Chapter Text
It starts off soft. Pleasant even, with Fingers trailing over the curve of her breast with such reverence that it makes her squirm, uncomfortable with the level of affection.
She can’t stand the gentleness, it makes her skin itch.
The ropes at her wrists bite into her skin as she moves, the pain a welcome one. The satin sheets rustle under her, along with her own laboured breathing, it’s the only thing she can hear as she arches upwards, silently begging for a firmer touch.
Fingers trail further down, long nails scoring her skin, burning a trail over her abdomen and between her legs. She opens them widely, knees arched and spread like some wanton whore. Desperate for a release.
A hand paws at her breast. The touch anything but sweet. Fingers digging in to the soft flesh, pulling and twisting at her nipple. Sharp and cruel. She hisses, very little air makes way into her lungs between clenched teeth. Her head swimming, eyes closed behind a blindfold, her ears picking up the satisfied click of a tongue somewhere above her.
She can almost taste the smirk.
Wishes she could.
Wanting to bite down on ruby red lips until they’re bruised and bleeding. But the thought passes quickly.
There’s a sharp pain in her shoulder where teeth meet flesh, while deft fingers plunge to the knuckle between her legs. It sends a jolt through her, steals her breath.
The wind rages outside, but it could never match the tempest swirling around inside her. A tempest that feels like it will never quell.
She doesn’t want it to. She wants it to rage and storm. A perilous crash of thunder and a bolt of lighting, thrashing through her until her very core is ravaged by it, with nothing left remaining. She doesn’t want to think, or speak or feel unless it’s the glorious pain being bestowed upon her.
Rough fingers thrusting in and out of her with no rhyme or reason, just because they can, because she allows it. Wants it.
Craves it.
But even then she sobs because it’s not enough.
“More... I need...”
She grits her teeth. Can feel the agonising stretch, it burns in such a blissful way. Fast and deep.
“Please,” she begs pitifully, it’s still not enough. Her bedfellow holding back. There is a roughness to the touch, but she can sense the softness underneath, the desire not to push too much.
“I need to hurt,” she whimpers, her hips arching upwards. The fingers within her stilling. “I need to feel it.”
There is a pause. And all she can do is wait and writhe with baited breath.
There’s a sharp inhale. “As you wish.”
It becomes hard and deep and biting. Fingers thrusting deeper than before, pushing her to her limits and beyond. It’s stings, but she needs it. Needs the pain. The fullness.
Needs to be punished for whatever transgressions she’s made herself believe she has committed.
Tomorrow they will be forgotten, but tonight the guilt sits heavily on her shoulders and she wants to forget.
It’s a two for two. Fingers moving in and out. Shifting. Parting. Spreading her open and filling her from all angles. No longer held back by feelings. She arches her hips with each thrust. Taking the fingers deeper and deeper still.
A guttural moan escapes her. Pleasure and pain coming together like old friends. Teeth nip down over her collarbone, the mound of her breast and clamp sharply down on her nipple.
The bite of the rope.
It’s enough to send her over the edge.
She screams silently into the aetherium, where only angels can hear. Back bowed and sweat beading down her temple. She wishes to stay there, trapped in her ecstasy forever.
She falls back down to the bed. Spent. Her legs and lungs burning.
Her cunt sore.
She takes deep, languid breathes, waiting for her heart rate to settle. It takes longer than it ought, but she doesn’t complain.
There are gentle kisses moving up her body, over her clavicle, her cheeks, her eyelids.
They stop at her lips. She chases the feather-light touch as it falls out of reach.
She tugs at the ropes, feels them come loose around her wrists, and reaches out once she’s free. Desperately searching in the dark until she can pull those very same lips back down to hers again. Nipping and sucking until she knows they’ll be bruised and plump. Feeling a weight settle on top of her, warm and soft in places.
A thigh falls between her own and she winces ever so slightly.
The blindfold falls away.
She re-joins the world.
Green eyes are the first things she sees, sparkling with mischief and pride. Maybe a hint of concern. But this is never voiced.
“Feeling better?” Lesso asks from above her.
Clarissa frowns. It is a simple question, but one she finds herself struggling to answer. She still feels a little weighed with whatever sins she has decided she has, but the pain slowly serves at chasing them away.
“A little,” she replies, following the contours of Lesso’s face with her finger. Blinking back tears as Lesso turns to kiss her fingertip.
She kisses her softly then. Ready to take it a little slower this time.