BRANDED

by April Lust

The other message on my phone was from the hospital. My stomach twisted into knots as worry consumed me. Was it about Bree? Had she gotten worse? Had she—?

  I couldn’t even let myself think about that last possibility. I told myself that she was fine. She was fine and now she’d get her operation and finally she could come home. She’d be okay.

  I quickly dialed the number for the hospital to return the call and figure out what was going on.

  The phone rang only twice, then was picked up by the nurse at the front desk. I gave her my name and asked for Dr. David Miller, who was my sister’s main doctor. We’d been dealing with each other for a long time now, so I knew he’d take my call if he could.

  I was transferred to his extension. It rang twice more, then I heard his voice on the other end. “Hello? Ms. Gilson?”

  “Yes, doctor. I’m so sorry I missed a call – is my sister alright?”

  There was a pause, then, “Yes, she’s alright. Her condition is deteriorating, though, which I don’t need to explain to you. You’ve been with Bree every step of the way.” Dr. Miller had a kind voice which often softened when he was talking to me or Bree. He was an understanding, gentle man where many doctors had lost their compassion for their patients.

  “How bad is she?” I asked, reading between the lines to catch the important things.

  He sighed. “She needs that operation, Allison. She’s stable right now, but I don’t know how much longer. I know the money’s—”

  “I have the money,” I blurted. A second later I realized how that sounded and felt my face flush. I had the money, because I’d prostituted myself. It hadn’t made me feel truly guilty until this moment right now. I knew the guilt was there because it really had been just a job, a business transaction. If Jules had returned my feelings… Well, maybe I’d feel differently about it.

  But I don’t.

  I waited for the inevitable question: How did I get the money? Dr. Miller knew my financial situation, because we’d been trying to work around it for a while now. He desperately wanted to get Bree that heart, but his hands were tied. He’d done everything he could, found every source of additional revenue, every funding program out there that Bree and I qualified for and applied it. But it barely made a dent. In the end, for a procedure like this, he couldn’t authorize it without the money ready and available, no matter his personal opinion on the matter.

  Instead of that dreadful question, all I heard was utter relief. “Thank god. Bree’s lucky to have a sister like you.”

  I felt tears prick at my eyes once more, but I kept my cool while on the phone. “I’m lucky to have her,” I murmured. I didn’t add that I was now sure she was the only thing I had left.

  “I’ll schedule the operation immediately,” he informed me.

  Relief flooded my system. Thank god. “Thank you, Dr. Miller. For everything that—”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Let’s wait to see your sister on the other side of the operation.”

  I thanked him again anyway, because he deserved it. If it hadn’t been for him. There would be another thirty days of pre-op and we wouldn’t be able to go through with the operation for at least that long. But he’d been pushing the pre-op stuff, arguing that Bree was already in the hospital, at the top of the list, and there was an available heart. He said that he felt full confidence that I’d come up with the money.

  At the time, it had seemed incredibly foolish of him. Now, I just wanted to hug him and give the rest of those bastards the finger.

  We hung up then and I sped the rest of the way home. Once there, I would drop off my stuff, clean up my face, and head over to the hospital to see Bree. Probably, the doctors would have already given her the news, but I wanted to be there to celebrate with her. We weren’t out of the woods, and wouldn’t be until she was through surgery and post-op, but suddenly her future looked a lot brighter than it had just a couple of days ago.

  I told myself that was enough. That Bree was all that really mattered. Even though I’d lost Jules… I still had a reason for being. So what if I would never find another lover like him again? At least my sister would live.

  It was difficult to fight my breaking heart, but I tried to convince myself that it was better this way.

  What would I tell Bree if I started a relationship like that with Jules? How would I explain to her that my entire lifestyle was changing and it would be mostly dictated by Jules – and myself in a roundabout way?

  “She’d never understand,” I muttered to myself. “It’s better this way.”

  My heart remained unconvinced, but at least the lie gave me enough resolve to keep going.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jules

  Five years earlier

  Sandra sat beside me, her hands folded in her lap, her face pointed downward. Before we’d left, she had gotten dressed as per my specifications. I picked out all of her clothes, things she wore only in public or when we had company over. Otherwise, she remained completely naked in my house – except for the collar that we’d picked out years ago. Her black dress was form fitting, but not revealing. The skirt tapered down to just below her knees, accentuating her hips and her small waist. The top part of it was lacy over her breasts, both hinting at their size, and hiding anything that might be inappropriate. She could fit in at a cocktail party or she could pick up a preschooler from class. She was demure, elegant, and wholly submissive to me. We’d been together for a long time now and I trusted her, or at least, I thought I did. Lately, I’d been beginning to wonder.

  The hospital was the same blinding white that it always was and the smell of antiseptic was sprayed in heavy doses in a vain attempt to cover up the obvious cloud of sickness that permeated the room.

  I hated it here and would give just about anything to leave. But we were waiting on the doctor to come back with the news.

  I reached over automatically and grabbed one of Sandra’s hands in her lap. She turned it over obligingly and twined her fingers with mine. They were so much smaller and delicate. They were slightly reddened still from the time they’d spent submerged in hot water while doing dishes. The color put me on edge, making me remember how I’d swatted her ass until it was that same color. Until there were lines from the crop that were so red and so deep, they were marks of blood.

  The thought left a bad taste in my mouth and if we were at home, I might have tried to bring it up. Except that the last time I did, she’d only said, “Yes, Master,” like some automaton doll with a talking feature.

  It had made me angrier than just about anything else she’d done – or not done – lately. As punishment, I’d made her sleep downstairs on a bedroll with nothing but a throw blanket and a pillow. The result was for her to give me an immediate apology this morning coupled with an exquisite blow job.

  She told me that she wanted me to be happy and that she’d do anything for that.

  We’d settled a little since then, but the memories remained. I couldn’t shake how she moaned every time I swatted her. How she begged for more. How when we went shopping for toys, she would pick out the riskiest and the most likely to cause some form of pain.

  It was starting to worry me.

  “Your mother will be alright,” she murmured in that sweet, soft voice of hers.

  I looked over at her to find that her eyes were already fixed on me, a rare occurrence these days unless she was on her knees staring up at me. Which meant she usually had my cock in her mouth. Her eyes were hazel and set perfectly in her heart shaped face. She had perfect bow lips that pouted just so and smiled brightly. And her body… It was the kind of body men dreamed of. Curvy in all the right places, but tiny at the waist. She was toned, because I made sure she did exercises four times a week and we had a pretty active sex life to boot. But she wasn’t overly muscular. She was just… perfect.

  Once I’d asked her why she hadn’t decided to be a model or something along those lines. She was that kind of pretty.

  She’d only shrugged and told
me, “That’s not the kind of life that I want.” It was all she would ever say on it.

  “You’re right,” I told her, forcing a smile that wasn’t genuine. I was stressed out about my mother who was still in surgery, but I was also stressed out about Sandra. She was so… different lately. Sometimes I just couldn’t figure out what she wanted anymore and that worried me.

  We fell quiet again, until I leaned forward and said, “Sandra?”

  “Yes, Master?”

  Strictly speaking, we were in public so she didn’t have to address me as master – just like she was allowed to wear clothes if only for the sake of public decency. But we were also alone in the waiting room and she’d said it quietly enough that probably no one would have heard even if they’d been listening.

  “I love you, pet.”

  She smiled at me, her bow shaped lips fitting perfectly in her apple cheeks. It made her look younger and sweeter, more wholesome. It was why I’d always loved it when she smiled, especially when we were doing something particularly naughty. I often asked her to smile up at me when I had her trussed up to the bed or cuffed into one of the slings. There was just something about the dynamic of being sexually deviant while looking so innocent that drove me absolutely nuts.

  “I love you, too, Master,” she answered me. She lifted up her chin, angling her face in a way that told me she wanted me to kiss her. “May I have a kiss, Master?”

  She was so good about asking for permission or for things that she wanted. Which was why I was getting a little worried about her random outbursts of rebellion. She knew the rules so well… it couldn’t be an accident that she was suddenly disobeying.

  “Of course, pet,” I told her. Then I leaned forward and sealed my mouth to hers. She melted against me and I slid my tongue along the seam of her lips to open her up. She did so instantly, letting my tongue plunder her mouth.

  I didn’t do anything more than kiss there in the hospital, because I was strict about things like that. Nothing unseemly. Nothing inappropriate. Nothing that drew unnecessary attention.

  Thus my surprise when I felt Sandra’s hand slip into my lap. She found my crotch quickly and added pressure to her palm there. She began to massage me and despite my own rules, I grew hard beneath her ministrations.

  I ended our kiss so abruptly that she was still leaning forward toward me with her mouth open and wanting. Her hand gave my cock another squeeze before I wrapped a large hand around her small wrist so tight that it probably hurt her. “What are you doing?” I hissed at her, trying to keep my composure.

  This was a goddamn hospital and my mother was in surgery. This was way out of line.

  She closed her mouth, puckering her lips in a pouting sort of way. She had her eyes open wide and looked every bit as innocent as a newborn baby. Except that she was a woman and I’d done some incredibly dirty things with her that reminded me that she was well and full an adult and knew exactly what she was doing.

  “I’m sorry, Master. I only wanted to be close with you.”

  I didn’t believe her for a second. She knew the rules and this was a big one. Given the circumstance, it was even more important that she follow it.

  “You broke a rule, Sandra,” I told her sternly.

  She dropped her eyes, looking every bit the part of contrite.

  Gritting my teeth, I said the words that I had started to dread: “I’m going to have to punish you.”

  Her skin flushed instantly and I saw her tits rise as she breathed in deeply. I couldn’t see her mouth, because she’d dropped her chin, but I could almost bet that there was a smile there. A devilish little smile that would tell me that this was all deliberately done just to get to the punishment part of all of this.

  Would Sandra really break one of my biggest rules while we sat here in the hospital waiting for my mother to get out of surgery? All for the punishment that would await her at home?

  A few months ago, the answer would have been an automatic ‘no.’ Now, I wasn’t so sure.

  I wanted to talk to her. I needed to. But I also needed to make sure she understood that there were rules and disobeying meant punishment.

  I was beginning to think that I needed to find a way to make the punishments less pleasant for her.

  After another thirty minutes of waiting, my mother came out of surgery. She was fine and was expected to make a full recovery. It was the best news that I’d gotten in a long time. We visited with her very briefly, because she needed her rest, and I promised to return the following day. Then Sandra and I headed home.

  She’d been quite since being scolded at the hospital and I had almost forgotten all about her transgression – and the punishment that would go with it – until I saw her immediately strip as soon as we walked in. She unzipped her black dress and shimmied it down her sensuous body. She wasn’t wearing any underwear to start with, so her ass was already bare – and still red with the spanking marks from the crop earlier. She took off her bra next and carefully folded it and the dress before setting it aside on the table next to the couch. Then she settled herself in the middle of the floor, on her hands and knees. She leaned forward until her face was touching the floor and pushed her ass up into the air. I could see already that she was glistening.

  Because she wanted it. She wanted the punishment.

  Pursing my lips together, I debated calling the whole thing off. She was so interested in punishment, maybe the real punishment would be to not punish her at all. But I knew that wouldn’t do. There were rules and consequences. I couldn’t let this just slide.

  No, instead, I needed to make things more intense. More painful so that she wouldn’t be so eager to disobey next time.

  “Stay like that,” I ordered her.

  She trembled with desire, but otherwise held her position. I disappeared into the playroom to find something to use for punishment. I decided on a wide, flat paddle with rounded bumps in it, a pair of cuffs that would attach to her collar – which I also grabbed – and something that the two of us only occasionally used. A ball gag.

  I headed back to the living room to find that she was exactly as I’d left her.

  “Are you ready for your punishment, pet?”

  She answered immediately. “Yes, Master.”

  “Good.”

  I put her collar on first, then the cuffs. I attached the cuffs to the collar after folding her arms behind her back. Finally, I gagged her mouth, which earned another shudder of pleasure from her.

  I stood back then and caressed her ass. Then I swatted her with the paddle.

  I pulled myself from the memory, shaking my head as though that might dislodge it. Of course, I wouldn’t forget that night. I never could. Sandra had been gagged and restrained, so she could never tell me when I’d gone too far and I was so messed up emotionally right in that moment, that I didn’t really care. I didn’t even think of it. I paddled her ass until she was raw and then I slipped in, not caring if she was ready or not.

  It shouldn’t have been how I punished her and I knew that, but I was so worked up and she was so turned on… I just needed to be inside her. It wasn’t until I was done and I untied her that I saw that she was really hurt. Her rear was raw and red, to the point where I took her to the doctor to make sure that she was okay. He prescribed her some ointments and said she would be fine, but recommended we take it easy for the next week or so.

  I apologized to Sandra, but she told me that it was better than anything she’d ever had before. She wanted me to hurt her like that all the time. She said that she wanted me to make her bleed.

  And that was when I knew it had to be over. Because I considered doing that for her, anything to make her happy. But I’d been so out of control… I hadn’t liked the feeling and I definitely hadn’t liked finding out that I’d seriously hurt her.

  It didn’t matter that she would recover. It only mattered that I now knew she wouldn’t tell me if I was going too far. She wouldn’t stop me.

  And I just couldn’t be
okay with that.

  We broke up within a month after that. I told her to get help; I was sure she didn’t.

  I stayed on the roof for a long time. Long enough that the sun was mostly down, that lingering sliver setting the entire city on fire. It was beautiful, but I didn’t give a shit. It was hard to care about things like sunsets when there was so much pain in my chest.

  I didn’t want Allison to go. Now that she was gone, probably already having reached her apartment, I could admit that to myself. There was no more danger that if I honestly confessed how I felt about her, I would be too tempted to let her stay. To ask her to stay. And not just for a weekend, but for the rest of our lives.

  A small chuckle escaped me at the thought. “When did you get so mushy?” I asked the empty rooftop.

  I’d still want to be here.