Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “Exactly, and I expect the same from you. Now, what’s troubling you?”

  “Nothing. I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “I know that’s a crock of shit, Sloan, but I won’t press. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

  I nodded, grateful for the reprieve. He really was a great guy, and I could have easily fallen for him if I weren’t so crazy about Cole. Max was a better option, come to think of it. He was rich and famous, possessed mad skills in bed and had a deviant side to him that piqued my curiosity; however, I wasn’t in love with him, and probably never would be.

  This brought me to another worry I had easily overlooked. What would Max do if I told him I didn’t want a relationship with him, other than the one here at the studio? Would he get pissed and cancel my contract? Tell the entire modeling world I was a cutter and an insecure piece of shit? I had no idea what kind of ex-lover Max would be, and the sad thing was that if I chose Cole and dumped Max, I would probably end up alone. The thought that Cole would walk away from Juliana and his commitments was inconceivable. I was willing to bet all the money I would potentially make that Cole would abandon our relationship, if you could even call it that.

  “I know just the thing to take your mind off your troubles,” Max said, invading my thoughts again.

  “What’s that?”

  “I think a session with my flogger might do the trick.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you remember how good you felt after the spanking?”

  “Um, yeah, but I wasn’t planning on having a scene tonight.”

  “Why not? You’re preoccupied with something and I can fix it.”

  “I don’t know, Max, I’m not up to the idea.”

  He leaned in and kissed me, rubbing my groin and then pulling away with a smirk. “Tell that to your cock. It appears to be in complete disagreement with your mouth.”

  “Bastard,” I huffed, annoyed by my body’s betrayal.

  He laughed, delighted by his effect on me. “Come, Beauty. We’re off to my place.”

  I followed reluctantly, more embarrassed by my words to Cole earlier this evening than what I was about to do. I’d told Cole that I had no wish to go to bed with another man, and here I was, following willingly. It made his situation with Juliana much more understandable. Sometimes we just needed to do what we needed to do.

  Max’s apartment was exactly the way I remembered it. His bedroom was bypassed this time and we headed to another room I had never seen before. He called it his playroom and proudly showed off his instruments of torture. I felt like I’d walked in to the Marquis de Sade’s headquarters.

  “What the fuck is this?” I asked, holding up some clips that looked like they would hurt like hell.

  “Nipple clamps, my pretty.”

  “Oh God. Don’t talk like that, Max. It’s creepy.”

  “Why? Is my Count Dracula accent bothering you?” he grinned.

  “Yes, especially in a room such as this.”

  I continued to walk around the room, picking up whips and discarding them. There were piles of toys everywhere. I spent some time perusing them while Max looked on in amusement. He seemed to be waiting to see what would interest me, so I was careful to pick things that I didn’t think would leave me in too much pain. There were some pieces that looked like they’d feel good, such as the feather boas and soft strips of leather attached to wooden handles, but there were also nasty-looking things that reminded me of the Inquisition and torture chambers. There was a table with hooks on all four corners, and a leather apparatus hanging from the ceiling. I supposed it was the infamous sling I’d read about but never used. I picked up a black leather glove that had metal spikes sticking out of it and I dropped it quickly. My eye was drawn to a steel basket that looked like something a baseball catcher would use to protect his crotch. “What’s this, Max?”

  “It’s a cock harness, Sloan. It prevents you from coming.”

  I was appalled. “That’s barbaric.”

  “It enhances the pleasure, Sloan.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, ever so patient as I continued to tour the place.

  “What is this?” I pointed to a block of wood that resembled a telephone pole in the middle of the room. It had a big O ring on top of it—the better to hang someone with, I presumed.

  “It’s an old-fashioned whipping pole.”

  “Whipping?” I squeaked, already cringing at the thought.

  “You’re not very adventurous for someone who likes to cut,” Max commented.

  I spun around and glared him. “I don’t cut because I like it!”

  “Oh, right. You cut because you need to.” Max’s reply was scathing, which made me even angrier.

  “I thought you understood, Max!” I raised my voice, really upset. He wasn’t very nice at the moment and I could feel his bite.

  “I do understand, Sloan, apparently more than you.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “It means you’re kidding yourself if you think you’re not into pain. You crave it the way other people crave drugs.”

  “That’s not true!” I insisted, shocked by his remark.

  “You don’t want it to be true. You’d rather believe that you cut because of your insecurities, not because you’re a little pain slut.”

  “No!”

  “Let me prove it to you.”

  “How?”

  “I’d like you to experience a session at the whipping post. If you’re not hard and ready to have the most amazing orgasm of your life by the time we’re done, I’ll never bring this up again.”

  “What do you get out of this?” I’d read about the dynamic between Dominant and submissive, I just didn’t get the concept.

  “I get off on your surrender and seeing you taken to sexual heights you’ve never experienced before.”

  “What if I say no?”

  “Then we turn around and leave this room. This has to be consensual, Sloan. I would never force you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. Plus, we have to discuss a safe word. We haven’t done that yet.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a word you choose before the start of a session. Something you don’t often say, but it will stop me instantly. Use of that word will end the session if that’s what you require. It’s like a life net for you.”

  “What’s wrong with stop?”

  Max smiled. “Around here, stop usually means go.”

  “So, should I pick a word?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about red?”

  “That’s a pretty common safe word.”

  “And if I do turn out to be the pain slut you so delicately allude to, then what?”

  “Then we need to discuss your options.”

  “What kind of options does someone like me have?”

  “The possibilities for what you need are endless, my darling. I can introduce you to every instrument of pain imaginable.”

  “Fuck, Max. How perverted is this?”

  “It’s not perverted at all. One man’s pain is another’s pleasure.”

  “Christ.”

  “Take off your clothes, Sloan.”

  “I haven’t said I’d do it.”

  “You haven’t,” Max said, grabbing my crotch and squeezing hard, “but this erection says it all.”

  I began to strip, still not convinced that this was what I wanted. I knew why I cut myself, and it had nothing to do with pleasure. The thought of voluntarily submitting to torture seemed rather extreme, even for me, but I was willing to try anything once. If Max could see this side of me, then maybe I was just fooling myself into thinking I didn’t need it.

  “How does the pain shift to pleasure?” I asked while Max moved toward me, now that I had stripped down to my boxers.

  “Off with this,” he ordered, the shift in his voice easily apparent. I was suppo
sed to be aroused by this sort of behavior and mode of speech, according to the book, but I was annoyed at being ordered around. Not a good sign. I stripped off the underwear and stood silently as Max walked around me, like a panther circling a victim. Unfortunately, my cock seemed to enjoy all the attention, as it was rising to the occasion quite rapidly.

  “I think I’ll put a cock ring on you, Sloan. I don’t want you coming too soon.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’d like you to address me as Sir when we’re in this environment.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me!”

  “Yes… Sir.”

  His smile said it all. Hearing that word out of my mouth seemed to increase his interest, as evidenced by the tenting of cloth near his crotch. He wrapped his hand around my distended cock, which made me groan in appreciation. It was involuntary and had nothing to do with him or the environment, but he kissed me, excited by my reaction. “You really are quite lovely,” he purred, the rumble coming from deep in his chest. “I’m almost tempted to suck you to knock the edge off.”

  “Please do,” I replied, hoping he’d give in to temptation.

  “You’d like that wouldn’t you, my beauty?”

  “Yes.” I was starting to rut against his hand.

  He pulled away, disregarding my groan of protest, and he reached for a leather cuff of sorts and wrapped it around my cock. I was imprisoned quite effectively. “That should keep you out of mischief for a while,” he said.

  I was about to protest, but I realized that this is how it would begin. This act of restraining my cock was the start of what I assumed would be his attempt to dominate me and prevent me from having an orgasm without his okay.

  He moved me toward the whipping pole and tethered my arms to the leather restraints that were attached to the O ring. He rubbed my ass and my back, speaking in a soft voice, lulling me into what I assumed would be a compliant state. “Are you ready for this, my darling boy?”

  I nodded.

  “Say it, darling. I need to hear the words.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And you’ll remember to use the safe word any time you want me to stop.”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Sir… yes, Sir.”

  “We begin then.” He picked up a short stick, wrapped in dark brown leather with three strips of suede hanging from it. It had knots on the end, which would probably sting after a certain point. I was apprehensive suddenly, and I felt my heart rate starting to speed up. What the fuck was I thinking? I was completely at his mercy, but he must have sensed my discomfort because he moved back almost immediately, touching with a gentle hand, rubbing and soothing till I settled down again.

  “Don’t be afraid, darling. Trust me.”

  I nodded quickly, just wanting to get this over with. Regardless of what he said, I knew I’d be using that word shortly. I kept saying it over and over in my head as the panic began to build. Red… red… red.

  30

  THE SOUND of silence was a blessing after all the screaming that had occurred about half an hour ago. Juliana had finally stormed out, slamming doors and calling him names along the way. He couldn’t believe the vile things she’d said after professing to love him for as long as she had.

  Everything started to go to shit when she’d insisted on having sex with him and he’d refused. She was insulted and humiliated by his rejection, questioning the reason and accusing him of cheating.

  “You must be seeing someone else,” she challenged. “This explains your irrational behavior all of a sudden.”

  “What behavior?” Cole asked, completely nonplussed.

  “This whole business of wanting to be independent when you know damn well you never will be! Why do you want to learn how to ride the subway? Are you meeting some poor working girl who’s yanking your chain? Am I not woman enough for you, Cole?”

  “Juliana, calm down. This has nothing to do with you or another woman. This has to do with the guide dog that I’ve applied for.”

  “What guide dog?”

  Cole rolled his eyes and shook his head, exasperated by the entire conversation. “The one I’ve spoken about before.”

  “I don’t remember talking about a dog.”

  “You don’t remember because it doesn’t fit in with your idea of our happily-ever-after.”

  “You’re mean and hateful.”

  “You are selfish and insensitive,” Cole countered.

  “Why? I don’t want the world to feel sorry for you. If they see you with a guide dog, they’ll think you’re pitiful.”

  “Maybe I am, Juliana, for thinking that you actually love me.”

  “Of course I love you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  “You mean you wouldn’t be with a blind man if you didn’t.”

  “You are not blind!”

  “Not yet, but I will be!” Cole was screaming by now.

  “I refuse to discuss it. You have to fight this, Cole. You’re giving in too easily.”

  “This is not a cold, Juliana. This is something I cannot fight. It just is.”

  “I don’t believe you’ve done everything possible to prevent this. Surely there is something that can be done to reverse this? Why can’t you have some sort of transplant surgery?”

  “There’s no such thing, Juliana. We’ve had this discussion once before.”

  “I don’t remember talking about it.”

  “Because you didn’t get the right answers.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “Life isn’t fair.”

  “I’m sick of hearing that! I didn’t sign on for this when I fell in love with you. I was going to marry a professional ballplayer, have children, travel, just like your mother.”

  “So it finally comes out,” Cole said, saddened by her revelation.

  “I’m sorry, Cole. I didn’t mean that.” She had tears in her eyes, embarrassed by her slip.

  “No need. At least we’re doing this now while there’s still time. No papers have been signed, no rings exchanged. You are free to go, Juliana.”

  She was shocked by his unemotional reaction, but when she finally realized her engagement had just ended, her shock quickly turned to rage. “You do have someone else. You wouldn’t be so quick to get rid of me if you didn’t have someone on the side.”

  “There is no other woman.”

  “You can’t do this to me, Cole! I’ve invested a lot of time and energy in this relationship.”

  “So have I, Juliana. I’m sorry about that. We should have terminated this as soon as I found out I was going blind. I was wrong to expect you to care for a disabled person for the rest of your life.”

  “I don’t mind but you won’t let me.”

  “Our ideas of ‘care for’ are very different.”

  “There you go again,” she threw out, “making me feel guilty.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. On the contrary, I’m trying to make you feel better about this breakup. It’s not a good match anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

  “Why’d you ask me to marry you? Why?” she screamed.

  “Guilt, I suppose. I felt I owed you.”

  “You do!”

  “I guess I do, but this isn’t the way to pay you back. I’m really sorry.”

  “Fuck you, Cole! I’ve had it with all the bullshit.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She left, making quite certain the entire building heard every door slam on her way out. He’d never heard Juliana talk like that, but he didn’t blame her in the least. He was relieved it was over and done with.

  That was an hour ago. It was now almost midnight and Sloan had not returned. Cole knew better than to expect an after-sex promise to be kept, but somehow he hoped this one would be different.

  He’d given everything he had and even more. He’d done things with Sloan he’d only read about, and the reality was a thousand times better. He knew Slo
an had more experience and would probably consider this just another tryst, and if that was the case, Cole would have to learn how to deal with it. Right now, he was still basking in the afterglow, despite the fight with Juliana, and despite the fact that Sloan wasn’t home. He was sitting in a dark living room by himself, but he was happy for the first time in over three years.

  HE’D FALLEN asleep and the sounds that woke him were new ones. Cole had learned to listen closer, to pick up nuances others missed, and this sound he was hearing was the soft cry of someone in extreme pain.

  The house was still dark, so dawn hadn’t come yet. He remembered falling asleep around midnight and he’d been alone.

  He walked into his bedroom and saw nothing. The bed was still in the same condition he’d left it just before Juliana had arrived, shortly after Sloan had left. He walked into the bathroom and paused. Whatever he was hearing had come from within this room. He scanned it as best he could and saw nothing. The smell was back, though: the smell of blood.

  He walked out and peeked into Sloan’s room. It was empty as well, the silence deafening.

  He was about to turn away when he heard the noise again, the sob that couldn’t be held back, and the moan that came from the depths of hell.

  He walked back into the bathroom, but this time he looked down, not straight ahead, and that’s when he saw him. Sloan was sitting in the tub, naked, his legs covered in blood. Cole could see only bits and pieces of it, which was just as well—the full extent of the horror in front of him would have made him gag or faint or both. He had no way of knowing that Sloan had lost it tonight and had truly done a number on his legs.

  “Sloan, what happened?” he asked, kneeling on the floor beside the tub.

  “Go away, Cole. Please, I can handle this.”

  He didn’t recognize his voice. It wasn’t the self-assured Sloan he was used to, the one that pushed and goaded him into doing the right thing. This was a man who seemed broken and lost.

  “Were you in an accident?” Cole hoped he’d say yes; on the other hand, what kind of hospital personnel would release him in this condition?

  “No,” Sloan sobbed, pushing Cole away. “Just leave me, please.”