146
It had been a little over a week since they began experimenting; testing limits, pushing boundaries, exploring the edges of pleasure and control. Each day had brought something new: silk restraints, whispered commands, moments of vulnerability followed by indulgent release.
Last night had been different though. They hadn’t explored anything at all. No games, no tools. Just sex. Slow, deep, grounding. A need for connection that didn’t require anything more than skin and closeness.
But this morning, Yalda had woken up with a weight she couldn’t shake.
The sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, warming the sheets tangled around her bare legs. Ioannis was still asleep beside her, his breathing steady, one arm flung across her waist. She lay there quietly, staring at the ceiling.
Her dream had been blurry, vague in detail, but the emotion had lingered. It wasn’t even about a particular moment. Just a scent. A presence. The glint of Alexander's eyes; steel grey, cool and unreadable. Sandalwood. She couldn’t remember what exactly had happened in the dream, but she remembered how it made her feel.
Lonely. Grief-stricken. Haunted. She didn’t want to be thinking of him. Not now. Not ever. She was almost tired of it really.
Yalda forced herself to slide out of bed without waking Ioannis. She showered longer than usual, scrubbing her skin as though she could erase the ghost of a memory. She dressed, braided her hair, and made herself a cup of coffee she didn’t really want.
By evening, she had managed to bury the mood beneath routine; cooking, feeding Loki, exchanging light conversation with Alina. She laughed when appropriate, smiled when expected. But Ioannis saw it.
He always saw it. He knew something was off, he knew she wasn't quite herself today. When he stepped into the room as the sun began to sink, he tilted his head slightly, reading her in that way he did. "You seem quiet today."
She lifted her shoulders. "Just bored."
His eyes lingered on her for a moment, but he didn’t press. Instead, he walked to her, his hands coming to rest lightly on her hips. “How do you feel about a little pain tonight?” he asked, voice low, teasing but careful.
She hesitated. Then nodded. She'd take any form of distraction right now.
The room they used was already set, candles flickering softly. The leather cuffs were familiar now. So was the sound of her breathing quickening as he fastened them around her wrists. She liked the feel of his control, the way it settled her nerves. Usually, it made her feel safe.
"Tell me when to stop, okay?" He asked her.
She nodded And he began slowly.
The first strike landed with a soft thwack against her lower back. Her breath caught, not from pain but from release. He delivered another, then another, each slightly firmer than the last. The leather tails danced over her skin, reddening it gently. Her breaths deepened, her fingers clutching the sheets.
She was sinking into it, letting the rhythm take over. She needed more pain to make her forget, to completely distract her and silence her thoughts.
“Harder,” she said suddenly, almost sharply.
Ioannis paused. “What?”
“Hit me harder. Please,” she repeated, her voice cracking.
He hesitated only a second before adjusting his stance and swinging again, the leather slapping harder against her thighs. She gasped, her body jolting forward slightly. Again. And again. The sounds were louder now. Her skin reddened deeper, the ache turning into something sharper.
But she didn’t stop him.
“More,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
He delivered another strike, and another, until the rhythm became ragged, desperate. By the eighth lash, she was crying. He dropped the flogger instantly.
“Yalda,” he said, panic lacing his tone as he knelt beside her trembling body. “Hey. Look at me.”
She couldn’t. Her sobs were raw, her body shaking. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, murmuring in Greek and English, soft, anchoring words meant to calm her.
“You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe,” he kept whispering.
Yalda curled into his chest, her tears soaking his shirt. She hated this. Hated that Alexander still haunted her even here, in this beautiful country, with this beautiful man.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She hated putting him in such a situation. "I just.....I needed to forget."
He understood what was really happening now, and he shook his head before he kissed her temple, holding her tighter. “Don’t be. Don’t ever be sorry for hurting. But don’t punish yourself like this."
She nodded, clinging to him like a lifeline.
They sat like that for a while. Time felt suspended. Eventually, her tears slowed, replaced by hiccupping breaths. She looked up at him, her eyes red but clearer now.
“Can we go out?” she asked softly. “I need to get out of my head. Just for a bit.”
He cupped her cheek. “Of course. Let me get you dressed.”
~~
It was a short drive to the little square in town. Night had fallen, but the streets were still lively with locals and tourists alike. Warm lights strung above the alleyways gave everything a golden glow.
They walked hand in hand, dressed simply. Yalda in a soft summer dress that didn't rub against her sore thighs. Ioannis in dark sweatpants and a white shirt. They passed a small bakery still open, the smell of cinnamon and honey wafting out.
“Want something sweet?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes please." Her reply was quiet, weak.
He nodded and led her inside.
They ended up sitting at a small table outside, sharing a slice of rich chocolate cake and a pot of tea. Yalda eventually let herself smile, even laugh at a comment Ioannis made about a cat that had once stolen his food at a corner cafe.
Soon enough, she felt lighter, less burned by the thought of Alexander. She leaned into his side. “Thank you,” she said.
He tilted her chin up. “For what?”
“For stopping. For knowing when to stop.” he had been attentive enough to notice that she wasn't thinking straight, that she was trying to hurt herself.
His thumb brushed over her cheek. “You don’t need to chase pain to forget, Yalda. You could have been seriously hurt."
She nodded. She knew, she knew she had been stupid.
"I'm sorry."
But he didn't want her to be sorry, he just wanted her to be alright.
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