by Sky Corgan
Every BDSM video I've ever seen plays through my head like a montage of pain and pleasure. Janice has shown me some pretty seedy stuff. Humiliation the likes of which no person should ever have to endure. Lashings that about broke the skin. Needles and knives and a dozen other things I'd never want to try. Am I really ready for this? Am I ready to see Lucian Reddick's worst?
I try not to think about it as I push broccoli around on my plate. Even though I'm not hungry, I force the lobster down. If my stomach didn't feel so tight from anticipation, I would probably be savoring every bite. Lucian knocked the ball out of the park again with his cooking. How he manages to make healthy food taste delectable, I'll never understand, but I'm very appreciative of it.
“You should finish your food.” He nods at my plate. “You're going to need your strength.”
I scowl at the broccoli like it's my enemy before doing what I'm told. Lord knows what I'll need my strength for, but I'm not going to doubt him. Besides, it feels like from this point on, or at least for the rest of the afternoon, my goal should be to please him, to show him that I have what it takes to give him what he needs in all facets of life.
Once the meal is done, Lucian takes our plates to the kitchen, and I go to the bathroom to wash up. Already, sweat is dotting my brow. My nerves are starting to get the better of me, and I have to take a few minutes to squash them down, to ground myself in the realization that this needs to be done. I wanted to see. I have to see. There's no backing out now.
When I step out of the bathroom, Lucian is waiting in the hall for me. His expression is deadpan. There's no kindness in his eyes, just the slightest hint of concern. He seems a bit nervous, though I can't really tell.
“Come.” He takes me by the hand and leads me to a door in the hallway.
My mind instantly flashes back to the time when I came to take pictures of Lucian's house for his interior design project. This particular door was locked then, and he told me that it was one of the rooms that didn't need to be redecorated.
There's no mystery to what's behind the door now. It's a dungeon. I know that before he takes the key out of his pocket and slides it into the lock. If he had hoped I would gasp with shock, then he'll be sorely disappointed.
He opens the door for me, giving me a glimpse inside. I wrap my arms around myself as my eyes take in the room. It's not ominous looking like the red room in Flesh. The walls match the rest of the house, and there's good lighting overhead. Not like any dungeon I've ever seen.
Admittedly, I don't know what most of the furniture is. The room is missing the classic Saint Andrew's Cross that seems to be a staple of most dungeons. There's more than enough other furniture to make up for it though, chairs and benches and tables. Some look like Lucian might have stolen them from his plastic surgery practice. Others appear to be custom made. It's an impressive spread.
My eyes dance from piece of furniture to piece of furniture, trying to discern their various uses. Then they finally land on the bed at the back of the room, and I gasp.
***
“It's the bed from the furniture store.” I take long strides across the room to get to it. “The one that we...”
“Yes.” I can hear the grin in Lucian's voice, but it's tempered with something else. Something dark and sensual.
The frame has been painted black, and the light floral comforter has been replaced with a plain black one. I run my fingertips over it, my mind instantly drifting to our coupling in the furniture store. Somehow, seeing the bed in this room, a room built for sexual fantasy, has my hormones heating up. A blush comes to my cheeks as I begin to realize that I kind of want this to happen. I want to have another scene with Lucian. A real scene.
Last time, I dipped my toe into the BDSM world. This time, I'll be diving in head first.
I turn to him with new resolve, my eyes landing on his satisfied expression. He steps up to me, so close that I can smell his cologne. I straighten the front of his jacket, my eyes growing hooded as I surrender to my secret desires.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Mhm.” I nod curtly. I don't think I've ever been more ready to experiment than I am now.
“Good.” He places his index finger under my chin, tipping my face up to look at him. “In here, you will do everything that I tell you to. You will call me Sir and only Sir.”
The way he's talking sends a warm shiver down my spine that rolls all the way to my core. The dominance of his voice is so stupidly sexy that I can already feel myself getting wet. We should have done this a long time ago. Why was I always so afraid of it?
“Since you want to know what goes on at Flesh, we're going to do this as if we were at Flesh,” he continues. “You will use the standard safe words. Yellow for if it's getting too intense. Red if you want me to stop completely.”
“No safe words.” I shake my head.
“Amy.”
“Do the other girls use safe words?” I gaze up at him.
He blinks a few times before responding. “They have the option of using them.”
“Do they use them though?”
“No.”
“Then neither will I,” I insist stubbornly.
“Suit yourself.” His jaw tenses slightly, a good sign that he doesn't like the idea of me not wanting to use safe words. “Are you ready to begin?”
I inhale deeply, my heartbeat beginning to hasten at the realization that this is actually going to happen. He's going to do things to me in here. Horrible things. Things I might not be able to handle.
“Yes, I'm ready.”
“Alright then.” Lucian takes a few steps away from me before turning back around. “Take off your clothes. All of them. I want you to fold them neatly and put them on the bench by the door. When you're done, you will return to me and kneel on the floor. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.” I bow my head respectfully.
The thought that I'm going to get completely naked in front of him with this much light shining down on me makes me feel incredibly nervous. Even though he's seen me naked several times before, I worry that all of my flaws will be amplified in the light. I don't want him to see them, but this is what I signed up for. I have no choice.
Hesitantly, I reach for the hem of the brown long-sleeved shirt I'm wearing. Now, more than ever, I'm glad that I layered my clothing. It will take a while for me to get naked, and hopefully my confidence will build with each shed item of clothing. That's wishful thinking though.
I pull the top off and then slip out of my skirt. All the while, Lucian stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs slightly spread, watching me with a hard expression. I don't know if I'm pleasing him or not, but I'm honestly too consumed by my own insecurities to care.
I turn to take the clothes that I've removed so far to the bench near the door, but then I hear Lucian say, “Stop.” I glance at him over my shoulder, giving him a quizzical look. “Take everything off first, then you can fold them and put them on the bench.”
“What do you want me to do with them now?”
“Toss them on the floor.” He nods towards a spot next to my feet.
I already feel naked stripped down to my base layer of clothing. The pink tights I'm wearing hug my thighs, showing off my curves in all the wrong places. The gray camisole I still have on isn't doing me any favors either.
I take a deep breath and start peeling off the tights, repeating over and over again in my mind that he's seen it all before, so he can't possibly be disappointed by the package now. Then I pull off the camisole in a few jerking motions and toss it onto the pile of clothing as well.
“Slow down,” he says the words one at a time. “You're starting to get nervous.”
I look up at him blankly. Of course, I'm nervous. I feel like a whale with the way the light is playing off of my rolls. PETA could come busting through the door at any minute to try to push me back into the ocean.
Defensively, I cross my arms over my stomach, which only
makes him scowl.
“Arms at your sides,” he tells me.
I knew that was coming, but it still doesn't make me want to do it. With a huff, I drop my arms, turning my head to avoid his gaze. I don't want to see him judging me.
“Look at me, Amy. You're beautiful. There's no reason for you to hide.”
I sure as hell don't feel beautiful right now. The self-consciousness I was hoping would go away has come out full-fledged, rising to the forefront of everything. He's standing before me, an Adonis. Masculine perfection. And all I can do is wonder why in the hell he'd want someone like me. It makes me want to start crying.
“Amy, stop it. You're getting inside your own head. Just look at me. Focus on me.”
I do look at him, my eyes locking onto those two stunning blue pools that are so captivating. I feel the tiniest pull in my heart, more from the realization that he can read me so well. It's astonishing how good he is, how much he seems to know me.
“Now take off your bra. I want to see your tits,” his tone takes a crude turn, but the look in his eyes is so heated that it completely turns me on.
I blush as I reach behind myself to fumble with my bra. My fingers are trembling from nervousness, and it takes a few tries for me to unclasp it. You'd think I was a teenage boy unhooking a bra for the first time by how clumsy I'm being. It's embarrassing.
I suck up my hatred of my body and try to pretend to be sexy, allowing the straps of my bra to slowly slide down my arms before the cups part from my breasts and leave me exposed. I dare to glance back up at Lucian, and he seems pleased, a half-cocked smirk on his face. Somehow, it just makes me feel more self-conscious, but I shimmy out of the bra the rest of the way anyway before tossing it onto the pile.
“Gorgeous,” he muses. “It's hard to keep my hands off of you. Now your underwear.” He nods to my panties.
A small sigh leaves my lips before I begin pulling them down, trying not to be too rushed about it, but also feeling like I can't possibly make the act look sexy. Thankfully, he doesn't chastise me for it. Once my underwear are around my ankles, I kick them off to the side, glancing down at my pile of clothes.
“Now you may fold them,” he tells me, and I quickly get to work gathering them and taking them to the bench to fold them before returning to him, the soft carpet caressing the bottoms of my feet as I walk.
Kneeling in front of Lucian feels awkward, and I'm briefly reminded of the instructions that the front office guy at Flesh gave me. He said that Lucian likes for his submissives to be kneeling when he enters the room. I can't help but wonder how many women have knelt in front of him before me. How many more will kneel before him if I can't satisfy his needs? It's an unpleasant thought, and it only strengthens my resolve.
“Look at me,” he instructs.
I'm quickly becoming aware that I have a tendency to bow my head. It probably stems from my embarrassment of being in such a situation. Obviously, he doesn't like it, so it's something I'll need to get over.
When I look up at Lucian, he's gazing down at me with pure appreciation in his eyes. It makes my heart swirl with warm, pleasant feelings. There's a sense of satisfaction in knowing that I'm making him happy, in knowing that I'm giving him what he wants.
The back of his fingertips whisper over my cheek, and I find myself leaning into his touch. My body is alight with lust, my heart coming alive with an emotion that's completely unmerited after everything he's put me through. Love. I'm beginning to remember that I love this man, and though I don't want to think about it, I can't help but feel it.
“You will stay here,” he tells me before his hand leaves my face and he turns away from me.
I do as I'm told, watching him as he walks to a closet in the far corner of the room. My heart races as I wonder what he's going to pull out. I highly doubt it will be a flogger or riding crop or cane. There are racks and bins around the room filled with more BDSM implements than I've ever seen in a dungeon before. One rack on the wall has at least twenty different whips and belts hanging off of it of various lengths and widths. Another has just as many floggers and paddles. There's a bin sitting next to what appears to be a padded dentist's chair that has so many canes and riding crops sticking out of it that I doubt any more could fit. Surely to God, no Dom could possibly ever need this much stuff.
Thankfully, I was right about Lucian not grabbing something to torture me with. Instead, he returns to me with a thick black collar in his hand. I straighten myself as best I can while he walks behind me to fasten it around my neck. He uses the two finger rule, making sure it's not too tight though it's still a bit too snug for my liking. Part of me wants to ask him to loosen it, but then I remind myself that I'm in this for his extreme Flesh experience, so I shouldn't expect him to make exceptions for me.
Once the collar is in place, he walks back around to face me. I make sure to look up at him, knowing that he doesn't like it when my head is down. There's the slightest hint of a grin on his face as if he's pleased that he didn't have to correct me this time. He hooks a finger under the front of the collar, and my eyes go hooded, showing my desire for him.
But then he slips another finger under the collar and starts pulling.
The first wave of panic washes over me as I feel my breathing being restricted. There's a sadistic gleam in his eyes, his grin suddenly turning wicked as he applies more pressure until my face begins to turn red and I let out a choked gasp. It takes everything in me to keep my arms at my sides. Fight or flight syndrome is kicking in. My need to survive is screaming to all of my senses to pull out of his grasp, that I'm in some sort of mortal danger. I can't believe it though. I won't believe that Lucian would ever really hurt me.
A pained gasp escapes my lips as I feel the collar digging into the back of my neck. It burns like it's cutting into me, but I know that it will only leave a red mark behind. This is a game of mind over matter, of how much I can endure before I pull away. And Lucian is very much enjoying playing it.
I've never seen him look like this before. It's like I'm gazing up at a different man. A man who gets off to knowing that he's torturing me—a man with no soul.
The collar gets tighter, and my need to resist grows to an almost insurmountable level. I can't breath. This is not pleasurable. And inside my head, I'm starting to question what I was thinking only seconds before, that Lucian would never hurt me. He is hurting me. He's hurting me, and he's getting off to it.
The word 'stop' is at the edge of my tongue, threatening to slip off. 'Red. Red. Red. Red.' I'm screaming it inside my head, but I'm not even sure if I could choke it out at this point.
It's too much. The pain. The panic. The terror. I have to say it. I can't take this any longer. He's going to kill me.
I open my mouth, pushing out a strained breath. Before the first letter can leave my lips though, Lucian releases me.
I fall away from him choking, my hand clutching at my throat. I suck in huge gulps of air, filling my lungs, feeling the blood rushing back through my neck. The world flashes white around me, and I have to brace myself with my hand to keep from passing out. It's my first taste of Lucian Reddick's worst, and I don't think I want another.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“You look so good in red.” There's a sick twinge of amusement in Lucian's tone that makes me tremble with fear.
Who is this man, and what has he done with the guy that I love?
I look up at Lucian, and all I see is a monster. I'm alright though. He didn't kill me. It felt like he was going to, but he didn't. He wouldn't. I know this game. Even if I've already decided that I hate it, I know it. He's going to push me until I think I'm dying, and then he's going to give me a taste of life. I have him figured out. At least, I think I do.
I can't give up now. This is what I came into this room for. I have to show him that I can do this. But even if I can do this, will I be able to force myself to do it on the regular?
It's a complete mindfuck to know that this is what he needs. To k
now that if I give it to him, I will never be myself again. It will change me completely. Damage me. I can't pretend that it wouldn't. And it's even more disheartening to realize that there are some women out there who love this. Who live for this. Those are the girls of Flesh. The ones he doesn't want to give up. Would it be so bad if I passed this burden off to them?
That's not what I want though, and I know it. I want him to belong to me entirely, and this is the only way. I have to make it through this. I have to mentally temper myself somehow, to find that subspace where this can be acceptable to me, even if I don't enjoy it. It's the only way that Lucian and I will ever be completely committed to one another.
I take a few minutes to catch my breath before pulling myself up off of the floor and resuming my kneeling stance in front of him. When I gaze up at him again, my expression is challenging.
Is that all you've got? If this is your worst, then I can handle it. I will handle it.
If he's impressed, I can't tell. The look in his eyes is pure evil. He's gazing down at me as if I'm something to be destroyed and discarded. It's unsettling, but I refuse to show him my fear.
He reaches down to touch my cheek again, and I reflexively wince away, then I quickly regain my composure, letting him touch me. He's so gentle, but the mood isn't the same as before. I don't want to lean into him. I don't want to be soothed by his touch. I want to lash out at him or bite him, but I know I can't. That's not part of this game.
“You look frightened,” he comments.
“I'm fine,” my voice is stern.
“Are you?” He hooks his finger around my collar again, and panic races through me.
Oh shit, he's going to choke me again. I don't know if I can handle it. I can't. What if he does it too hard this time?
He begins to pull on the collar, and I feel my blood pressure rise by about ten degrees from the first tug. “Get up.”
