by Sykes, Julia
By the time he was sliding my dampened panties down my legs, my breaths were calm and even, my mind going blissfully quiet as all of my worries evaporated.
Master still held me trapped in his gaze as he crouched before me. Whatever he saw in my own eyes elicited a small, pleased smile, and he planted a soft kiss low on my belly. My clit pulsed as though his lips had brushed against it instead. Master’s smile widened at my gasp, and he dipped two fingers between my labia, swirling them in the wetness he found there.
“Good girl,” he rumbled as he played through my soft folds, teasing, exploring. At the sound of his approval, I sank a little deeper into his power, longing to give him more of myself.
He stood, shifting away from me. I followed automatically, not wanting any distance between my body and his. His hands closed around my waist, directing me back to where he had originally positioned me.
“Stay.”
I hated the loss of his heat, but I didn’t protest when he stepped behind me. A brief rustling sound let me know that Master was retrieving something from his bag, followed by a metallic clanking that I didn’t quite understand. Despite the disconcerting setting, the flutter in my stomach had nothing to do with fear.
“Give me your wrists, girl,” Master commanded as he re-appeared before me. The familiar leather cuffs were buttery soft against my skin, the buckles clinking faintly as he secured them around my wrists.
He reached up, and the metallic sound rang out again as he pulled down a length of chain. Fear sparked in my chest when he clipped the end of it to the rings on my cuffs.
“Breathe, girl. Look at me.”
As always, his commands grounded me and kept me firmly tethered to the present. God, I loved him so much. He gave me everything I needed. The Lydia Chase he had helped bring back to life was even more complete than the woman I had been before I was abducted.
Something soft touched my belly, trailing upward to tease across my breasts. My nipples tightened as the supple falls of the suede deerskin flogger brushed across my flesh.
“We’ll start slowly, sweetheart. If it becomes too much, I want you to say ‘yellow.’ If you want to stop altogether, say ‘red.’ Tell me you understand.”
His tone was gentle, yet deep and authoritative. He didn’t want me to simply take anything he chose to give me; he wanted me to honestly communicate my needs to him.
“I understand, Master.”
Satisfied that I was calm and unafraid, Master kissed me fleetingly and disappeared behind me once again. My chest tightened briefly as the chain began to slowly draw my arms up above my head, the metal clanking as it passed through the ringbolt in the ceiling.
Breathe.
I forced my lungs to expand as my body was stretched taut, forcing me up onto the balls of my feet. The position was horrifically familiar, and I couldn’t help flinching when something touched my back.
The flogger.
My mind quickly processed that the man standing behind me was Master.
Safe.
His hands brushed the nape of my neck as he moved my hair so it hung over my shoulders, ensuring it wouldn’t obstruct his access to my back. Cool air filled the space behind me as he stepped away, but the shiver that ran through me was the result of anticipation, not cold.
The flat of the flogger’s falls lightly hit my upper back with a sound like pattering rain. Automatically, I arched away from the blow. But Master didn’t back off. A few seconds passed as he gauged my breathing, and then the flogger hit again, with a bit more force this time. His pace steadily increased in speed and intensity. A warm, wonderful tingling arose on my upper back, spreading further throughout my body with each thwap of the flogger. By the time the delightful little sparks had reached my fingertips, the falls thudded across my flesh with definitive force.
Master began to work his way down my back. When the soft tendrils hit my ass, I registered the hits as light pain. He hadn’t warmed up this area, and my skin smarted at the impact. My answering moan begged for more. I completely embraced my trust in Master. I craved to ride the edge of pain, welcoming it as I reveled in the resultant endorphins.
Encouraged by my lustful reaction, Master altered his style, and just the tips of the falls kissed the sensitive flesh at the lower curve of my ass, raking burning lines across my upper thighs. It took a heartbeat for my brain to register the pain, two more heartbeats to accept it. When it pulsed for a fourth time, I blew out a long sigh as my mind floated into bliss.
Master escalated, and each stinging blow drove me higher as I happily embraced the pain and the endorphin rush that came along with it.
I was so far gone by the time the blows stopped, I barely registered it. Master was suddenly at my back, the heat of him mingling with the warm glow emanating from my burning skin. His fingers found the wetness that coated my inner thighs, and my head dropped back against his shoulder at the sound of his darkly pleased chuckle.
“It seems my little sub does like pain. I wonder how much she can take.”
He traced a circle around my pulsing clit. Unable to form words, I mewled and pressed back against him, grinding my ass against the hard evidence of his arousal.
Laughing, he pulled away from me, and I whined at the loss. “I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.”
The next hit came hard and fast, and I let out a surprised shriek. Master had switched to a different flogger, and it hurt. The falls were thinner and crafted of smooth leather rather than suede. While the earlier hits had been hot, the burn that accompanied the louder snap was fire. I gritted my teeth as the new, more intense pain cleared some of the warm fog that blanketed me.
Breathe.
The breath was my final gasp before the fog condensed to heavy waters that sucked me under. I became weightless in the dark depths, the sound of my sharp cries hardly penetrating the warm sea. I had no worries, no thoughts, no control. Master kept me in this blissful state because that was his will.
The touch of his fingers returned to me, trailing down my belly to tease my pussy. Animalistic sounds of need and pleasure issued from my throat. I was in a base, primal place. Or was it a higher plane of existence? My mind was too far gone to puzzle it out.
“I’m going to hurt you now, girl,” Master informed me. “I want you to focus on me and know that I won’t harm you. Trust me.”
I rubbed up against him in response, physically demonstrating my devotion. Of course I trusted him. I had put myself completely at his mercy, had given him everything.
The fear that exploded in my brain at the sharp crack of the bullwhip shocked me to my core. It didn’t touch my flesh, but my terrified scream echoed through the dungeon. Unconsciously, I found the ability to form words again.
“No! Please, no. Please please please please…”
They want to break me. They’re going to break me. They’re going to slice my skin, make me bleed.
Strong fingers closed around my jaw, and I struggled to twist away, jerking fruitlessly against the chains that held me suspended, vulnerable, helpless.
“Open your eyes, girl. Look at me.” The calm command tugged at something deep within me, eliciting my obedience without a thought. His silver eyes filled my vision. “Who am I?”
The molten silver pooled into my being, sending liquid warmth pulsing through my veins.
“Master,” I whispered.
“That’s right. Stay with me.” His breath tickled across my lips as he pressed his forehead to mine, anchoring me to him. “One, sweetheart. I just want you to take one. Can you give that to me?”
I would give him anything; I had already given him everything.
“Yes, Master.”
He stayed with me for a minute, running his hands over my body, through my hair, stroking me, calming me. He didn’t leave me again until my trembling had stopped.
The whip snapped behind me again, and I couldn’t help stiffening.
“I’m here, sweetheart. You’re safe. Remember that.”
> I had barely finished nodding when the ominous whisper of the tail cutting through the air registered. I heard the crack of the tip breaking the sound barrier just before the pain hit. The line of fire seared into my flesh with branding heat, and my wail of pain and despair resounded in my ears.
Master was before me instantly, his arms enfolding me as he pressed soft kisses against my wet cheeks.
“Shhh, sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
I pressed my face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in desperately. As his rich scent enfolded me, my fear evaporated. Not just my fear of his whip, but all of the terror that had assailed me on the day when that Bastard had thought he had broken me. I had dealt with the memory, had numbed its power over me. But that fear had lingered where it had taken root deep in the most primal corners of my mind. With one harsh lash, Master had ripped it out of me. That unique form of pain was no longer wielded by that Bastard. Master had taken possession of it. And Master would never use it to harm me.
My fresh tears were borne of gratitude, of soul-deep relief.
“Thank you, Master.”
He gently gripped my chin, drawing my face to his so he could kiss me sweetly. The demanding, possessive strokes of his tongue reassured me of his love and devotion.
“That whip will never touch your skin again, Lydia,” he promised me when he finally released my lips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
The strained lines around his eyes told me how difficult it had been for him to inflict that pain on me.
“I needed it,” I assured him quietly. “Thank you, Smith.”
He kissed me again, long and slow and deep. When I had relaxed into him completely, he began the process of freeing me from my bonds, gingerly rubbing the red marks on my wrists where I had rested my weight on my restraints. He helped me back into my dress, smirking as he tucked my underwear into his pocket. I shivered as lust began to stir to life within me once again. The hungry light in his eyes told me I would receive a very nice reward when we got home.
Once I was covered, he slung his gear bag over his shoulder and scooped me up into his arms. I was grateful he was carrying me out to the car; I wasn’t at all sure I would have been capable of walking in a straight line. I was still drunk on endorphins, and my reawakened lust only further weakened my knees.
Decadence’s exit let out into an alley to provide an extra layer of secrecy for patrons, and I was glad of the shelter from the chill wind. Master kissed the top of my head as I snuggled into him. The night air was turning cooler with the changing seasons, but his warmth cocooned me.
Master grunted and his body jerked. It took my fuzzy brain a few seconds to register alarm, but panic hit me hard at the sensation of falling. Master had dropped to his knees, but his arms tightened around me, holding me close. I blinked up at him stupidly, confusion and shock coating my brain like molasses.
The fear I saw reflected in his eyes made my heart stop. Master wasn’t afraid of anything.
He shoved me away from him, and I dropped to the pavement.
“Run.”
The command was garbled, and it didn’t hold the usual ring of authority. He blinked rapidly and his muscles tensed once more. Then his eyes closed, and he collapsed beside me.
Panic flooded my system, and I gripped his shoulders, shaking him hard. Something small and silver protruded from his neck. I plucked it out, and a droplet of blood oozed to the surface of his skin where the dart had pierced him.
“Master!” I shook him again.
He had ordered me to run, but I couldn’t leave him.
Something sharp jammed into my neck. The large hand that closed over my mouth muffled my scream.
Just like the first time.
“That’s right, whore. Master is here.”
Insidious warmth oozed into my veins, and my fingers loosened where they were fisted in Smith’s shirt.
No!
I couldn’t let him go. I couldn’t. I couldn’t…
Chapter 27
I recognized the smell first: earthy damp, stale sweat, and the metallic tang of fear. Or maybe the fear was a taste on my tongue. The burn of bile in the back of my throat flooded both sensory areas, so I couldn’t be sure.
My mind was stumbling, stalling, engaging in internal babbling to avoid the terrible truth.
I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, willing myself to go back to sleep so I could wake up in Master’s bed.
Chains clanked above me as my body shifted. Maybe I was still in Decadence. Yes, that was it. I had drifted off into subspace. My body was still stretched taut where Master had positioned me so he could flog me. The crack of the bullwhip had hurtled my mind back to this place, back to my prison. It was just a visceral response to the scene Master had re-created for me. Any second now, he would embrace me, would reassure me that everything was alright. That I was safe.
It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.
Pain exploded across my cheek.
“I know you’re awake, slave.”
My eyes snapped open at the sound of that chilling, cruelly pleased voice, and my entire world crumbled to dust.
His muddy green eyes gleamed with the sick light that always made my stomach turn. His lips curved in delight, and the back of his hand cracked across my face again.
Everything slammed back into place with the burst of pain.
This was real. I was in my prison. I had never left.
God, the heroin was crueler than I had ever realized. In the grip of its sweet bliss, I had spun a rich fantasy for myself, a lucid dream in which I had escaped this place.
An inhuman, despairing wail clawed its way out of my soul, ripping up my throat. It went on and on, drowning out the sound of his insanely jubilant laugh.
“Lydia! LYDIA!”
Smith’s booming voice slashed through my terror, gripping my faltering sanity and keeping me from going completely over the edge.
I choked on a relieved sob.
I hadn’t dreamt him up. Smith was real. Lydia was real.
The Bastard’s face filled my vision, but I could hear Smith. His string of harsh expletives clashed with the jangling of chains.
Dread suffused me. If Smith was here, the Bastard should be dead by now. The fear that coiled in my belly this time wasn’t for myself.
Before my brain could process anything more, the Bastard’s fingers gripped my jaw. Steel flashed before my eyes, and I went utterly still as the flat of the knife pressed against my lips. He shifted so that he was standing beside me, and my field of vision was clear for the first time. My cry of alarm at what I saw was stifled behind my closed lips.
The sight of Smith in chains was so disgustingly wrong that I wanted to vomit. Like me, he was suspended by his wrists, but while my restraints were soft leather, iron cuffs had already cut crimson lines into his skin. His hands were fisted around the chain above him, and he jerked at it ruthlessly, fruitlessly, as he struggled to free himself. His face was a mask of savage fury.
“Quiet,” the Bastard ordered loudly. “Or I’ll cut out her tongue.”
Smith’s eyes focused on the blade at my lips, and his teeth snapped shut, silent but bared in a rictus snarl.
The Bastard grinned. I recognized the sick, feverish light in his eyes all too well. When he wasn’t hurting me, his features shifted in a conventional fashion but his eyes were blank, expressionless. It was only when inflicting pain and misery that they betrayed any reaction at all; a twisted parody of human emotion.
“Good.” His soft voice dripped with perverse pleasure. “It would have been a shame to take her tongue. I like how it feels on my cock.”
Smith twisted the chain around his hands and dropped all of his weight onto it, yanking at it.
“You motherfucker! Don’t touch -”
He stopped speaking abruptly when the Bastard applied pressure to either side of my jaw, forcing my mouth open. The cool blade touched my tongue, threatening but not cutting. Every mus
cle in my body went rigid as I froze. The Bastard’s attention turned back to me, his eyes following the trail of my tear as it slipped from the corner of my eye and fell down my cheek.
Smith said nothing, but he was far from silent. The metallic clanging as he wrestled against his bonds filled the room in a jarring cacophony. His wrists were already torn and bloody. He was going to hurt himself if he kept struggling so violently. I couldn’t let the Bastard hurt him.
The blade lifted from my tongue, but rather than retreating, the Bastard eased it further into my mouth. I stopped breathing.
“Isn’t that pretty?” He asked softly, watching in rapt fascination as he slowly, incrementally, moved it back and forth in a horrific imitation of penetration. It never touched my skin, but if I moved in the slightest, the knife would slice me open. My lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen, but I didn’t dare draw in air.
Black spots were dancing across my vision by the time he released me. As soon as the knife left my mouth, I sucked in a breath, and all of my weight fell on my wrists as my muscles turned to jelly. I blinked hard to clear my vision. Gathering my courage, I looked up at the Bastard.
“Please,” I rasped. “Let him go. I’ll stay here. I’ll be good. Just please, let him go.”
Smith snarled his objection, but I resolutely kept my focus on the Bastard. Now that he had me back in my prison, he would never give me the chance to escape again. My life was over. Everything in me screamed at me to fight, to defy him. But I would do anything to get him to release Smith.
I realized with hollow clarity that I had always been meant to waste away and die in this place; the Bastard would never have allowed me to walk free forever. In my brief period of freedom, Smith had shown me greater joy than I had ever known. I could live on that for the rest of my life. However long that might be. Even if pain pushed me to that empty, shattered state once again, I would bury the memory of him deep inside me, providing my soul with sustenance. The Bastard could never take him from me that way.
