The Drazen World

by Bree Dahlia

  “I forgot who I’m talking to, Miss Psychology Major.”

  “I doubt that.” His mind was probably so sharp I could bleed on it.

  He pinched harder as if I’d permitted him to do so. I didn’t even flinch this time. “If you can’t acknowledge your suffering, how do you expect to rise above it?”

  “I’ve already talked about this within an inch of its life. Why would I want to do more of it?”

  “I agree. Talking is unproductive if you’re unwilling to liberate your pain.” He painted circles over my palm so lightly it tickled. “I can help you heal. I can put you in a place where you’ll come out of it feeling worthy again.”

  “I’m not going to fuck you.”

  “That offer’s not even on the table right now, and it might never be.”

  “Oh.” Well, this was taking an unexpected turn. “Then, what’s in it for you? I have no clue why you’d have any interest in helping a broken college girl. I’m inconsequential.”

  His fingers wrapped tightly around my wrist, and then he let go. “You don’t believe you deserve to exist?”

  “I… don’t know.” I wasn’t even sure what was happening. My pulse was throbbing, becoming an entity of its own. Surely, he’d felt it. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t excited. I was something I couldn’t label.

  “You don’t have to believe it yet, because I do. You’re deserving of my time. I’m not going to suggest you come to my room because that wouldn’t be a comfortable option for you. But I will suggest going to yours.”

  “And then?” I whispered.

  “And then I will bring out your pain until you can no longer deny it. You’ll be forced to confront it, process it, and let it go. It will hurt, and yes, I’ll get off on it. But in return, I will see your pain and lead you through it. You’ll be stronger for it because you chose it. Only when you own it can you release it. I will use your pain to heal your pain.”

  The ground began to sway. “You… you want to hurt me?”

  “Yes, but you will not be harmed.”

  “And this will turn you on?”

  “Yes.”

  He was so matter-of-fact, my brain was scrambling to connect the dots. I searched my arsenal, drawing forth a surplus of knowledge, concluding he was a master of his emotions but not devoid of them. I clenched onto the chair arms, digging my nails into the soft leather. The same way his fingers had dug into my wrists only moments before…

  “There’s a name for people like you.”

  Sadist.

  “I’m sure there is. And what do your textbooks say about repressed trauma?”

  “Um…”

  “Are you sharing a room?”

  “I, um… No.”

  My speech was usually articulate. I had no problems expressing myself. I could carry on a respectable conversation with the best of them, but I’d been demoted to babbling idiot.

  Snap the fuck out of it.

  I cleared my throat. “Ian and I, we’re next to each other. Adjoining rooms.”

  “When you consent and your friend is in for the night, I’ll take you upstairs. I will not blindfold you. I will not gag you. You will leave the adjoining door unlocked so he’ll be able to open it at any time. You will tell him not to, of course, unless you say his name. Once you call for him, everything stops.”

  Not if I consent, but when. That was the part I was stuck on. The paisley floor designs were swirling, widening, create a space for me to fall in.

  “He’s heading this way now to check on you as promised. Would you like to handle the logistics of the evening or should I?”

  I’d been trapped in a holding pattern for months, and now I was hurling through the air at breakneck speed, holding on for the life I’d thought I lost.

  “No answer? I’ll speak to him, then.”

  My head snapped up. “No, wait. I will.”

  I didn’t want them squaring off. But I didn’t know what I was going to say to Ian either. What did I want? Was I so far gone I was considering this? For what… a morbid curiosity?

  Deacon nodded and stepped away to face the window, putting enough space between us. Snowflakes fluttered against the glass, serving as a backdrop to his imposing form. Tall and strong and beautiful. The image didn’t reconcile with what lay beneath the muscle. His desire to hurt. But who could refute that even in the ugly beauty bloomed?

  “You’re shaking.” I jumped when Ian touched my arm. I smiled, switching to automatic pilot, but he only paid attention to the man by the window. “Jacque, what happened? What did he do to you?”

  “Please sit. It’s nothing like that.”

  “This is the hottest area of the hotel. There’s a reason you’re shaking, and it’s not because you’re cold.”

  I tugged him down beside me. I thought about telling him yes, I was cold. I wanted to put an end to the blatant concern that clouded his eyes. But then it hit me. I wasn’t just shaking; I was reacting. With mere words, Deacon had already drawn out an emotional response from me. I’d moved one step higher on the humanity scale.

  I took Ian’s hand. “I’m bringing Deacon up to my room.”

  “Hell no.”

  “You just had Marika in your room the other night. How’s this any different?”

  “How? Because I know Marika, and so do you. She’s in our class.”

  “Yeah, like you haven’t screwed anyone you just met before.”

  He blew out a breath. “It’s different, okay?” His voice grew softer. “You’re vulnerable right now. A man could really take advantage of that. He has to be at least ten years older. I worry about you and don’t want to see you hurt any more than you already are.” Laughter bubbled out before I could reel it in. “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m doing this, Ian. I don’t need your permission.”

  “Jesus, are you drunk?”

  “Seriously? You’re seriously asking me that?” I was so sober it was painful.

  He raked his hand through his hair. “I’m going to have a word with him.”

  I clamped onto his arm before he could rise. “No, don’t. We already discussed it. It’ll be safe, trust me.” I couldn’t tell him sex wasn’t on the agenda, but… what exactly? And why was I so fascinated by the unknown? “When are you going back to your room?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Because I’m not bringing him up until you’re in for the night. That’s how we’re keeping peace of mind. I’ll leave the door unlocked between us, but I’m begging you not to open it unless I call for you.”

  “And if I don’t agree?”

  “Then I’ll lock the door and go through with my plans anyway.”

  “Why are you so difficult? I’m just trying to protect you.”

  “I don’t want protection. I want my best friend to do this for me.”

  He scrubbed his face, and I had the impression he was trying to rub it raw to relieve some strain. I knew what I was doing. How crazy I was making him. I was acting like a petulant child who was seconds away from stomping her feet if she didn’t get her way.

  But damn it. I was worlds over my head, but it wouldn’t be the first time. It could’ve been the worst decision, stupid, irresponsible, detrimental, but it didn’t matter as long as I was the one calling the shots. I needed to choose the decision instead of it choosing me.

  I wrapped my arms around him, and he startled. I didn’t blame him. When was the last time I’d initiated a hug?

  “I’ve learned my lesson. Deacon isn’t Manny. I know you tried to warn me about him, but this isn’t the same. I’m not going to get sucked into anything bad. Deacon’s leaving tomorrow, so are we, and that’s where all this will end.”

  He rested his forehead against mine and sighed. “Okay, Jacque. I’ll go up now.”

  As soon as Ian gave his word, he left, and Deacon returned. Having him so near again brought on another round of shakes. The riveting kind.

  “Now’s the time if there’s anything you
’d like to negotiate.”

  I hadn’t told him I agreed to anything that would require negotiations, but I sensed my body already answered for me.

  “No, but I do have one request.”

  “Which is?”

  “I want you gone by the morning.”

  Two.

  I fumbled with my keycard. It should’ve been an easy in, green light, go. But the damned red light wouldn’t change.

  Deacon took it from me, effortlessly achieving what I could not. The small amount of sandwich I’d choked down was like a cyclone rising in my gut, and I couldn’t swallow fast enough. Despite Ian immediately going up to the room, we’d stayed by the fireplace until I’d managed to eat something. The last thing I’d wanted was food, but apparently, that wasn’t up for debate.

  “Do you always get your way?” he asked.

  “I don’t understand?”

  We’d barely said two words to each other between my request and shutting the door to my room. He tossed the keycard on the dresser. His composure only served as a reminder of how unstill my body was. I was going to vibrate out of my skin.

  “With Ian? With anyone?”

  “Well, since that happened to me—”

  My head snapped back. “Hey!” His fingers tangled in my hair, the base of my skull prickling under his grip.

  He got into my face, and I could smell the peppermint on his breath. “Nothing happened to you. You chose it.”

  “What? No, I didn’t.” How could he say that? What was wrong with him?

  “You chose how to handle your pain.”

  “No—”

  He squeezed my jaw then thrust fingers into my mouth. I gagged as they went into my throat. My eyes watered as I blinked up at him. Everything was speeding faster than I could process. Not once. Not once did I ever ask him how he wanted to hurt me.

  “We control our pain. We say yes to it. And if we can say yes, we can say no.”

  He pulled harder on my scalp, and my vision became murky as my stomach heaved. I didn’t understand any of this. Why did he buy me food only to make me throw it up?

  As if on cue, he freed my worries when he pulled from my mouth, but his fist remained locked in my hair. His eyes resembled a burning sea.

  “Treating you like a fragile doll has only insulted your strength. You don’t need cradling; you need to suffer until you crack. Up until now, you haven’t allowed yourself to go there willingly, so my purpose is to take you there.”

  “But—”

  His thumb pushed hard under my jaw. Between his two hands, I was in a human vise grip. “Let’s make this clear early on. When you speak, it’s to call your friend, answer a direct question, or do so because I tell you to. Otherwise, you will shut the fuck up until we’ve finished this.”

  Holy shit. My mind darted around the room, and I couldn’t rein it in. He released me, and I felt dizzy from the lack of stability. I wiped away the wetness that had gathered on my cheeks after he’d stuck his fingers down my throat.

  “I don’t want your physical tears. I want your emotional ones.”

  I was so confused. Breathing deeply, I rubbed the back of my head until he slapped my hand away. Then he gripped my wrist and dragged me to the desk, facing me towards it.

  “You’re to remove every stitch of clothing. Then you’ll put your palms flat on the desk, spread your legs, and wait for me.”

  My trembles increased as I pulled off my jeans and sweater. This was so surreal it could’ve been a drug-induced hallucination. As I peeled off my bra, I had a moment’s doubt that he’d spiked my wine after all. No. Ian would’ve recognized my stupor. Unless he was part of the delusion. I let my underwear fall to the floor, and I kicked them off. This was insane. How was any of this supposed to help me? I placed my hands on the smooth wood and widened my legs. The desk came to mid-thigh, causing me to bend slightly.

  I heard him rummaging in the bathroom, but since my only view was the wall, I hadn’t a hint of what he was searching for. If I were a rich widow instead of a penny-pinching student, I would’ve been suspicious of his motives. But whatever he wanted, he was welcome to it. I had nothing of value.

  Except for my pain receptors.

  The significance of why he was there struck home harder than ever. He’d been unabashedly straightforward with me from the start. A frisson of anticipation snaked up my spine.

  It wasn’t until I heard the absence of sound when I began to question everything all over again. My mind returned, no longer perceiving him as a distraction, but it wasn’t letting me in on the secret either. Not quite a threat. Not quite an ally. I was kept in the dark.

  He was on the bed behind me. I couldn’t detect him with eyes and ears, but I could sense his energy, and I knew I was a piece of meat for inspection. What was I doing on display for a man I’d only known a matter of hours? I’d had flings before, but this wasn’t a fling. He didn’t want to have sex with me. He wanted to hurt me, and I’d consented to it.

  I stayed in position and waited. And waited. My hands felt hot and I wanted to rub them. I wanted to ball them up and crush hard. But I did nothing but keep them flat. Conflicting scenarios entered and left my head. What was he doing? Planning? Thinking? I was on tenterhooks. When I’d played Statues as a child, it had never been this difficult.

  So why the hell am I allowing it?

  Finally. My heart pounded as he neared closer, his body heat at my back. Large, rough hands slid over the curve of my ass and down my thighs. His breath was on my neck, and I had a sudden desire for him to kiss me. It was a foreign feeling, one that passed as soon as he increased the distance between us. A sharp prick on the side of my knee took me by surprise, and I flinched.

  He traveled up my inner thigh, pinching along the way, scratching deeply over the squeezed skin. It was uncomfortable at times, but nothing worthy of a yelp. Even before the numbness had blanketed me, I boasted a high pain tolerance. I relaxed, letting my shoulders drop.

  By the time he’d transferred to my other thigh, I was tender, positive I was a patchwork of red lines and splotches. At least it was wintertime, and I wouldn’t be sporting bare legs.

  I closed my eyes. It was tranquilizing. I hadn’t felt a reprieve from life in so long. Getting blitzed didn’t work, burying myself in my studies didn’t work, sleeping like a feline didn’t work. Not when I had to eventually wake up.

  My pulse slowed even more as I melted into the desk. If only I could lie down and stretch out. A hard nip between my legs sent up a spark, throwing my eyes open. It hurt, but that wasn’t why it’d rattled me. It rattled me because there’d been a tinge of pleasure to go along with it. But it was fleeting, causing me to question if I’d really felt it.

  However brief, it was enough to make me change my mind. I decided I wanted him inside me after all, if only to fill the void and sate my inquisitiveness. Bending my arms, I lowered my chest, flattening my breasts against the desktop. I extended him an open invitation. One I hoped he’d be excited enough to accept after marking up my pale skin.

  “Are you sticking your ass out for a reason?”

  My heart drummed. “Yes.”

  I was not anticipating the strong slap that followed, pulling in my breath. He must’ve misinterpreted. I wasn’t sticking it out to get spanked, I was—

  More followed in rapid succession and a burning sensation spread outward in. I bit down on my lower lip, feeling it more than I should. I had to tell him. I opened my mouth only to whimper when his palm connected with my tingling flesh.

  “You already told me you couldn’t feel anything, Jacqueline.” He kicked my legs apart farther, swatting my pussy, this time eliciting a yelp. “Do you think I want to fuck your unresponsive cunt?”

  My jaw dropped, and I whipped my head around, all the heat inside threatening to burst out of me. But when I caught sight of the titanic bulge straining in his pants, I grew cold. I bowed my head, facing forward, humiliated. He was aroused, yet I wasn’t even a good enough hole for his
cock to fill.

  My head yanked up as my hair tugged back. “I’ve always been partial to redheads,” he whispered in my ear, making me feel even more messed up. He ran his fingers through the auburn strands, the little tangles ripping at my scalp. “Hand me that brush.”

  Brush? I looked around to see my hairbrush resting on the edge of the desk. It hadn’t been there before. I picked it up with thoughts of smacking him, but the anger had sunk too low again to take a stab at it. I passed it over and placed my palm back on the desk. He swept the bristles root to tip until I could no longer feel the pull.

  “You never answered my question.” I didn’t want to; it was too cruel. “I like to fuck dirty. I like my cunts hot and wet. Why would I want one that’s numb?”

  I shook my head. Moisture gathered under my lids, but I willed it to stay put. I am not going to fucking cry.

  His lips touched my ear. “You’re allowed to scream, but I’d think twice about it if I were you.” Coolness massaged me from back to thigh. “Unless you want your friend rushing in to your rescue and ending everything.”

  I broke out in a sweat, feeling like my knees were going to buckle. I knew it was coming. I knew something was coming, but that still didn’t prepare me for the first piercing sting. It instantly spread all over my backside, and I curled up my hands.

  “Palms flat, fingers spread.”

  A second swipe with the brush forced out a gurgled sound, and the first tear escaped. I uncurled my fists and did as he said, all the while running in circles. Why am I doing this? Why am I obeying him? Why am I letting this happen to me?

  “Does it hurt?”

  Smack! I was hot. So hot. The noises were locked in my throat, but I was shouting inside.

  “That was a question.”

  Smack! A blow to the back of my thighs nearly freed my chained screams.

  “Yes,” I cried out in a voice I didn’t recognize. God, it hurt. I could barely breathe when that deceptively innocent tool connected with my searing skin. I was burning through to my muscles, but I would not let it out. I would not scream.