bed, and he flinched, sucking in a soft breath, not knowing what to expect, or why.
"Edward," I said softly. He didn't move, his back to me, his face hidden.
"Edward, look at me."
He slowly turned and faced me, his eyes red and swollen, his expression full of guilt and shame.
"Isabella, I'm –"
"Bella, Edward. It's just Bella now. Your Bella." I stroked his soft face, wiping the wetness still evident on his cheeks, the pain in my chest growing and burning as I was confronted with the aftermath of what I had done.
"Bella," he began again. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I disappointed you, I let you down. I deserve whatever you give me, I'm not worthy of –"
"Edward, stop," I quickly interrupted him. "I'm the one who's sorry. Yesterday had nothing to do with you. I was frustrated, out of control, and I took it out on you. I was wrong. You did nothing wrong."
He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, his hand meeting mine on his face, relief flooding his expression.
I grabbed his hand in mine and pulled him towards me.
"Come on. Let's go upstairs and take a long, hot bath. I need to take care of you now."
He smiled at me, grateful and trusting, so quick to forgive me, and he followed me upstairs.
Things were back to normal. For now.
Black was still my personal tormentor, that hadn't changed. In my office, every single day, flaunting his smile, his secret looks, his secret control of me.
We barely spoke, but words weren't necessary. His presence was all that was needed to slowly chip away at my waning control.
I held to my vow, and I kept my obsession with Black at the office and didn't let it affect my life with Edward as it had that night. But he was noticing that something was off. He would ask me from time to time, different questions, trying to figure out what had changed, what was different, what was wrong. I'm sure he thought it was something he had done, and he wanted to right it. That's just how he was. So giving. So completely wanting to please me.
But I couldn't tell him this. It felt... obscene. How could I tell him that I was obsessed with another man?
So I became more and more distant with him, pulling away, working later hours. I didn't trust myself with Edward right now, I didn't want to lose control like that again, and I knew the rage was building again, and I felt powerless to stop it.
So I repressed it. I buried it. I ignored it.
And I ignored Edward.
Several weeks went by, each day worse than the next. This was so new to me, I had no emotional tools to deal with the situation I found myself in.
I arrived home one night, expecting my usual greeting, Edward waiting for me at the door, hopeful and expectant, only to be let down a short few minutes later. That had been the routine of late.
But the foyer was empty.
The den was empty.
"Edward?" I called to him. Maybe he was in another part of the house for some reason, hadn't heard my car in the driveway, which was odd. He was so consistent with that, always anticipating my every need, before I even knew I had a need.
But there was no answer. I called to him again.
Nothing. No response.
I started to become nervous, a little worried. What if he had finally reached his limit and packed up? Left me. Oh fuck, no. That, I couldn't handle. I needed him, I truly did.
I started to search the house frantically. Basement. Kitchen. Upstairs. His bedroom. My bedroom.
But then I heard a soft noise. The bathroom.
The door was closed, and I tapped softly before I opened the door. I don't know why, I had never acted so deferentially to anyone in my life, not even Edward, but the unease growing in my body was taking hold.
The door swung slowly open, and I saw him.
Lying in the bathtub, soaking, water all over the floor, clothes everywhere. The room was a mess, a complete disaster area. I instantly and completely forgot my fear, my unease, and I became immediately and immensely pissed off. So many rules broken, so much disrespect.
His eyes were closed, earbuds in his ears, the music blaring on his iPod so loud, I could clearly hear the lyrics to the song he was listening to. He had one leg casually slung over the edge of the tub, his foot tapping along with the rhythm of the song.
"Edward," I called to him. He didn't move, still completely unaware of my presence.
"EDWARD," I yelled. No response.
Now, I was getting pissed. Like really, really pissed. This was inexcusable, disrespectful, and despite everything that had happened over the past weeks, completely unacceptable. The rage that I had been suppressing for so many weeks over Jacob Black came crashing back, slamming into me with an unstoppable force.
I ripped the earbuds from his ears, and he suddenly opened his eyes and looked at me.
"Bella! Hey! What's up?" Still reclining in the tub, grinning like that cocky bastard, Black.
"Get the fuck out of that tub, right now. Clean this shit up, then get your ass downstairs. Apparently, you need another lesson in obedience."
He threw his head back and laughed.
"Oh, Bella, chill out for Christ's sake. You are too uptight. I'll clean up later, after I finish my bath." And he turned away from me, and put the earbuds back in his ears.
What? What the fuck was going on?
I pulled the earbuds out again, and threw the iPod on the floor, shattering it into pieces.
"OUT!" I screamed.
He rolled his eyes at me and sighed.
He climbed out of the tub, taking his time, then walked around the bathroom, dripping water everywhere, to get his towel.
As pissed as I was, I still couldn't help admiring his naked, wet body. So perfect. Tiny droplets of water running down his skin.
He rubbed the towel across his body, then wrapped it around his waist, tucking the end in to keep it secure. He looked up at me, folding his arms across his hard chest.
"Okay, I'm out. So what?" he asked, almost bored.
"Downstairs. NOW," I barked at him, my voice shaking with the effort it took to suppress my rage.
He huffed and rolled his eyes again, then sauntered out the door, past my bedroom, then almost past his, when he suddenly stopped and turned to me.
"Oh! Wait! There's something I wanted to show you in my room!" He seemed excited, like he had already forgotten what had just happened, and what was about to happen to him. He walked into his dark room and beckoned me to follow him.
I had barely stepped inside when I immediately felt him grab my arm, pulling me across the room, then throwing me on his bed. He laid on top of me, the weight of his body substantially more than mine, pinning me in place. I couldn't move.
It was the coffee room all over again.
"Now, Bella," he spit out his nickname for me, sarcastically, "you are fucking mine." He was holding my wrists in his hands, and he pressed them to the bed. I pulled against him as hard as I could, but I was completely unable to move. "How does it feel, Miss Bella, hmm? How does it feel to have someone control you?" He was snarling at me, angry and spiteful. This was a side of Edward I had never seen before. "Not too fucking good, huh? Ha! Well, let's just see how you like getting fucked, yes?" He pulled my wrists together and held them with one hand, then pulled a scarf out of his bedside table drawer and tied my hands to the headboard, quite securely. He was a good student, and he remembered. He must have watched what I had done to him.
But this motherfucker had crossed a line, and he was going to pay, and it was going to be ugly.
He sat on top of me to immobilize me, straddling me on the bed. He looked down at me, smiling, grinning a nasty grin, and slowly stroked my cheek.
"Mmm. Bella," he moaned, softly, stroking the skin on my face. "My beautiful, beautiful Bella." His touch was soft and sweet and hesitant, and he seemed to be almost talking to himself. Until his finger reached my lips, and then he stopped.
"Hmm. These lips. These full, beautiful lips," he grinned. "I remember what these lips can do," he said as he ran his finger back and forth across my bottom lip. "I remember what these lips look like as my hard cock slides tightly between them," he laughed, and shoved his finger in my mouth. I considering biting it off, but I was waiting to see what his play was, what he was going to do. "Mmm, and I remember what these lips feel like wrapped around my dick, oh yeah." He was sliding his finger slowly in and out of my mouth, nodding his head along with the rhythm. He was softly whispering, "Yeah... yeah... yeah."
I was gonna fucking kill him.
He pulled his wet finger out of my mouth and rested it on my chin.
"Yeah, remember that, pretty girl, you'll be doing that later. But it'll be much bigger and thicker than my finger, and you're gonna take it all... Oh yeah... all the fucking way..." He was staring at me with a lascivious grin, and he slid his finger down my chin, past my throat, and down my chest, stopping at the first button of my shirt.
"Now. First things first. Let's get you out of this shirt, shall we?" He asked sarcastically, and he started to unbutton my blouse.
"Edward," I ordered calmly. "Untie me. Right now."
He laughed, ignoring my order, and slipped the second button through the hole.
"Edward," I said louder, "fucking untie me, and get off me, now."
He laughed louder and put a finger to my lips.
"Shhh, little girl. I'm in charge now. You be quiet while I get you undressed. I've got plans for you tonight," he said with an evil grin.
"Fucking untie me now, you fucking asshole, or you are going to fucking pay! NOW!" I pulled my hands, trying to loosen the scarf, but there was barely any give. I tried to lift my legs so that I could kick him or get him off of me, but it did no good. I couldn't move.
He ignored my words and my rage, and he continued to unbutton my blouse, pulling the fabric open to reveal my bra. He ran his finger back up to my lips, then down again, between my breasts and across my stomach. He stayed there for a bit, drawing circles on my skin, teasing.
I continued to plot my revenge.
"Now. You don't go anywhere, okay? I've got to go get something, and I'll be right back. Be a good girl tonight for Master, and I might let you come later." He laughed loudly and climbed off of me, then walked out of the room, humming to himself.
Master? Was he fucking insane? I'll show him who the Master is around here, just fucking wait.
I pulled at my wrists again, and found, surprisingly, that I had a little give on the right side. I quickly pulled and twisted, over and over, until I could feel my hand starting to slip. I only had a few seconds before he would return, and I needed to get loose. I was going to teach that son of a bitch the lesson of his pitiful, painful life.
And then, suddenly, my right hand was free. I quickly untied the scarf and released my other hand. I jumped off the bed to go find him, but then changed my mind, a plan forming.
I hid behind the door, waiting for him in the quiet, dark room.
After only a minute or two, he strolled back in, completely naked. He had dropped the towel while out of the room, apparently preparing for his night with me, unaware that I was free, and his expression changed as he reached the bed. He seemed confused. He saw the scarf, still entangled in the headboard, but I was obviously gone.
He was just starting to turn his head to look around the room for me, when I struck. I ran at him from behind, and slammed him onto the bed with the full force of my body. Before he knew what was happening, I had grabbed the scarf and tied his hands to the headboard, but with knots that would hold tight. He would not escape quite as easily as I had.
"Now, you little fucker," I growled at him. "You tell me. How does it feel, huh? How does it feel to have someone control you? And we're gonna see how it feels to get fucked too! Thanks for the idea!" I threw my head back and laughed, then grabbed his face in my hand, assuring his complete and utter attention. "I'm gonna fuck you till you scream, boy," I whispered. "I'm gonna strap your ass and your body until you bleed. You are in fucking deep shit. You apparently had no idea what you were just doing, and now... you are going to pay."
"Isabella, please, I'm –," he started in a feeble and useless attempt to explain. I clasped my hand across his mouth, tightly, quickly quieting him.
"I don't want to hear it, boy," I explained as I held my hand in place. "I don't want to hear anything you have to say tonight." Then, I thought better of it, and grinned at him. "Well, no words, at least. When the time comes, you can scream all you want."
I removed my hand, and he remained quiet. He blinked his eyes a few times, and his lips quivered. He was nervous, scared. And he should be.
Satisfied with his wrist bindings, I went to his closet and grabbed several neckties and a couple of thick leather belts, then returned to him on the bed. I should have taken him down to the basement, where I had all of my toys and supplies, but this was happening now, and it was happening here. It felt more serious, more meaningful for some reason, more severe, to apply my punishment in his bedroom, his private space. Well, what was his space. Teach him that this was my house, that I was in control, and he was my pawn, to do with as I chose.
I used the neckties to secure his ankles to the bedposts. He tried to fight me, but my strikes were quick, well-practiced, and effective, and he knew it - the fight drained out of him quickly. He was immobile and secure in a matter of minutes.
"Now, I think we're all a little calmer, and we've had a moment to consider the actions of the last few minutes." I took a deep breath and released it slowly, willing myself to relax. I had to be calm, centered, focused. I had to remain in control.
I grabbed one of his belts, the thick, black one with the heavy silver buckle. I held the leather strap in my hand feeling its weight, its texture, and I remembered how it looked when Edward wore it. Slung low across his hips, barely keeping his jeans up. I could always see a sliver of his stomach beneath his shirt, a hint of hip bones. That was so fucking sexy to me. I always wanted to get down on my knees in front of him and run my tongue across that stomach, those hips.
But I could never do that. Get down on my knees in front of someone. That was beneath me. They got down on their knees in front of me.
I shook my head to erase that memory from my brain, and focused on the matter at hand, and why I had Edward's belt in my hand, sitting on his bed, in his bedroom, where he was currently tied up and waiting for his sentence.
Because this was more than just punishment. Edward had been punished before, several times, for some infraction or another. But this was different. This was retribution.
I stood up and turned around to face him.
Tears were streaming down his face, and I hadn't even touched him yet. He was already sorry for what he had done. He knew. He knew this would happen. Then why, why did he do it, knowing his horrible fate?
I struck him hard and quick across his thighs. He made a noise, but was trying hard not to scream. But that didn't worry me. He'd get there, and I would help him. He would scream. He would scream until his voice left him.
I struck again, slightly higher, and he squealed a bit this time. I was very close to his balls, and I knew he was panicking, wondering what I was going to do, how far I would go. His dick was hard and pointing up his body, and that just amazed me for a second. This was not a pleasurable act, at all, and yet, he was receiving some sort of enjoyment from it, enough to give him an erection at least.
Maybe it was conditioning or something, and his body hadn't really realized what was happening yet.
I again thought of my basement, and my cabinet drawers, full of all of my toys, but no. I couldn't use any of those now. They were used specifically for pleasure for Edward. Pleasure mixed with pain, which he liked, but still pleasure. I thought it would be confusing to use anything from downstairs on him now. I needed to keep this separate. Distinct. I wanted him to remember this night, on the few rare occasions that I would let him sleep in his bed, to remember what he did and how he paid for it.
I struck again, low on his stomach. This time, he screamed.
Several hours later, I paused to reassess.
My uncontrollable rage had been contained, and the absolute control I had over him had started to arouse me. His once hard cock, however, was now severely deflated. There was no way he could be enjoying any of this, and God help him if I saw any movement between his legs.
His mouth still worked though, and I put his lips and tongue to great use, several times. Looking down, watching his face as he brought me to orgasm again and again, I should have felt remorse, something, at his constant stream of tears, his miserable expression. But I felt nothing. Well, no, that's not true. Actually, it made me hot. And then I would force him to make me come again.
At some point, I had flipped him over, onto his stomach, and resecured his bindings. I had gone into his bathroom, knowing he kept a selection of anal plugs stored in a drawer, freshly washed and drying on a towel. He would use these on my express directions only, never on his own. I selected the largest, hardest one, and returned to the bed.
"So, Edward, have you learned your lesson yet?" It was a rhetorical question. At this point, he knew better than to answer, but he continued to sob and moan softly. "Have you finally realized who the Master is here, and who is the little bitch? Who serves whom? Hmm?"
A loud crack filled the room as the strap descended across his lower thighs. His moaning increased slightly in volume, but he was past words, past screaming at this point.
Several strikes later, his skin red and hot, I dropped the belt to the floor and climbed on the bed, straddled him, facing his feet.
"I'm hoping that you are learning all of the lessons I'm giving you today, Edward. They are very important, and should not be soon forgotten."
I ran my hands up and down his thighs, his buttocks, pressing my thumbs deeper and deeper between his cheeks with each pass.
"All of this, Edward," I admonished, "is mine. Your legs, your back, your ass... all of it, mine." I grabbed his ass cheeks firmly in each hand and squeezed hard, the heat from the belt strikes burning my hands. He groaned hoarsely, and clenched his muscles tightly against me.
I immediately gave him several quick smacks with my hands, his skin turning even redder.
"Don't you dare close yourself off to me. Don't you fucking dare. Your ass is mine, and if I want it, I'll take it. Whenever, and however I want." He relaxed slightly, but was still tense.
I slid my fingers between his cheeks and pulled them apart, as widely as I could. He made a soft, high-pitched noise, bordering on panic. Good. He was finally getting there.
I circled my fingers around his opening, but didn't push in. Instead, I grabbed the plug with one hand, then pulling him open wide again, pressed the plug just inside him. He made a muffled, grunting noise. I pushed it further in, and the grunting grew louder. I twisted the toy and pushed, never relenting, until it was fully seated inside of him. I had never used anything this large before. He was moaning non-stop now.
Shit, I wanted to fuck him so badly now, but I had resigned myself not to use my regular toys. The sight of his red, warm ass, spread so wide, stretched open, had me throbbing between my legs again.
I grabbed the plug with one hand and pulled it almost all the way out, then slammed it back in with my palm. He shrieked in what little was left of his hoarse voice.
"That's it pretty boy... let me hear you. Let me hear who you belong to, who you serve!" I slapped my hand across his ass several times, deepening the red tone of his skin, almost purple, and then landed a nice hard slap on the plug.
He groaned loud and long.
"Yes, that's right. Now you get it, don't you little boy?" And I slapped the plug again.
He started sobbing again, nodding his head, unable to speak.
I grabbed the plug again and started sliding it in and out of him, fucking him as I had promised. The wetness from between my legs was covering his lower back, and I found that I was sliding my wet pussy back and forth across his skin, desperate for another release. I slid my free hand between my legs and started rubbing myself furiously, four fingers at once, slick and wet, and started fucking him harder.
The louder his groans, the hotter it made me, and the harder I fucked him.
When I finally came, it completely exhausted me, mentally and physically, and I collapsed on the bed next to him. I laid there, for several minutes, catching my breath and regaining my composure. I expected to feel regret, but still did not.
Finally, I sat up, and turned to Edward. I know he needed attention, but I was still too entirely pissed off at what he had tried to do to care. I planned to send him straight to the basement, and to leave him there until I felt that I had calmed down, and that he was completely remorseful. This entire exercise would be for naught if he felt that he could do it again at some point in the future. He needed to know that this would not happen again, and if it did, the consequences would be significantly more dire.
I knew he was physically incapable, at this point, of trying to fight back, so I untied his ankles first, noting the angry red welts on his skin. He didn't move an inch. I then freed one wrist, paused to check his reaction, and when none came, untied the other one. He had the same angry, red welts on his wrists, from both my crude bindings and the degree of his struggling. He just laid there, on his stomach, arms and legs still spread on the bed, plug deep inside him.
I walked to his bathroom and grabbed two small towels, running warm water over one. I returned to the bed and slowly removed the implement from between his legs. He flinched slightly, but didn't make a sound. I wrapped the plug in the dry towel and tossed it on the floor.
I knew I shouldn't, but I ran the small damp towel over his face, wiping away the wet mess covering his face. His eyes remained closed and his expression never changed.
I sat for a moment looking over his body, looking at my handiwork, the damage I had done. The regret was starting to work its way slowly in, but I continued to tell myself that it was necessary, that he had deserved it, and that he had to know what he had done. How many times had I lost control and swore that it would never happen again? When would I learn?
With a soft sigh, I stood and retrieved the two towels and walked into the bathroom, throwing them both on the floor in the corner of the room. Edward could deal with them later. As I exited the room, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and I was shocked at what I saw. My hair was sticking out in all directions, patches of bright red color on my cheeks, my eyes wide and wild.
I looked insane.
Jesus, I hated what I saw, what I had become, but I had to stay strong.
I returned to the bed to collect Edward and get him downstairs for the night, but noticed that he had curled up on his side while I was gone. I couldn't see his face from my position, but I could hear him softly breathing, slowly, rhythmically. He had fallen asleep.
I walked around to the other side of the bed, and looked down at his face.
He was smiling. In his sleep.
But not just smiling. He looked content, satisfied. Pleased with himself. The expression was familiar, but I couldn't quite place it, where I had seen it before, what it meant. I stood there and watched him, and the sudden realization hit me like a slap in the face.
It was the same expression he wore when he had done something for me, something that pleased me greatly. It was selfless and giving. He was happy.
Oh my God.
He had planned this. He had planned all of it. For my benefit. He sensed my growing frustration over the past several weeks, felt me pulling away, away from him. He tried to ask me, tried to get me to open up and talk to him, but I refused. He knew that I needed a release and that I was refusing to ask for it, refusing to let him help me.
So he planned this entire scene. The front door. The bathtub. The earbuds. The disrespect. Everything that he knew would piss me off.
The attack on me in the bedroom. Tying me up on the bed and telling me he was in control, that he was going to fuck me. Calling himself Master. Every button he knew I had.
I realized how badly he had tied my hands, knowing that he knew better. How easily I had escaped. How he had left the room, giving me time to escape and turn the tables.
And then, he had taken everything I had given him. All of that pain, the humiliation, the torment.
I couldn't believe it. I couldn't seem to reconcile what I had just done with what he had just done for me. He had never been anything but completely obedient, selfless, always wanted to please me. Always following the rules. And at the first opportunity, I doubted him. I should have immediately seen through him, seen what he was trying to do. I should have rewarded him, not punished him so severely.
I sat on the edge of his bed all night, watching him sleep, tears running down my cheeks.
At some point, I must have dozed, because I woke suddenly with a start. It took me a minute to remember why I was in Edward's bed, what had happened the previous night. But then it all came rushing back.
I turned to look at Edward and was surprised to see him looking up at me with that same open, adoring expression. My arms were wrapped around him, like I was protecting him from some unseen enemy.
"Morning, Bella," he whispered hopefully. "Did you sleep okay?"
I couldn't take this anymore, the guilt for what I had done. It had pressed on me all night long, suffocating me. I had to explain things, try to make this right, make it up to him in some way. After all he had done for me, it was the least I could do.
"Edward," I started, trying to find the words. "I know what you did." He looked suddenly panicked, like he had done something wrong again and had been caught. "No, no, no. Nothing wrong," I said in the gentlest tone I could muster, stroking my fingers across his cheek. "I know what you did. Last night. For me."
He looked away from me, just for a second or two, a shy and sweet gesture. He was humble and didn't want any credit. He just wanted me to be happy.
Fuck, this was so hard.
But I kept talking. I was determined to make this right.
"I know I've been distant lately, and it's been confusing for you. After everything we've been through together, I should have trusted you, shared my problems with you."
"Bella, don't -" he interrupted, trying to immediately absolve me, but I wouldn't let him. This was my fuckup to fix.
"Edward, no. Please, let me explain."
He nodded his head slightly, and I continued.
I told him about Jacob and about the first time that he walked into my office. I told him about my immediate reaction to him, my sudden need, and how I was filled with guilt, that I shouldn't need anyone but him. That it felt wrong.
He didn't say a word, never changed his expression. He just listened.
I assured him that nothing had happened, that I hadn't touched him, but that the pressure was building and getting worse every day. That I didn't know how to handle it. I explained that I had taken out my frustrations on him and that it was wrong, that I should have told him what was going on and been honest with him.
I talked for quite a while, and I said everything I wanted to say, everything I could think of. He was still staring up at me, and the openness in his expression made me feel that guilt all over again for not trusting him.
He slowly lifted his hand to my face, just barely grazing my skin with his fingertips and said the one thing that could make me feel better:
"We'll get through this, Bella, don't worry. We'll get through this together."
I returned to work the next day and tried to deal with Jacob Black. The need, the itch, was just as bad, if not worse, but at the end of the day, I returned home to Edward and told him all about it, everything that had happened. Then, being Edward, he helped me to release my frustrations.
After a week or so of this new routine, I finally had a break when Black was noticeably absent from work. I thought I would feel relieved at not having to deal with him, with the pressure, maintaining my control, but his absence, instead, made me feel anxious and empty.
When I got home that night, Edward was waiting for me in the foyer, always so perfect. I ran my fingers through his hair, smiling as he moaned softly at my touch. I opened my mouth to tell him about my day, but he starting talking before I could get out a single word.
"Bella, do you trust me?" he blurted out.
Trust. A year ago, it was a completely foreign concept to me, but I found that I did trust him. He and I had committed ourselves to each other, and I was determined to make this work with him. Despite all my previous mistakes.
I let myself smile a little at his eagerness.
"Yes, Edward, I trust you."
He grinned excitedly and grabbed my hand.
"Then, come with me," he said as he pulled me towards the basement. "I have a surprise for you."
He held my hand tightly as we walked through the kitchen, then punched in the combination to the basement door lock. I heard the soft click of the lock releasing, and my breath caught in my throat – that sound meant secrets and anticipation and release - and I followed him down the stairs.
When I reached the bottom, I looked at the bed in the middle of the room.
I stood, transfixed for a few moments, trying to comprehend what I was seeing.
It was a man, on the bed. Naked, tied down, and unconscious.
It was Jacob Black.
Jacob Black was in my basement. In my fucking basement.
I turned to Edward, for some explanation, and I found him staring at me with that cocky grin that I remember from our early days at the office, one corner of his mouth turned up. He was still holding my hand, and he gave it a quick squeeze.
"Surprise," he said in a throaty whisper.
My head was spinning as I started to realize what he had done, what this would mean. For me. For us.
"Edward, what…" I couldn't even find the words to ask the questions I wanted to ask.
"It's for you, Bella. For us," he said. "This is a part of you. This is who you are. You don't have to give this up for me."
I stared at him, my thoughts racing with possibilities, wondering if he was saying what I thought he was saying.
"I thought," he started shyly, but then cleared his throat and met my eyes. "I thought this could be something we could do… together."
At that point, I couldn't stop the grin on my face, growing wider and wider as I stood in my basement with my new partner and our new conquest.
The game would continue.
I was suddenly overwhelmed. I stepped closer to Edward and took his face in my hands. I had to try to tell him how much this meant to me, how much he meant to me.
"You," I said. "You are all I want. All I will ever want. But this," I gestured to the bed and to Jacob Black, "this is something I need. Thank you." I pulled him to me and kissed him, hard.
When we finally pulled apart, we both turned slowly to look at Jacob. He was starting to stir, awakening from whatever drug Edward had sedated him with. I tried to remember if I had told him exactly what my process had been, what I had used, or if he had somehow figured it out on his own.
Jacob blinked a few times, as they always do, and then tried to move his arms and legs. It didn't take him long to realize that he was restrained, and he reacted exactly as I always expected he would – struggling, roaring, panicking like an animal in a trap. We just watched him for a minute or so.
Finally, Jacob looked around the room, trying to determine where he was, what had happened, and he saw me. He reacted immediately.
"You fucking bitch!" he screamed in his deep, booming voice, and started pulling at his bindings again, growling in a fit of rage. "Untie me, you fucking whore, or I'll –"
I hadn't even seen Edward move, but he was suddenly standing right beside Jacob, the corners of his mouth turned down in an angry sneer. I had never seen that particular expression on his face before, and it fucking turned me on. It reminded me of his face when he had tied me up in his bedroom, but this was more intense, more real.
"Watch your mouth, asshole," he threatened. "Or I'll fucking watch it for you."
Jacob started to speak, but Edward was faster, and he bent down and pressed a taser into Jacob's neck. I didn't even see where Edward got it from, but Jacob immediately seized and started gurgling, his body shaking for several seconds before completely collapsing motionless back to the bed.
I didn't think I could possibly be more attracted to Edward than I was at that moment, the control he took, his aggression, protecting me. I wanted to strip off his clothes and fuck him hard on the bed, while Jacob Black watched helplessly.
But there was plenty of time for that.
I approached the bed, and sat on the edge, waiting for Jacob to again regain consciousness. The shock from the taser only lasted a few seconds, and I didn't have to wait long. I had waited for this moment for weeks, and I wanted to savor it.
"Hello, Jacob," I said with a smirk. "I have to be honest with you. I have imagined you, just like this, since the day you first walked into my office. You had no idea who you were dealing with, did you?"
Jacob looked like he was going to start struggling and screaming again, but just as quickly, he seemed to accept the reality of his situation, and he stopped fighting. He seemed defeated, his expression turning frightened and soft.
This was completely unexpected.
He suddenly looked so different than he had in the office, so small, so scared. I had always thought he would be like a caged animal, but he was more like a scared little boy.
I hadn't even touched him yet, and the fight was already over. He had given up. I found that I no longer felt the intense anger that I always had in his presence. I had won. He was mine.
He was staring at us, and he must have sensed the change in atmosphere, that we were decided, that his fate was in our hands, because he suddenly started to panic and beg.
"Please..." he whispered, his angelic face wet with tears. "Please let me go. Please. I won't tell anyone, I promise."
The basement was cold and damp, and he was shivering. I wanted to touch him, to reassure him, to let him know that I meant him no harm. I reached out to place my hand over his, and he flinched, pulling away from me instinctively. I smiled sweetly.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I cooed in my most comforting voice, and I reached again for his hand. This time, he didn't move. I stroked his hand gently, tentatively, so thrilled to finally be touching him, my excitement building.
"Then… what do you want?" he pleaded desperately, his voice cracking. "Why can't I leave?"
He noticed that the expression on my face had changed slightly, and although I was still smiling, he seemed increasingly frightened.
"Well," I whispered and winked at him conspiratorially, "I just want to play."
Disclaimer: All things "Twilight" belong to Stephanie Meyer. "Trunk Boy," however, is all mine.
First, I know some of you might not like this ending, but this was always the way it was going to end. I wrote the ending shortly after I wrote the prologue (which, if you noticed, is exactly the same). That always made me think of the Smashing Pumpkins' "The Beginning is the End is the Beginning" (and I kinda imagine this song playing as the credits start to roll on the movie version).
Bella has always been a twisted fuck, and that was never going to change. This is a happy ending for her and Edward, but probably not for anyone else. Hope you weren't disappointed, thinking that she would mend her ways or something.
Second, just so you know, the Jacob Black in this story is the Jacob from the book, NOT Taylor Lautner. My Jacob is the huge, hulking, towering, snarling Jacob. Not the puppy-faced (or llama-faced, Mabarbarella?) boy.
Third, yeah, the violence in this chapter was pretty extreme. It wasn't meant to be sexually arousing. It was meant to show how angry Bella was and how she far she would go. But remember this is Edward's choice. He chose this life with Bella, and he could walk away any time he wanted to. But he always stays. He just wants to please her.
Thank you to everyone who ever read this story, and to everyone who ever reviewed it, especially those of you who kept coming back for more.
Thank you to Mabarbarella, my dear pervy friend, for SO much. Mostly for dragging me into the world of E/J slash, but also for being impossibly entertaining and twisted. AND for calling ME when she met "The Precious" at Comic-con this summer! I felt so special! Love ya, honey.
Last, but not least, thanks to my beta, and best friend, LibbyLou862. She has helped me IMMEASURABLY on this story from start the finish, in ways that I cannot recount without typing another 9,000 words, and should get half author credit! I couldn't have done it without you, as you very well know! Love you, much L!
Bye. For now.