by J. A. Rock
But I didn’t need his permission. It’s my life. Isn’t it?
He lived in Scott’s house. Scott supported him.
He’d agreed that his body belonged to Scott. That he
existed to please Scott.
But that’s a game, no matter what Scott says. No matter
how hard-core it is, it’s just a scene. What’s real is my career,
my future, my friends. If Scott were my partner, not just my
dom—if he cared about me as a person instead of just caring
whether I obey him—then he’d be part of that reality too.
Aiden bit the last remaining nail on his right hand.
I could leave. The thought wasn’t new, but it came to
Aiden stronger than it ever had before. I don’t have
anywhere to go right now, but I could make something work.
Without a job, there’s nothing keeping me in this town , let alone
this house. I could move somewhere I actually want to be, find
the relationship I deserve…
Another voice, softer but more insidious, spoke:
But maybe Scott is what you deserve. If you deserved love,
you’d have it by now. If you worked hard, you’d be where you
want to be, you’d have a job, you’d be surrounded by friends.
But you’ve been lazy, a slacker, a lousy excuse for a friend.
Scott’s trying to build you up, but you’re not buildable.
He gathered his materials for rehearsal, feeling the
heaviness in his body and mind that had grown all too
familiar in the last few weeks. His stomach growled. His
head throbbed. He wished he were someone—anyone—
else.
* * * *
The day the show opened, Aiden had the house all
to himself while Scott was at work. He went over his
lines, his spirits high. Hera called to tell him to break a
leg and promised she and Sloane and Kim would all be
in the audience to cheer him on. He hung up glowing.
The performance went well, and Aiden drew loud
applause during his curtain call. The performances for
the rest of the week were solid. They had large crowds
most nights. The director said it was the theater’s best-
selling show in years. The party after closing night was a
blast. It was great to hang out with Hera again. Aiden
hadn’t seen much of her since he’d left Joe’s. There was
free wine and dessert, a live DJ, and a dance floor.
Aiden’s cast mates complimented his performance, and
he complimented theirs in return, and they told him he
absolutely had to audition for the next production.
Aiden promised he would.
Hera, Kim, and Sloane left around one, and Aiden
stayed an hour longer, until the party started to wind
down. He accepted a ride home from Stacy, the girl
who’d played Viola. They listened to music at full blast,
singing along as they sped down deserted streets. When
he got out of the car, he was still singing.
“Shh,” Stacy said, giggling. “Your neighbors are
asleep.”
“Thanks for the ride.” Aiden kissed her cheek and
bounded up the walkway to the house. The door was
unlocked. He pushed it open and entered the dark
hallway, trying not to make too much noise. A light was
on in the kitchen. He went in to grab a drink of water.
Scott was sitting at the table.
“Hey!” Aiden said enthusiastically. “You’re still
up.”
“You’re out late.”
“Not too late.” Aiden retrieved a glass and filled it
in the sink.
“How’d it go?”
“Awesome. The show was great, and the party was
a blast. I haven’t had that much fun in a long time.”
Scott stood.
“How was your night?” Aiden asked uncertainly, a
little of his enthusiasm waning in the face of Scott’s
coldness.
“Dull,” Scott said. “Completely boring.”
“Aw. I’m sorry.”
“But now you’re here. And I’m horny.”
He approached the counter. Aiden set his glass
down, noticing the empty wine bottle near the sink as he
did. This morning it had been unopened. “I’m not really
in the mood.”
Scott reached out. Aiden flinched. Scott laughed, an
abrupt bark. “What’s the problem?”
“I don’t want—”
Scott reached out slowly and cupped Aiden’s jaw.
“You’re so jumpy lately. Not like a good sub. A good
sub accepts what he’s given. You act all scared when I
come near you.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. Am I scary?”
“No.”
Scott laughed softly. “Good.” He let go of Aiden’s
jaw and took hold of Aiden’s left nipple through his
shirt.
“Let go,” Aiden said quietly.
Scott tugged him forward.
Aiden gasped and followed him to the table.
“Bend over.”
Aiden hesitated, then pushed a chair aside and bent
over the table.
“I’m surprised you didn’t fight. You’ve been
fighting me a lot lately.”
Aiden didn’t answer.
“I like it.” Scott swatted his ass through his jeans.
Aiden winced as the slap reawakened old pain—
bruises that hadn’t healed, welts that were still raw. Scott
reached around to undo his jeans.
Aiden tried to stand up. “I don’t want to,” he
mumbled. His head felt blurry from the wine, from the
whirl of the evening. “I’m tired.”
“Too bad. It was your choice to stay out late. I’m
not going to bed unsatisfied. Bend over.”
“No.” Aiden tried to pull away, but Scott caught
him.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, little boy,” Scott
murmured. “Right over this table.”
“Scott—”
“Sir!” Scott barked, clapping the side of Aiden’s
head with one palm.
Aiden reeled. Scott reached for Aiden’s fly again,
unsnapping it.
Aiden pulled back. “I mean it! I’m not doing this
tonight.”
“It’s not your choice,” Scott said quietly.
“Mushroom,” Aiden said, falling back on his safe
word.
Scott stared at him. “What’s the matter?” he taunted
finally. “Can’t take a fucking, little boy?”
“I don’t want to right now.”
Scott grabbed his jaw again, squeezing until Aiden
cried out. “Do I care what you want, Shithead? Your job
is to serve me.” He shoved Aiden facedown over the
table. When Aiden struggled, Scott picked up both of his
legs so that Aiden was half-suspended, his torso
supported by the table, his legs by Scott’s arm.
Scott brought his other hand down across Aiden’s
jean-clad ass half a dozen times at full force.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
Aiden went still. “I said my safe word,” he
whispered.
“I’m not doing anything to you tonight that I
haven’t done a hundred times before,” Scott said, setting
Aiden’s feet back on the floor. “Don’t be a twat.”
�
�I don’t want this tonight. I’m serious. I’m not
playing around.”
“Neither am I. I’ve let you get way out of hand.
You’re going to be a good boy and take what you’ve got
coming.”
He hauled Aiden’s jeans down. Aiden kicked out,
catching Scott squarely in the hip.
“Ow! You little fucker.” Scott threw himself over
Aiden, slamming one arm across the back of his neck.
Aiden’s face struck the table, and his nose began to
bleed.
“Stop this bullshit right now.”
Scott’s elbow dug between Aiden’s shoulder
blades. Aiden heard Scott’s belt yanked through the
loops.
“Go ahead and safe word, you coward,” said Scott.
“Say it one more time, and I’ll stop. But you know what I
think? I think you get off on this. On fighting me and
knowing I’ll win. Knowing I’ll make you take what you
deserve, whether you want it or not. Am I right?”
Aiden didn’t answer. Blood dripped from his nose
onto the table. Scott was at least partly right. Even in this
mess of terror, pain, and—for the first time—pure hatred,
something in Aiden was thrilled by the danger, the
wrongness of this. “Yes, Sir.” He hoped when he said the
words, they would become true. He’d realize that what
was happening right now was exactly what he wanted.
The terror would leave him, and he’d give in to lust, to
hunger. Instead he felt more miserable and confused
than ever.
He knew it would be easier, faster, to just lie still
and let Scott do what he wanted. But his heart was
pounding too hard, and his body was too electric with
fear. He waited until Scott shifted to double his belt in
his hand, then launched himself backward, falling
against Scott and sending them both to the floor.
Scott bellowed, shoving Aiden off him. Aiden tried
to crawl under the table, but Scott dragged him out. The
belt fell indiscriminately across Aiden’s body, striking
his arms, his sides, hips, shoulders, and legs. Aiden
raised his arms to protect his face and caught a hard
blow to his upper arm that left him dizzy and sick. Scott
hauled him up by the hair.
“Are you going to behave?” Scott demanded.
Tears streamed down Aiden’s face and mixed with
the blood running from his nose. His shoulders shook
with the effort of holding back sobs. “Yes, Sir.”
“Bend over the table,” Scott said very softly.
This time Aiden obeyed without protest.
Chapter Nine
Aiden woke on Hera’s couch. He tried to move, but
pain sang through his body. He stared at the ceiling,
wondering if Scott knew he was gone yet. If so, was he
angry? Indifferent? Did he understand that Aiden had
left for good?
Scott had made Aiden come to bed after he’d
fucked him. Aiden had lain as far from Scott as possible,
hurting and more afraid than he could ever remember
being. He’d waited until Scott was snoring to grab what
he could of his stuff and bolt. Hera’s was the only place
he could think to go.
Someone was in the kitchen. When that someone
emerged moments later, Aiden shut his eyes, pretending
to be asleep.
“Coffee.”
It wasn’t a question. Kim set a mug on the table in
front of the couch. Kim, solid, quiet, in her third year of
med school. She’d taken him into the bathroom last night
and had him undress. She’d cleaned up the places Scott’s
belt had broken skin, checked his bruises, and given him
pain pills. She’d been so calm, so sure of herself that
Aiden had somehow gotten past his humiliation and
allowed Kim to examine him for rectal tearing. She
hadn’t been pleased with what she saw, but she’d told
him he didn’t need stitches.
He picked the mug up and drank, not caring that
the coffee burned his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
He wondered what Kim knew about his lifestyle, what
Hera had told her girlfriends about Aiden, about Scott.
Kim hadn’t asked questions last night. She didn’t ask
questions now either, just sat down in the armchair
beside the couch and sipped her coffee.
“How’s the pain?” she asked finally.
“Bad,” Aiden said.
“I’ll get you another pill with breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You shouldn’t take this med on an empty stomach.
We’ll do something easy on your digestive system.
Oatmeal?”
Aiden winced, thinking about the times Scott had
made him eat bland, watery oatmeal from a bowl on the
floor. “No, thanks.”
“Grits? Toast?”
“I really don’t think I can eat.”
“Fruit smoothie,” Kim said with certainty. “Tastes
good, easy to digest, good for you.”
“Okay,” Aiden muttered. He didn’t need anyone to
take care of him; he was fine. He just needed to sleep.
Though maybe what he really hated was the relief
he felt at being taken in hand, cared for. He thought
about Keaton Hughes, insisting Aiden take his coat on
the pier. How quickly his outrage at the man’s
intrusiveness had faded. How much he’d wanted to
believe Keaton’s concern for him was real.
Aiden sighed. He didn’t want to think about
Keaton. Or Scott. Or tops. He was through submitting to
anyone.
The smoothie was good. He drank almost all of it,
took another pain pill, and was suddenly exhausted. He
collapsed on the couch again and fell asleep.
When he woke again, Hera was in the room. She sat
down on the edge of the couch, next to his legs, and said,
“I’m only going to say ‘I told you so’ once. I told you so.
Now, how are you feeling?”
“Tired,” Aiden said.
“You need to call the police.”
“What?”
“To report Scott.”
Aiden tried to sit up, winced at the pain. “Hell no.”
“What do you mean hell no? He assaulted you.”
“It wasn’t—it’s not the kind of thing I can tell the
police.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t—because of the situation.”
“What’s the situation?”
“Scott’s my dom. We had an agreement. He could
do whatever he wanted to me.”
Hera shook her head. “You said you safe worded
and he didn’t stop. That’s rape.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m being ridiculous? That man beat you and had
sex with you even though you made it clear you didn’t
want to. That, my friend, is the very definition of assault
and rape, and you need to report it.”
“I won’t.”
Hera stared at him. “I’ll assume Scott’s beating
scrambled your brain. We’ll talk about this later, when
you’re thinking clearly.”
“I’m not going to report it.”
“Then you’re an even
bigger idiot than I thought.”
“Why are you being this way?” Aiden demanded.
“Because I care about you! Way more, apparently,
than you care about yourself.”
Aiden hesitated. “I didn’t safe word.”
Hera narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I lied earlier. I just—I was upset that I let things
get out of hand last night. The scene was really intense,
and I didn’t realize I was gonna end up getting hurt. I
was sort of pissed at Scott for going so far, so I told you
I’d safe worded and that he didn’t listen.” Aiden faltered.
Hera was staring at him in a way that told Aiden she
didn’t find his story at all convincing. “But I didn’t safe
word. I actually told Scott he could keep going.” Sort of
true. Hadn’t his “yes, Sir” when Scott asked if he secretly
liked being forced essentially been acquiescence?
“Even if that’s not the utter bullshit it sounds like,
these injuries aren’t part of legitimate BDSM play.” Hera
touched the bruise on Aiden’s arm where the belt had
caught him.
“What do you know about it?” Aiden asked.
“I know the difference between assault and kink.”
“Drop it.”
“So what, if Scott didn’t do anything wrong and this
lovely collage of bumps and bruises is legit, are you
going back to him?”
Aiden looked away.
“Well?”
“I don’t—think so, no.”
“That’s something, I guess.”
Aiden sighed, flopping back against his pillow, not
caring about the pain that shot through his body. “I don’t
know what to do. My subletter doesn’t move out for
another two months.”
“You can stay here as long as you need.”
He looked at her. “Thank you,” he said softly.
She reached out and ruffled his hair, ignoring his
flinch. “I’ll try to knock some sense into you while you’re
here.”
Aiden tried to smile. “I don’t need your version of
sense.”
“Hey. Be nice to me, or we three witches will put a
curse on you.”
She left him to rest.
* * * *
Living with the three women worked about as well
as Aiden had known it would. The house was crowded;
he always felt in the way. Kim, Sloane, and Hera tried to
include him in things like cooking dinner and watching
movies, but he knew the house felt as claustrophobic to
them as it did to him. Friendly bickering had always
