Seize(68)

And then I sink to my knees and bow down in front of her.

With her jaw dropped, she stares at me. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you everything that I have.”

“You want me to …” She looks at the belt.

“I want you to punish me, Lillith.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I want to feel what you feel. Experience what you experience.” I look her straight in the eyes. “Feed me your rage.”

She makes a face. “What? Are you insane?”

“Yes, but mostly I’m just madly in love.”

“Fuck you!” she screams. “You can’t just do this.”

I hold up my hands. “Here I am, doing it.” I take a deep breath. “Now hit me with all you’ve got.”

“You think that this will help? You think this will solve anything? That this will make it all better for me?”

“No, but it’s a start.”

“How can you just ask me to do that?” she yells.

“Because I know this is what you need.”

I fold my hands behind my head, straightening my back. “Hurt me, Lillith. Hurt me like I hurt you.”

She roars. “I hate you. I fucking hate you for doing this.”

She stomps toward me, the belt flicking in her hands. The sound of the leather and the ruggedness in her voice are all too familiar to me. I recognize myself in all her fury. The powerlessness she feels is something that I kept hidden in my heart for a long time. But now she is here. She came into my life and gave me power, control. Love.

I control my own desires, my own decisions, my own thoughts. No one can take the choice away from me. It’s because of her that I realize this, and it’s why I am giving her a chance to use me as I have used her. This is my way of showing her how much I love her.

“Hit me with all you have,” I say.

And she does.

A surprise blow catches me off guard, making me hiss. The first blow is always the hardest.

Another one comes, and she screams, “Fuck you!”

I growl. “Take it out on me.”

“I hate you!”

Another belting makes me bite my lip to cope with the pain. I won’t tell her to stop. I won’t ever speak the words because they belong to her. My body, my mind, my heart, and even my soul are hers.

She hits me again and again. Everywhere. My chest. My back. My shoulders. Even my ass. Nothing is spared and I wouldn’t expect anything less. I want her to give it her all, to let it all out. I will take all her anger and pain. No matter how much, I will take it all. For her.

So she can relieve herself, like I have done when I was with her.

We are two users, abusers of each other’s qualities, selfish for taking what we don’t deserve. I can’t be a knight in shining armor for her, but I will be a good punching bag. I don’t deserve her, but I’ll put up one hell of a fight to be with her and work my way into her heart again.





I lash out at him with everything that I have.

He asks for it, he’ll get it.

I hate him. I hate him so much. For everything. Even for the things that he wasn’t responsible for. All my anger is focused at him, and maybe it’s because he tells me to, but damn, he deserves it.

I hit him again and again until his skin is red and swollen, and even then I still hit him. My rage is as deep as the wounds on his body, and still I go on. Hitting him is an adrenaline rush that feeds my hunger for justice. Each blow relieves me of some of the built up fear, anger, and anxiety. Every strike is a step toward release. Controlling his pain sharpens my senses, alerting me to his huffs, his groans, my eyes catching every bit of movement of his clenching muscles. He’s hurting, badly, and with every whipping I add, he lowers his position. His strength is waning, and I know it’s caused by my anger. Letting it all out on him is taking its toll, but he asked for it.

He asked for it. He wanted me to do this.

Tears well up in my eyes, but I push on. The belt creates cracks in his skin, covering his body with welts. Drops of blood seep through his skin, painting a dreaded picture as the belt sweeps it across his back. I howl louder with each blow, unable to restrain myself. I’m losing it. Losing myself in this. Losing him.

This is not what I want.

It is what I needed, but not what I want …

My heart breaks with every blow I deal, my fear dripping out through the slits. Everything is coming apart. My hands are shaking, and my whipping becomes slower and slower, less intense with every strike. Seeing the destruction that I cause is painful and to think that it’s because of what I feel makes me sick. I caused this. My feelings for what the men did to Ashley and I caused me to hurt Sebastian. Physically. Emotionally. And he asked me to do it.