by Shay Savage
“I don’t know how to start.” I hear Casey sigh, and I know I’m frustrating her. I tense again, wondering how long it will be before she, like so many others, will give up and run from me.
“I can ask questions,” she says. “Would that be better? How did you get to the group home?”
“I was taken out of foster care.” That was straightforward enough. Maybe questions would be better.
“By whom?”
“The same social worker who placed me there.” I blink, trying to remember what she looked like, but I only get an image of light brown curls. “She said I’d be there a few weeks, but it didn’t last that long.”
“What was her name?”
“Miss Carol.”
“Why did she take you out?”
“The foster family didn’t like me.” I swallow hard. This isn’t a part of my past I want to remember, but it’s easier to explain than the rest, so I try to describe it as best I can. “I cried too much, I think. And they wanted me to talk, but I didn’t really know how. They tried to enroll me in a school, but it was so bright in the office, and I kinda freaked out. They said I was more than they could deal with and asked her to take me away.”
“Too bright?”
I swallow hard, unable to even nod in response. I try to take a few deep breaths, but my lungs hurt.
“Okay.” Casey shifts her weight a little. “Don’t worry about that. Where were you before then?”
“With my parents.”
“Did something happen to them?”
“Um…I’m not sure.” I feel my hands start to shake.
“Not sure?”
“They just, um…one day, they didn’t come back.”
Casey is quiet for a minute, and I know I need to clarify, but I still haven’t found the words, and I feel my throat constricting.
“They abandoned you?”
“I don’t know. They just…didn’t come back. Maybe…maybe they died.”
“How could they die and you not know about it?”
“I couldn’t remember.” My knees quiver. “They kept asking me, but I wasn’t sure.”
“Who asked you?”
“The police. They asked me a lot of questions, but I didn’t know how to answer them.” A knot forms in my stomach and begins to branch out. My arms and legs are shaking now even as Casey tries to hold me tighter.
“Rocco, I think I got lost somewhere in there. Why were the police talking to you?”
“They wanted to know where my parents were, but I didn’t know.”
“Did someone report them for leaving you? Like, your school or something? A neighbor?”
I freeze up. I know her questions are normal, but how am I supposed to explain, at that time, I had never been to a school, I didn’t have neighbors in the traditional sense, and that I was only found when the police raided the site?
I squeeze my eyes shut, but the visions are still there in my head—deep darkness and near silence suddenly interrupted by shouting and bright lights. More people than I had ever seen descended on my hiding spot and hauled me out. I could hear Mamaw screaming and crying as they hauled her to her feet. She yelled my name as someone approached me, light flashing in my eyes before I had a chance to pull the rough, woven blanket up over my head again.
And then, just a few moments later, a light that made my skin and eyes burn.
“It’s okay, Roc. I got you. It’s okay.”
My whole body is shaking as Casey rocks me back and forth in her arms. My tongue feels like it’s expanding and blocking my throat. I can’t see. I can’t breathe.
“You can tell me—”
My muscles clench. I try to open my mouth again, but my jaw is too tight. I can barely move, and as much as I want to reciprocate, I can’t talk to Casey about this. I can’t talk at all.
I’m too fucked up. Too fucked up for her. I’m too fucked up to even deal with myself.
I break my arms apart, flinging her hands away from me as I jump up. I barely have the sense to grab my pants and yank them up my legs before I rush out of the private space in the back of the dungeon and head toward the stairs. The exit is just below me, and I need to get out of here.
Too fucked up. Just too fucked up.
I feel the bass of a loud industrial song vibrating the floor as I step onto the cold concrete. Just as I reach the top of the stairs, over the loud, pumping music, I hear someone calling my name.
“Rocco? Rocco—stop!”
My feet obey the sound of Cree’s voice.
“Dude, it’s raining.” Cree marches up to me and places his hand on my shoulder. “You can’t go out there half dressed.”
“I…I…”
“Breathe, dude.” He turns me to face him, but I keep my gaze on the ground. “Slow it down. Get yourself together and tell me what happened.”
I manage to take a few deep breaths.
“Did she hurt you, bro? Fuck! I’ll tie her up and leave her in the back room if she—"
“No!” I blurt out. “I…I mean, it’s not her. It’s me, Cree. I’m so fucked up, and now I don’t even have an excuse.”
“Come here.” Cree pulls me over to a couch and sits me down.
I wrap my arms around myself, still staring at the floor. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cree motion to Kas, and she pulls a robe on before heading off to the back of the dungeon.
“Want to tell me what happened?” Cree asks.
“No.”
“Will you anyway?”
I sigh and shake my head.
“Take a sec,” he says. “Form the words in your head first, and the rest will come.”
“That’s just the problem,” I say as I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and place my head in my hands. “I can’t make the words. She wants the words, and I can’t make them.”
“You tried to tell her about your past,” Cree says after a long pause.
“She told me about hers. I thought…I thought I should do the same.”
“You don’t have to, Roc. Just because Casey wants to share, that doesn’t mean you have to say anything in return. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”
“But Cree, I do want to tell her! I want her to know, but I can’t…I can’t…”
“Are you trying to do it too fast and all at once?”
“I can’t even get a sentence out. Not sure how that could be too fast.”
“Depends on your mindset,” Cree says, leaning back on the couch. “If you aren’t ready, the words aren’t going to come. If you are ready, you’re still going to have difficulty putting it all into words. You have to give yourself time.”
“How much? How much time before she just…just…”
“Just what?”
“Gets sick of waiting.”
“Rocco, I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon. She did pursue you, and she’s been very patient already.”
“I tried to do everything right.”
“I’m not talking about just the last two days,” Cree says. “She’s been thinking about you and learning rope for months just to have a reason to get to know you.”
“She has?”
“Pretty sure. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she started learning rope right after the first time she showed up here after her breakup. It was the first night she saw you with me, and she started asking about rope right afterward. Every time she’d ask me about it, she’d be looking at you. I couldn’t believe she was even talking to me. She doesn’t like me much.”
“Why not?”
“Not exactly sure. I have my suspicions.”
I sit up and look over at Cree, wondering why Casey wouldn’t like him. Everyone liked Cree, especially the straight girls. A lot of guys came on to him, too. Even when someone wasn’t attracted to him that way, Cree was such an easygoing guy, he made friends with all sorts of people. Even when girls found out what he preferred, they still…
Suddenly, I realize why Casey wouldn
’t want anything to do with Cree.
“She doesn’t like you because you like rough sex.”
“Um, well”—Cree reaches up and scratches the back of his head—“that’s kinda been my assumption, but there’s no way I was going to ask her about it.”
I nod, realizing I might have actually said too much. I always thought Cree knew everything about everyone, but if Casey never talked to him, he wouldn’t know details about her past, and I shouldn’t be the one to tell him. He always said it was important to keep private discussions private, which is why I never worried about him telling anyone about my past.
“My point is,” Cree says, “Casey has spent a lot of time and energy getting to where she is now, which is here with you. She wants this, and I don’t think you have to tell her everything the first night just because she wants you to.”
If she wants me to. I do want to tell Casey, but another thought is stuck in my head. Casey wants me. She wants to know me, and according to Cree, she spent a lot of time preparing for it. I’m still not sure why she’s attracted to me, but Cree is right about one thing—if she was patient enough to learn rope for me, coupled with her willingness to talk about her own history, she’s probably going to give me time to tell her about my past.
“And if you do want to tell her right away,” Cree says, still talking though I hadn’t been listening, “that’s fine, but give yourself some credit for trying, and don’t rush things. Tell her a little bit—maybe about your last group home or how you got into college. Start small, and don’t beat yourself up over it.”
I nod, trying to focus on what he’s saying to me.
“I don’t know if any of it makes sense unless I start at the beginning.” I let out a long breath.
“Then start there if that’s what works for you. Figure out in your head a single sentence that will get you going, and move on from there. Most of all, give yourself time. Casey’s waited this long to be with you, and she isn’t going to go running because it takes you a while to talk. I mean, it’s clear you two have hit it off.”
“It is?”
“It is an open dungeon, dude. You might be a bit secluded back there, but I could hear you over the music.”
“Oh!” I feel my face heat up, but Cree just smiles and claps me on the shoulder.
“That was the first time, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“Seems like you had a good time.”
I reach up and push my hair out of my eyes, not sure what I should say.
“It’s all good, Roc.” Cree leans a little closer to me and places his arm around my shoulders. “I’m proud of you. Proud of both of you. I wasn’t sure Casey was ready for it.”
“It was…intense,” I finally say.
“I’m sure it was. If you want, you can tell me all about it later. For now, I think you should get back to your girl.”
“My girl?”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“Then go, because it’s clear she and Kas aren’t going to be best friends. Best we rescue them both before it gets any worse.”
I look across the room and see Casey standing with her arms crossed, glaring at Kas. Kas takes a step back, as if struck in the face, and Cree starts walking faster.
Chapter 8—Casey
I fucked this up so badly, and now I don’t know what to do.
Rocco has run off, leaving me on the floor with my tits still hanging out. I want to go after him, but for all I know, I’ll just make it worse. I pushed him way too hard and way too fast, and now he might never speak to me again.
I can’t sit here and do nothing. I have to fix this. I have no idea how, but I need to find a way. I upset him, and that’s the very last thing I want to do. It’s my job to keep him feeling safe, and I failed completely.
I loosely tie up my corset, adjust my skirt, and take a few steps out toward the open dungeon area. I see Rocco near the stairs to the exit, but Cree seems to have stopped him from leaving. As much as I want to go to Rocco immediately, I know there is nothing I want to hear coming out of Cree’s mouth. After talking about my father and everything else in my past, I do not want to be anywhere near that man.
I hesitate, not sure if I should go or not, and Cree looks over at me.
He looks away, waving in another direction. I glance over to see Kas near a St. Andrew’s Cross, pulling a robe around her shoulders. Cree looks at her and then points at me. I narrow my eyes as Kas starts to walk over.
All right, if there is one thing I prefer even less than talking to Cree, it’s talking to his vanilla-looking girlfriend. My heart starts to beat harder, and my muscles tighten as she approaches. Even in the dim dungeon lighting, I can clearly see the bruises around her neck and shoulders. I grit my teeth.
“Are you okay?” Kas asks.
She smiles warmly, and I want to smack her across the face. It occurs to me that I would just add to the bruises and that she might even consider it a turn on. Having Cree’s willing victim think I’m coming on to her is not something I need right now.
“I’m fine.” I snap at her, consider feeling guilty about it but ultimately decide not to.
“I realize we don’t know each other well,” she says, still smiling, “but I get the idea maybe things aren’t so great. Do you want to maybe talk on the balcony or something? I don’t smoke, but Cree does, and I don’t mind going out there with—”
“I did not ask you to come over here and play nice with me.”
“I…I’m not playing!” Kas’s eyes go wide.
“Look,” I say, knowing full well that I’m angry with myself and taking it out on her, “I don’t know what your rapey boyfriend has told you or why you think you can just walk up to me, but I am not interested.”
“My…my what?”
“You heard me.” I cross my arms and glare at her.
“I was just offering to help,” Kas says. “You look upset.”
“I don’t want or need your help. I’m not looking for a shoulder to cry on, and if I were, it wouldn’t be yours! You can feel free to fuck off right about now.”
Kas takes a step back, and her mouth drops open. She tightens her robe a little before squaring her shoulders.
Before she can say anything in response, Cree is by her side. I’d been so focused on Kas, I hadn’t seen him or Rocco walking up to us. I glare at Cree, daring him to say anything at all to me, but Rocco shuffles over, positioning himself between Kas and me. He wraps his arms around my waist and uses his height to completely block my view of the other couple. He presses his chest to mine, forcing me to take a half step backward.
“I’m sorry I flipped out,” he whispers. “Can we try again?”
I haven’t even managed to respond before Rocco is using his body to direct me back to our little secluded area, leaving the other couple behind. He doesn’t push me or anything like that; he just starts walking slowly forward so I have to move with him. I glare over his shoulder to see Cree giving me the stink eye.
“She didn’t touch you, did she?” I can hear the anger in Cree’s voice, and I consider yelling back at him, but Rocco is leading me away a little faster.
“No, of course not,” Kas replies. “She’s just upset and…”
I can’t hear the rest of their exchange over the music, but her response still pisses me off. I don’t need her pity, and I don’t want her explaining away my behavior.
“Typical victim,” I mutter under my breath.
“Huh?” Rocco pauses and looks down at me.
“Nothing.” I blow a long breath out my nose.
“I’m sorry for before,” he says again.
I look up at his face, silently impressed that my sub had just managed to completely remove me from a situation I would have normally forced to a conclusion whether it was a good idea or not. If he hadn’t, I’d likely be screaming at Cree right now, and all four of us might have been ejected from the dungeon for the rest of the weeke
nd for fighting.
Rocco has probably saved me from considerable embarrassment or even worse. If one of the dungeon monitors had heard what I said, I could have gotten suspended from the club. Intolerance of another’s consensual kink isn’t acceptable behavior, and I definitely crossed the line. If either Cree or Kas reported my behavior and launched a formal complaint, I could even be banned, and it would be my own fault.
I take a long, deep breath. This isn’t new to me—I’m always surrounded by rough sex and foreplay in the dungeon. It’s part of the atmosphere, and I usually deal with it just fine. After telling Rocco about my past, I had been more on edge than usual. I was also angry with myself for pushing Rocco too hard, and seeing Kas’s bruises just set me off.
I reach up and stroke the side of Rocco’s face, smiling.
“So am I,” I say. I’m glad to have my attention brought back to him, and I need to make sure he knows it is my fault, not his. “I pushed too much, and I didn’t mean to. I just want to know more about you, but it’s okay if you don’t want to tell me.”
“You told me about your past,” he says quietly. “I should tell you about mine.”
“You don’t have to.” I shake my head slowly. “You certainly don’t have to do it tonight. We can wait as long as you need.”
“I know,” he says. “I want to though. I really do. It’s just…hard to find the words.”
“I understand.” My shoulders slump as relief blankets my body. Maybe I hadn’t screwed this up completely. If he’s still here, I have another chance to make this work. I remind myself that I have made some progress with him, and I just need to find the right pace—the pace that works for him, not me.
We return to the blanket and cushions, and I look into Rocco’s eyes. I can’t read his expression, and it’s frustrating. I’m at a loss not knowing if I should tie him up, hug him, or just call it a night.
“Do you want to lie down again? Or just sit with me? Or…” I let my voice trail off.
“I thought you were going to make the decisions.”