Lucas – 10. chapter

Lucas walked over to the couch and lay down. He shoved another pillow under his head and looked at Lucia. She was still watching him from the kitchen counter, waiting.

“Come here,” he said.

She jumped down and, on her way to him, grabbed the open edges of his shirt. Then she caught herself in time and stopped. Lucas watched her with amusement, waiting to see what she would do. She frowned, but let go of the fabric and walked over to him.

“Sit on me,” he said gently, but firmly.

She stopped and hesitated. She looked him over slowly, then shook her head. He frowned.

“Lucia,” he said in warning.

She looked him over once more but didn’t move. Slowly, he sat up. He looked at her for a few seconds, then slowly stood. He stepped in front of her and stood motionless for a moment.

Then he grabbed her and threw her onto the couch. Quickly and roughly, he spread her legs and lay down between them. Even though she tried to turn her face away, he easily caught her lips and forced his tongue into her mouth. He was aware that she wasn’t trying to bite him or push him away. After a few minutes, he softened the assault on her mouth. He loosened his grip on her thigh and began to stroke her. He shifted his hips slightly when it occurred to him that the buttons of his jeans might scratch her unpleasantly. He hid a satisfied smile in the kiss when she arched up toward him. Propped on one elbow, he slid his other hand between her thighs and pressed her back against the couch.

Kisses. Teasing. A few of her sighs.

He lifted himself slightly and rested his head in his palm.

“I’ll be nice to you and let you choose,” he said calmly. “Do you need a spanking, or would you rather apologize?”

Her pupils widened and she gasped. He smiled, pleased. She pressed her lips together fiercely and stayed silent.

“Well, if you can’t decide,” he added with a smile, “both are an option.”

In her eyes, he saw a deeply satisfying mix of anger, defiance, and shame. He savored it. After a moment, he lifted himself again.

“I’m sorry!” she shouted.

“Sorry, please,” he corrected her, freezing mid-motion.

Her teeth ground together, but after a breath she forced out, “Sorry, please.”

“ What are you apologizing to me for?” he pressed, not ready to let her go yet.

“F-for… not sitting?” she tried.

“I think for disobedience.” Her pupils widened again. She inhaled sharply and looked away. He caught her chin and forced her to look at him.

“Go on,” he whispered. “Sorry, please.”

“…sorry, please,” she repeated.

“For being disobedient.”

She turned her eyes away. He tightened his grip on her chin and turned her back to him.

“For being—” her voice broke. She closed her eyes. “Disobedient,” she finally managed.

He smiled, satisfied.

“All right. But don’t try that again,” he warned. When she nodded reluctantly, he stood.

He stepped away and walked behind the couch. She sat up, exhaled deeply, and rubbed her face.

“I feel like you and I have very different definitions of the word rape,” she said without turning around.

I don’t think so, he thought, but said nothing aloud.

He dragged a dining chair into the open space, stepped onto it, and took down a flowerpot hanging from the ceiling. He placed it on the windowsill and threw a rope over the now-free hook. He climbed down, moved the chair aside, and took both ends of the rope.

“Come here,” he ordered.

Only then did she turn around. She sighed in disappointment when she saw what he was doing.

“Is this really necessary?” she asked, already walking toward him.

Without answering, he positioned her as he wanted, pulled off her shirt, and used one end of the rope to bind her hands. Only then did she notice that he wrapped each wrist multiple times. Gently. Tightly. She couldn’t rotate her wrists, but the rope was soft. There was no way it could chafe her skin. The wide binding distributed the pressure so evenly that bruising was impossible. She was still wondering when he’d learned this skill and how often he used it when he pulled the other end of the rope, raising her wrists above her head. Her arms weren’t fully stretched, but she could move no more than a single step. He tied the rope to the radiator, checked the tension, and stepped in front of her.

She stayed silent and waited.

When he took her by the waist and kissed her, it didn’t take long before she started responding. She pressed into him as much as the restraints allowed and didn’t hold back in the kisses.

“I think,” he whispered against her mouth, “you’re ready now.”

She didn’t answer.

He produced oil from somewhere and poured it into his palms. The air filled with the scent of vanilla. He stood at her side and slid both hands between her thighs, one from the front, one from behind. As soon as she closed her eyes, she realized that instead of what she expected, he was paying far more attention to her ass, adding more oil there. She froze and opened her eyes sharply. He knew she’d understood.

“No,” she whispered, turning to him.

“Lucas, not this!” she shouted.

He said nothing. He only smiled, holding her gaze steadily, clearly enjoying the beginning of his victory.

“You won’t do this,” she pleaded.

“I will. You’ll get what you need.”

“Lucas, please, no!”

She tried to pull away, but it was useless. She tugged helplessly at the restraints. He watched her with grim satisfaction, savoring her helplessness with his entire ego.

When she finally stopped struggling, he leaned in close.

“As for the definition of rape,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I see it as a situation where one party doesn’t consent to a sexual act and makes that clear.”

“I’m begging you. Please, no.”

He smirked.

“Oh? It can beg voluntarily too?” he mocked.

“Please,” she whimpered.

Her reaction suddenly stopped pleasing him. He’d expected resistance—but not this level.

Has she never done this before? crossed his mind. Nonsense. She was twenty-six. I don’t believe no one’s ever fucked her ass.

Still, there was no doubt she was genuinely scared.

The more afraid she was, the higher the chance it wouldn’t work. Or worse—it would, and I’d hurt her.

She was aroused enough. She’d handle it.

“A little humility would suit you,” he said, stepping in behind her. When she tried to twist away, he grabbed her waist roughly. She struggled, so he pulled her back harder, forcing her into a slight bend forward and stretching her arms further, eliminating any chance of movement. Even then, she thrashed, so he tightened his left arm around her and quickly unbuttoned his jeans with his right.

“Lucas, no, please! I’ll do whatever you want!” she cried.

He pulled his clothes down just enough, positioned her properly, and pressed into her. Holding her still took effort.

“Come on. I’ll give you what you need,” he growled into her ear and pushed into her.

She went still. She stopped resisting and breathed unevenly. He moved as slowly as he could, watching her reactions. She didn’t move at all until he was fully inside her. He loosened his grip slightly and stroked her back. She flinched, so he held her firmly with both hands.

“Hold on,” he whispered. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll adjust. It’ll be fine.”

She stayed silent, breathing shallowly.

“Does it hurt?” he asked gently.

She swallowed and hesitated.

“No,” she admitted reluctantly.

He exhaled in relief.

“Good girl.”

He kissed her neck, placed his hands on her hips, and thrust gently. When she didn’t whimper or resist, he moved a little more. And then a bit more.

Her quiet moans began to grow stronger. He controlled himself carefully, refusing to thrust with full force. Still, his arousal rose fast, and he realized he wouldn’t last long. To his great surprise, after a short while she held her breath, tensed, arched her back— and the tremors of her body betrayed her orgasm. He held her and exploded as well.

She breathed deeply and tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her. He stroked her shoulders, kissed her neck, and only after a while pushed her away from himself very slowly. She took a step forward and straightened as he pulled his jeans back on. He untied her hands and caught her as her tired knees buckled. He lifted her and carried her to the couch. She sat there, hugged her knees, and stayed silent.

Lucas went to the alarm, turned it off, refilled both glasses in the kitchen, and came back to hand one to Lucia. She took it without a word or a look, then set it down on the table. He sat beside her. When Lucia stayed silent for several more minutes, he sighed and set his glass aside too.

“Come here,” he whispered gently.

He took her by the ankle and pulled her toward him. She tried to resist. When he grabbed her by the shoulders, she growled. First she tried to push him away with her palms, and when that didn’t work, she hit him in the chest with her fist. He didn’t defend himself, but he didn’t take his hand off her either. She swung a second time, but by then he had caught her wrists. He tucked both into one hand, wrapped his other arm around her even more tightly, and pulled her close.

“Let go!” she growled.

“Shhhh,” he whispered, pressing her head to his shoulder. “You earned it.”

She growled again and started squirming. He tightened his grip on her wrists and pressed her closer to himself. She had no choice but to calm down, which he rewarded by loosening his grip, but he didn’t let go.

Exhausted, she fell asleep in his arms before long.