Chapter 4: Ava's Command
The door clicked shut behind Dominic. His presence filled the room—a silent, electric charge that made the air thicker. He didn’t speak. Not yet.
Ava’s fingers stilled on the rope between Lara’s thighs. “She’s close,” she murmured, not looking up.
Dominic’s shoes were quiet against the carpet as he circled the bench. His shadow fell over Lara first, long and imposing, before she saw him properly—dressed in black, sleeves rolled to the elbows, his forearms corded with muscle. His gaze dragged over her bound body like a physical touch.
“Good.” His voice was low, rough. “But she hasn’t earned it yet.”
Ava smirked. “I was getting to that.” She yanked the rope harder, grinding it against Lara’s clit. Lara gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily, the leather bench creaking beneath her.
Dominic crouched beside her, his face level with hers. His thumb brushed her lower lip, then pressed in, forcing her mouth open. She tasted salt, leather—him. His eyes held hers as he hooked his fingers over her teeth, pulling just enough to sting.
“You look pretty like this,” he said. “All tied up and desperate. But I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson.”
Lara’s breath hitched.
He stood, stripping off his belt with a sharp hiss of leather. “Ava, make her count.”
The first lash cracked across Lara’s ass like a gunshot. Fire bloomed under her skin.
“One,” she choked out.
Ava didn’t pause. The belt landed again, higher, biting into the tender flesh just below her waist.
“Two—”
Dominic watched, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. The third strike overlapped the first, a white-hot line of pain that made Lara’s thighs tremble.
“Three!”
Ava’s rhythm was relentless. The belt fell in a steady, brutal cadence—left cheek, right, the sensitive crease where thigh met ass. Lara lost track after seven, her voice breaking, her skin on fire.
Dominic’s hand tangled in her hair, wrenching her head back. “Eyes open. Look at yourself.”
The mirror showed her a wild thing—chest heaving, skin slick with sweat, the ropes cutting into her flesh, her cunt glistening. The belt cracked again.
“F-fourteen—”
Dominic’s free hand slid between her legs, his fingers rough as they spread her open. “Soaked,” he growled. “You’re fucking dripping for it.”
He pushed two fingers inside without warning, curling them just so. Lara’s back arched, a broken sound tearing from her throat.
“You want to come?” His voice was a dark promise.
“Yes—”
“Then beg.”
Ava’s belt landed again. Lara sobbed.
“Please,” she gasped. “Please, let me—”
Dominic’s fingers fucked her harder, his thumb grinding against her clit in tight circles. “Louder.”
“Please, Sir! Please let me come!” Her voice was raw, stripped bare.
He twisted his fingers, pressing deep. “Now.”
The orgasm hit like a freight train—violent, all-consuming, tearing through her with no mercy. Her body locked, muscles seizing, her cunt pulsing around his fingers as she screamed. The ropes bit into her skin, the pain and pleasure indistinguishable, a white-hot blur.
Dominic didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, prolonging the agony, until she was writhing, oversensitive, tears streaking her cheeks. Only then did he withdraw, his fingers glistening.
Ava unfastened the cuffs, her hands steady as she helped Lara sit up. The ropes loosened, falling away in coils. Lara’s skin burned where they’d held her, her muscles liquid.
Dominic cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Good girl.”
The praise hit her harder than the belt.
Ava draped a robe over Lara’s shoulders, her touch lingering. “Next time,” she murmured, “we go deeper.”
Dominic’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, then back at Lara. “Rest. You’ll need it.”
He left without another word. The door clicked shut.
Ava handed Lara a glass of water. “Drink.”
Lara’s hands shook as she took it. The water was cold, grounding.
Ava smirked. “You’re hooked, aren’t you?”
Lara didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
The ropes had left marks.
She already wanted more.
The marks from the ropes still burned when Lara stepped into the shower the next morning. The hot water stung the welts across her ass, but she leaned into the pain, letting it ground her. Her fingers trailed down between her thighs—still tender, still swollen from last night—and she bit her lip hard enough to taste copper.
Dominic’s text came as she was toweling off. *"Tonight. 9pm. No dinner."*
Her stomach flipped.
She spent the day restless. Her notes for the upcoming symposium blurred on the page. The lecture hall microphone screeched feedback as she adjusted it, and she caught herself scanning the crowd for a familiar dark gaze that wouldn’t—couldn’t—be there.
Her assistant frowned at her during the Q&A. "You’re off."
Lara forced a smile. "Jet lag."
At 8:30pm, she stood outside The Chrysalis again, her pulse loud in her ears. The bouncer didn’t check her name this time—just nodded and pulled the door open.
Inside, the air smelled of spiced tobacco and sweat. A woman moaned from somewhere in the shadows, the sound raw and unfiltered. Lara’s nipples tightened under her silk blouse.
Ava waited at the bar, swirling something amber in a lowball glass. She looked up as Lara approached, her blue eyes sharp. "Nervous?"
"No."
Liar. The word hung between them, unspoken. Ava smirked and slid the glass toward her. "Drink this. You’ll need it."
The whiskey burned going down.
Dominic appeared like a shadow taking form—one moment the space beside her was empty, the next his hand was at the small of her back, warm even through the fabric. "Follow."
He led her past the main floor, down a narrower hallway lined with unmarked doors. The third one on the left opened to a room she hadn’t seen before: walls lined with tool racks, a single metal frame in the center, and a mirror that covered the far wall.
He turned her to face him, his fingers hooking under her chin. "Safe word?"
"Vesuvius."
His thumb brushed her lower lip. "Good. Strip."
She undressed slowly this time, letting him watch. His gaze was a physical weight tracing the fading welts from the ropes, the faint bruises where his belt had bitten into her skin.
When she stood naked before him, he circled her like a predator assessing prey. His palm landed on her ass without warning—a sharp, stinging slap that made her gasp. "Color?"
"Green."
Another slap, harder. "Louder."
"Green!"
He gripped her hips and spun her toward the frame. "Hands above your head. Hold the bar."
The metal was cool under her fingers. She heard the clink of cuffs, then the snug pressure around her wrists.
His breath was hot on her neck as he secured her ankles next, spreading her wide. "Tonight, we test your limits."
The first touch of the flogger was a whisper against her thigh. The second struck like lightning—a sharp, biting crack that left her skin singing.
"Count."
"One."
The next landed higher, the tails biting into the crease of her ass.
"Two!"
He didn’t rush. Each strike was precise, calculated—alternating between the cruel bite of leather and the softer drag of suede until her skin was alight, every nerve screaming.
At fifteen, her knees wobbled.
Dominic stepped close, his chest pressed to her back, his cock hard against her. "You can take more."
It wasn’t a question.
The flogger gave way to his hand—broad, unforgiving—spanking her until her skin burned and her cunt ached with emptiness.
Then his fingers were there, sliding through her slick, spreading her open. "Dripping for me already?" He sounded almost disappointed. "Greedy little thing."
He pushed two fingers inside, curling them just right. Lara’s vision blurred.
"Please—"
His teeth grazed her shoulder. "Please what?"
"Fuck me."
He withdrew his fingers with a wet sound. "Not yet."
The clatter of metal made her flinch. When the first clamp pinched her nipple, she cried out—the pain sharp and bright, radiating down to her clit. The second one followed, tighter, and she arched into it like a masochist.
Dominic chuckled darkly. "That’s it. Feel it."
He attached weights to the clamps, the slight tug sending fresh spikes of pleasure-pain through her. Then his hand was between her legs again, his fingers working her clit in rough circles.
"Come for me."
She shattered instantly, her body convulsing against the restraints, her scream echoing off the mirrors.
He didn’t stop.
His fingers kept moving, drawing out the pleasure until it tipped back into pain, until she was sobbing and begging, her thighs shaking.
Only then did he unbuckle his belt.
The first thrust was brutal, splitting her open, filling her so completely she couldn’t breathe. He fucked her like he owned her—deep, punishing strokes that had her seeing stars.
"Look at yourself," he growled.
The mirror showed her wrecked—clamps pulling her nipples taut, her cunt stretched around his cock, her face streaked with tears and sweat.
"You’re mine." He bit her neck as he came, his hips slamming into her one last time.
When he uncuffed her, her legs gave out.
He caught her, his arms like steel bands. "Again tomorrow."
Lara’s exhausted laugh was answer enough.