Outlander (Borealis) (14 page)

I couldn’t feel. Galen had taken away my pain, but now I was
numb from the inside out, disconnected from my body and my emotions.

Marcus lay beside me on our bed, my back to his front. He
wrapped his fingers around my shoulder. “Talk to me.”

I wasn’t angry with him, though Marcus had to be
disappointed in me and I couldn’t blame him. Despite everything he had done to
prepare me for the ritual, I let him down and paid the price. It was a stupid,
desperate decision that I would always regret.  

But when he whispered in my ear, there was no trace of
resentment. “I love you, don’t shut me out.”

Once I found my voice, I spoke with a flat, curt tone. “I’m
fine. No scars. It’s like it never happened.”

“But it did happen, Claire!”

I almost wished my injuries hadn’t healed. They disappeared
before I had time to process the horrors I endured. Instead I was completely
whole…on the outside.

“I am here for the wounds Galen can’t heal, the ones that
don’t show.”

“That’s your job.” I didn’t mean to sound cold, but that’s
how it came out.

He rolled me on my back and grabbed my wrists. He had me in
a tight grasp. I tried to free myself. Finally, I stopped fighting and looked
into his eyes. I could tell he was hurt.

“My
job
? You think that’s all you mean to me—a
fulfillment of a duty? Don’t you know me at all?”

My eyes filled with hot tears. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not
your fault, but I’m…I’m…”

He wiped my tears away with his thumb and kissed me softly
on the lips. “I’m sorry too. God is such a bastard sometimes.”

Who says such a thing? The absurdity of that statement in my
own planet was so foreign to anything I had ever heard; not just from my own
religion, but from any religion. God was many things, but you weren’t allowed
to call him a bastard. Despite myself I started to laugh.

Marcus frowned, studying me closely as if I’d gone mad. “Why
are you laughing?”

“You’re so,” I started to say
gullible
, then decided
that didn’t fit. “Innocent.”

He gave me a crooked smile. “Have you forgotten all the
times I’ve made you come? I would hardly call that innocent.”

“I mean the way you simultaneously love and hate God. You’re
so candid about your feelings.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Where I’m from God is wrathful. He kills, sends floods and
fires, but nobody ever calls him a bastard, especially not someone who
professes to love him.”

“Why not?”

“It is a sin to say things like that.”

“What is a sin?”

“Something terrible a mortal person does that requires
forgiveness, salvation.”

I could tell he was trying to wrap his head around the
concept. “In Borealis, we only have consequences. You disobey, you are
punished. You do as God asks, you get rewarded. It’s very simple. This
forgiveness, it isn’t a tangible thing.”

“Is your love for me tangible?”

He brushed his lips against mine and spoke into them. “Yes,
always. I can feel it. Can’t you?”

I nodded because I did feel it and it was the only thing I
knew for sure was real. “You always talk about how much you love me, but I only
said
I love you
once. Doesn’t that bother you?” I knew why I had held
back with Marcus. My primary goal was to leave Borealis and I was afraid of
becoming too attached to him.

His face lit up and he chuckled. “Why would you need to say
it, when it comes out of every pore in your body?”

“But you feel the need to say it to me.”

“I can’t help myself. It seems to soothe and comfort you.
Besides, it’s the truth.”

I heard what he was saying. Although his words touched me, I
was too raw to think of anyone but myself. I grazed his cheek with my fingertips
because I wanted to reach out to Marcus. I just didn’t know how. Finally, I
settled on the truth as a knot formed in my throat. “The pain was so much worse
than I imagined.”

His jaw tightened. I heard a twinge of frustration in his
voice. “I tried to warn you, Claire.”

Marcus’s words echoed in my head:
your only job is to
trust, obey and feel.
“I know. I should have trusted you.” Guilt wormed
inside me when I realized how it must have upset him to see me go through this,
especially when bringing me comfort is one of his primary reasons for living.
Why didn’t I listen?

He searched my eyes. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“Never.”

“Then why didn’t you trust me?”

“Because then I would have to admit that this isn’t a dream.
That this world is real and I have to live by its rules. It meant that I was
never going home.” A wave of sobs shook me. Overwhelmed with a sense of
catharsis, I suddenly knew this was the reason why Creation had freaked me out
like it had. It was the same reason why I couldn’t focus during the Goddess
ritual.

Quietly, Marcus stroked my hair. His eyes told me that he
understood.

I cherished his touch, the warmth of his body, but I wasn’t
sure I bought into all he said about love conquering all. “Would it really hurt
so much less if I did it your way? Even if it was a little less it wouldn’t be
enough!”

He straightened and took my hand. “Come with me. It will be
hard to watch, but I need you to do this.”

I didn’t want to move, much less leave the safety of our
bed, but I nodded my head and complied. I owed him that much.

He opened our cell, my hand in his, and walked down the hall
and back towards…

I planted my feet on the ground. “No!” He was leading me
back to the Holy Palace. The torture was still too fresh in my mind, why would
he do this to me?  

Scooping me in his arms, he squeezed me so tight that I had
trouble breathing. Releasing me, he took a firm hold of my shoulders. “There is
no more pain for you tonight, my love. But I need you to be strong and see.”

My eyes searched his. What good could come of this? If God
wanted even one more second with me, I would die.

“Trust me.”

I clung to his arm until we made our way to the ritual
space. God had a submissive tied to a bed. Bile shot up my throat as I watched
him bounce his Light over her with that smug expression on his face. I turned
away and winced.

“Forget God and his appetites. Focus on Persephone and her
Dominus, Dragos.”

Though anger and fear churned in my gut, I did what I was
told.

Dragos was holding Persephone’s hand, his cheek against
hers. He was kissing her and coaching her, just as Marcus had tried to do with
me.

But unlike me, Persephone was completely under her Dom’s
spell. God was rolling that foul ball of Light over her breasts, her belly,
her… but she wasn’t in pain. Her skin didn’t even burn under the sphere’s path.

“How?”

“There’s more,” Marcus said. “I know it’s difficult, but
keep watching.”

God pressed Persephone’s knees into the mattress, opening
her wide before thrusting himself inside her.

“In your next Goddess ritual, he will enter you like this.”

I turned to ice. Dealing with today’s trauma, I had almost
forgotten that I would have to perform this ritual over and over again. And
next time, there would be penetration. Though he had already taken me during
Creation, I couldn’t imagine him torturing and fucking me at the same time.

I shook off the thought and looked back at Persephone. Her
back arched and she let out a long moan. She bit her lip, her hips meeting
God’s rhythm.

I was horrified. “She
likes
it?”

“God is inside her, but Dragos is the one giving her
pleasure.”

Persephone had not let her eyes off Dragos. They were lost
in mutual ecstasy.

“She channels his love, his connection to her through God,
through the pain. Any touch is Dragos’s touch, the cock inside her belongs to
Dragos. She is filled with him—every inch of her
is
him. The pain cannot
exist because there is no room for it.”

My Dom was right. How had I missed this before? “What about
Dragos? Does he feel pleasure too?”

Marcus smiled at me and pressed a kiss on my forehead. “What
he feels is beyond pleasure. It’s a spiritual rapture that transcends the
physical.”

After a couple of beats the meaning of his words began to
register. The significance hit me like a ton of bricks: the ritual was about
trust. It was about overcoming the insurmountable through love and connection.
It was the triumphant defeat of good against evil.

And that was something I could fight for.

After only a few days, I healed from most of my emotional
wounds. My quick recovery stunned me. Each day I was stronger and it was easier
to conquer the pain. Watching Persephone and Dragos had drastically changed my
perception of the Goddess ritual and of Borealis. I couldn’t stop kicking
myself for missing the point all along.

Aside from rituals, I hadn’t seen much of Boreas, though he
had put his foot down about Earth. I was no longer allowed to speak of it. His
announcement didn’t surprise me. Initially, I was angry, but soon I realized it
didn’t make sense to hold on to a planet I would never see again or pine for a
life that I didn’t remember. It was freeing, really, to let go of Earth.
Besides, something else was happening. I was convinced that somehow I was
becoming Borealian, not just because I was finally starting to fit in with the
planet’s culture, but because I felt Borealian down to my bones.

I reinvented myself. I lived life in the moment and I was
happier for it. Borealis was my new home and I embraced it fully.

I focused on my Dom and submitted to him, not because of
imprinting, but because he deserved it.

The new me pleased my Dominus, which was an added bonus. I
found that when Marcus was happy, I was too. As the trust between us grew, so
did our intimacy and our bond.

Marcus drew me to him like a supernatural magnet. I had
consciously allowed him to lead me.  And that choice had liberated me.

As he stood in front of me, almost touching me, I felt it
the most. The way his eyes studied me—burning with controlled need—was enough
to make my knees tremble.

Watching him stock still and silent, I knew he was going to
make me beg for it.

He was tracing the curve of my jaw with his finger when my
soft parts began to swell.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“Nothing.” I spoke the single word in a weak breath.

That made him smile. “Is there something I can do for you,
my love?”

I bit my lip and batted my eyes at him. “Nope.”

He arched an eyebrow and hooked his fingers—ever so
slowly—along the edge of my top until he pulled it apart, exposing my breasts.
His knuckles brushed against my nipples, sending a flitter of excitement
towards my nether regions. “Are you sure?”

My mouth dried up and refused to form words. I could only
remain mesmerized by the bow of his lips, the line of his jaw and the ripped
slabs of abdominal muscles that led to his pelvic girdle. “I want you inside
me.”

I don’t know why I said it, it just came out. I thought I
was content, yet this one obstacle continued to haunt me more than I cared to
admit.

Downcast eyes and a frown spoke of how deeply my words had
wounded him. “You know that’s the one thing I can’t do.”

“I want you inside me so bad, it hurts!”

For a moment he held my gaze, but then turned away shaking
his head. “There is nothing I want more, but I am powerless to change our
circumstances. This is our lot in life.”

“Boreas respects you more than any other Dom, Marcus. I can
tell how much he loves you. Can’t you talk to him, get special permission? This
is torture.”

He gave me a sad smile. “Torture is how we worship. If you
are tortured, then so am I. That’s how it works.”

I knew that of course, but a voice inside me needed to be
heard and I was incapable of silencing it today. I buried my face in my hands,
frustrated and angry. There had to be a way.

Marcus knelt in front of me and held my hands. “There are
other things we can do.”

I met his gaze and saw the passion rising inside him. I
threw up my hands. “But, I want to bring
you
pleasure.”

“Your pleasure brings me pleasure.” Marcus pressed soft
kisses on my lips. As his desire grew, the kisses went from sweet to
animalistic.

With his hand on my throat, he gently pushed me to the bed.
He removed my top and kissed both of my nipples sending a delicious erotic
charge through me. He pulled off my skirt and tossed it to the floor.

Pushing my knees apart, he exposed my most delicate parts.
Marcus sank between my legs and said, “I love you,” as if he was saying it to
the core of me.

Taking his time he focused on the slick folds, nudging them
with his tongue. I arched my back and pushed my pelvis towards him.

From between my legs I looked into his eyes and he seared me
with a penetrating glance; that sexy expression that said he wanted nothing
more in this world than to be with me.

“You’re very wet.” When his tongue danced across my pussy,
it was like a delicious electric shock.

I gasped as he rose and cuffed my wrists together, securing
them to the top of the bed frame.

Adding a cuff to each ankle, he raised my legs over my head
and opened them a few inches apart so my knees were on either side of my face
and my butt was a few inches off the mattress in a pose he called Strict
Discipline.

He secured the ankle cuffs to the headboard. In this
position, my pussy, my ass; all of me was at his mercy. Not the most
comfortable pose, but I had become extremely flexible and lithe through my
training.

Marcus fetched a small bottle of oil and poured half its
contents into his hands. He massaged the warm fluid on the backs of my thighs.
I closed my eyes, savoring his touch. He kneaded the soles of my feet as my
juices pooled in my pussy. Tipping over the bottle over my breasts, he let it
drizzle on my skin, expertly spreading it over my chest, neck and belly. He
massaged my arms with long, luxurious strokes. He ended by kneading my hands
and fingers.

Leaning down, he positioned himself between my legs and
started exploring my mouth with his tongue. I purred.

He winced as his chastity cage tightened its grip. After a
deep breath, he was able to steady himself again.

How I wished I could get rid of his pain. I longed for the
feel of his cock inside me. I wanted him to come all over me and claim me. I
wanted to shatter him until he climaxed in perfect ecstasy, until he knew how
much I loved him.

His tongue continued to explore mine. Awash in the sensations,
I started to come. I fell apart by just having him kiss me.

“Ahhh.” Waves of pleasure rippled out from my pelvis to
every extremity. I panted, letting my head fall back.

He waited until the flutters in my pussy ebbed. Squeezing my
breasts, he thumbed my nipples until they hardened like little pebbles. The oil
made it a delightfully slippery experience.

“Marcus.”

His mouth was on mine again. He fingered the folds of my
pussy in a rhythm so flawless that I couldn’t help but feel the gnawing
pressure in my pelvis build again. I moaned in his mouth as I released a bloom
of excitement between my legs.

Still kissing me passionately, he buried his middle finger
into my opening. My muscles tightened around it while he teased me. He slid a
second finger inside and massaged my g-spot as he rolled my clitoris under his
thumb.

“Oh, God!”

My lips, nipples and pussy hummed with pleasure. I was
quickly losing control. My pelvic muscles clenched and I started to shake. The
metal cuffs jingled as I spasmed and released another little flood.

He stopped kissing me and waited until I had the presence of
mind to look back at him. He withdrew his fingers from my pussy and nudged them
into my mouth. I sucked them, tasting myself, pitching my excitement to another
level.

“Do you trust me?”

I laughed. I had allowed myself to be tied up in the most
obscene way in the most vulnerable position. “Yes, Dominus, I trust you.”

“Wait here.”

Like I had a choice!

He sprung off the bed with childlike enthusiasm. His hands
under the bed, he rummaged through his toy chest and came back with what looked
like a dildo. The large phallus was black and shaped like a penis, but it was
made of stone, maybe marble or onyx and it had a handle at the end.

“What is that?” I asked, not because I didn’t know, but
because I wasn’t sure what they would call this in Borealis.

“It’s a comforter.”

I grinned. “Mmmm.”

When he touched the tip of the dildo to my clitoris, I
jumped. “That’s cold!”

“It won’t be for long.”

He swirled the comforter lengthwise in my slick cleft,
coating it with my juices. When it was warm, he slipped it inside me as if he
had all the time in the world. Feeling frustrated, I pouted. I wanted Marcus,
not some lifeless stone.

“This is molded from my cock. It’s as close as I will get to
you until we are reunited in the Next place.”

He spoke with such modesty, almost as if he wasn’t sure I
would accept it. With great effort, I pushed my tears back. It stung that this
was all I would get, but even more tragic was the knowledge that my Dom was
still not getting physical release.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. Marcus was right, these
were the cards life had dealt us and we had to make the best of it. I closed my
eyes and concentrated on the feel of the hard phallus rubbing the walls of my
channel. This is Marcus, I told myself. It was the same mantra I repeated when
Boreas entered me during rituals. My desire surged again.

He plunged the comforter deep inside me in one swift motion
and I cried out. I was teetering on the edge.

Continuing at an exquisite pace and without taking his eyes
off me, he rammed me repeatedly with the dildo in one hand while a finger from
his other hand rubbed my perineum. I fell apart and screamed.

All but convulsing, I came over and over in exquisite waves
that filled me with a sense of rightness which temporarily blotted out all my
gloom and frustration. When it was over, I was exhausted. I dropped my head on
the bed, limp from exertion, satiated and drowsy.

Marcus withdrew the comforter and I was empty again. The
fruity, spicy aroma of my juices filled the room. After untying me, he spooned
me, softly cupping my breasts.

In that moment I knew I could never love another man like
this. I would die for him, kill for him, do anything to ensure his happiness. I
held onto his words, “Your pleasure brings me pleasure.”

I hoped with every fiber of my being that is was true.