Beg for Mercy

by Lucian Bane

  “You panicked.”

  “I did! I did,” she sobbed, “I panicked really bad, I messed up.”

  “You didn’t mess up, you’re human.” He sighed and mumbled again. “Where is Sade now?”

  “Oh, well after I pushed him in a corner then half killed him for it, I drove him off the other deep end by making him talk about shit he clearly didn’t need to.”

  “Did he try to hurt you then?”

  “No! No, he destroyed everything around me though.

  “Jesus, that boy’s got more control than he knows.”

  “Dad, please,” she remembered. “He’s talking about talking to you, asking you for help, can you? Can you help him?” she asked. “I won’t touch him again, I swear, I’m done. You can do it.”

  “Of course I will, baby. But you’re not done in this.”

  “Oh God, I’m so tired of failing him.”

  “Listen to me. Get calm again, Mercy, I need you entirely coherent for this.”

  She quickly got calm, nearly making herself dizzy in the process. “I’m calm. Talk to me dad,” she sniffed and wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand.

  “Can you teach him a new kind of sexuality?”

  “Yes,” she said, nodding. “Yes, I can. I was. It was working until he lost control.”

  “And what would prevent that?” he asked simply.

  Her mouth hung open in thought for only a second. “Restraining.”

  “Bingo, baby. Therapy from you is a must. I can’t touch that. But Daddy will teach him how to deal with his rage. You give him that sweet light of yours and it will light his path out of that dark.”

  She stood there in mild shock that her dad had just suggested she restrain him for sexual therapy and the fact that she’d not thought of it first. A slow joy spread through her until she was laughing and sobbing with it. “Thank you, thank you, Dad. Oh my God, I thought I was done, I thought it was hopeless.”

  “Glad to help baby. But listen. I’m going to take a day or two extra before returning. I would prefer his mother not see him battered, it’ll set her off.

  “Oh God, agreed. Agreed.” Mercy paced as far as the little mic allowed. “He looks so much better, the swelling is down, just bruises now.”

  “Well, you know I hate lying but if we come back and he’s not entirely healed, have a story ready, will you?”

  “Okay, I will. Of course.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sade woke up to the sound of mumbling.

  “No, this is good, thank you. Well, remember he’ll be gone a couple more days.” That was Mercy’s voice.

  Sade’s head pounded when he turned it just an inch left. Fuuuuck. What happened? He lolled his head back to center, mentally feeling around his body for answers. All he got was numb and unable to feel shit. Sharp pain streaked from his shoulder to his fingertips, and almost immediately a memory hit. Mercy screaming, crying, blood on his arm. What the fuck had he done? Flashes of him losing his shit and tearing the room apart made his heart lurch. Oh fuck, Mercy! He fought to sit up, his arms dead weight along with his legs. What the fuck, was he paralyzed?

  “Mercy,” he called, his voice sounding like he was in a tunnel.

  “Oh God, he’s awake,” he heard her say.

  “Holler if you need.” That was Liberty’s voice. Where was he? When was it?

  “Gooood morning,” Mercy sang, hurrying next to him.

  He realized he wasn’t in his room. But he couldn’t figure out where he was, the unfinished walls weren’t ringing a bell. A basement?

  “You’re in the basement,” she confirmed. “The storage room next to the gym as a matter of fact. With a little bit of elbow grease, I got it transformed.” She looked all around, impressed.

  “W-what… Why?”

  She turned to him. “I just needed you someplace suitable.”

  Suitable. The meanings of words got bogged down in his mind. He was loopy, he realized. “Suitable for what? What happened?” He turned his head carefully. “My body feels paralyzed.”

  “Well, I gave you some pretty good medicine so that you could sleep. You had an accident. Got a little cut on your arm. Okay not little, you hit a pretty serious vein.”

  Sade finally realized it. “Why am I tied down?”

  She hissed a little while lifting a huge bandage on his arm. “Weeeeelll,” she said lightly, “You weren’t really the most cooperative person, mister.”

  Sade wasn’t surprised with that but there was something in her happy tone. Maybe it was the happy that was off. Why should she be? He licked dry lips, trying to organize his thoughts and speak them coherently. “Why am I in the basement? What did you mean suitable? And why are you so happy?” He realized he sounded like a little pussy. “You finally decided to give me shock treatments?”

  That look on her face, the sparkle in her eyes, reminded him of something. Then he realized what it was. It was how she looked when he first met her. Before all the blood, tears and heartache. A deep hunger to have those days back, hit him. They weren’t perfect but… to him they were. He remembered the plan starting out—just explore her authenticity as far as his sick life would allow him to go. He’d never imagined she would turn out to be the real deal and he’d get this far, or this deep. Nor did he once dream in a million years he’d fall so fucking hard for a woman. For her.

  “Shock treatments,” she laughed, flashing him the same pretty smile he’d first fallen for. “Are you hungry? I have breakfast warming for you.”

  He fought to gain his bearings, feeling like his brain was running on half a cylinder in the memory department. Fucking dreaded when the oblivion would pass and leave only the ugly reality.

  “Made it myself?” she tempted.

  Hungry. Maybe he was. But he didn’t want Mercy to leave yet. “I’m good for now.”

  She scooted a little on the bed, stopping at his knees and angling her head while staring into his gaze. He waited for the shame that should be there after being a royal fuck up. “I’m glad to see you’re calm at least.”

  He tried to shrug and winced. “I usually am after I let my demons run wild.” She continued to stare at him like she were looking for something. “A little early for soul meshing, huh doc?” He looked away, mostly because staring too long made him want things that led to trouble.

  “I’m sorry, I’m just wanting to see how you’re feeling.”

  “And my eyes tell you that?”

  “Your eyes tell me a lot of things,” she said with raised brows and that pretty smile again.

  He looked around and realized he was propped up on a lot of pillows. “Am I cooperative enough now to be set free?”

  Her smile slowly turned into a grimace with regretful brows.

  “Oh come on, Mercy. I’m not in the mood to play this.”

  “Welllllll,” she cooed. “I’m not playing. I’ve given this a lot of thought.”

  “Holy fuck,” he muttered, closing his eyes.

  “Hear me out, please, Sade,” she nearly mewled.

  He looked at her, shaking his head for many seconds. What was up with her? She was too calm, too happy. “This is not happening. What the fuck are you thinking?”

  She took a deep breath with a hopeful smile like he actually wanted to know that grand scheme cooking in her head. “I’m glad you asked that,” she said seriously. She looked up at the ceiling, organizing her thoughts and wiggling her ass on the bed next to him, waking his dick up. “I was thinking,” she began, “seriously.”

  “And stalling, because your idea sucks and you know it.”

  “I’m not stalling,” she argued lightly, “And it doesn’t suck, I’m wanting to say it right. I was thinking that… ” Several seconds of open mouth silence brought her frustrated growl right to his cock before she faced him fully and leveled her pretty green gaze on him. “Listen. I’m not going to pussy foot with this. I mean, you know how you are,” she said incredulous. “And how I am,” she confessed, making it fair
. “And well, therapy with me and you… it’s downright dangerous. No offense, I love you and all, but I’d rather not have to worry about you losing your mind and doing God knows what, or worse, me maiming you, or killing you! Why are you smiling?”

  He chuckled and lowered his gaze. Fuck, she was so hard to be pissed at. “You love me and all?”

  “Well duh, you know that,” she said so very softly with lowered gaze while brushing her hands over jeaned legs.

  “And so you want me tied up for therapy,” he helped. “Safety precautions.”

  She gave a cute eye squinty grimace. “Yes?”

  Why did his body have to need her so fucking bad? And why did being tied up while she performed therapy on him suddenly seem like the magical solution dropped right out of heaven? “I think I am hungry now.”

  “Oh, I’ll go get your breakfast.”

  “Not for food.”

  She paused, her face slowly softening with hopeful emotions and desire until he was rock fucking hard. He realized then that he was only in his underwear.

  “You undressed me?”

  She drew back a little at the question before pinning him with a pissed green stare. “Well, Liberty sure as hell didn’t.”

  Jesus Christ how could he possibly need her so bad? But there he was, tied up and there she was, ready to accommodate without it risking her. “I need to brush my teeth,” he said.

  “Coming right up!” She hopped up like she was excited to show him how well thought out this all was, how good she’d done. Sade watched her ass wink at him as she power walked to a door on the far end of the room and opened it. She returned with a toothbrush filled with toothpaste, an empty glass, and a proud little smile as she set the items on a small table next to the bed. “Hold on, let me get you some water.” She sprinted back to the room she’d just come from and returned with a bottle of water, opening it on the way. “Are you thirsty?”

  He eyed her, licking his lips. “Very.”

  She put the bottle of water to his mouth and he drank down about half of it. “Wow you were thirsty.” She slid her thumb over his chin, wiping the water that dripped and he fought the instinct to devour it with his mouth. Sade continued to eye her, his hunger back to ravenous at the idea of being her patient. Memories of the last time she’d taken matters into her own hands and doctored him, made his heart race and his dick sing.

  She set the water down and approached with the loaded toothbrush. “Oh come on,” she said at his quirked brow. “It’s brushing teeth, I think I can manage.”

  He opened and allowed her to perform the oddly intimate task. Sade soon fought not to laugh at how she moved her mouth around to accommodate her efforts. “Spit,” he finally muttered.

  “Spit,” she repeated softly, placing the cup at his chin, oh so seriously. She presented the water next and he rinsed twice.

  “Oh,” she said, hurrying to that room again and racing back with a couple of washcloths. She used one to wipe his mouth then the other to wipe his face, beginning with his forehead. Sade closed his eyes, as she took her time, slowly cleaning every inch of his face. “There we go,” she sang lightly. “All fresh.”

  Sade stared at her, debating on how to get her closer. He decided the direct route. “Come here.”

  She regarded him in uncertainty and Sade felt like he needed to be more specific about it. “I missed you.”

  The shocked look on her face cut him. Like she’d needed to hear those words and didn’t think she ever would. She snapped out of her surprise and gushed a smile that turned his insides around. “Like… here?” she asked, scooting along the bed to his chest area.

  Sade’s hunger grew as he stared at her.

  “What?” she asked, her smile slowly fading with worry.

  “Closer,” he whispered.

  “Closer?” she asked, breathless.

  “To kiss me.”

  Like a virgin, her cheeks turned pink and she swallowed.

  “You remember how?” he asked.

  She only nodded, her eyes trained on his mouth as she slowly leaned toward him. She stopped six inches away and raised her eyes to his. “You’re not going to… head-butt me, are you?”

  He turned his head, busting out laughing. “I so should,” he muttered, looking at her. “But no.” His final words deepened with desire and she continued until her lips barely touched his. He remained still, wanting to see how she’d kiss him. At first her lips were a little firm but when she pressed a little, they softened to liquid silk, sliding barely over his. Her warm breath shot desire through him and she angled her head, pressing soft kisses on his lips.

  She pulled up a little and he slowly opened his eyes. “Am I doing it wrong?” she asked, looking worried. “I’m not a very good kisser,” she whispered.

  He grinned at the cute absurdity. “Who told you that?”

  She bit her lower lip, seeming so sure she sucked at it. “I just don’t have a lot of practice with it outside of…”

  He waited to get the rest of that interesting info. “Outside of?”

  “Mostly you.”

  “Mostly?” Excitement at that news roared through him.

  “I mean obviously I’m not a virgin but kissing was never… never a part of…”

  “Shhh, come here,” he whispered, not wanting her to ever experience any more bad memories. “Show me more of this terrible kissing.”

  She smiled and he was glad she knew him well enough to know he was joking. Her smile slowly faded as she leaned toward his mouth again. She went back to pressing those soft silky petals on his lips, angling this way and that. Sade only returned as much as she gave, following her lead. “You missed me?” he asked as she continued, hoping to move her to the next level he knew was right there.

  “I did,” she gasped.

  “How much?”

  “So much!” Her breath blasted in his mouth with her whimper, and he opened for it, for her hunger, devouring it with his own. “God, so much,” she cried weakly, gripping his face in desperate fingers, sucking and licking as far into his mouth as she could climbing on him to straddle his chest. Her mouth left his and roamed all over his face, biting and sucking, licking and kissing with tenderness, then a passion so brutal, it rattled him.

  She suddenly pulled back abruptly. “Oh my God,” she gasped, hurrying off the bed.

  “What?” he asked breathless, his entire body on fire.

  “I’m…” she paced next to the bed. “I need to talk to you first, not… not do that.”

  “Why?” he asked, his heart hammering with dread.

  “The idea is to actually help you,” she said, facing him. “Not just tie you up and fuck you when I want to which is every waking moment of the goddamn day,” she whispered, putting both hands over her face then shaking her head. “What am I doing?” she wailed lightly under her hands. She went to pacing again and answering her own questions. “What I’m doing is what I’m supposed to do,” she said firmly. “And what I’m supposed to do, is do the right thing for you—at the right time” she pointed at him.

  “Which is what? Keep me tied up? Starve my problems out of me?”

  She faced him in all seriousness. “No, which is to force change,” she said in a duh kind of amazement.

  “Force change. Why didn’t I think of that one? Just make Sade not want sadistic and masochistic sex, make him want boring vanilla sex.”

  “Oh there’s not going to be anything boring about it.” She paced again. “And my father agrees—“

  “Your father?”

  She paused with a blank look. “Yes,” she said lightly, like it was no big deal. “He’s highly trained in this kind of thing, I told you he helped me. He knows.”

  “Holy fuck,” he gasped. “You told your dad about this?”

  Her jaw dropped to accommodate her epic justification. “I had to! You’re over here tearing the place apart, trying to kill yourself, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “Wow,” he gasped. “I�
�m so fucking dead. Why bother saving me, did he tell you to do this? Tie me up here? Holy fuck, he’s likely planning to cut my dick off and feed it to me. Did you fucking forget who your father is Mercy? He’s Kane Kross. Oh my fucking God, does my mom know? Jesus, of course she does, the whole world knows I like to rape asses and throw a fucking tantrum when I can’t.”

  She stared at him aghast and confused. “I didn’t tell him exactly that part Sade, and dad loves you, you’re the son of the woman he loves, how can you even think that? And he does know I nearly killed you for it,” she added like that evened the score. But there was nothing in the world that could ever remove the stain of this kind of sin against the daughter of Kane Kross, Jesus, holy Christ.

  “And don’t use our new and weird relation as a means of comfort. And that may be my only hope, right there. My mother.”

  “We are not related,” she said in exasperation. “And I don’t want to do this anymore than you do.”

  “Then don’t!”

  “I don’t mean I don’t want to, I mean I wish there was another way. I do want to do whatever it takes, make no mistake about that,” she said pointing at him.

  “So is this going to be like a group therapy thing, or are you going to be the main doctor working on the resident sadomasochist?”

  She cocked her hip with a hand on it. “Sade, please.”

  “No, by all fucking means, maybe you should just call me Johnathon.”

  “Stop it,” she gasped with wide eyes. “Don’t you say that, don’t you say that!”

  “Or what?” he yelled. “You’ll kiss me and make me want you then remind me that I’m a monster and will never be able to have something good?”

  She paced before the bed now. “Shut up,” she muttered before stalking over to him and getting right in his face. “You want to kiss me? You want to fuck me? You can’t possibly want it more than I do but make no mistake about it, I care more about you than you give me credit. I care more about this,” she poked his chest, “not this.”

  His breath rushed out when she grabbed his cock.

  “Oh, you like that? Well, just so you know, I have a very elaborate, very therapeutic sexual schedule planned for you. You, my dearest sadomasochist, will be learning how to enjoy normal things, even if I have to keep your ass tied up for six months, spoon feeding the boring vanilla kink until you fucking love it!” she yelled in his face.