“I want you to do something for me today.”
I stare at my hands. “What?”
He pulls me to my feet. “I want you to pleasure me.”
My hands obediently move to his fly, even as my mind protests. I can’t do this. Being forced or directly threatened is one thing, but he asked for it like a favor, and I need to do this, if I don’t he’ll hurt me, the threat is there, the threat is….
“That’s it, be a good girl.”
I’m not a dog.
My hands hesitate, refusing to undo his button.
I won’t be trained like a dog, and he doesn’t deserve pleasure.
My mind flashes to his hand in my hair, forcing me to my knees, forcing my mouth open and….
I should have died.
I tried to kill myself.
He deserves to die.
Anger flashes in my blood, sparking, gaining fuel as images and feelings move through my mind and skin and I can’t believe after the things he did he wants me to….
I shove him away. “After all that shit, you want me to pleasure you?”
“Yes, Sheik, and you are healthy enough obey. If you don’t, I’ll give you more of the same.”
“Go ahead!” I throw my hands up, laughing. “What do I care? Force me to do whatever you’d like. Beat me, rape me, tie me to a tree and let birds peck out my eyes.” I drop my arms and narrow my eyes. “But I will never obey you.”
He sighs and sits down in a chair, patting his lap. “Come here, then.”
“Didn’t you hear a fucking word I said?” I shake my head and look to the ceiling. “I won’t obey you.” I laugh again. “And do you really think that would make me listen? How is that even pain anymore?”
He stands. “It would be the warm-up.”
“Oh, is that it? And then what? I’m already familiar with your old bag of tricks. Honestly, the Trifecta was quite a challenge, and on top of the Devil’s Delights! You’ll have to think of something new, won’t you? Will you hang me from a tree and whip me like a slave? That’s what I am, isn’t it? A measly little sex slave, all ready for the taking, supposed to drop to my knees, yank down your drawers, and open my mouth like a good little girl.” My words are furious, my gestures angry, but now, inside, I feel nothing.
“You almost killed me. What’s going to stop you from doing it again, whether or not I obey you? You’re nothing more than a bloody lying bastard on level with Satan himself.”
“You called me a liar.” He steps towards me, eyes narrowed. “That hurt.”
“Oh and nothing has hurt me since I’m with you?” I hold up my hand, the one with the X on the palm and the scabs on my wrist. “This didn’t hurt? All of these bruises and cuts didn’t fucking hurt?”
“Those were supposed to hurt.”
“Yeah, well, so was that.” I step back when he approaches again but hold my ground a few feet from the wall. “What are you going to do, run me through the paces again? I don’t even remember everything you did. Are you going to remind me? Do you want me to remember the entire time you were a murderous asshole?”
“Drop the attitude, Shadow.” He grabs my wrist, but I break his hold.
“Oh, it’s Shadow again? And I thought you liked your girls with some personality. Is this enough for you?” I hold up both my middle fingers. “Go fuck yourself, because I’m not doing it for you.”
He lunges for me. I step out of the way, giggling. “Keep trying, keep trying! We both know you’ll win and beat me to death, so why don’t we skip the small talk?” I hold out my wrists. “I didn’t want to finish the job because I thought there was some convoluted chance I’d be able to save Coryn, but I won’t even be able to save myself. Just end it, Brady. Two slits from wrist to elbow….” I trace the lines on both my forearms following a vein I know is just under the surface, going right over the scabs I gave myself. “That’s all it would take. I’d rather die anyway.”
He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a thing, so I keep talking, trying to hurt him as much as he hurt me.
“Coryn got the better brother. At least he’s honest.”
He grabs my upper arms and throws me into the wall. His nostrils flare, eyes flashing brighter and more dangerous than lightning, but he stays a good distance away. “Honesty is the only thing I care about.”
“Then why did you lie to me?” I brace one hand on the wall, glaring. “I can live with you wanting revenge and wanting to punish me. That’s fucking idiotic, but I could. But you lied to me. You lied to me and broke a promise and I fucking begged you to stop and told you I loved you and you fucking ignored me.” I move towards him, fingers twitching. “You said you care about me. You said you want me to trust you. How am I supposed to believe that if you betray me? Do you even know how it feels to lose all freedom and choices and willingly do anything or say anything just to make the pain end, when words and actions mean nothing and the universe revolves around dark without the hope for light? Huh? Do you?”
I’m mere feet from him now. He stares down at me, eyes unreadable, fists clenched. “Yes, I do.”
There’s a stinging sensation in my hand. Brady cringes away, holding his face. I stare at him, confused. Then I see my hand in the air, notice my hips are turned.
I slapped him.
I should have punched him.
He stares at me.
My emotions catch up. My thoughts form themselves into something coherent. “Don’t lie to me, not again.”
He grabs my throat, hard enough to hurt but not hard enough to completely cut off my air. I don’t gasp. I don’t grab his hand to pull it away. Let him kill me. I want to die.
His voice is barely audible. “I’ve begged for mercy same as you did under me, and I didn’t get mercy for days.”
His hand tightens on my throat, and I smile. It’ll be over soon. The pain is worth it. Any pain is worth it.
But he let’s go and waits for an answer, hand still lightly on my throat, eyes probing.
And I blink slowly and say what I’m truly thinking. This man won’t get any mercy from me. “Good. I hope he enjoyed it as much as you did.”
I take a deep breath and look up at my house from the street. There are no lights on. My family is sleeping. I should be, too, this late, and with practice in the morning…real practice this time, if Brady doesn’t show up again.
Tobi’s house is dark, as well, but his window is open, and I can see the light from his phone. He’s probably talking to his girlfriend. He should be talking to her. He deserves her.
And I don’t. I don’t deserve anyone untainted by the things I’ve been through. Nobody else needs that pain in their lives.
I deserve Brady. He knows it all. There’s no explanations needed if I wake up screaming or cringe from him.
It would be a twist, wouldn’t it? Girl’s former captor is arrested; she waits patiently for his release to marry him. Better yet, she refuses to press charges.
I drop a selection of knives on the desk in front of him. “Take your pick.”
He doesn’t look up from the paper on the desk before him, doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even twitch.
I grab his car keys.
He grabs my wrist. “I will do whatever is necessary to keep you here.”
“Even kill me? You can prop my corpse at the dining room table.”
He still doesn’t look up. “I would never do such a thing.”
“What a bloody fucking gentlemen.” The keys hit the table with a bang and clink, and he lets go. “Your mother would be so proud.”
“My mother is dead.”
“I have no sympathy for you.”
“Good. That’ll make this easier.” He stands, pushes the paper towards me, and starts to pull his clothes off. “Hunter is coming for number one.”
I blink, confused, and look at the paper. My lips move, forming the words over and over, until I say them aloud. “Any lie to the girls will be punished with a severe beating.”
A car door slams outside. Brady kneels on the floor. “I want you to watch.”
But I want to kill him, too. Maybe I’d kill him on our honeymoon.
But why would he marry me?
I should kill him next time he comes around. I can start carrying a knife and do some research on where to strike to make it the most painful.
I look around, noticing implements on the bed. Hunter sweeps into the room, picks up a bullwhip, and tests it with his hands. “Let’s get this over with.” Brady braces himself with shoulders hunched and receives a hard lash that cuts into his skin.
He doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t seem to care about the blood trickling down his back, heading for the pristine blue carpet.
My mind connects the dots, but I’m frozen. Anger builds in me, but I can’t move.
Two strikes later, when his back has three crisscrossing stripes on it, each one bleeding in at least one spot, he grunts. It’s that cry that breaks the hold on my muscles and makes me say. “Stop.”
Hunter doesn’t listen, bringing the whip down again.
I walk up to my porch. I know the door is unlocked. But standing on that porch, something isn’t right. It’s in the air, in my pores. What day is it?
“Hey!” I stride towards him, ready to castrate the man. “Step away from the asshole! And asshole, get up.”
Brady doesn’t move. Hunter turns to me, exasperated. “While he’s under me, I’m in charge of you, so I’d suggest you sit down and shut up before….”
“Zip it and step away.”
Brady says, “Sheik, please just….”
“Asshole, stay out of this.”
Wednesday…that’s it, it’s late Wednesday night…or very, very early Thursday morning.
Wednesday, June 26, still. There’s nothing important about this day. I have practice in the morning and an appointment with Rose after that and pre-meet Friday and the meet on Saturday. The date means nothing.
So what feels weird?
“He broke a rule, Shadow.” Hunter smiles wickedly, calling on a reminder of the punishment still fresh in my head. “And that means he needs to be punished. You know all about that, don’t you?”
I ignore him and smile back, just as wicked. “How’s this for a rule? If you hit him again, I’m going to strangle you with that.”
“You have no power here.”
“I have whatever power I want.”
He turns immediately, slicing the whip across my dominant’s skin so hard he screams and curls in on himself.
Hunter fights as hard as he can. Really, he does. But I get the whip from his grasp, get behind him, and wrap it around his throat, holding tight, my weakness be damned. He falls to his knees, hands pulling at the whip. Brady stares from across the room, blood on his back finally making the journey all the way to the carpet.
The thought of killing Hunter is sweet.
I lean forward, my lips against his ear. “I don’t fucking bluff.”
I look up, eyes on Brady. He looks like he’s pleading with me, but for some reason, he’s not forcing me off his brother.
But then I think of the situation, of the relationship dynamics.
Brady’s a submissive.
I pull the whip tighter.
“Sheik, he’s my brother.”
“He deserves to die.”
“So do I.”
I let go of the whip and step back, glaring at the bloody sadistic bastard as he coughs and gasps for air. “Leave.”
He’s out the door in seconds, apparently over caring about his dignity.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Sheik.”
I spin on Brady, glaring. “What the fuck are you going to do about it?”
“Oh, shut up and follow me.”
I march into the bathroom, close the tub’s drain, and turn the water on. “You’re a moron. Get in.”
He stands in the doorway, staring at me. “You can’t….”
“Don’t start with me or I’ll fill the tub with alcohol…or maybe salt. You aren’t the only one that knows how to make someone scream.”
His eyes drop to the ground and he puts his foot in, pulls it out again. He mutters. “It’s hot.”
He swallows and raises his voice. “It’s too hot.”
I turn the water temperature down. “Stop with the submissive shit.”
“You’re being all meek like a porn-star schoolgirl.” I cross my arms and lean on the vanity. “You don’t deserve to be whipped like a slave, same as I don’t, especially since you were going for a real whipping.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up a hand. “Even if you did deserve it, Hunter is not the one that’s going to administer it.”
His eyes narrow at me, challenging. “Why not?”
“He’s the one that had you begging and wouldn’t let up, isn’t he?”
Brady says nothing. He tests the water, which is satisfactory enough that he gets in slowly, wincing as he goes, until he’s under water except for his head and the water is almost overflowing. I turn it off and sit on the edge of the tub, holding his hand.
There’s someone here. I can’t see who it is, but it’s a him, and I know he’s here, and it’s probably my psychotic ex-captor.
“Hunter isn’t your dom.”
“We are each other’s punishers. That’s all.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
He stares at me.
I shrug. “Downstairs, you said Hunter didn’t relent for days. That rule list specified severe, but not bat-shit crazy. There’re lines drawn now, aren’t there? Between you? But there weren’t before, were there? He used you as his sub, and he lost control.”
“We were not lovers.”
“Of course not, you’re straight as fuck and wouldn’t do it.” I trace circles on his palm, watching the tip of my fingers. “But he’s definitely a sadist, and I bet he started with you.”
Brady settles back, gritting his teeth, eyes closed. “We started with each other, but….”
He says nothing for a few minutes.
I sigh. “Talk before I take you over my knee, big boy.”
He laughs, which wasn’t quite what I was going for. “And you don’t bluff, do you?”
“You’d let me do it.”
“I would.” He sits up and pulls me into the water with him, soaking my clothes and splashing water on to the floor, ignoring my protests. “You were glorious in there.” He holds me against him. “Murderous but glorious.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Hunter enjoyed it more than I did, and after he lost it…we needed others to do it on, others so that he could have his fantasies and I could have mine.” He kisses my forehead. “I can’t believe you did that. I should be punishing you. I should get my belt and….”
“If you even try to hit me again I’ll castrate you in your sleep. Why did you kidnap?”
“I wanted to find a BDSM group, but he didn’t want the rules, and…well, the fear in their eyes was thrilling. It was…intoxicating. There’s something special about holding a girl in the palm of your hand, her willing to do anything to make you happy, even degrade herself and put herself in position for extreme pain….”
“Of every sin possible.”
“I’ve never attempted murder.”
“No, but you’ve murdered by proxy.”
“And I may as well have murdered you.”
He holds me tight against him, face buried in my hair, probably drowning himself. “Sheik, I….” His voice cracks and he shudders. “I’m so sorry.”
I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I put them on his chest while he cries, heart breaking for the man that almost killed me, the man that broke his word.
The man that would let himself be whipped to atone for the mistake.
The man that had dozens of reasons to hurt me again…and hasn’t.
And the man that’s been obeying me….
To make me happy? To apologize?
I rest my head against his and close my eyes.
Why can’t I hate him?
When he’s calm, I say, “Brady, spank me.”
He sits back, staring at me. His face is strange with puffy eyes and a red nose, lips still pulled down at the corners. “What?”
“I changed my mind.”
I sigh and climb out of the tub. “Since when do you need a reason to spank me?”
“I always had a reason to spank you.”
“And many times that reason was just ‘for the hell of it.’” I pull off my clothes, wrestling with the fabric that clings to my skin. “Well, here’s another opportunity.”
“Those were to teach you….”
“My place so that I behave before they get too severe, yes.” I put my hands on my hips, watching him climb out of the tub. “Well, this will be to teach you your place. If I’m going to stay here, and you aren’t going to let me leave, you aren’t going to act like a submissive. At least act like an equal.”
He traces my lips with his thumb. “I’d rather be your dom.”
“I know.” I kiss his hand and walk into the bedroom. “But if you try to have sex with me, the castration threat still holds.”
“I could just tie you down every night.”
“But you wouldn’t.” I stand at the end of the bed, put my hands behind my back, and drop my eyes. “Sir.”
“I don’t understand you.”
I stay silent. I don’t understand myself, so there’s no way I can help him.
I examine my surroundings, from the door to the street and every corner of the porch, but there’s nothing. There’s no sounds, no movement. It’s too quiet, too still.
He comes over and sits down. I know he’s staring at me, but I’m being a good little submissive, so I don’t meet his eyes. I easily fall over his lap when he tugs me forward, bracing one hand on the floor and the other around his calf. His hand rests on my butt, kneading it a little, rubbing affectionately.
It pulls away. There’s a loud crack that makes me jump, but no pain.
Brady laughs. He pushes me to my feet and claps his hands together, creating the same sound. I stare at him, confused, as he rolls onto the floor, basically giggling. It ruins the dominant effect.
“That’s not attractive.”
He stops and smiles at me. “What do you care if I’m attractive?”
I shrug. “It’s nice to have something pretty to look at.”
“Does that mean you forgive me?”
“I’m still contemplating cutting your balls off, so no.”
He grabs my hand and pulls me onto the floor next to him so we’re gazing at the ceiling. “Do you want to know why I didn’t do it?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“What sort of dominant would I be if I let my sub tell me when to hit her?”
I laugh. “So if I actually let you sleep with me again, and I ask you to spank me as part of the foreplay, you’ll say no off principle?”
He squeezes my hand. “Okay, so sex is the exception.” There’s a pause. “So there’s a possibility….”
“Don’t push it.”
“Well, I wasn’t planning to, but I thought I could….”
“…bite, and there’s a few places I haven’t licked in a while that….”
“…I’d like to….”
I roll onto my side and clamp my hand over his mouth. “You should change your carpet.”
He pulls my hand from his mouth. “Why?”
“I don’t like to see your blood. Doesn’t your back hurt?”
“Why are you lying on it?”
“I like the pain.”
“Don’t pull some self-penance bullshit on me. If you start whipping yourself like Silas I’ll….”
He covers my mouth, smiling. “You can stop threatening me now. Who’s Silas?”
“Creepy albino killer in The DaVinci Code.”
Brady sits up, eyes on the ceiling. “I think we need those glow in the dark stars.” He stands and pulls me to my feet. “Let’s go get something to eat and start shopping online. I’ll dig up a throw rug from the attic later to cover the bloodstains.”
I dig around his dressers, searching for clothes I can possibly wear. “Can we have hot dogs and eggs?”
“Yeah, brown the hot dog slices, then add eggs and scramble. It’s yummy.”
He pulls on some gym shorts and hands me a pair with draw strings. I tie them up and accept a t-shirt, as well. Once I’m dressed, he hugs me close. I’m not sure why, but he’s warm and smells nice, so I relax into him and put my arms loosely around his waist.
He inhales deeply and kisses the top of my head. “Sheik, I’m glad we’re okay. I thought you’d hate me forever.”
“I have other things to worry about…like leaving without you flipping shit.”
I turn around again, and there is he. We’re separated by a railing, but I still step back.
Brady takes my head in his hands, staring into my eyes. His are serious, glistening with possible tears and heartbreaking, like a crying angel carved in ice. “I will never hurt you like that again. I never, ever want to see you cry again, or beg again, or….” His eyes close and he rests his forehead on mine. “I’m so sorry. I can’t make it up to you, and there’s no way I can apologize enough. You won’t do the same to me, so I can’t give you that….”
“I don’t want that.” He opens his eyes and looks at me again. I put my hands on his chest. “I’m not Hunter, and I’m not you.”
He winces. “Never again, Sheik, to you or anyone else, I promise. I’m done with this.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
“I’m not. I know I’m not.”
He throws something to me. I catch it automatically, and then he’s gone.
“What are you going to do? I’m not staying with you forever.” I examine his eyes, searching for a sign of my freedom. “You are going to let me go, right?”
“I…yes, I will.” He bites his lip. “I just don’t know when.”
“What? You can’t just….” I hum in protest when he kisses me, but give in after a few seconds. He stops when I relax.
“Sheik.” He puts his hands on my shoulders. “We are not equals, but I’m not using my authority over you unless you try to escape. You have choices, now. You have freedom.”
“You can’t mention freedom and escape together. They don’t coexist. There’s one or the other. No matter what you let me do, I don’t have freedom until you give me the choice to stay or go. And we are equals, Brady.”
He stares at me. His head shakes. “No, we’re not, but know that I will punish you for nothing less than escape, darling.” He smiles. “You can be as bitchy as you want.”
I sigh and step out of his grasp. “I won’t cooperate with you.”
“Well, you might want to cooperate for meals, because I’m not force-feeding you.” He offers his hand, his smile fading to one of hope.
I bite my lip before slipping my hand in his. “Fine, but only for meals.”
He threw me a flash-drive. I look at it, at the tape on the side.
Playlist for Sheik.
I drop it in a plant on the porch, take one last look around, and go inside.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
I am such a mess. That’s all I really have to say. After the last 24 hours, though, that’s not surprising.
Brady gave me a flashdrive. It’s apparently a playlist. I’m not listening to it.
I still don’t know who won the sex bet.
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