Endless - Manhattan Knights Series Book Three

by Sienna Parks

  “What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?”

  “Nothing. I’m just telling you the truth. I’m not a little girl anymore. It can’t be a shock to you that I suck my boyfriend’s beautiful, big cock.”

  What the hell is she doing? I stand, pulling her up with me. “THAT’S ENOUGH, VITTORIA!”

  “What are you going to do about it, L-o-g-a-n? Punish me?” She’s up on her tiptoes, an inch from my face, and that’s when I smell it. Alcohol.

  I turn to Addi. “I thought you said there was no alcohol in those drinks?”

  She looks genuinely stunned. “There isn’t. I didn’t put any in them.”

  We all turn to Vittoria as one.

  “WHAT? So I spiced them up a bit. It’s not like I’m underage! I can do what I like.”

  She is really pushing me now and I’m close to losing it. “NO, you can’t.”

  She slams her fists into my chest, struggling out of my grip. “Then punish me for it. Tie me up, whip me, spank me, fuck me. Do something. Anything!”

  “THAT’S ENOUGH… NYX! This isn’t the time or the place to discuss this.”

  Carter steps up, his face stone-cold with rage. “What’s she talking about, Logan?”

  Vittoria is completely out of control, spinning around to start in on him. “It’s none of your goddamn business. You’re my brother, not my keeper. What I choose to do with him is none of your concern, so stay out of it.”

  “The fuck I will! What the hell is going on?”

  “God! Don’t be so naïve. You know exactly what’s going on, you just don’t want to see it. Whips, chains, clamps, collars, handcuffs, and canes. I love it all! I’m a fucking submissive. I’m Logan’s submissive.”

  Who the hell is this person in front of me? My sweet, submissive Vittoria is gone, and this incarnation is spiteful and vindictive. “ENOUGH! Nyx, you will assume the submissive position, NOW! Not another word from you. I’ve let this go on long enough. I don’t even recognize the person you’ve become, and I sure as hell don’t like this version of you. You’re cruel and spiteful and angry. Take it out on me, fine, but to treat your brother and your friend with such a lack of respect, is fucking unacceptable. Now take your fucking position, and do not utter another word until I say otherwise. Understood?”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.” She drops to her knees before me, her eyes lowered to the ground, and her arms clasped behind her back. A surge of adrenaline courses through me, my confidence and control firmly back in place.

  I hear Addi gasp as she watches the scene unfolding before her, making her way over to Carter, as he stands frozen to the spot; his eyes fixed on Vittoria, kneeling before me.

  “Carter, let’s just go. I think everyone needs time to calm down before we talk about this.” She’s trying to push him backwards toward the door, but it only serves to snap him out of his trance, and focus his attention on me.

  I step in front of Vittoria, making sure that she won’t get caught in the middle of what I know is about to happen.

  “You’ve fucking brainwashed her. You fucking bastard. What have you done to my sister?” He lunges at me, but I block his punches.

  “It’s not what you think. You need to let me explain.”

  He takes another swing, this time catching my jaw. “Explain? Explain to me how you took advantage of my little sister? No wonder she tried to kill herself, being trapped in a relationship with a sick fucker like you.”

  Vittoria breaks her silence, screaming in my defense. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that. I didn’t do it to get away from him. I love him. He means more to me than anyone else in the world.”

  “Fucking brainwashed.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  It warms my heart that she wants to defend me, but yet again, she disobeys me.

  “SILENCE! I told you to stay in position and be quiet until I tell you otherwise. Do it, NOW!”

  “Yes, Master.”

  She returns her gaze to the floor and resumes her silence. I’m distracted by the simple beauty of it, and I don’t see his punch coming, sending me crashing to ground with the force of his rage.

  “You fucking bastard. I trusted you. I trusted you to look out for her, to love her. Not to fucking abuse her.”

  I jump to my feet, my own rage boiling over. “I’m not abusing her. I love her. She was a submissive before we got together. I didn’t force this on her. I gave it up to be with her, but it wasn’t what she wanted, or needed.”

  “Bullshit. She would never willingly be such a pathetic doormat.”

  I throw a punch to his ribs, dropping him to the floor. “Don’t fucking talk about her like that. You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I know you’re twisted, and if she willingly does that shit, then so is she. You’re fucking sick in the head.”

  “Get the fuck out of my house, Carter. I’ll talk to you when you’ve calmed down, and are willing to listen to what I have to say.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without her. Vittoria, get off the floor and come with me. You don’t have to put up with this shit. It’s not normal.”

  She doesn’t move a muscle. She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t lift her eyes to acknowledge him.

  “I said move, Tori. You’re coming with me even if I have to carry you out of here.”

  She remains still, and I know it’s hard for her, but she’s letting me know that she’s in, that she’s mine - she wants to make this work. It’s all I need.

  I resume my stance in front of her. “You’re not taking her, Carter. She’s staying with me. I’m her Master, and whether you like it or not, she wants me. She wants to be my submissive. She was the one that pursued this, and thank fuck she did. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. I would never hurt her.”

  “You fucking punish her with whips and shit.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t hurt her. I never have, and I never would. That’s not what this is about for us. She needs the boundaries, the structure, and the freedom of knowing that I will always do what’s best for her.”

  “Well, you’re doing a great fucking job. She tried to kill herself. Explain to me how that’s you being a good ‘Master.’ You’re fucking deluded.”

  “I don’t expect you to understand. Don’t you think I hate myself for letting her down? For not being there when she needed me the most? I did the best I could. She chose to keep what was happening from me. She’s a really good fucking liar, Carter. She lied to all of us. I’m no different than the rest of you. I believed what she told me, because I thought that we didn’t keep things from each other. For whatever reason, she didn’t tell me, and she let it get so bad that she didn’t know how to fix it. If I could go back and change it, I would. I would never have let us be apart for so long. I would have given up the tour to go and be with her. I would have done anything to make her happy, and to protect her from herself. I can’t fucking change it, and I will live with that for the rest of my fucking life. But, instead of doing the easy thing, and walking away, I’m here. I take shit from her every day, because she’s angry at her own life. Not with me. She’s heartbroken. Ballet was everything to her. I’m just trying to help her find her place in the world again. I’ll take whatever she throws at me, for however long it takes for her to realize that I’m not the enemy, but I suspect she already knows that. She knows that I would walk through fire for her. I will never give up on her. If she chooses to leave, then that is her decision, and I won’t force her to stay. One day, I’ll explain all of this to you, and hopefully you’ll see that all I’ve ever wanted to do, is love her. I will always love her.”

  “You’re kidding yourself if you think this is love.”

  Addi is by his side. “I think it’s time to go.” She turns to me, a look of sympathy in her eyes. “We’ll talk more when things have calmed down. Just look after her, Logan, or so help me God, you won’t have to worry about Carter; I�
�ll hunt you down myself.”

  “I’ll look after her. I promise.”

  Carter walks over to her, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Look at me, Tori.” She keeps her eyes to the ground. “Please, look at me. I love you.”

  I watch as his eyes fill with tears, afraid for his sister. “Nyx, you can look at him, and answer him if he asks you a question.”

  He shoots me a venomous glare before returning his attention to Vittoria, who is now staring at him, tears coursing down her cheeks. “Come with me. I’ll protect you. I know I’ve let you down so many times, but I won’t do it again. Please, I can take you away from all of this. You don’t have to let him hurt you, and you don’t have to do as he says.”

  He didn’t ask her a direct question, and therefore she just sits, crying in silence. “Are you afraid of him?”

  Her answer is immediate, and vehement. “NO! He would never hurt me. He’s telling you the truth.”

  “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.”

  “Because it’s who I am. It’s a part of me. I didn’t change for him. He didn’t corrupt me. He tried to push me away, but I wouldn’t let him. I need this, and he’s the only person that understands. He’s unlike any Dominant I’ve ever had.”

  “There have been others? How many?”

  “I’m not talking about that with you, and not in front of my Master. It’s disrespectful.”

  “Why, Vittoria? Why do you need this?”

  “I’ll never be able to make you understand. I just do. I crave it, like air. I’m lost without it; without him. I love him. Please, don’t make me choose, because I love you, but I will choose him. I’ll always choose him.” My heart takes flight, fighting to break free.

  Carter looks crushed, and I can’t help but feel sympathy for him. Even if he hates me for this, I still care about him, I always will, but Vittoria is my priority. He doesn’t say another word to her, raising himself to his feet, and moving round to where I stand, squaring his shoulders. “You’re fucking dead to me, Logan. This isn’t over, not by a long fucking shot.” He shoves past me, slamming his shoulder into mine as he makes his way over to Addi and heads for the door, and as it slams behind them, I can hear him cursing in Italian, before an almighty thud reverberates throughout the room.

  I wait until I know the elevator is gone, before opening the front door and confirming my suspicions. There’s a fist-sized hole in the wall outside my apartment, with blood dripping down the stone colored paint. A stark and chilling contrast.

  When I close the door, I’m met with the soft whimpering sounds of Vittoria. She’s still in position, but unable to contain the grief that wracks her body. It’s now or never. If I’m going to try and rebuild our relationship as Master and submissive, it needs to start now.

  “Stand up, Nyx.” She does as I ask, her sobs subsiding at the sound of my voice. “Go to the room at the end of the hall, strip, and wait for me in your position.”

  “Yes, Master Fitzgerald.” She turns and makes her way down the hall, leaving me to catch my breath. After everything that’s just happened, I need a moment to process.

  I slump down onto the couch, my jaw tender from Carter’s punch. I grab a bottle of beer from the table and finish it in one gulp. This is not how I pictured finding my control again, my confidence as her Master, but anger and my instinct to protect her, always brings out that side of me. I guess I needed a reminder of that.

  The last time I was back in New York, I had my empty guest room turned into a playroom for Vittoria and me. I didn’t know if she’d feel comfortable going to Andromeda after what happened in Paris, and I wanted us to have somewhere to express ourselves freely. She didn’t know it was there until two minutes ago, when I sent her in. I can only imagine her surprise. I need to punish her for her behavior tonight. For her disobedience and lack of respect. She said it herself. She needs this. She craves it.

  I make my way toward the door, discarding my T-shirt, and removing my watch, shoving it in my pocket. Adrenaline pumps hard and fast in my veins, my dick twitching at the thought of what I’m about to do. I turn the handle and enter my playroom, my domain. The fresh smell of paint is still in the air, and everything is in its rightful place; the couch, the bed, the table… and Vittoria.

  “Good girl. Now, stand up and go to the wall behind you. Bring me the cat o’ nine tails.”

  Six Weeks Later

  Logan is the one good thing in my life. He’s the reason I get up in the morning, and why I keep fighting against the darkness that threatens to pull me under on a daily basis.

  Since the night he sent me to the playroom in the apartment, things have started to get better between us. The first few weeks were amazing. We reconnected through pleasure and punishment, and although things weren’t perfect, they were so much better than before. For Logan and I, pleasure has always been at the center of our lifestyle, but lately, I’ve found that punishment gives me a release that I can’t get any other way. It lets me switch off in a way that dancing used to.

  I can leave all the hurt, and pain, and emotion behind. I can find a quiet space in my mind, where feelings have no place. It’s hard to explain, because of course, I feel the pain that is being inflicted on my body, but it somehow allows me to zero in on that one feeling, that one sensation, and it obliterates every other conflicting emotion I feel. It forces them not only into the background, but into a temporary oblivion. When I’m being whipped, or flogged, or spanked, I have a reprieve from my own self-loathing.

  I used to cling to ballet, it was my saving grace; my redeeming quality. I’ve put my family through so much heartache over the years. I changed the course of Carter’s life, and it’s only through his own force of will and sheer determination to make things work when he met Addi, that he was able to turn it all around. It’s given me some small comfort to see how happy he is now, but I can’t forget the years I spent watching him push everyone away. I can’t forgive myself for how he shoulders such a burden for protecting me. And now, I’ve broken his heart again.

  I’ve tried not to dwell on his reaction to my choice of lifestyle. I still don’t know why I told him. It’s something that I’ve always considered extremely private. No one’s business but my own. He confirmed my worst fears about myself. There’s something wrong with me.

  I love to be bound and vulnerable, I adore the feeling of being spanked and flogged and paddled. I have the most intense orgasms of my life, after I’ve felt pain. Is that wrong? I crave the power that I hold. I make the decision of what my Master can and can’t do to me in the playroom. I decide how much pain I can tolerate, and I can stop everything that’s happening with a single word. I want to feel secure enough to give myself over completely to another person. I don’t think I could cope with the intimacy any other way.

  If there are no boundaries, and no rules, then there are no limits to how much another human being can hurt me, and I can’t deal with that.

  As much as I love Logan, and as much as he wants to fulfill my needs, when it comes to pain, he’s pulling back when I say harder. I know I’m not supposed to ask for more when I’m in the playroom, and initially it got me further punishment, which I relished; but Logan is an intelligent man. He realized weeks ago that I wanted him to punish me harder, and if I want it so badly, then it’s not really serving its purpose. Logan uses painful punishments sparingly. He’s never been a sadist. He enjoys giving pleasure, and if a little pain heightens that pleasure, then he is more than willing to inflict it. However, when pain is purely for painful ends, he’s not willing to cross that line. More and more he’s using pleasure as my punishment for disobedience. He withholds my release, he withholds his body from me. He won’t let me touch him, or allow me to give him any form of pleasure. When he pushes me to the edge of insanity, where I would do anything for that last caress that will give me the most euphoric release imaginable, it’s then that he pulls me back, leaving me frustrated and begging for mercy – that’s a real punishment
for me, and he knows it. I hate to be denied. I hate that I can’t get my fill of him. Physical pain is nothing to me. I welcome it. But, to have him stand in front of me, my God-like Master, so handsome and strong, and virile, and have him withhold my orgasms – is excruciating.

  With no pleasure release, and no pain, I can feel the pressure building, and all I want to do, is lose myself in a bottle of pills. It’s all I can think about. Just a few to take the edge off, to give me some relief from the constant ache inside of me. A break from feeling every ounce of hatred towards myself that’s always there, festering under the surface. I don’t want to let him down, and I can’t tell him about the one event that triggered all of the pain and suffering I have ever felt. He already looks at me differently. Since Budapest. He doesn’t have that same spark in his eyes when he holds my gaze. The adoration that I once saw reflected back at me, has dulled. It’s still there, and I love him so much for that, but it’s changed. I’ve changed. I can’t go back to using. If I do, I might not survive it, but I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle, and I’m terrified.

  I want to talk to Logan about it, but instead, I find myself pulling away from him. I want to run into his arms, but instead, I avoid them. I sit in silence when I’m screaming inside for him to help me. He can’t help me now. He won’t do what I need, and I’m angry. Some days I can rationalize, and I know that he’s acting in my best interests, but on days like today, when all I can think about is using, I can’t be rational. I feel angry and hurt that he won’t punish me; that he won’t help me to find that moment of calm, the eye of the storm. Why doesn’t he understand? I’m supposed to tell him when it’s too much. I’m supposed to decide what I can handle. I’m supposed to be in control of how far is too far. He said he wants to make me happy, to give me what I need, and yet he’s not giving me what I want or what I need.

  I need drugs, or I need pain. It’s one or the other. I don’t have dance, I don’t have my brother. I don’t even have the escape of a peaceful night’s sleep anymore. I’m plagued day and night by my memories, by my failures, and the longer I go without feeling the physical pain of my Master’s punishment, the worse it gets, the growing distance between us seeming insurmountable.