Mercy

by Lucian Bane

  Mercy growled when his phone went to voice mail again. In anger, she hit end, then send again as if he might feel the torture of her calling on rapid repeat. She wanted to be sure and have a big number when she said how many times she called and no answer.

  She froze in the middle of the room when he picked up his phone. “Wow, I feel like a superstar.” The deep sound of his voice touched her in more ways than she cared to count.

  “Sade!” she gasped in relief before letting out her fury, “Sade!”

  “I’m sorry baby,” he said, his voice a low deep rumble. “Ran into some trouble. I’ll be home in a few minutes. You okay?”

  Mercy covered her mouth to hold back the sudden sob out of nowhere. She didn’t understand why she would cry, she barely knew him but the way he’d just spoken with such concern in his usually hard voice. “I’m just….”

  “Hey, hey,” he soothed, only making it worse. “I shoulda’ called.”

  “You sound… different,” she realized, sniffling back her tears. Like he was slurring.

  “You cook anything? I’m starving.”

  Her stomach flipped at hearing the hunger in him. Seemed multi-dimensional. “I did. Spaghetti. I should have warned you that I have little cooking skills.”

  He chuckled low. “I love spaghetti.”

  “Good,” she nodded, wiping her eyes. “Good, so you’ll be here soon?” she double checked.

  “I’m driving up now.”

  “Okay, I’ll… be here.”

  She hung up and didn’t understand her butterflies. New job nerves. She flew to the bathroom and glanced at her appearance, wiping her eyes. She’d put a bit of mascara on to look more professional, like she cared about this job. She even wore common clothes. As in jeans and a t-shirt, like she were comfortable in her own skin. Normal sexuality came with normal dressing. Yes, she wanted to impress him, as her boss and as a friend. Somebody that cared about him for who he was, not merely his… gorgeous…body and bulging… pocketbook and… muscles and what not.

  She hurried out and looked around at the spotless apartment and held her breath when he rang the doorbell. She discreetly ran to open it, immediately gasping. “Oh my God!” He was beat up again!

  “Got in a little accident,” he muttered looking her over with one good eye. “Nice.”

  “You’re beat up!” she cried. “Why Sade!”

  “It’s my job.”

  “To get beat up?”

  “I fight for a living.”

  She gasped again, feeling light headed and nauseous. “No no no,” she whispered shutting the door and locking it back before following his slow walk into the living room. She grabbed hold of his arm when it looked like he was going to sit.

  “Jesus, let me get you some ice!”

  “No,” he muttered, easing down with a stifled groan.

  “What? Why?”

  “It’s how I do it.”

  “Well that’s stupid! I’ll get you some Ibuprofen.”

  “No,” he said again firmly. “Nothing for pain.”

  “Sade that’s ridiculous! Look at you!”

  He laid his head back and held out a hand toward her. She took it thinking he wanted to get up, only he pulled her onto the couch. “Sit.”

  She positioned herself at a friendly distance, leaving a hand space between them. “You look like hell,” she whispered, cringing at the eye swollen shut. “I can hardly stand to look.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered, sounding exhausted.

  “Have you considered another line of work?”

  He let out a small half laugh. “Gotta work for the man for one more year. Then I’m free.”

  “The man? Your dad?” He nodded. “Free from what? Do you owe him something?”

  “Yeah. Everything.”

  “Oh my God, like what? Money? I have money saved, I can help. You don’t need to fight.”

  “You have money, huh?”

  She bit her lip. “Yes. I lied about needing it. I was just saying that to be able to come help you.”

  “Why?” He barely shook his head. “Never mind.” Like he was tired of trying to figure that out or didn’t want to make her question it. “But I don’t just fight for the money.”

  She stared at him a moment then realized. “Oh Sade, please…” The words were weak like her stomach just at the idea. “Please don’t tell me you do this for the pain.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out. “Sure.”

  The empty single word made her want to wrap her arms around him. “Listen to me,” she whispered, turning next to him. “There are ways to deal with that.”

  “I’m handling it. Getting my ass kicked while killing a motherfucker serves both my needs just fine. Two birds with one stone. And it’s good fucking money.”

  “But is it good for you?”

  “Fuck if I care.”

  “Well you should!”

  “Really? Why?” He turned his head to look at her.

  “Because you matter!”

  “To fucking who?”

  “To…” she almost said her but he’d just say she didn’t even know him.

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “Listen, I know I don’t know you well but you still matter to me.”

  He laid his head back again. “I matter so you can be like your father. Glad to be your first charity project.”

  “I’m helping you because I want to.”

  “And I fight because I want to.” He shrugged a little. “We’re both meeting needs.”

  “But should you have that need is the question?” she exclaimed quietly.

  “Mercy…. I’m tired.”

  She sighed and stared at him. “Are you still hungry?” She hissed in pain at the idea of him trying to eat. “I’d have to feed you with a straw.”

  “I can eat,” the words slurred a little. “Yes, I’m hungry.”

  She laid her hand on his leg. “Stay here, I’ll get you a plate. What do you want to drink?”

  He slowly turned his head and looked at her with his good eye. “Don’t fucking talk to me that way.”

  She drew back a little. “What way?”

  “Like a fucking baby.”

  She stared at him a moment then shook off the bite of his scold. “I’m just doing what I want to do.” She leaned her face toward him. “I like talking nice and I’m not going to stop just because you have a problem with it.” She got up and headed to the kitchen. “And if you have a problem with that,” she called over her shoulder, “you’ll have to learn to deal with it. I’m a nice goddamn person and I won’t be an ass just because you like that!”

  “That’s much better,” she heard him mumble.

  “Shut up, I’m not being mean. I’m being… authoritative and passionate.”

  “Yes, passionate I can handle. Mushy goo-goo shit, no.”

  She came back with his plate. “I will be mushy when I damn well feel like it too,” she said sweetly. “Now what would you like to drink sweetheart?”

  “Very funny.” He took the plate. “We got any milk?”

  “We do since I shopped.” Her stomach turned every time she looked at him. His left brow was split wide open on the edge and held together by a piece of fucking tape. Jesus. She hurried and got it and put it on the coffee table and moved it so he could get to it.

  “I’m not in traction, I can reach the table.”

  “I’m just trying to make it easier.”

  “Well quit. It’s annoying.”

  She moved the table even closer and eyed him. “You’re annoying.”

  He shook his head. “Did you eat, Mother Theresa?’

  “I will.” She watched him twirl spaghetti on his fork. “Is it good?”

  “Yep.”

  “No awards huh?”

  “E for effort?”

  She smacked his shoulder then gasped when he winced. “I’m so sorry,” she whined.

  “Losing my appetite if you talk like that again.”

  �
�Oh my God!” she said incredulous. “There is no way that you can hate it that much.”

  “I can and do.” He took a slow bite and chewed.

  She let him get a few bites in before she returned to her six inch position next to him. “Like I said,” she reminded, evenly and kindly. “I’m not being an ass just because you’re broken.”

  He stopped chewing suddenly and put his fork on his plate.

  She sat forward. “I… I didn’t mean anything bad by that.”

  “I’m tired.” He set the plate on the coffee table and slowly got up then headed to the hall leading to his bedroom.

  “Shit,” she muttered. Was it the broken word? Or her persistence? Maybe she should go a little easier on him. Not much easier though, he needed to learn normal. Being nice was normal.

  Mercy decided to finish off the few dishes and jumped in alarm when Sade appeared on her left. “What is this?”

  She gasped and spun away at finding him naked, holding her post-it note. “You’re naked!”

  “No sex, it shouldn’t be a problem,” he reminded.

  “It’s very much a problem! I don’t want to see you naked. And that is… a note of encouragement!”

  “For what?” he nearly spat.

  “Just whatever,” she said exasperated, still turned. “We can all stand some encouragement.”

  He slapped the paper onto the counter, making her jump. “Not me. Don’t do that.”

  When she didn’t hear him, she turned to catch a glimpse of his backside as he rounded the corner. At seeing the large bruises on his backside, nausea replaced her flustering.

  She shut the water off and stared at her shaking hands. Jesus. She’d never get that snapshot out of her head now. Especially the size of his… stuff. It struck terror in her.

  She went to the living room and stood there, debating on what to do next. The apartment was spotless and yet she felt like she had done nothing but mess everything up. God, tomorrow really needed to go better.

  Chapter Eight

  Only a week into their contract and Sade lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wanting to touch himself but knowing what would happen if he did. He’d need his fix now. And he wanted Mercy to give him that. But he hadn’t found a way to ask her and the more he went, the more he was sure she would say no, being dead set against masochism and all. Fuck. Worse than that was that other fucking need, revving up inside him. No doubt in response to this train wreck in his sexual schedule. He could feel it prowling around, wondering if the delay meant it was his turn to play. He didn’t want to fucking let it play. The idea of losing himself to any need to the point of not caring where he put his dick was just… fucking intolerable.

  And all that mush shit she slathered on was not helping. She was like emotional hospice or some shit. He turned over on his side, almost regretting his decision to have her there. She was nearly painful, but it was a different kind of torture, and not one that got him off. At all. A week of kindness, smiles, and witty banter. Felt like getting his balls licked and he detested the weakness of it all.

  The next morning, Sade woke to the smell of bacon and the roar of his sexual appetite. Good morning Vietnam. Fucking warzone in his body. The fighting that he used to feed his sadism was killing him slowly, right on schedule. And while it satisfied his rage along the way, it always drew out his need to feed his masochism, and feeding that was completely hinged on sex in some manner. A particular kind of sex usually took care of him for a while. And denying himself served his masochistic game only so far. It was a fine line he didn’t skirt too close to or his sadism would barge in and take the next dance.

  He needed to figure out how to get this sweet Mercy to help him.

  He might have to play the fucking victim with her to get that.

  Sitting through breakfast with Mercy had to be the most trying ordeal. She waited on him like an invalid but worse than that was the light in those pretty green eyes and the smile on her angelic face. He wanted to sit there and study it. Figure out the trick behind it, challenge it. Crush it. Then he became entrapped with those lips and began fantasizing strange things. How would they look wrapped around his cock? Open wide in orgasm? Wet with his cum? All of it was a sign that he was way off track. He never put his dick in a woman’s mouth. But there was just something sweetly demanding about hers. It begged Sade, fuck me.

  “Are you feeling okay?” she asked, sounding worried. “You look like you’re hurting.”

  “I am.” He raised his eyes to hers. “I need to release.”

  She narrowed her gaze and lifted her coffee cup. “Like… the bathroom?”

  “Like in the basement.”

  At the mention of the basement, he detected a stiffening in her spine. “You work out down there?”

  Just talking about it had him dangerously delirious. “I have an orgasm down there. I don’t do it often but when I do, I have to be tied up.” He stabbed his last bite of eggs with a fork and eyed her. “And I have to have a woman do it.” She appeared half confused, half angry, but he wasn’t sure about what. He decided to take the plunge. “I’d like you to do it. Mercy.”

  Her brows narrowed. “Do what?”

  Fuck if she wouldn’t make him spell it out.

  “I mean if I can, of course I’ll help you. Just tell me what to do.”

  His cock pounded fiercely. “I need you to tie me up and… do and say things.” Why was it so fucking hard to say to her? Probably because he knew how she’d react.

  Silence reigned before she said quietly, “What do I do?”

  “Hurt me.”

  He saw her head shaking before she whispered, “No, no. I can’t. I won’t hurt you.”

  “It’s not really painful to me.” He looked at her. “I have to have this.”

  She stared with furrowed brows and pity in her eyes. “You only think you have to have it, but we can find a way to meet your need.”

  “I have to have it that way,” he assured, trying to keep calm. “I’ve tried other ways, they don’t work and if I don’t have it, other needs come, needs I don’t like to meet.”

  She gave a small shake of her head, still troubled. “Sade, I won’t hurt you, not ever. What other needs?”

  He hit his fist on the table making her jump then turned his head right, clenching his eyes tight. “Fine. I’ll get somebody else.”

  “What?” she asked, alarmed.

  He looked at her now. “I’ll call Tabitha. She’ll take care of it.”

  “No!” Mercy said, standing. “No, you’re not calling another woman to do that.”

  “You have no say over that, remember? Ours isn’t that kind of relationship.” He aimed a hard stare at her.

  She gripped the back of the chair. “That is not normal sexuality, Sade. You said you’d let me teach you.”

  “I’m not stopping you from teaching me. But you can’t expect me to learn shit in a few days with sweet words, smiles, and happy eyes. I have a need and it’s past time I met it.”

  “What will happen if you don’t? Have you considered self-disciplining?”

  “What the fuck!” He stood now, shaking his head at her. “I do this twice a fucking year, don’t talk to me about self-discipline.”

  Her mouth remained in that disgusted shock position. “Why a woman?”

  “You prefer me use a man?” he asked incredulous.

  Her lips moved with attempted speech but nothing came out, so she paced, shaking her head. “No,” she muttered. “This is wrong. I won’t be a part of this.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  She snapped her gaze to him. “Do this and the deal is off. I swear it is. You said you’d let me help teach you normal sexuality and that is not normal Sade to have somebody hurt you, some other woman hurt you and what does…” she crimped her face with open disgust, “what does she have to say to you?”

  “Not your fucking business.”

  “Not my business,” she muttered, pacing again before pointing at him. “
I’m done here if you do it. I’ll leave.”

  “Fine. Leave. I don’t care.” Sade shoved the chair down and walked off, pulling his phone from his pocket. He called Tabitha and just like that it was done. Scheduled for that evening. He’d schedule it immediately but he needed to prepare.

  “Who was that?” Mercy demanded from behind him.

  “My fix.” He slid his phone back in his pocket.

  Her eyes widened. “Your fix. So you just call up a whore and she runs over to fix it for you?”

  “Pretty much. And a very well paid whore.”

  Mercy stood there shaking her head. He was pretty sure she was trembling in anger. Not as much as he was. “Wow,” she gasped.

  “Yeah, you wow it up. But don’t come calling yourself my friend and run away when I really need you just because you don’t like my needs.”

  “I don’t like hurting you!” she yelled at him.

  “Well that’s too fucking bad,” he yelled back. “I need to have pain to release, you think I started out wanting it to be that way?” He walked slowly toward her. “You think I groomed myself for this? No, baby, that was done by my father and his whores since I was seven.” He aimed a finger in her face. “Don’t you fucking judge me, you don’t know the first thing about me and what I’ve done to deal. Miss Mercy.”

  Sade stormed out of the apartment, his confusion and pain disappearing in the wake of his rage. Something he really didn’t need anywhere in the vicinity of his sexual dilemma. Fucking bitch. Fucking friend my ass.

  ****

  Mercy called Sade’s phone when her anger was at boiling. Of course he’d let the machine get it. “You listen up,” she said, pacing. “You bring a woman here for that and I’m gone. Final warning.” She hung up and growled. I’m gone. What the hell kind of leverage was that? Ah right, he thought she knew something bad on him. She dialed his phone back with trembling fingers and waited for the answering machine. “And also?” She grit her teeth, suddenly worried about using that threat. “I’m not happy about this.” She hung up, throwing her phone on her bed. “Not happy about this, good one. Because he gives one iota about what you’re happy with.”

  What exactly was he going to have this woman do? Not her business? Well yes, it kinda was if she wanted to know the extent of his… condition. She froze with the idea and cringed right after. But… how else would she find that out?