Plaything

by Cole Denton

  “Don’t move, I’ll be right back,” she warned.

  Don’t move? Was she seriously thinking that I’d dare move? Besides, I’d have to lift the couch or somehow rip the leg off of the frame.

  I heard Elise go from the spare bedroom, back down the hall to her room, then back to the spare room. The plastic rollers from the closet doors zipped along the track as Elise angrily slid them open and closed.

  “Where the hell did I put my crop?”

  Elise tore back down the hallway to her room. I could hear the panic in her movements. Since it was Jacob’s crop, I equated her panicked feeling something similar to if someone loses their wedding ring.

  She had gone back down the hallway to the spare room. Frantically she opened and slammed the door and the drawers to the vintage armoire that held many of her toy contents. She was really starting to freak out, and I had to calm her.

  “Mistress Elise,” I called out.

  She ignored me and the four times that I called out for her. In the back of my mind, I could hear James’ voice reminding me that a responsible Top would not leave his or her bottom restrained and unattended. I was fine but still knew that it wasn’t safe. Elise will get there. She just needs time and patience along the way. I am determined to help her.

  “Mistress Elise,” I hollered again.

  Finally, she acknowledged me.

  “What?” she snapped.

  “Mistress Elise, please come here. I know where your crop is.”

  Elise stormed into the living room. She looked relieved that I knew where Jacob’s crop was.

  “Well? Where is it? Are you hiding it?”

  “No, Mistress. I know how much you love the crop. I know that it’s special to you. I also know that it was starting to show signs of a lot of use. I knew that you’d never want to use another crop because you’re very connected to the one you have. It just needed a little care—”

  “What did you do, Andrew?” I was caught off guard by the amount of manic anger in her voice and hand gestures. She was really pissed. “Answer me now!” she screamed.

  I was still on my hands and knees and had to arch my back and head so I could see her better.

  “Answer me this instant! Where is Jacob’s crop?”

  “I gave it to James for conditioning and repair—”

  “You did what?” Elise screeched as she began to stalk the length of the fireplace. “Why in the hell would you have done that?”

  “I know how much it means to you, and I wanted to have it conditioned so you can enjoy it, so you didn’t break it,” I explained. I tried to round my back a bit to ease some of the pressure from being in the same position, cuffed to the leg of her couch.

  “Oh, my God, Andrew! You had no right to do that! That crop was not yours to touch!”

  “I’m sorry, Mistress Elise,” I apologized.

  Elise ran to her clutch on the entryway table and retrieved her cell phone.

  “When did you give James the crop? Maybe I can still stop him.”

  “I’m sorry, Mistress Elise. The crop has been repaired. James was going to bring it by this evening.”

  “You son of a bitch!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  She raced toward to coffee table, grabbed the book my dad gave me, and threw it into the fireplace.

  “No!” I watched in horror as the heartfelt message in my dad’s handwriting went up in flames. I yanked on the metal cuffs and didn’t even care if they dug into my skin, or if I ripped the fucking leg off her goddamned heavy couch.

  As I tried lifting the corner of the couch with my fingertips, she came over and started slapping my back and yanking on my hair.

  “I can’t believe you took my crop!”

  “I can’t believe you burned the book my dad gave me!” I yelled back and tried to shield my face as best as I could with my shoulders.

  “Fire ends up consuming everything we hold dear to us, Andrew!”

  Elise dug her razor-sharp fingernails into the top of my back and then dragged them down my back.

  “Ahhh!” I cried out as she ripped open the flesh on my back.

  As she scratched me, I watched my book be engulfed by flames in the back of the fireplace. I was livid.

  Elise slapped my back and then took off in a sprint down the hallway. I heard her in the closet as I continued to try and get enough leverage to lift the couch to free my arms. The couch was one of those older heavy styles with thick block legs. Elise came running back into the living room, and I saw something silver catch the light as it sliced through the air.

  “Ow, fuck!” I yelled as a buckle from a belt connected with my torn up back.

  Elise laughed like a madwoman as she relentlessly whipped me with the belt. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I yelled and begged for her to stop, but she was so caught up and full of rage. The tip of the leather belt grazed my chin and bottom lip as my face hid as best as it could in my shoulder. Suddenly, I could taste blood. She had cut my lip or my chin. I didn’t even know at that point what it was.

  “Red!” I finally exclaimed. “Red, Elise!” I kept repeating it over the constant beating.

  It went on for what seemed like forever. My body was in so much pain. I had finally curled into myself on the floor while leaning against her couch. I tried to protect my face and dick as much as possible. I ignored the barrage of hateful words she spat at me, just as she ignored me saying my safe word over and over.

  “Red, Elise!”

  Nothing. She hadn’t even let up. In the distance, I could hear the doorbell and pounding on the front door. James!

  “James!” I yelled. “James, help me!”

  “Oh, you little shit!” Elise kicked me in the side. “This is all your fucking fault, Andrew! Now you have your goddamn former protector out there!”

  I was winded from her swift kick to my side. While I tried to catch my breath, Elise grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head backward.

  “Ow! Fuck! Red, Elise! Red!”

  She slapped me hard in the face and then let go of my head. Relieved when she walked away from me, I closed my eye and rested my head on the seat cushion of the couch.

  “Red,” I wheezed.

  I heard Elise open the front door and then opened my eyes briefly to see James hurrying toward me.

  “Andrew, my God, Andrew. Don’t move, just stay still.” His gently familiar hand on my head calmed me down. “Elise, hand Brandon the keys to the cuffs, now,” James instructed.

  “James, we were just playing,” Elise tried to tell James.

  “No, James, I said my safe word.”

  “Quiet, Andrew. Elise, the keys.”

  “I must have misplaced them.”

  “Very well,” James said as he stood.

  No! Fuck, he wasn’t leaving, was he?

  “James!” I panicked.

  “Andrew, relax, and be still. Brandon, lift the end of the couch, please,” James told Brandon.

  As soon as Brandon lifted the end of the couch, James carefully pulled the handcuffs free. I tried to stand on my own, but James wrapped his hands around my biceps and helped me stand slowly. I felt extremely embarrassed that I was semi-hard. I understood enough about myself and about how masochists react to pain, it didn’t make this any less embarrassing.

  “Where are your pants, Andrew?” James asked me while keeping an eye on Elise.

  “The coff-ee…t-table,” I stuttered.

  Fucking hell, what was wrong with me? I felt ice-cold suddenly.

  “No! Don’t you dare take those clothes! I bought him that tux to wear. It’s mine. He’s mine!” Elise screamed at Brandon as he walked toward the coffee table.

  “Do you have any clothes here, Andrew?” James ignored Elise and asked me, but all I could do was stare at her as my body was wracked in pain and confusion. How could she have turned on me like this? “Andrew, look at me,” James instructed again. I dragged my eyes away from Elise and looked at James. “Andrew, do yo
u have any clothes here?” I nodded. “Where are they?”

  “The ga-rage,” my voice slowed in places as I spoke.

  “The garage?” James repeated what I had said for clarification. I nodded, knowing that he would come down on me soon when he found out everything. “Brandon, go to the garage and see if you can find his clothes.”

  Before Brandon headed toward the garage door, I forced myself to focus and talk.

  “Books, Bran-don.” I swallowed hard, hoping it would settle my nerves, or whatever the fuck was going on.

  “What?” Brandon asked.

  “Books. I have t-two b-ooks in the ga-rage…on a t-tarp,” I blurted.

  I started to feel like I might pass out. I had never passed out before, but I was starting to think that this is what it would feel like. While Brandon was gone, James stood in front of me and told me to try to relax. I hurt just to breathe, though.

  “James, I t-think I’m g-going to p-pass out-t. My side hurts.”

  He put both of his hands on my biceps again and encouraged me to take deep breaths. Brandon finally re-appeared with underwear, jeans, my sneakers, and a t-shirt. After he handed James my articles of clothing, my two books from my brothers remained in his hands.

  “I got the two books, man,” Brandon told me and held them up for me to see.

  I tried to maneuver my arms over my head to get the t-shirt on, but the movement was so harsh on my body that I was forced to stop. Sharp shooting pains radiated in my side where she kicked me. I looked at James, unsure of what to do. He helped me into my t-shirt by stretching the material over my arms and then over my head. My breathing sounded funny with shallow panting.

  James began to walk towards the door with me slowly as Elise came unglued.

  “He’s mine! James, you cannot barge in here and take him! He’s mine! We signed a contract!”

  As I walked by, I stared into the fireplace. All that remained of the book that had meant so much to me was unrecognizable and charred…just like my heart.

  Epilogue

  James

  Never ever had I dreamed that I would be back in an emergency room watching medical staff attending to one of mine. Andrew still was very much mine.

  Andrew was alert, but understandably in shock. I stood at the foot of the bed and kept one of my hands on the top of his foot. Every few moments, I would rub up and down the foot, just to remind him that a familiar friend was here for him.

  As the nurses and doctors moved calmly to attend to his magnitude of wounds, I glanced over my shoulder at Brandon. He sat on a beige tin folding chair against the wall with Andrew’s shoes between his feet. I was very proud of his mature behavior tonight as his ability to care for a friend came out. Andrew was going to need a friend who had suffered from mind games and abuse. Brandon knew more on that subject than anyone I had ever come across.

  Once the doctors left his side to let him rest, I sat down on the padded vinyl chair beside his bed. Andrew looked very lost and unsure of what to make of his evening. Off and on, I had wondered what happened to his night and how things went so wrong. I refrained from talking about this evening and wouldn’t bring it up until tomorrow. But tomorrow will be a different story.

  In all, seventy-two stitches and four bruised ribs made up the visible damage done, up to this point. The bruises would begin to show up tomorrow.

  As Brandon sat on the side of Andrew’s bed, he hesitated a few times but then set his hand loosely on Andrew’s blanket-covered leg. After he let his hand sit there for a moment, he looked over at me for my approval. I smiled and nodded my head at him.

  Something very positive did come out of this dark evening; Brandon began to come out from his shell.

  About Cole Denton

  An ocean loving guy who’s exploring his kinky side in pursuit of all things pleasurable.

  Also by Cole Denton

  The Trial By Fire Series

  Forged

  Steel

  Phoenix

  Iron

  The Sanguine Series

  The Queen

  Hybrid

  The Club Oxygen Series

  Oxygen

  Plaything

  Mistress

  Slave

  Sadist