Page 49 of Dirty Behavior

Ivy

The Sun. The Sky. The Air.

There isnothing in this world that should be taken for granted. Nothing.

I knew that now.

But what would you do if it was stolen away and all of it was used against you as a type of reward?

Could you go without air, without the sun, without the sky?

There's a breaking point for everyone. And it comes when your choices lie in what you do, not what you deserve.

Memories gave way to understanding, they tarnished a time in my life when I couldn't see how precious the most simple things were. They forecast a cloud of suspicion on my future I would never forget.

* * *

“Ivy, when I open this door you can't run.”

“Yes, Sir.” Lowering my eyes as I was taught, I folded my hands across my waist.

“You've come a long way, I don't want us to end up stepping backwards.” Brushing his fingers down my arm, I had to keep my body from shivering in disgust.

I wanted to go outside, I wanted to get the hell out of that house even if it was only for a short time. I didn't want to do anything to fuck it up.

“I won't, Sir.” With my eyes lowered and hands tucked away, my muscles scratched to be set free.

Remo couldn't see under my skin, although I was sure he wished he could. He wanted to own every piece of me, even what was strictly only mine to give away.

I had to do everything I could to stop myself from screaming in his face and telling him to go fuck himself like I had been doing up until recently.

Last week was the worst. Remo had lost the very last bit of patience he had left after how I acted.Those are his words, not mine.

I didn't know why he expected I would just bend over backwards and take it up the ass. He knew from day one this wasn't going to be easy.

But last week I had hit my limit.

And I guess, so did he.

The bruises I could tolerate. A black eye, a swollen lip, those things had become my norm. His fingertips were painted all over my arms, my ribs, my thighs. Some were new, some were old.

I had started to get really good at shutting down, holding back my screams, letting him take out his anger and get it over with.

I pushed, I pushed him every day. But slowly he had worked me down. The small closet had become my daily reminder of the mouth I couldn't shut off, and the man who wanted to train it.

But last week, he hit a nerve. I had given in to the small things he requested. I served him dinner, half nude and hardly covered. I had sat how he'd told me to, I had stopped mouthing off as often.

This. . . This I just couldn't stand for.

He wanted me to kneel at the end of his bed—which I did, but only because it kept me from having to look at him. Any amount of time I didn't have to look at his evil, horrendous face was fine with me.

So I knelt down as I was told, knees on the floor, arms resting in my lap. But then he did something that was so degrading, so fucking insane, I lost it.

My lid had been blown, my temper rising and exploding in one violent burst.

He wanted me to lean forward and rest on my arms. It was a strange request, but I complied. I didn't ask why, I didn't really care. My life was already fucked, what difference would that make?

I felt a pressure on my back digging into my spine. Looking over my shoulder, Remo was sitting on the edge of the bed, wine glass in hand and his feet resting on me like I was a fucking piece of furniture.