by Shaw,LK
He’d started growing taller when he turned thirteen last month, but he was still skinny as a rail. Every few nights he would sneak downstairs and eat a little bit of everything. Not enough that someone would notice how much was missing, but enough that he took in more calories in an attempt to grow big and tall so he could protect his mother. But it was no use. No matter how much food he snuck when no one was looking, he was still too small and weak to do anything but survive.
It all started five years ago when his stepfather hurt himself on the job. He started drinking to ease the pain. Once he was healed he went back to work, but didn’t stop drinking. He lost job after job because he was drunk. The boy’s mother had always been a stay-at-home mom, even before his father died. She had no resources and no way to raise a child, so she said yes to the first man who offered to take care of her. The boy didn’t resent her for the choices she’d made.
At first, only his mother had been the recipient of his stepfather’s blows. A slap for dinner being late or his clothes not pressed to his liking. The boy, then only eight, tried to intervene, but was then also punished. It began escalating after that. His stepfather drank even more heavily at night and the tiniest infraction set him off. Soon, open-handed slaps turned into fists. Then belts and a few kicks here and there.
When things got really bad, punishments resulted in deep, jagged wounds from belt buckles, small burn scars from cigarettes that marred the boy’s chest and back, and striped marks from a switch wielded by a rage-driven hand. The boy never told anyone. Not teachers and not friends who had slowly stopped coming over to play. He was too ashamed and scared. His stepfather threatened to kill his mother if he told. The boy wasn’t willing to take that chance. He would do whatever it took to protect her, even accept punishments on her behalf. In the end, though, it hadn’t mattered.
Raised voices and then the crack of flesh against flesh sounded from the kitchen, along with a woman’s muffled cry. The boy jumped up and raced to the other room, fearful more for his mother than for himself. He skidded to a halt just inside the door. His mother cowered on the floor holding her face, the redness evident through her fingers.
“Leave her alone,” the boy yelled. His stepfather’s head snapped in his direction, and he could smell the alcohol in the air. The man laughed maniacally, sending chills down the boy’s spine.
“What are you going to do about it, boy?” The man taunted, stumbling drunkenly toward the boy. Something inside him snapped at that moment. He’d had enough. He charged the drunkard, ignoring the possible consequences, and head-butted him directly in the gut. The air escaped the man with on “oomph”, but caused no more damage than that. Unfortunately, it now left the boy vulnerable and within arms’ reach.
Fingernails dug deep into the boy’s biceps and he was thrown to the ground in front of the stove. A solid kick to the ribs caused him to cry out in pain. “You little fucker,” the man screamed, spittle spewing from his mouth. With the next kick came a cracking noise. The boy huddled in the fetal position cradling his body with his own scrawny arms that offered no protection.
An inhuman scream echoed and a resounding groan bellowed in the air, followed by the sounds of pounding on flesh. The boy looked up to see his mother’s useless fists punching the man’s back, screams of outrage pouring from her mouth. The man threw the woman off of him, turned, and backhanded her. She fell to the floor next to the broken boy.
The man towered over them, an inferno of hatred blazing from his eyes. “You’re both fucking useless,” he bellowed. “You,” he pointed to the crying, cowering woman, “can’t cook for shit. I’ve told you that dinner was to be ready before I got home, and you can’t even fucking get that right.”
In his rage, he grabbed the pot of boiling water on the stove and dumped it over the pair. They both wailed from the torturous pain that riddled their bodies. The boy received the worst of it and the smell of blistered and burnt flesh permeated the air.
I bolted upright in bed, gasping at the memory while the scars on my back burned. I blinked, slowly orienting myself to my surroundings while wiping the sweat out of my eyes. I glanced down at the sleeping woman next to me, hoping there would be no need to explain why I disturbed her slumber. As luck would have it, Bridget remained oblivious to the mental torment happening right next to her. I couldn’t believe she was really here.
God, my throat was dry. I quietly crept out of bed and into the attached bathroom. After running a washcloth under cold water, I wiped away the dried sweat on my face. My reflection stared back at me as I braced my hands on the sink, breathing in deep, calming breaths. Eventually, my heart rate decreased, but I knew there would be no more sleep for me tonight.
I turned out the bathroom light and made my way back to bed, carefully climbing back in, trying not to disturb Bridget. I put my hand under my head and stared at the ceiling still chasing the memories away. Bridget shifted next to me, and I held my breath, hoping she’d stay asleep. Apparently, luck wasn’t with me tonight as her eyes blinked open. She shifted closer to me and rested her arm across my chest. As she came more awake, a frown marred her face.
“Your heart is racing. What’s wrong?”
I immediately started to deny that anything was wrong, but after last night, I knew I needed to start being more open with her. Old habits were hard to break though.
“Just an old nightmare. It sneaks up on me once in a while. I’m sorry I woke you.” I turned onto my side so we were face-to-face, and brushed the hair out of her eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She caressed my chest, drawing tiny circles right above my heart. It felt strange to have skin-to-skin contact with someone, and I knew it would take a while before I got used to the sensation. Bridget leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on my lips that was a balm to my soul. “You don’t have to, you know. But I want to take away your pain and help ease your burdens. I want to be the person you rely on the most. And from the sounds of it, this nightmare is a burden. I’m not pushing you though. If you want to talk about it, I’m here for you, no matter what, Connor. Always. I love you.”
Chapter 29
Connor
“Do you know that you’re only the second woman to see my scars? The one and only time I fucked a woman fully naked, she turned away in disgust. I was still conditioned to be this cowardly boy, and it crippled me with insecurities. I had been programmed to think I wasn’t good enough. This translated into how I saw myself in other’s eyes. Add in that one moment of abhorrence and it set the stage for every sexual encounter I had from that moment forward.
“Every now and then, but even more so since this investigation into Alex started, the memories of the abuse come back. Talking about what happened triggered a nightmare. Everything about that day came back to me. It happens sometimes, but I’m used to it. In truth, I think it makes me more appreciative of everything I have now, including you.”
I couldn’t resist her. The fact that she’d shed tears for me astounded me. I couldn’t remember someone caring this much about me since my mother. It was a lot to wrap my head around. When a person has felt one way for so long, it takes time to break the cycle. And I was ready to break the cycle. I wanted to start a new life with Bridget. And God willing, with Alex. I knew that he was being abused by that piece of shit, but Webber hadn’t been able to prove it. It took everything in me not to kill that son of a bitch. I needed to figure out a way to get Alex away from Malcolm permanently, and I needed to figure it out soon. I’d focus on it tomorrow. Right now, my beautiful sub was lying next to me, and my attention needed to be focused solely on her.
“Now, less talking and more fucking.”
“But, Sir —”
She squeaked when I rolled us over so I now lay on top of her.
“I said we’re done talking, Bridget.”
She quickly closed her mouth. I needed to lengthen the leash on the beast a little. I had been reining him in, but I could feel him trying to claw his way out. It ter
rified me to release him completely though. I’d been a member of Eden long enough to know that there were Doms who enjoyed giving pain and subs who equally enjoyed receiving it. Rationally, I knew there was nothing wrong with that, but there were times when I was afraid I would lose control. That I would take it too far. In the back of my head I heard the laugh of the abusive bastard who used to beat me, taunting me that I was just like him.
I didn’t want to hide my true self from Bridget, but I also didn't want to lose her. She’d already chewed my ass once for not communicating with her enough. We had fallen into a pattern where our lust took over. While we had finally discussed limits and I knew her safe word, I had failed in my job as a Dom to trust myself, and most importantly, my sub. To trust that if what I was doing became too much, she would use her safe word. Now was the time. Especially after the nightmare. It was time to try and banish the ugly thoughts and be true to who I am.
Chapter 30
Connor
“Don’t move.”
I slipped off the bed, trusting Bridget to follow my commands. I reached into the top drawer of the nightstand and removed several silken cords and a Kelly green silk scarf. The color was so vibrant, I had immediately pictured Bridget wearing it when I bought it, although I never fully believed she ever would. I placed it over her eyes, holding her head up as I tied it behind her, taking care not to capture any of her hair.
I then carefully pulled out items from the toy box at the foot of the bed, placing everything I thought I was going to need onto a clean towel I kept in the box with them. I wrapped them up and placed them on the bed next to her. I picked up one of her hands and began loosely threading the cord between her fingers and around her palm before securing the cord to the headboard. I repeated the action with her other hand. Then I also bound her legs so she was spread out before me. Distractedly, I unwrapped the towel to access the items I’d gathered.
I took a moment to drink in the sight of her lying there at my mercy. Her pussy glistened in the early morning light that had just begun to light the room. Her nipples puckered, begging for attention. I hated to see them suffer. I took one in my mouth and began nibbling and gently biting, and I released it with a pop. Before she could miss the wet heat, I placed one of the nipple clamps I’d retrieved from the box on it, causing her to gasp at the sensation. Not wanting the other to feel neglected, I repeated the process.
Once both nipples were loosely clamped, Bridget was panting, and I reached for the next implement. I slapped the leather tip of the crop across my palm; the sound reverberating through the room, caused Bridget to jump.
“I told you once I wanted to watch the tears fall as I took a crop to your ass. I want to see the pink darken to red and feel the heat radiate off it. I want to see you writhe and squirm. It’ll hurt, and yet you’ll take the pain because it pleases me to hurt you. Do you understand, Bridget?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I think I’ll wait a little bit for that though. The anticipation only makes it that much sweeter. But I think we need to warm you up a little.”
Before I even completed my sentence, I flicked the end across her clamped nipple. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but with her nipples already so sensitive, the sensation was magnified. Bridget sucked in air at the first tap. A second flick darted across its twin, this one only slightly harder. I alternated between breasts causing Bridget to moan.
“How does that feel?”
“It stings a little, Sir. But I feel it all the way to my core.”
“What color are we?”
“Green, Sir.”
Although she couldn’t see me, I nodded in approval. “Good girl.”
I switched tactics and moved my swats to her inner thigh, narrowly avoiding her pussy. She flinched at the impact, but it was more from surprise. I kept my strikes light enough to not cause much pain, but rather to warm the skin and bring the blood to the surface. I admired the color of her skin as it pinked. I struck at random, sometimes alternating locations, sometimes not.
“Is your pussy wet yet? Does the thought of me causing you pain make you wet?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“This pleases me.”
Satisfied with the color of her skin, I eyed my target with blatant desire. With a flick of my wrist, I brought the crop down directly on her pussy, still holding back the intensity of my strike.
“Oh my god.” She whimpered and half-heartedly struggled against her restraints. Slap. Slap. Slap. The vibrations of the corded shaft tickled the palm of my hand. Her clit peeked out from its hood as if in anticipation of the next blow. Her pussy lips darkened in color from light pink to light red, and I reveled in the change. Knowing what I would encounter, I plunged two fingers into her sopping wet cunt. I worked my fingers in and out of her, the wetness coating them.
“Whose pussy is this?”
Her whole body bucked in pleasure as I fucked her with my fingers.
“Yours, Sir.” She sounded breathless.
I pulled my glistening fingers out of her and placed them against her lips, coaxing her to taste her own essence.
“Lick. Suck.”
She followed my command, lapping up every drop.
I knelt down and inhaled her scent, luxuriating in the smell that was uniquely Bridget. I leaned back to deliver a slashing blow to her pussy causing a pained cry. Before the echo of her cry faded, I sucked her burning clit into my mouth, laving my tongue around it to soothe the ache I’d just created.
“What color?”
“Still green, Sir.” This time she was slower to answer, and a soft hiccup sounded behind her words.
Without warning, I reached up with both hands and simultaneously removed the clamps from her nipples, causing her to flinch in pain. I began suckling first one nipple then the other, chasing the pain with pleasure. I moved upward and captured her mouth in a bruising kiss. Our tongues moved together in a coordinated dance. I pulled away, causing her to arch toward me to try and maintain contact.
“Hold still,” came my gravelly command, as I reached out to remove the restraints from her wrists, followed by the ones around her ankles. I gently rubbed her wrists, then ankles, making sure the restraints hadn’t harmed her.
Finally, I removed the blindfold, finding it wet with tears. I kissed away the single remaining one that had left a wet trail down her cheek.
“Thank you for accepting this pain for me, Bridget. Your complete submission to this need I have means more to me than I can express in words. Hurting you fulfills something inside me I can’t explain. At first, I was ashamed of my need to cause pain, to connect pain and pleasure. But because of your love, I feel I can be who I am truly meant to be. That I am free to explore that line between pain and pleasure and move the line that blends pain into pleasure.”
She nuzzled my cheek. “I’ll accept the pain you have to give me to please you, Sir. I may not understand it, but as your submissive I’m willing to be what you need me to be. The thought of intense pain scares me, but in some way it also arouses me. I love you, Sir. All of you. Even the part that needs to hurt me.”
Chapter 31
Bridget
In truth, I was both nervous and aroused at the thought of the pain Connor wanted to cause. I never had masochist tendencies before, but then again, none of the Doms I’d played with before were sadists. They hadn’t even tried to push my pain limit. Although, I didn’t know if Connor actually identified as sadist. Not that it mattered. I loved the man he is. I would do everything I could to fulfill his needs. I was sure it would take some time and a lot of communication, which we both were slowly getting better at.
So far, everything had aroused me tonight. But I knew Connor had barely tested my limits. I knew that I could expect much more. My curiosity about how much pain I could endure was about to be tested as Connor moved away from me.
“We’re not done here. Up on your hands and knees. Your ass hasn’t felt the bite of the crop yet.”
I followed his inst
ructions and waited for further commands. A sigh escaped me as feather light kisses were dropped down the length of my spine. Teasing circles were drawn on my hips, edging closer and closer to my center. Both hands left my hips and the bed shifted. A whoosh of air was all I heard before a sting sizzled across my ass. Although I knew it was coming, I squeaked and jumped in surprise. It hurt, but not overly much. My body actually flushed with arousal.
Connor began a light tapping across my cheeks, not hurting at all, just warming up my skin like he described so many nights ago.
“Ah, the first blush of pink is my favorite.”
The taps continued, getting stronger and stronger with each strike until I began flinching. Then they stopped, and a hand began caressing the sting away. My pussy was trained to respond to pleasure and the soft caresses were arousing enough to cause it to weep. Connor’s fingers dipped into the wetness.
“Such sweet nectar.” Sucking sounds followed his words and although I couldn’t see behind me, I pictured him licking my essence off those thick, long digits. More wetness dripped down my thighs at the imagery.
My thoughts were interrupted when another crack of the crop sounded as it made direct contact with my ass. This time though, the strikes quickened and increased in strength until I could no longer stop the flow of tears I didn’t realize I was even shedding as the pain increased exponentially. I began sobbing uncontrollably, and just when I reached a point where the pain was intolerable and my safe word was on the tip of my tongue, they stopped. In the same heartbeat, Connor buried his face in my pussy, thrusting his tongue deep inside me, his hands squeezing my ass cheeks to remind me of the pain that still buzzed. He ate at my cunt, sucking and lapping up every drop of my juice. My orgasm came out of nowhere, and I screamed my release.