Unspoken Ch. 02

A/N: Another adapted story from a different platform, centered around subspace as a coping mechanism in difficult moments. Planned three part story. This is the established kink dynamic of a Jekyll and Hyde-ish service top and a not-at-all-conflicted sub. Very self-indulgent on my part. Expect pain kink, descriptions of subspace, and consensual non-consent. Being consensual, I posted it under BDSM. There will, however, be descriptions of past trauma.

***

Strip and turn around.

James's voice was a velvet strip wrapped around his words. Insinuating itself in her mind, throbbing between her legs. The ground beneath her feet on days when the world was made of quicksand. Blues and cigarettes and too much coffee and lack of sleep and broken plates. But his voice was the rope she could tie around herself. Not a prisoner, not trapped. Safe.

"Do it," he said, his voice raspy. "Strip slowly. I want to watch you."

The stranger with hardened features, behind his mask. But he wasn't a stranger at all. And sometimes, she forgot it was a game as she sank into it, the sea of cotton that clouded her vision and reason. The comfort. She started working on her shirt with her eyes fixed on the buttons.

James brought the belt down on his open palm and the smack resounded in the room hidden inside herself. Heat flared up in her abdomen as she let out a shaky breath.

"Look at me. Slower," he said.

She found him, through the grey web, inside the puzzle pieces of his features. Running her tongue over her lips, tasting the bitterness of the tobacco. But it wasn't James she wanted. Not cuddles on the sofa and hot chocolate as the cold wind howled outside. The man in front of her was the wind.

Helen steeled herself as she held his gaze, with its sharp edges that could cut through glass. Appraising her with unwavering calm. Sometimes he took her with desperation and passion. His frantic touches, his darkened gaze lost in her depths. But not now. Slowly, as he'd ordered, she revealed her body to him. Taking off her black shirt and letting it slide to the floor. Unzipping her skirt as though they had all the time in the world. Only the faintest glimmer betrayed his arousal as he watched her. Drinking her in with his eyes, sipping, savoring her.

When she was done, she stood under the weight of his appraisal. Waiting for the unending seconds to pass, with their maddening slowness. A different James would reassure her. You're beautiful, he'd say, on those days with no lead on her tongue and no spikes in her heart. You are so beautiful to me. She didn't need his reassurance now. And he knew, after so long, what to give and not.

"Don't look down," he said instead, when she threw a fleeting look at the ground.

He dropped the belt and approached her, and the lights flickered again. As she stepped deeper in the secret room inside herself. Where she could stretch out her arms and spin in place and forget the world outside and the past. Where she could be and nothing more, letting her musings go, letting herself fall off the edge of a cliff, because he'd be there to catch her.

He stood in front of her now. Shimmering between them, their desire was a siren song on the wind and the fire burning inside her veins. He cupped her breast, brushing his thumb over her nipple. Once, twice, as her wetness trickled down her thighs. He hummed his approval softly and bent to lick the hardened nub. Helen made to wrap her arms around his neck, but he grabbed her wrist.

"No touching," he said, in between licks. "Eyes forward."

As she lowered her arms, the fog inside her mind thickened, interspersed with static and dizziness. Her palms itched with the desire to grab on to him and hold him, to pull him closer, while the version of her spinning around in the hidden room relished in his command. She gazed over his shoulder into nothingness, unable to hold back her moans. James kept licking her nipple while he twisted the other one, and then his hand trailed down her body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She parted her legs for him.

The small groan that fell from his lips when he encountered the wetness between her thighs pierced the grey web like only victory could. His light touch was an autumn wind gently directing the withered leaves to their final moments, but she could sense the simmering promises in it. So close. It was everywhere, the anticipation. In the movements of his tongue on her breast and the way he dipped his fingers inside her. In his firm grip on her waist. In the fluttering and humming of her body. More, she thought. Please. At length, when she was certain she couldn't take it any longer, he withdrew his hand. When he picked up the belt, she breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Turn around now."

She obeyed as her arousal darkened the edges of her vision. James's measured footsteps from behind her were the metronome to the burning melody of her desire. One. Two. Three. Four. His touch between her shoulder blades was rough as he pushed her forward. She grabbed the back of the sofa and her knees touched the seat. Without being told to, she arched her back. All around her, desire weaved a pulsating web.

"Mmmhmm. So obedient," he said.

Helen felt the light caress of his belt on her back on a quick inhale. Up and down. And back up. With teasing slowness and endless patience. Tensing as he dragged out the moments, she heard the slow drawl of the music once more.

It was never just the pain, it was the promise. The waiting without knowing when he'd strike. The sound. All of it, an intricate tapestry of pleasure. She'd beg soon, even though he didn't allow it. Because she wanted him to forbid it. Like yin and yang they circled each other, drinking in each other's pleasure and amplifying it, until it boiled over in their own little insane symphony. On days like today.

James caressed the small of her back, with the tips of his fingers this time, telling her, though it was superfluous, that he was there.

"What would you prefer, hm? The belt or the belt buckle?"

The question froze in her mind, turning every shred of coherent thought to ash. Imbibing her consciousness with arousal as well as confusion. She didn't want to decide. She didn't want to think. Thoughts were the spikes in her heart and the lead in the clouds. The scratches on her palms from falling down. Shards of plates smashed against the wall. Didn't he know?

"Shh," he whispered, sensing her nervousness. "I'm sorry."

Nodding slightly, she squeezed her eyes shut. Preparing to forget again. About glass shards and the past. How the streetlights looked when she couldn't sleep. Sinking into the sea of cotton and leaving it up to him.

When the first blow fell across her ass, the grey web started shattering. The light pain pierced the stony barrenness of her mental landscape. He had favored the belt. The next blow was harder. As was the next one. James stopped to snap the belt in the air and she moaned with abandon. Willing herself to simply let go. Of everything that was and would be. Nothing mattered. Not on days like today. A few more blows and she was close to an orgasm. But knowing him, he wouldn't let her.

Sure enough, he stopped and bent over her. He licked and kissed along her spine and his deft fingers found their way between her legs once more. Teasing her, circling her clit with practiced movements. Not enough to push her over the edge, but enough to paralyze her reason. Sometimes, she didn't want the pain to stop. More, she thought. Please, more.

On days like today, she felt like he was in her mind. When the next blow fell, it sank into her flesh and reverberated in her nerves. The intensity of the combined pain and pleasure was beyond something as mundane as words. It shattered the grey web almost to pieces. Almost. Moaning loudly, Helen abandoned herself to the motions. Jumping straight into the eye of the storm as James kept going. He didn't stop this time. Until it became nearly unbearable. Nearly. Her skin was on fire and her mind was in tatters, scrambling to make sense of the world. But the world became smaller and smaller. A pebble they could put in their pockets and forget about. A leaf in the wind.

After a blissful eternity, she heard the belt fall to the floor. Grabbing her by the hair, James pulled her up and turned her around, finding her lips. His kiss was everything at once. Desire and claiming. Passion and control. Smoldering fire and burning ice. Every key on the claviature in turn. Helen leaned into the kiss, into his touch, still starved, still parched. More. James smiled against her lips and pulled back.

"On your knees," he said, and his words dug inside of her, igniting her nerve endings.

She obeyed and looked up at him, at his controlled, unreadable expression. With no preamble, he wrapped his fingers around her throat and squeezed. The vague hint of fear clashed with her pleasure as the air leaving her lungs cleared her mind, pushing her deeper into the secret room. She was gone now, in that hidden place inside herself. Freed, uncaring, untethered, as James kept stealing her air. Taking her breath away in more ways than one. He released her for a few moments, enough for her to inhale deeply, and then pressed down again, repeating the process. Catapulting her to a state where no worries existed. There was nothing. Nothing but floating through an endless, comfortable void. When he did it for the third time, she smiled. The hardest thing in the world was to quieten the mind. Throw a blanket over the ever spinning and screeching wheels, muffling the perpetual murmurs and unease.

Helen tapped his wrists with two fingers and he quickly released her. She could've gone longer, but sometimes she did it to witness his control and reactions. So far, he'd never failed. The question in his eyes spoke of worry, stretching between them. She shook her head and smiled again, allowing his mask to fall back into place.

"I'm going to fuck you now," he said, pushing her down on all fours.

Biting her lip, she hoped he wouldn't tease her this time. He had brought her to the brink enough, now she needed to fall. Fall and keep falling, uncontrolled, unbothered, unrestrained. Free. Mercifully, he seemed to know it was enough. She didn't turn around when he took off his trousers, but soon, she felt the head of his cock against her entrance. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he thrusted inside her to the hilt in one go. She screamed.

From the start, he set a brutal pace. She wouldn't have wanted it any other way. It felt like he was tearing her apart, fucking her into oblivion, like he wanted her to disintegrate, until there was nothing left of her. Nothing but floating bits and pieces and shards. Full, she was so full of him as he slapped his hips against her roughly, pounding her warm, wet, tight cunt. Pulling on her hair so hard that she feared he'd detach it from her scalp. Good, she thought, though she knew it would never happen. More. Please. More.

It didn't seem possible, at first, that he could fuck her harder, but he did. He kept fisting her hair while his other arm grabbed her hip punishingly. Helen caught herself thinking about the bruises. Hoping she'd be able to spin in front of the full length mirror in the hallway, aroused by the sight of James's ownership. The thought amplified her pleasure. The almost unbearable pleasure of his unfaltering rhythm. Her climax built up inside her rapidly.

"What are you waiting for, then?" he asked, and she could hear the smile in his otherwise controlled voice. "Come for me."

Eager to obey his command, her body and mind reacted instantly. Clamping down on his cock, she came with a loud scream, forgetting her worries, the shards and the scrapes on her palms, the blues and the endless cups of coffee. It all faded away, absorbed by the raging storm of her climax. All the while, he kept pounding into her with rough, brutal thrusts. The world spun backwards on its axis and she saw it all, behind closed eyelids. Entire galaxies, fueled by passion and magic. And everything fell into place. For a moment. A blissful, eternal moment that he did his best to prolong for her, as he fucked her and grabbed at her and talked to her.

"That's it. Fuck, you feel so good, coming all over my cock. Just like that."

Every word was punctuated by a rough thrust inside her cunt, and Helen allowed herself to savor the freedom to its fullest extent. Sitting on an outcrop of rock, overlooking a tumultuous sea, and watching the world with all its worries be turned into the smallest of leaves, to be carried away by the wind. James pulled her head back by her hair and bent to place a kiss on her lips. Wild and punishing and deep and passionate. Searching for her tongue as she moaned into his mouth, biting down, giving her everything he had. She wished with all her might that it never had to end.

But it did. Eventually, the waves of her climax turned to ripples that disintegrated into nothingness. Her vision cleared. The pounding of her heart in her ears quietened enough that she started hearing it again. The sounds of the world. Blues and memories of throwing plates against the wall. The street lights flickering, laughing at her when she couldn't sleep. Haunted. She couldn't escape her past. Wherever she went, she'd take herself with her.

James stilled his movements, sensing the sudden shift in her mood. He pulled out gently and she sat up, hugging her knees. He scooched closer to her and draped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Nothing. You were wonderful, James," she replied.

"Then?" he said, furrowing his brow.

Helen shrugged. "It's just one of those days."

"I know," he whispered, nuzzling her neck and placing soft kisses on her skin. "What can I do? Tell me."

"It'll pass," she said.

Already feeling the need for another cigarette. Another song. Another plate against the wall. The need to run and hide and push all of it deep down where it couldn't reach her. The past, with its inescapable claws that sunk into the present. She was a different person every day and yet, she wasn't. The all powerful dictatorship of the past was demanding.

"How can I help?"

She looked up at him. And it was James. Hot chocolate on the sofa and laughing until her muscles hurt. Lazy mornings in bed, bickering half-playfully over who had forgotten to pay the bills. The one she reached for at night to check if he was still breathing. The one who would never leave her side.

"You don't need to--"

"Helen," he said, cutting her off gently and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Please?"

The one who held her when she cried and whispered to her that it would be all right. Would it? There was no answer, they only knew how to take things one day at a time. Some days were impossible. Like today. And she didn't want to ask too much of him. Or herself. Yet...

Endless strings of grey yarn. Blue smoke so thick that her eyes watered. The claw in her chest tightening... tightening. The memories, threatening to overwhelm her.

"I can think of one thing," she whispered, looking away.