by H. M. Ward
“Then pay the penalty and move on.” There’s no trace of anger in his voice. It’s simply gone.
Sean pads away from me, and I notice he’s barefoot. I don’t want him like this, not here. I need to make him leave. I pull out the only thing I can think of. “They will crucify you in court. You can’t do this and walk away. You can’t go onto the stage, subdue a woman, and whip her! You shouldn’t be doing any public anything right now. What’s wrong with you? You’re a smart man--you should understand this is suicide!” I’m practically yelling, and my hands are waving around like a crazy person.
He arches a dark eyebrow at me. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Then let's go over the rules and get out there. What’s your safe word?”
I stare at him, shocked. I’m too surprised to think, so the word tumbles out. “Aardvark.”
Sean looks down at me and laughs. “Seriously?”
“You won’t hear it again, so don’t bother teasing me about it. Listen, if you want to walk away, I won’t report it. Actually, I can cover it up. Everyone saw me walk in with a newbie. I’ll show her a few things, and she can take your spot. I’ll say it was a computer glitch.”
Sean steps toward me. I slide away again. He takes another step, and I back away once more. We do it a few more times until my back hits the wall. Sean presses against me, close enough to whisper in my ear, “I don’t need your help.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I’m already dead, remember? I’m a monster. It’s time I show the world who I really am and stop denying it.”
My stomach twists as he throws those words in my face. It’s as if he knows I’m the one who started those rumors. I grab his wrist and yank him in the other direction, but he won’t move. I growl. “Fine. If you want to be a dumbass and do it in front of as many people as possible, follow me into the web room.”
He hesitates. “The room with the live feed?”
I tug again. “That’s the one. I have a very pretty mask, and they have very elaborate dungeon sets. You can pick your torture chamber and set it free on the Internet.”
Sean nods as if determined and follows me down the hall. All of the doors are unmarked, or this wouldn’t work. I have no idea what I’m going to do once I get him inside, but I can’t let him do this. I have to try something.
When we come to the door, I swipe my keycard. It’s the only thing that will open the lock from either side. I hold the door open and am grateful there’s only one dim glowing red light inside. “There’s no going back.”
Sean turns and looks at me, equally stubborn and committed. I hold the door open and gesture for him to walk inside. As he passes me, I hold my keycard behind my back, fold it in half, and press hard. It snaps. I drop it to the floor and step inside, allowing the door to lock behind me.
* * *
Sean pads to the center of the room and turns slowly, the red light spilling over his pale skin like blood. He stands beneath the bare bulb, shirtless. His chest rises with each breath and makes me notice his taut nipples.
As our eyes adjust to the dim light, it becomes increasingly evident we are not in the web room. Though now used for storage, this room was once a Level Nine playroom. The walls and ceilings still boast their original racks, but now hang full of out of date and infrequently used items. The old grates now have handcuffs, satin ribbons, rope, and other bindings hanging down from the grid.
His jaw tightens, and he steps toward me. “You did this on purpose.”
I stand my ground. “Yes. You’re behaving erratically.”
He says nothing. His eyes bore into me, filling me with ice. I can’t see the depths this time. I can’t read him at all. Pulse hammering in my ears, I explain. “There are better ways to control your emotions. Saying fuck it and making sure the world sees you’re the monster they think you are will backfire.”
“How?” His strong arms fold over his firm chest. He’s listening. And angry.
“Because they’ll get hung up on the sexual acts. They’ll think less of you, not be more frightened. You crave power and control. But if you make your actions at Club Noir public, no one will fear you. They’ll think you’re a deviant, and that’s all.”
He’s closer now, inching toward me. He towers above me, and I know this was stupid. It’s probably some sort of misplaced guilt about labeling him as a monster in the first place. He wouldn’t be setting himself on fire and showing the world if I hadn’t made the world think it first.
He watches me from beneath thick, dark lashes. “No, they won’t.”
I insist. “Yes, they will. But, if you keep it a secret, if no one knows, you can control everything. You can have moments of peace, retain power, and keep the world wondering how much they should fear you. That’s the better plan.”
“How often do you come here?” The shift in his tone is noticeable. He’s no longer playing defense. Something changed.
My mouth hangs open. “I, uh, not much. Not recently.”
He nods and steps away. Sean slips his hands into his pockets and hangs his head. He paces as he speaks. “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time. I’ve had images in my mind, things that I feel in my arms, in my hands, that I need to do. It’s not a want, Miss Driskill, it’s a need. I feel like I’m suffocating and you’re the only one who sees it.” He turns on his heel and glances up at me.
My stomach dips as my heart pounds harder. My skin prickles all over as if something bad were about to happen. Sean steps toward me one pace at a time, and says, “Tell me what to do.” He stops in front of me and waits.
Shaking my head, I laugh nervously and step away. Hands up, palms toward him, I back away another step. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I think you do.” He steps closer.
“I don’t.”
I step away until my back hits the empty metal rack bolted to the wall. The steel bars feel like ice on my bare skin. I swallow hard as Sean takes one hand and then the next and holds them on either side of my head, pressing lightly. “Teach me how to forget what I’ve seen. I know you can do it. I know you figured out how to wash the memories away. That’s all I want, a moment without seeing her body covered in blood. A moment without—” he swallows hard, sucking in air and forcing his chest to press against mine. “Without hearing her beg me to come home. I want to forget what happened to us that night, what I lost. Because I lost everything and no matter what the trial outcome is, it’s my fault. This nightmare never ends. My mind never stops thinking of things I could have done differently. If I’d called, if I'd taken her away, if I’d—”
I can’t stand it anymore. The pain within him pierces his voice, ripping him apart in front of me. Every moment he breathes, he’s in agony. I understand because I live the same lie. I look serene on the outside, but there’s only turmoil within.
I pull my wrist out of his grip and press my finger to his lips. “I get it. I wish I didn’t, but I do.”
In that moment, I feel it. This mutual understanding is the footing of friendship. It could turn into something, but I know it can’t. Not with him. He’s trying so hard to forget who he is and what he’s endured that there will be nothing left of him if he goes through with this.
“Then teach me what you do. I’ve seen you in court. I‘ve seen you smiling and acting like nothing weighs you down. I know that’s not true, so how do you find solace?”
It’s like he punched me in the stomach. The part of me that I try so hard to hide is completely visible to him. “I’m not sure I can teach you what you want to know. I’m a ghost of who I was before. Part of it is letting yourself wither. If you have no soul, it doesn’t hurt as much.”
He nods and then steps back. “I died with Amanda. I’m not looking for healing—I just want to survive living.”
It’s becoming more evident that I’m going to be with him. That’s what he’s asking me, to show him how to find a sexual escape. If I do this, if anyone
finds out about my being with Ferro, I’ll never work again. At the same time, I remember being where he is, so close to the event and still feeling so raw. I wanted that period of my life to vanish, and it took so long to figure out how to make that happen.
Sean steps toward me and falls to his knees. He lowers his head, making it clear he’s submitting to me. “Please, Paige…help me.”
The words, the way he pleads so softly, decides it for me. I breathe his name as he kneels at my feet. I’ve never felt so powerful before in my life. The great Sean Ferro is at my feet, begging me for help. It should fill me with pride and make me feel powerful, but it doesn’t. The reason why is simple—no matter what I do, I can’t heal his heart.
* * *
We start with the simple things, after stripping him and going over the rules. He says he has no limits, no hard lines. I don’t press him. As he stands there wearing absolutely nothing, it’s difficult not to look at him. Normally, I wouldn't, but he’s so beautiful. Every inch of his body is perfect. If I keep thinking about it I won’t be able to do this. It’s not about sex—it’s about control.
I grab a pair of handcuffs and reach for Sean’s wrist. His lips part and he breathes slowly. I feel his eyes on the side of my face as I reach up and cuff him to the overhead grate. As I work, my arm brushes against his cheek and I wish I could kiss him.
Ignore the naked part. Humiliation is part of being the bottom. He’s naked, and I’m not. It’s not sexual, at least it’s not supposed to be, but I feel so pulled to him. I scold myself and try to snap out of it.
I don’t blindfold him because I need to see his face. I go over a few basics that pertain to me and then add, “Do not speak unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”
His eyes are downcast, and he’s careful not to look at me. “Yes.”
We play a few games, and I’m quickly learning that nothing pulls his mind from his past. He remains far away, the vacant look still in his eyes. I tell him not to hide it from me. I keep trying different things, kicking the pain level up as I go. We’re way past novice, and I’m getting nowhere.
I’ve lashed him, caned him, dripped hot wax down his back, but he doesn’t react. It’s as if he lost the ability to feel anything. Most tops would become harsher now, hitting harder, using clamps, and trying to reach a point where it’s evident that the bottom feels something. My gut impression says that won’t work with Sean.
I change tactics. I’m going to break the rules. He’s chained in place and until now, I haven’t touched him. I can’t do so without it being sexual. I don’t trust myself. But maybe that’s the problem. We both sense this about each other. Maybe I should follow my instincts and see where we end up.
I walk around his body, dragging the pads of my fingers over his bare hips. He inhales sharply, but says nothing. I continue to skim my fingers over him, circling around to the smooth skin and toned muscle of his back. His narrow hips curve into a sexy ass that’s tight and perfect. His legs are long and lean with enough muscle to pin a girl in place.
“Should I stop?”
Sean is tense, finally on edge. It’s the tender touches that do it. He shakes his head and swallows hard. His voice is faint. “Go on.”
I remain behind him, lingering for a moment. I follow my impulse and press my cheek to his back. I slide my hands down his sides as I listen to his heart beating fast within his chest. I lower my lashes and allow them to touch his skin. He gasps like he was hit by a truck.
What happened to make him like this? Tenderness is what sets him on edge. That can’t be right. I need to do something different and test my theory further. There’s one action that’s so personal that I want to try it.
I hesitate in front of him and stare at the floor. I shouldn’t do this. It’s crossing a line. But…
His head is still lowered, hanging between his broad shoulders. “Do whatever you’re thinking. It’s the only way to find out.”
This is wrong.
I shouldn’t be here.
I can’t be with him.
I can’t do this.
But I am.
I bend my knees and slowly lower myself in front of his waist. I’m still wearing my outfit, minus the jacket, and kneeling in front of his perfect package. Leaning in close, I close my eyes and exhale slowly, letting my hot breath wash over him. He lets out a small moan, which makes me wonder.
There’s an element missing, something I need, and I know he needs it, too. I feel it. I glance up at him and catch his eye. His hands are chained above his head, and he tries to look away quickly. It’s supposed to be like that, but not this time.
I rise slowly, and gently press my body to his as I stand. I take his face in my hands and force him to look at me. “Sean, do you like edge play?”
“Level Nine so soon?” He sounds disappointed.
“Not quite. I’m deviating from the norm. So I guess, the question is this—do you trust me?”
Edge play is when you push your partner to their limit. One of the most common forms is asphyxiation. It requires a great deal of trust because the ramifications when performed incorrectly are disastrous.
I accidentally brush his skin with my finger. His eyes focus sharply, and it’s as if my touch was painful. Sean's weakness isn’t air; it’s gentleness.
As the thought fills my mind I realize that I’ve found it—I discovered the Sean Ferro cocktail that will make him forget everything.
* * *
Sean’s eyes lock on mine. My heart beats so hard I think he must hear it. He’s frozen in place, as if he knows I’ve found something. He doesn’t speak, he only nods.
“What’s your safe word? Because I won’t stop.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t stop. If you think you found something, do it. You’re the only woman in here with a Level Nine collar and that jewel. I trust you.”
I press my lips together and swallow hard. I splay both hands on his chest and touch him lightly. I trace the curves of his chest, slowly sliding my fingers over the rise and fall of his body. I trace the lines leading to his pecs and following them down to his abs. I run a finger along each muscle, tracing it softly. My mouth waters as I think about kissing him there, along his stomach, and dragging my tongue along his skin.
It’s a lover’s caress and he hates it, well part of him can’t stand it. The other part is completely erect and begging to be touched. Sean grits his teeth as I touch him, trying not to cry out. The muscles in his neck cord tightly as he fights the sensation.
I ask, “What are you feeling?”
“I can’t—” He hisses through his teeth, unable to speak. I feel like I should stop, but I’m sure I’ve found it.
A bead of sweat rolls down his temple and drips onto the floor. There’s a spreader bar between his ankles to hold his legs apart and then each ankle is chained to the floor. He is beautiful. I wonder what he was like before all this happened. If he enjoyed such light touches from his wife, or if he was a tender lover. I’ll never know.
The only thing I’m certain of is that this will sharpen his senses. He’ll hone in on how to own me, how to destroy me. The challenge is all consuming, and leaves no thought for anything else. I know because I’m doing it to him now. Seeing him fight me is erotic and thinking about taking him in my mouth is such a bad idea—it’s against the club rules. It’s against our agreement. It defies everything because I’m stealing his control. His panic becomes my power. His pain becomes my composure.
As I slip down the front of his body, I think about how far I’m pushing him into places he doesn’t want to go. I control him in these few moments, body, mind, and soul.
As I kneel in front of him, my face is right in front of his beautiful, smooth, long shaft. My mouth is watering as I think about sucking on it. From the way he’s breathing, I don’t think this manwhore has face-fucked many women. Then it dawns on me--that’s not it. He doesn’t want me here, because of her, because of his wife. This was something she did.
&nb
sp; When it’s my turn to be the bottom, oh, God—my stomach twists. He’s going to go all out. He won’t stop, but that’s what this is now. I feel calm. His fear empowers me. This isn’t edge play. It’s far past that, but I don’t care.
Leaning in, I hear him gasp as he tries to evade me. I take my hands and place them on his ass, and pull his erection toward my mouth. His muscles are corded tight, trying as hard as he can to pull away, but he can’t break the chains.
Leaning in closer, I press his shaft to my cheek and drag the tip across my face, one side and then the other. Sean is barely breathing, but he manages to say my name. It’s one cry, one plea to stop. This will break him. It’ll break me. “Paige.”
The problem is simple. I said I’d help him, and I’ve never felt like this before. I’m perfectly calm, stronger than I thought possible. I feel like my old self, but better. Why? I don’t understand it, but I know that this is a give and take. Right now I’m taking. In a moment, I’ll have to give it back to him.
He’ll break me, he’ll have to. He has to feel this clarity, this sense of control. It’s a high that feels unbreakable.
He watches me for a moment, and our eyes meet. If he felt this, he’d know it was worth it.
“Do you still trust me?” I watch him, doubting he’ll say yes. This is so wrong, so far outside the norm, even at Club Noir.
Sean nods once. It’s a jerky movement followed by a hard swallow that makes his Adam's apple move in his neck. His dark hair is tousled and damp with sweat. His body glistens in the red light.
I lunge forward and take his hard length in my mouth, sucking and sliding my tongue over his shaft as I do so. Sean yells and tries to jerk away, but he can’t. Placing my hands on his ass steadies him. His head thrashes as if he doesn’t enjoy my mouth on his cock, but it gets bigger and harder as I suck him.
Each pass of my tongue makes him groan between gritted teeth. Every time I push him over the edge makes me more powerful.
I’m greedy and don’t take it slowly. I want to taste him. I work him, pressing him with my tongue and forcing him down my throat, taking him exactly the way I want as he bucks against me, swearing as he does so. I feel it coming, too much too fast. He moans and stops fighting me. As he comes, his hips pump against my mouth, pushing deep into my throat. He thrusts between my lips, filling my mouth with come and I swallow, only to be treated to more. I drink him until there’s nothing left.