Free Three and a Half Weeks by Lulu Astor

he’d begun to be sexually active at fifteen had he gone even a month without sex and now many months had gone by. In the beginning, right after Ella left, he’d gone to the club and tried topping one of the regular submissives but ended up retreating before they could become intimate. It felt too much like cheating.
    By the end of the year he’d embraced his new way of life: he directed his energy and efforts into exercise and work. His net worth had nearly doubled and he was in the best fighting shape of his life. He was battle ready.
    Still, the problem was thorny—even if he could get her back long enough to have a chance, he just didn’t see a clear path to get her past their fleeting history together. And now that so much time hung between them, it only made matters more difficult. Sailing his catamaran west of Tillamook, he spent long hours mulling the situation and ultimately realized he would have to force her to listen, to give him a chance. The question remained how? The elusive answer came to him one afternoon when Zoe pulled out an iPad and showed him a book—the book that was like a gift that fell to earth. Now he had a situation that would coerce Ella into his company, impel her to listen to him, and the convincing was up to him.
    But he had to be sneaky about it: he didn’t want to show his full hand—not right away. He would first make her believe that he only wanted her as a submissive, as was his original offer to her, and only as reparation for the legal breach.
    How would he find Ariel? The last time he saw her she was an innocent girl, fresh out of college. Now she had a year of life abroad under her belt, not to mention a few million in her bank account. Would she be changed? He hoped to hell not and didn’t think so. He’d never met anyone less affected by wealth than Ella: she’d still be the same sweet girl—he’d bet money on it.
    He punches in the number he’d jotted down on the piece of paper in front of him.

Chapter 6

    Less than an hour later, he calls. I’m glad the call comes so soon because my entire body had begun to tremble somewhat violently as soon as Stephen told me I was meeting Ian tomorrow evening. Over the past twelve months, I’d spent so many hours trying to exile the man from my heart and mind; leaving him nearly broke me in two. I had never understood real grief before I left Ian; now I definitely do—I understand it with my chest, my throat, and my stomach, in addition to my heart and soul.
    How could a person fall in love in three weeks? We were together exactly eight nights with a few days strewn about here and there. It seems impossible but I so did. I loved the bastard so much. It took a Herculean effort to leave him and break off all communication. But I did it. I did it , and proved to myself that I was made of tempered steel. Maybe my name is Strong for a reason.
    Warrior I may be, but I definitely bear battle scars. I left him because he whipped me… but even I had to admit the pain from losing Ian made the whip’s bite pale in comparison. Pale into utter insignificance, I should qualify. I also might have given him a chance to explain himself more fully. He’d been so sweet a lover the night he took my virginity, going slowly, deferring his own pleasure to ensure mine. The least that I could do was to allow him a nother chance to explain why he felt the irrepressible need to beat on women.
    Here’s why I didn’t give him the opportunity: I knew whatever he said, whatever words he so eloquently flung in my direction, I’d accept as gospel and stay with him—not because I’m weak or because I’m gullible, but simply because I love him too fucking much and that love leaves me way too vulnerable to him and his dirty little proclivities. And if I already love him after knowing him for just a few weeks, what would become of me if I had to walk away from the man after a few months or even years? Total annihilation.
    So, a clean break was made, the