Page 20
Story: Beneath the Burn
He turned toward the door and dragged her down the corridor. “You didn’t eat the oatmeal squares. There was a time when you never turned those down.”
“People change.” She plodded slowly behind him, spinning from his change of topics and navigating the untrodden territory of casual conversation with Roy Oxford.
“A challenge.” He winked over his shoulder. “You’ll teach me what you like now. You’ll show me every new and fascinating fiber you possess.”
“I’d rather not.” Her pulse accelerated. Had she stepped too far?
He paused, waited for her to catch up. “I’ll take that under consideration. You see? I’m not the tyrant you think I am.” He yanked the chain and made her stumble. “But I do hold the reins.”
Fucking dickhead. If he didn’t want to be a tyrant, he could show her a little tenderness once in a while. She hungered for a connection to someone and if her only hope of ever receiving affection came from Roy, maybe it would’ve been better than none at all.
As they entered the last door on the left and walked to the center of the stockroom, she came to a realization. No matter what happened in the next few hours, her scars wouldn’t be a fraction as gruesome as Jay’s. If he were in her position, what would he have done to survive it emotionally?
He would’ve taken control the only way he could. She planted her feet.
The chain went taut and halted Roy’s forward motion. He looked over his shoulder wearing a thunderous expression.
With a wipe of her nose, she pointed a bloodstained finger at the most confining implement in the room. “I want that one.” She cleared her throat. “Sir.”
His gaze snapped in the direction of her intent then narrowed on her. “The inverse chair?”
They stared at one another, a breath away. He could throw a fist, sweep a leg, or yank the leash and smash her head into the floor. She waited.
A muscle twitched in his cheek. His eyes darted between hers. Then the debate on his face settled. “Lead the way.”
Thirty minutes later, he circled her, jacket and tie discarded. His shirt draped open, exposing a white expanse of torso that never saw daylight.
She hung upside down, doubled over at the waist, and arms and thighs squeezed to her chest by ratchet style straps. Her ankles were bound together and dangled below her face.
Choosing the punishment was not the same as choosing to be punished. The beating would’ve happened with or without her consent. There was no power exchange. No safe word. Choosing the method gave her an illusion of control, and in the monster’s lair, illusion was better than reality.
The whip of the flogger caught her labium. She loosened her muscles, held her expression sedate, and embraced it.
Another strike. Upper thigh. A burn flared her sinuses. She breathed through it, and for better or worse, said in her toughest voice, “Again.”
He stumbled mid-lunge, and the lashing fell short. His expression was so openly bewildered, it drew his brows inward over dark eyes searching hers. Here he was, Master of the Dungeon, and he seemed unsure of how to proceed.
Then he smiled, and it chilled the air. “Whatever you’re up to”—he raised his arm—”it’s making me hard as hell.”
The flogger swung down. She held his eyes and adapted to the pain, in all its twisted faces.
9
The van pulled off the interstate and parked at a rest area in Alabama…Mississippi…hell, Jay didn’t know where. He hadn’t looked up from his acoustic and notepad since they left Georgia that morning.
The heat of the summer sun baked the windows, and the A/C cranked on high. With his guitar cradled in his lap and his socked feet on the dash, he was too comfortable to move. Laz and Wil were out of the van before Rio killed the motor. The tight quarters and endless driving must have been wearing on them.
Rio lingered, as did his stare.
Jay didn’t look up from his scrawled lyrics. “Don’t you need to hit the head?”
A huff. Rio wadded up his envelope of flavored candy sugar he’d been licking out of for the past hour and threw it at the windshield. The crumpled ball bounced off the dash and fell amongst the litter on the floorboard.
A smile pulled at Jay’s lips. “Who took the fun out of your Fun Dip?”
“You did, Jay. That’s who.”
Rio’s glare eclipsed Jay’s periphery. Was the big guy seriously pouting? Jay twisted in the seat to face him. “How did I do that exactly?”
“People change.” She plodded slowly behind him, spinning from his change of topics and navigating the untrodden territory of casual conversation with Roy Oxford.
“A challenge.” He winked over his shoulder. “You’ll teach me what you like now. You’ll show me every new and fascinating fiber you possess.”
“I’d rather not.” Her pulse accelerated. Had she stepped too far?
He paused, waited for her to catch up. “I’ll take that under consideration. You see? I’m not the tyrant you think I am.” He yanked the chain and made her stumble. “But I do hold the reins.”
Fucking dickhead. If he didn’t want to be a tyrant, he could show her a little tenderness once in a while. She hungered for a connection to someone and if her only hope of ever receiving affection came from Roy, maybe it would’ve been better than none at all.
As they entered the last door on the left and walked to the center of the stockroom, she came to a realization. No matter what happened in the next few hours, her scars wouldn’t be a fraction as gruesome as Jay’s. If he were in her position, what would he have done to survive it emotionally?
He would’ve taken control the only way he could. She planted her feet.
The chain went taut and halted Roy’s forward motion. He looked over his shoulder wearing a thunderous expression.
With a wipe of her nose, she pointed a bloodstained finger at the most confining implement in the room. “I want that one.” She cleared her throat. “Sir.”
His gaze snapped in the direction of her intent then narrowed on her. “The inverse chair?”
They stared at one another, a breath away. He could throw a fist, sweep a leg, or yank the leash and smash her head into the floor. She waited.
A muscle twitched in his cheek. His eyes darted between hers. Then the debate on his face settled. “Lead the way.”
Thirty minutes later, he circled her, jacket and tie discarded. His shirt draped open, exposing a white expanse of torso that never saw daylight.
She hung upside down, doubled over at the waist, and arms and thighs squeezed to her chest by ratchet style straps. Her ankles were bound together and dangled below her face.
Choosing the punishment was not the same as choosing to be punished. The beating would’ve happened with or without her consent. There was no power exchange. No safe word. Choosing the method gave her an illusion of control, and in the monster’s lair, illusion was better than reality.
The whip of the flogger caught her labium. She loosened her muscles, held her expression sedate, and embraced it.
Another strike. Upper thigh. A burn flared her sinuses. She breathed through it, and for better or worse, said in her toughest voice, “Again.”
He stumbled mid-lunge, and the lashing fell short. His expression was so openly bewildered, it drew his brows inward over dark eyes searching hers. Here he was, Master of the Dungeon, and he seemed unsure of how to proceed.
Then he smiled, and it chilled the air. “Whatever you’re up to”—he raised his arm—”it’s making me hard as hell.”
The flogger swung down. She held his eyes and adapted to the pain, in all its twisted faces.
9
The van pulled off the interstate and parked at a rest area in Alabama…Mississippi…hell, Jay didn’t know where. He hadn’t looked up from his acoustic and notepad since they left Georgia that morning.
The heat of the summer sun baked the windows, and the A/C cranked on high. With his guitar cradled in his lap and his socked feet on the dash, he was too comfortable to move. Laz and Wil were out of the van before Rio killed the motor. The tight quarters and endless driving must have been wearing on them.
Rio lingered, as did his stare.
Jay didn’t look up from his scrawled lyrics. “Don’t you need to hit the head?”
A huff. Rio wadded up his envelope of flavored candy sugar he’d been licking out of for the past hour and threw it at the windshield. The crumpled ball bounced off the dash and fell amongst the litter on the floorboard.
A smile pulled at Jay’s lips. “Who took the fun out of your Fun Dip?”
“You did, Jay. That’s who.”
Rio’s glare eclipsed Jay’s periphery. Was the big guy seriously pouting? Jay twisted in the seat to face him. “How did I do that exactly?”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130
- Page 131
- Page 132
- Page 133
- Page 134
- Page 135
- Page 136
- Page 137
- Page 138
- Page 139
- Page 140
- Page 141
- Page 142
- Page 143
- Page 144
- Page 145
- Page 146
- Page 147
- Page 148
- Page 149
- Page 150
- Page 151
- Page 152
- Page 153
- Page 154
- Page 155
- Page 156
- Page 157
- Page 158
- Page 159
- Page 160
- Page 161
- Page 162
- Page 163
- Page 164
- Page 165
- Page 166
- Page 167
- Page 168
- Page 169
- Page 170
- Page 171
- Page 172
- Page 173
- Page 174
- Page 175
- Page 176
- Page 177
- Page 178
- Page 179
- Page 180
- Page 181
- Page 182
- Page 183
- Page 184
- Page 185