Finally

It took me forever to do this. To remove the dress from the closet where I lovingly hung it all those months ago. Back when I believed I would marry you. When I believed so fiercely in our future that I clung to it even when you had let it go.

It felt strange to kneel for someone again. The fabric clung to me the same way, but the hands were not yours. Terror at the vulnerability of the act as I looked up at him. Knowing he would be the one to finally free me of you, but that to do so he would need to break me.

And break me he did. As well as a flogger and paddle on my ass. Blow after blow I took with my cheek against the wood of the cross. I even held it together when he first cut the dress. Exposing my naked frame beneath it.

But then he turned me around. My hands behind my back. The fabric hanging around me, and then he was hacking at it again, exposing my front. And a noise came from me, and my control slipped.

Tears slid down my cheeks and my legs trembled, but he continued. My mind flooded with our memories, our mantra, the words I wish I could forget. Like a loop track in time with his blows.

Suddenly the cross was hard, I felt sick to my stomach, pathetic. And then, his body pressing me against the wood, enveloping me between it and himself.

“Your mine now baby girl.”

And I whimpered a response, lost in my inability to catch my breath through my tears. The ones he removed with his fingers.

The thoughts stopped. All their was now was pain and his presence. Hands in my hair, on my ass, scratching my skin. Tears falling with the material.

And then eventually those also stopped. Until all I had was my growls and moans, my breath and soft whimpers. Him. Again and again until it was over.