The Red: An Erotic Fantasy by Tiffany Reisz

Author:Tiffany Reisz [Reisz, Tiffany]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: 8th Circle Press
Published: 2017-07-11T00:00:00+00:00

Dora and the Minotaur

The welts took nearly a month to heal. Mona wondered if Malcolm had timed his evening with the crop to coincide with the coming of cold weather. Whatever the cause, she was glad for the chill in the air to give her a reason to keep her body well-covered as she healed from the crop and its hundred kisses.

In the days after that night, she could barely remember the events without trembling and hiding herself in her office until she’d gotten hold of herself again. How had he done it? Trained her so quickly to crave pain? And she’d asked him permission to love him? What had possessed her to ask him about his children?

Possessed her. That was it. She felt like he’d gotten into her soul somehow, into her mind, and had taken control of her body and her brain. The thoughts she had of him kept her up at night—sometimes weeping with shame, more often burning with longing. Not a day passed she didn’t make herself come once or twice. One day, four times when she became fixated on the specific memory of her lips on his boot buttons, how she’d worshiped him on her hands and knees, how she’d opened her holes up to him in an offering that he’d accepted with a vicious lash of his crop. No man had ever made her feel so much as Malcolm did. Pain didn’t cancel out the pleasure—it doubled it, trebled it. With other lovers she’d felt pleasure and lust. With Malcolm she felt pleasure and lust, but also pain and fear, love and hate. It was the most potent of alchemies. She would have sold herself to him every night of her life for another taste of those boot buttons.

Mona didn’t know what to do with herself while she waited for Malcolm’s return. She tried focusing on her work. Malcolm had left her a pen and ink drawing by German-American cartoonist Lyonel Feinenger as payment for the night with the crop, and she liked it so much she knew she wouldn’t sell it to pay off her debt unless she absolutely had to. The drawing was of two ghosts carrying their own urns while a tall and skinny black cat stared wide-eyed at the pair of silly spirits.

A handful of gallery events had generated a little income for The Red, but the debt still loomed, growing larger with interest every day. She treated it like she treated fantasies of Malcolm, chasing them from her mind whenever they reared their heads.

Still…she thought of him.

Mona wanted to believe Malcolm had some feelings for her. Feelings other than simple lust or desire. He never left until she fell asleep, and she often fell asleep with him inside of her, his ardor for her body far greater than her stamina. She’d asked him the night with the crop why he came to her so infrequently and he’d said their encounters were taxing, that it took him time to recover. She found that difficult to believe.

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