Cry for Me (A BDSM Dark Romance)

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 13,360
2 Ratings (4.5)

Ava is emotionally complicated. Sevastian is emotionally repressed. To ease the burdens of their high-stress lives, they like to play violent dominance and submission games. However, one night things go too far. How will Ava and Sevastian come to terms with the dark knowledge that it's not all just fun and games but a new, better way of life?

Cry for Me (A BDSM Dark Romance)
2 Ratings (4.5)

Cry for Me (A BDSM Dark Romance)

excessica publishing

Heat Rating: Scorching
Word Count: 13,360
2 Ratings (4.5)
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Excerpt

Sevastian always made it a rule to never fuck his woman while she cried.

The simple answer was because he enjoyed creating her precious tears.

The complex answer as to why he enjoyed it had yet to be fully solved.

Sevastian studied each perfect tear as it rolled down Ava’s reddened face. Hypnotized and obsessed, he crouched before her as she sobbed from their latest round of play.

This time she was the poor, ravished maid and he the selfish, despotic aristocrat.

Others had seen them as innocent schoolgirl and hard taskmaster, adoring nurse and arrogant doctor, lady of the manor and faithful butler, and a hundred different, exciting personalities. Sevastian craved her total surrender. He needed to watch Ava lose control. Only when she screamed, when her lovely face scrunched up into a nearly unrecognizable mask of misery, did he feel something almost as blissful as Ava’s exquisite suffering.

Freedom.

Sevastian, the son of Russian immigrants, had never known this delicate perversion existed inside his cold, orderly mind. Excellence, hard work, and efficiency had been the guiding forces in his structured life since time memorial. Sexuality had naturally fallen right in line. Sevastian fucked the way he worked—intent yet removed, satisfied only by accomplishment.

Then he met Ava. Lovely, glorious, ridiculously emotionally-complicated Ava.

Ava who cried at his command.

Ava who cried as he beat her tender backside with a riding crop.

Ava who cried at his feet just to feel again.

Unable to resist another moment, Sevastian leaned forward to kiss one blessed tear. It tasted of all things forbidden and wondrous.

Ava’s maid character mistook his gentle gesture for leniency. “Oh, my lord! Please forgive me for disrupting your slumber! I truly thought your Lordship hadn’t yet arrived this morn.”

“Save your rubbish apologies for someone who cares to hear them. I’m hardly done punishing you, girl.”

Ava’s face rumpled again in preparation for another tearful torrent.

“Tears won’t save you now, you silly slut. How many times have I told you to never awaken me with the clumsy efforts you call cleaning?”

Sevastian, an aloof man who found it difficult to emote in public, slid into one character after another with gifted ease. Tonight’s romp as a sadistic aristocrat needed little prep work. Neither of them followed a script—which at times might have served them for their dialogue could be laughably stuffy—but aside from a costume change, spontaneity dictated everything.

Well, perhaps not everything.

Although currently trussed up over a padded bench, naked bottom crisscrossed with welts, and eyes heavy with morbid anticipation, Ava demanded only one thing from him.

To make her cry as hard as he possibly could.

“Please forgive me, my lord! I promise I won’t do it again.”

Sevastian stood. He pushed Ava’s chin up with the tip of his crop. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re lying to me. Whatever shall I do about it?” His diabolical smirk promised he would try very, very hard to come up with a proper solution.

* * *

Ava kicked her unbound feet in rabid enthusiasm. Her watered gurgles were a hideous contrast against her usually pleasant voice. Sevastian, fully in his element, taunted her as he made her count out each stroke against the back of her thighs.

“What did you say?”

“I can’t possibly hear you through all that screaming.”

“I’m afraid that one doesn’t count.”

“We’ll have to do it again.”

He paused in mid-swing. Leaning down from his considerable height, he whispered in her ear, “I don’t know if this is actually fair to you. Can you even count without using your fingers and toes?”

Ava’s voice cracked. The urge to kiss him made her want to break character for a moment. “No, your Lordship.”

Sevastian adjusted their play to fit her new parameter. “Well, then. I suppose I shall have to teach you. Although you’re quite the drudge, I’m sure even you are capable of simplistic learning.”

Ava smothered a snort. Overachieving, brilliant, and independently wealthy as a result of her beautiful mind, she never had a problem with learning. Excellent grades, top schools, and coveted internships celebrated Ava’s many varied natural talents. Troubleshooting via risk management was the one that had made her an obscene amount of money.

Her particular problem came from thinking too much.

Unfortunately, Ava usually saw everything as a dilemma to dissect and analyze. Mental noise buzzed incessantly, making it difficult to relax.

Coffee or tea? Magazine or book? TV or DVD? Red or black? Conference X or Conference Y? Brunch or lunch? Speaking engagement 1 or Speaking Engagement 2? Blue or yellow? Gym or walk? Dinner or takeout?

The most trying times were when a complex anomaly miniaturized everything else in her life. Coating her thoughts, reactions, and focus, it put Ava in an unnatural state of heightened cerebral fixation. As a result, Ava’s vision narrowed into a speck consumed by the stubborn aberration.

She dreaded those days even as she relished the challenge. Being able to sift through a thousand possibilities, seeing the eventual outcome for Plan A versus Plan B, creating contingency operations, all of it demanded a steep price.

Ava couldn’t eat.

Days went by with no memory of what little she had consumed. It was only later, after solving the issue that Ava would see the few food wrappers scattered across the kitchen counters. It was barely enough to feed her for one day much less four. The scale usually dipped a couple of pounds on the light side during these stretches.

Ava couldn’t sleep.

The gears whirled shy of the overheating point. Dreams became the breeding ground for more probable solutions and issues. She never felt rested. During those times the nights served only as a marker between light and darkness. Once Ava was free from issue containment, a full day sleeping in a windowless guest room (especially prepared for these times) followed. It always took a minimum of two additional days to reset her internal clock before the hellish process could begin all over again.

Ava couldn’t cry.

Whatever caused her mind to speed up also caused her tear ducts to shut down. Immersed in an impersonal world of calculation, Ava couldn’t feel emotion. All her mental resources demanded pure intellect. Nothing could penetrate the crystalline wall between her thinking and feeling sides. The end result would leave Ava a functioning, human automaton.

“Now this is eleven. Say ‘eleven.’”

Ava gasped the word.

“I didn’t quite hear it. We’ll have to do it again.”

Her life, while accomplished, had definitely been missing someone like Sevastian.

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