Break Me Read Online Free Page A

them close over her nipples, left first, then right.
     
    The pain burned through her, sharp and intense, and she had to fight again, fight to trust him, fight to believe that he wouldn’t give her more than she could take. It faded, after a moment, from the steady, harsh pain of a burn or a cut into a steady slow ache that shot straight to her belly. A sound came from her throat, low and thick and deep, and she heard him laugh. “Good little princess,” he whispered, his breath a caress on her neck. “If you’re very, very good, next time I’ll put a special one on your clit, too.”
     
    “No,” she said, reflexively. “Absolutely not.”
     
    He turned her, quickly enough to throw her off balance, and then nudged her bare feet apart. He took her hands from behind her back and braced them on the foot board of the bed. “Did you just say no to me?”
     
    “You’re talking about putting a clamp on my clit, aren’t you?” His fingers slid over her slit again, and she bit her lower lip hard. The angle he’d bent her hips at parted her thighs, left the warm wetness of her pussy exposed. She could feel beads of moisture collecting, pooling in the crevices of her body. Those two fingers slid into her a lot more easily now, and he plundered her almost casually, almost distractedly. She wanted to slam back into him, grind into his hand until she came, screaming, but he hadn’t told her she could move, and she knew better now. “That would be too much,” she said, between gritted teeth.
     
    She almost expected the slap on the fullest part of her ass. Almost. Even then, the sudden absence of pressure from his hand and the abrupt pain of his flesh on hers, where she’d only just started to heal—her hips rocked forward, whether she wanted them to or not, and she cried out.
     
    “I think that hurt you,” he said, his voice idle, distracted.
     
    “More... sir,” she managed to say.
     
    “Oh, princess.” Finally, that thick, horny need was crawling back into his voice. “Don’t you worry. There’s plenty more for you.”
     
    His hands on her ass again, blow after blow. She gripped the foot board and let the sensations wash through her. She didn’t know what sounds she was making, how much she was begging him to keep going, and how much it hurt. She just knew that he couldn’t stop, because she couldn’t feel yet. Not really.
     
    The blows halted, and she gasped, the sudden stinging pain becoming more intent without the constant blows to keep her in that in-between space where things didn’t matter in the same way.
     
    “You want more,” he said. His voice was breathless. She wanted to look, to see if he was as hard as she suspected, so hard that she could see him through his jeans, but if he was, he wasn’t showing it off.
     
    She squirmed for a moment, unsure of the rules here. Was she allowed to say yes, to tell him to obliterate her, to either fuck her senseless or beat her until the pain finally stopped?
     
    His hand stroked down her spine, and calmness followed the gesture. “Tell me what you need, Zoey.”
     
    “I need to stop feeling afraid,” she said—sobbed, to be honestly, though she didn’t want to admit it. “I can’t stop feeling afraid.”
     
    “Are you afraid of me?”
     
    She shook her head. “I’m afraid of what I saw. Of what happened.”
     
    “Ssssh,” he said, his hands making long, slow strokes over her body, teasing over her with careful precision. “You’re here with me, now.”
     
    And then the next blow came. It was harder, sharper, more narrowly focused. Instead of cracking across her ass, it hit her shoulders. She twisted away from the pain, a sharp hiss escaping her. “What the hell was that?”
     
    He stared at her, and that dark light was back in his eyes, cold and more than angry. “I want you to think about something,” he said, and another blow fell across her shoulders. He was using something—it looked something like a cat o’ nine