Love So Dark: Billionaire Romance Duet

by Stasia Black

  My next swing is a little off and barely grazes him but I follow it up with another that lands on the target. From eight feet away, I can see his back is growing redder and redder. The session has been intense but awesome. He’s probably had about fifty blows by now. Shit. I should have been counting. That’s something I bet Dommes do. Or they have their subs count. Right. I feel like I’ve read somewhere that that’s the thing.

  Oh well. I won’t feel bad about it. Daniel knew going into this that I’m just learning my way around. I let the whip drop to my side and am about to go closer to inspect his back and make sure he’s okay when he speaks up. It’s bad enough that he’s talking out of turn, but then his words register.

  “If I’m a slut, Mistress is a slut too. You came over so willingly. I bet your panties are soaked.”

  His laugh is caustic. “Fucking bimbo piece of trash. As if you’re even good enough to suck my cock. You’d be lucky if I wanted to shove my big fat cock down your throat. But if I did, I’d jam it in so far, you wouldn’t be breathing for a week. You’ll choke on it, you’ll—”

  The whip is singing through the air before I quite realize what I’m doing. Stop him. Stop him from saying another word. That’s all I can think.

  But the crack of the whip on his back only makes him laugh. He looks over his shoulder at me defiantly. “Oh yeah, I’d fuck your face so hard you couldn’t breathe. I’d make sure you were the one in these fucking chains, locked down here in my basement so I could use you whenever I want. My own personal cum bucket. That’s all a bitch like you is good for. And you’d want it. You’d love it.”

  That’s right, you love it, you filthy whore. The words of my rapist, while he was still inside me. Violating me from behind while his co-rapist took from the front.

  Oh God, I feel them. Suffocating me from all sides, sickening cologne and rancid breath biting at my breasts. Get them out of me! God help me! God, where are you?

  See? It just takes one session sometimes to break a bitch. That’s what this is. Intentionally trying to break me. To crush the bits of my soul into pieces smaller than the finest grains of sand until there’s nothing left.

  “Cause that’s how whores like you want it,” the voice in the room shouts, taunting and full of menace. “You pretend like you don’t, but you just need a man to come and shove it in your cunt, then you’re creaming all over—”

  I scream and the whip flies. “I’m not broken! You didn’t break me!” I bring the whip down again. And again. And again. “You sick motherfucking rapist bastard!” I scream. I bring the whip down yet again with all the force I can manage.

  Tears blur my vision as my arm rears back to strike again when the figure in front of me suddenly slumps to his knees.

  Wait. What? What’s going on?

  I stumble back, lose my footing and fall on my ass. I look around, confused and disoriented. Then it comes back to me. Daniel’s basement. The scene. Everything was going great until—

  I look over at Daniel.

  Oh God. I swipe at my eyes so I can see more clearly but the image is still the same. Blood. There’s blood on his back. A lot of fucking blood.

  “Oh my God.” It’s a horrified whisper. Did I— My eyes jerk around the room. Of course I fucking did. Who the hell else do I think was here just whipping the helpless man chained to a post?

  Oh my fucking God. What did I just do?

  I scramble to my feet and run over to him.

  “I’m so sorry.” The broken whisper barely gets past my throat. I grab for the key in my bra and then fumble to unlock his wrists. I jam the key at the little lock but can’t seem to get it in the hole. I shove it again but my hands are shaking so damn bad.

  “Motherfucker,” I swear to myself as I try yet again.

  “It’s okay,” the hands I’m trying to free grip mine and I look up to find Daniel’s eyes on mine.

  How can he even look at me? “I didn’t hear your safe word. I swear, I would’ve stopped if I’d heard it.” Tears pour down my cheeks. “It’s unforgivable, but I’m so sorry, I’m so—”

  Daniel just shakes his head vehemently back and forth and cuts me off. “I didn’t say it. I, I didn’t want you to stop. Please. I’m sorry for the things I was saying. But please. Just a little more. I need it. You don’t understand how much. No one else will give me what I need.”

  “What?” I yank my hands back from him. I want to pretend I didn’t hear him right.

  His whole face has gone hopeful. “That’s right,” he nods toward the whip I discarded. “You should punish me for being so disobedient and speaking out when I shouldn’t have. Saying such bad things. Give me as many more lashes as you want. I can handle it.” There’s a manic edge to his voice. He hugs the pole and struggles back to his feet.

  I step even further back from him. The blood on his back… God, there’s so much of it. It’s dripping. I whipped a man bad enough that his back is dripping blood. And he wants more of it. My stomach goes queasy.

  “I’ll get help,” I call over my shoulder as I turn and bolt for the stairs. Help. I don’t know what that means in this situation, but I just have to get the hell out of here. Out of this dungeon. Away from the man who wants me to injure him more than I already have.

  So I run.

  What are you doing? You can’t just leave him chained up down there. I hiccup as I try to get enough air in before I have to gasp for another breath. Shit shit shit. Running up the stairs like a bat out of hell didn’t help the breathing situation. In the hallway at the top, I bend over and put my hands on my knees.

  In. Out. In.

  My head swims and I finally manage one longer breath for every three short hiccupping ones. After a couple minutes, it seems like there’s less of a chance that I’m going to pass out. Great. Okay. One crisis averted.

  I look around the narrow hallway. It’s full dark outside. I’m in this crazy fucker’s house all by myself. The crazy fucker in question is still cuffed to a pole downstairs. In need of medical attention. Should I uncuff him and take him to the hospital? And how exactly am I supposed to do that? I don’t have a car and I don’t know if Daniel does. Not that it would matter even if he did. My fucking license expired a couple months ago and I didn’t see the point of renewing it since I don’t have a car.

  The image of me trying to drag a bloody and half-delirious Daniel onto public transit pops in my head. He’s a foot taller than me and outweighs me by at least seventy pounds. Yeah. Not happening. From my brief glance, it didn’t seem like the cuts were serious enough for an ambulance and I don’t think an Uber driver would look kindly on me being like, cool if you take us to the hospital, I’ll just put some towels against the seat so, you know, my friend doesn’t bleed all over your Honda Fit.

  My breaths start to stutter again and I ball my fists.

  No. I’ll just head down there, calmly ask him where his first aid equipment is, and… and… Oh shit, I feel sick. I press one hand to my stomach and the other to my mouth.

  I turn to try to find a trashcan and almost trip over my purse where I dropped it in the hallway when I first got here. I stare for a long moment. My stomach settles as an idea hits.

  Of course. The most obvious solution of all.

  My hand is still shaking as I crouch down and paw through my purse. There it is. The hard plastic of my phone case. My hand closes around it and a great whoosh of breath escapes through my teeth. But when I breathe in again, for the first time in fifteen minutes, my lungs seem to expand fully.

  I thumb through my contacts and press call. As the ringtone sounds in my ear, I consider the very real possibility that he might not pick up. It’s a Thursday. Not Friday, but still. He’s undoubtedly a busy man. Probably has a full social life. My stomach tightens unpleasantly at the thought. The phone trills for the third time.

  Shit. He’s not going to pick up. I’m all alone in this. I press my palm to the flat of my forehead.

  God. It was stupid of me to think of calling
him in the first place. Never rely on anyone. That’s been my motto for years now. What the fuck is wrong with me? I made this mess. I shake my head in disgust and pull the phone away from my ear to end the call.

  “Yes? Callie?” Jackson’s strong voice is distant but clear even with the phone inches away from my ear.

  I stare at the phone, my thumb hovering over the end button.

  “Calliope, are you there?”

  My mind flashes to the man in the basement. Fuck it. This is about more than just me. I bring the phone up to my ear.

  “Jackson. It’s me. I need your help.”

  Ten

  JACKSON

  I rushed to Daniel’s house as soon as I got Callie’s call. Miranda met me there. As soon as we assured that Callie was okay—shaken, but okay—we went downstairs and found Daniel.

  It didn’t take long to uncover what had happened. I was tempted, so damn tempted, to pick up the bull whip and complete the job Daniel was so desperate to trick Callie into doing. He might be the one bleeding but it’s her who’ll have lasting scars from tonight. I saw it in her eyes when we’d briefly checked in with her. The shame and horror at what she’d done. It was like looking in a mirror.

  The only thing stopping the beast from grabbing the whip was how much pleasure it would have given Daniel. It was good that Miranda was there. She uncuffed Daniel while I prowled the basement pacing back and forth, trying to shake off my anger at the man.

  He stumbled as soon as he was free and was too heavy for Miranda to catch so finally, I joined them and shouldered his weight to get him up the two flights of stairs to dump him in the tub and turn the shower spray on.

  I don’t bother waiting for it to heat up.

  “Wash yourself,” I bark and turn away in disgust.

  Miranda gives me a what the hell look and passes by me to bend over and help Daniel. Aftercare, yeah yeah yeah. She knows just as well as I do that Daniel did this to himself. I thought about calling one of his former dommes but know that none of them would have wanted to come. Not again. He’s pulled stunts like this one too many times.

  Daniel swore he was getting better. Going to counseling, and his probationary period at the club’s been over for two months.

  Then for him to go and pull this shit… I should never have introduced him to Callie. I keep making mistake after mistake when it comes to her.

  “Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair as I stomp into the bedroom and sit down on the bed. I don’t go downstairs to Callie. Miranda might still need my help and I’m not sure I can face Callie yet, not after failing her again.

  I guess I thought I’d, I don’t know, swoop in like some white knight with all the answers. She’d be my apprentice domme and I’d be her wise teacher in the art of domination. I envisioned long sessions learning flogging patterns and how to lead a sub through the various devices and stations at the club, about all the different toys used in the lifestyle. But nothing’s worked out like I imagined. Then again, nothing ever does, does it?

  Miranda comes out of the en suite bathroom, eyes shrewd.

  I swallow. “How is he?”

  “He’ll be sore for a few days. Nothing that a little ointment, arnica, and rest won’t cure.”

  “He’s got bigger problems than a sore back,” I say darkly.

  “Oh I know.” Miranda says, gaze flicking back toward the bathroom. “But I think he can still come back from this.”

  I glower at her. As far as I’m concerned, Daniel is done. But Miranda’s just shaking her head. “He won’t tell me who it was that did it to him.”

  I frown. What does she mean. Obviously it was Callie who—

  “I mean who broke him. Who made him so fucked up.” She looks toward the window. The sun has long gone down but her gaze has gone faraway. “At least I’m at the place where I can say the name of my demon out loud. Bryce Gentry.”

  She heaves out a heavy breath after saying the bastard’s name. “I have to know we can come back after what they did to us, you know? I have to know it’s possible.”

  I reach over and take her hand. “You know you can talk to me any time. Have the nightmares gotten any better?”

  She attempts a smile but it barely lifts the edges of her lips and makes it nowhere near her eyes. “Some nights I manage to sleep. Which is an improvement, as you know.”

  It’s true. When Miranda and I were together, she could rarely make it through the night in bed beside me. Usually she climbed out of bed somewhere around three a.m. and went outside to smoke. Sometimes she’d come back to bed but more often than not, she’d take her laptop and just go start working.

  “Does she make you happy?”

  “What?” I sit up straighter. “Oh, it’s not like that. We’re not— We’re just friends.”

  She arches an eyebrow. Damn that eyebrow. She always could say so much with it. “Sorry but I don’t think you’d drop everything and call me and demand I drop everything too if she was just a friend.”

  I scoff and point to the bathroom. “Daniel was in need!”

  She rolls her eyes. “You don’t give two shits about Daniel.”

  “That’s not fair. I wouldn’t have just left him locked down there.”

  “Ha! You were tempted.”

  “Nobody could ever read me like you,” I grin.

  “Oh put away that dimple, pretty boy. You already got your way.”

  “How are you, Miranda? Really?” I haven’t seen her in months and though she’s putting up a good front, she looks, I don’t know, sad underneath. She’s the only ex I’ve ever stayed friends with after a relationship—genuine friends with. Maybe because I was always more of a project to her than anything else and we were never the right fit to begin with. We moved out of each other’s lives but we still call every few months to check in. It’s been awhile though.

  “I don’t know, Jack. You ever feel like you’re just spinning in life? Your wheels are going around and around but you’re not really getting anywhere?” She looks at me and for once her shields are down. “All I ever wanted was for someone to look at me the way you look at that woman downstairs. But it just might not be in the cards for me.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  She sighs. “Where can a girl find a man who will whip the shit out of her at night but still be a gentleman in the morning?”

  I lean over and kiss her on the top of her head. “He’s out there somewhere.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you head downstairs, Prince Charming. I’ve got Daniel.”

  I frown. “You sure? He might need help getting out of the—”

  “I’ve got it. Go. She needs you more than we do.”

  I’m not gonna stand around and argue the point. I hurry out of the bedroom and downstairs. Callie’s bent over on the couch, her head in her hands.

  “Callie.”

  Her eyes snap up at my voice. Her jaw tightens like she’s bracing for something and her eyes drop to the floor.

  “Callie, look at me.”

  She lets out a heavy breath and slowly, like it pains her, brings her eyes up to meet mine. I’m so tall she has to all but tip her head back, so I sit down on the couch beside her.

  Being this close to her is as much treat as it is torture.

  I can’t help reaching for her hand, but like so often lately, she pulls it away.

  “Don’t.” Her voice comes out thick and choked sounding.

  Jesus she’s killing me here. She’s so obviously hurting and I can’t fucking stand it.

  “Calliope.” Maybe she’ll push me away but I can’t just sit here and not hold her when I see her there looking so devastated. Please, please don’t pull away, I pray as I tug her into my arms and pull her against my chest.

  When she doesn’t resist, I can’t help pulling her closer, all but into my lap as I cradle her. “I’m so, so sorry, Callie. This is all my fault. I should never have trusted him or even introduced you. Or at least I should have warned you about him.”

/>   I shake my head. “I thought he was better. His probationary period at the club was over and I thought he was recovered.” I nestle my chin over her head. I don’t know how long she’ll let me hold her and I want to give her every ounce of comfort I can while she’ll let me. “I’m an idiot to have even risked exposing you to such a potentially manipulative sub. I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

  And then, all too soon, she’s struggling to pull away. I give one last squeeze before I loosen my grasp on her. She tries to back away to the other side of the couch but I just can’t let completely go. I keep her hand in mine and she finally stops trying to pull it away even as she keeps shaking her head.

  “No, Jackson, it was my fault. Daniel was chained to the pole the whole time. I don’t know what he told you, but it was all me. I lost control. I’ve just…

  “I just…” She waves her hands like she doesn’t know how to explain it. “… lost it. I kept hitting him and then when I stopped, there was all that blood and I’ve…” Tears gather and fall down her cheeks. She looks furious that she’s crying and scrubs at her eyes, finally pulling her hand away from mine.

  But Jesus, she’s got it all so backwards. “No,” I reach for her again. “No, Callie, you’re the one who doesn’t understand.”

  She glares at me furiously. “Stop it! I was the one who was there.”

  Why is she always so damn stubborn? “Yes you were,” I say, trying to be patient, “but you were inexperienced. You trusted Daniel and he lied to you. Did he or did he not tell you that the rubber whip is a so-called ‘practice whip.’”

  She throws both her hands in the air. “Yeah. So what? He trained me how to use it. And I ignored everything and started going way too hard. That’s all on me.”

  My jaw sets and I can feel the back of my neck heating. The beast is roaring in my ears. “Rubber whips are the most intense impact implements in all of a Dominant’s arsenal. Did he tell you that? Leather ones are actually much kinder. Besides which, there was no way you should have been anywhere near a whip at this point in your training. I wouldn’t let you near a person with the gentlest flogger until you’ve had at least three hours of practice. And a whip. For Christ’s sake.” Calm the fuck down. I drag my hands through my hair.