The Price for Flight

(Sebastian’s POV)

The Maybach pulls into the private garage. The driver opens her door first. Mara steps out barefoot, black silk slip rumpled from her futile sprint through the city, hair tangled like she fought the wind itself.

“Do you think you could run from me?”

She flinches. Her head snaps up, eyes wide and glassy, still red from whatever tears she shed at the hospital.

I don’t raise my voice. I close the distance slowly, letting her feel the weight of each step.

Her lips part, trembling. “I had to…I needed…”

“You needed,” I repeat, cutting her off..

“And now I need to make sure you never need that again.”

 I walk down the hallway toward the private door at the end. She follows, bare feet dragging on marble, she knows better.

The biometric lock yields to my thumb. The room beyond glows low red sconces casting long shadows on black walls. Iron rings bolted high. Silk ropes coiled. Leather flogger with knotted tails. Clamps glinting on the rack. A heavy-duty wand vibrator plugged in, waiting. Nipple clamps with adjustable chains. A spreader bar. Tools for breaking, not teasing.

“Strip.”

The word is flat and final.

Her hands shake as she pulls the black slip over her head. Skin flushed from fear, nipples already pebbled. 

I circle her once. She shivers under my gaze.

“You ran because you wanted to see your son or because you're afraid," I murmur, stopping behind her. “Afraid of what this is doing to you. Afraid you’ll beg for it soon.”

She shakes her head, no sound, just denial.

I grip her shoulders, spin her to face the wall. 

“Hands up.”

She lifts them. I cuff her wrists to the iron rings spread wide, high enough that she’s on her toes, body stretched taut.

Next, the spreader bar. I kick her ankles apart, clamp the metal cuffs around them. Her legs are forced wide, pussy exposed, no way to close or hide.

She whimpers, testing the restraints. The bar holds firm. She’s open and vulnerable.

I step back to admire the view I'd created.

The single-tail whip first, a long, braided leather, ending in a cracker tip. I trail it down her body, from her neck to her breasts and lower abdomen. I circle her and trail them at her back; goosebumps rise instantly. 

 I uncoil it with a snap that echoes like a gunshot.

Her eyes widen. “please…”

The first lash cracks across her back, sharp, precise. A thin red line blooms instantly.

She screams, body jerking against the cuffs.

“For thinking you could leave.”

Second lash, across her thighs. The sting is deeper, fire-like. She bucks, chains rattling.

“For making me wait.”

Third, Fourth, Fifth. Each one harder, tails whistling through air before impact. She sobs, raw, broken tears streaming, body twisting futilely.

I set the whip down. Her back heaves with cries, the pain is working its way in.

I switch to the clamps. Silver, adjustable, with teeth.

I step in front, pinch her left nipple hard, roll it until it peaks tighter. She whimpers.

“These are for the doubt,” I say, clamping it shut.

She gasps, jerks. The bite is sharp enough to sting, not tear. I attach the right one, chain connecting them, weighted just enough to pull.

Tears stream down her face. 

“Please… it hurts”.

“Good.” I tug the chain lightly. She cries out. “Pain reminds you who owns you.”

Her thighs already spread wider.

I part her folds, exposing her clit. She tenses.

The third clamp, smaller, gentler teeth, but no less relentless closes around the sensitive bud.

She screams. Body bucks against the restraints, chain tugging her nipples with every movement.

“For running,” I finished, standing back.

She hangs there, sobbing, every breath pulling at the clamps, every twitch sending fresh waves of pain-pleasure through her.

I pick up the wand vibrator. I press it to her thigh first, low hum vibrating against skin.

She flinches.

Between her legs now. I hover the wand inches from her pussy, sparks jumping to her clit. No direct touch, just relentless, buzzing torment.

She’s visibly wet, thighs slick, body trembling, breaths ragged.

I watch her clit swell, untouched. Her hips buck toward the wand, chasing the sensation even as tears fall.

“You’re soaked,” I say quietly. “From this. From the pain.”

She shakes her head in denial but her body betrays her.

I circle slowly, pressing harder. Her hips jerk involuntarily, chasing even as tears fall.

“You don’t run,” I growl. “You don’t leave. You stay. And you shatter for me.”

Her body tightens, muscles locking, breaths ragged. She’s close. So close.

I pull the wand away.

I hover my hand inches from her pussy. She bucks toward it.

Then I select the flogger knotted leather tails, heavier than last night’s. I tap it against her palm first letting her feel the threat.

The first strike lashes across her ass sharp and biting. She screams. 

“Beg me to touch you”.

“Please”

I land the second strike on her thighs “Are you deaf?”

“Please touch me” she whispers, broken. 

Then the third “Louder now”

“Please…touch me. Please”

I smirk, watching her break.

I drop the floggers and remove the clamps one by one, clit first, fresh tears as blood rushes back. Nipples next. She whimpers, body jerking.

I slide one hand between her thighs. She’s soaked. My fingers glide through slick folds, circle her clit slow, teasing.

She whimpers, hips jerking forward.

I press harder and faster. Two fingers slide inside her deep, curling against that spot that makes her knees buckle. She hangs from the ropes, moaning, broken sounds spilling from her throat.

I work her relentlessly, fingers thrusting, pace punishing. Her body tightens and climbs.

“Please” she sobs. 

Her body clenches around me like a vice. She’s close again, fluttering, shaking.

This time I don’t stop.

I thrust faster into her, thumb circling hard on her clit.

“Cum,” I command.

She shatters instantly.

Her screams echo off the black walls. Body convulses, chains rattling, release flooding my hand. I don’t stop, I rub harder, forcing every wave, every shudder.

Only when she’s limp, hanging do I pull away. 

I untie her wrists and ankle. She collapses forward. I catch her, carry her to the small adjoining room

“You don’t forget this,” I say quietly. “You don’t run again.”

She doesn’t answer. Just sobs.

I stand, adjust my clothes, and walk to the door.

“Clean up,” I tell her. “Join me for dinner in an hour.”

The keypad beeps. Door locks.

I pause in the hallway, listening to her broken breaths through the steel.

She’ll learn.

She has no choice.