by Nikki Steele
He looked at me, surprised. “Things worse than rape?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Tiffany, if you’re strong enough to survive this, you’re strong enough to survive anything in the contract. You might even enjoy it, if you try.”
Why was Edward pushing this so strongly? Something wasn’t right. I shook my head to clear it, but all it did was start a headache. “We talked about this,” I struggled, forcing myself to ignore the pain. “I like BDSM, but we’re on different ends of the spectrum-”
“I know, I know,” Edward cut me off. “But like you said before, it’s not black and white, it’s color—a raging stimulation of the senses that doesn’t let you hold back. All I want to do is take you further along that spectrum—make you submit to your animal side like I know you want to.”
His statement sent shivers down my spine. But not for the reason he thought. “How did you know that?” I asked, mind suddenly clear.
“Know what?”
“That that was what I said?”
“You must have said it sometime.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Edward waved the statement away, irritated. “That’s not important right now. What’s important is that we’ve saved each other, right? I’ve shown you that I can be a strong provider. That I’m good for you, and that you belong to me.”
A hand reached out to hold me, but I pushed it away, a horrible suspicion fighting its way into my mind. How could Edward have known I’d said that? It was from my blog. I’d never said those words out loud.
My blog… my blog.
Suddenly I realized what this meant. My blog. Edward read my blog. Even though I’d never told him who I was.
He was looking at me strangely. I tried to act natural. So Edward read my blog. Big deal. A lot of people read my blog every day. I actively encouraged it.
Except he knew me in real life. And that was unusual. I took great pains to make sure my two worlds didn’t collide. Things like Marty happened when they did.
Marty… “Edward,” I asked. “How did you find me?”
Edward looked briefly nonplussed. “How did I find you? Um…” he laughed, scratching his head. “I guess I followed the screams. But that’s not important right now. What’s important is you and me. We can finally be together.”
I shook my head. “No, back up. I left you, and then Marty was waiting for me. And we drove for a long time. How did you know where to look?”
Edward shrugged. “You’ve got me. I had my driver follow you. When he saw what was happening, he called me immediately.”
I guess that made sense. I started to relax, until something else hit me. “When Marty picked me up, he said that ‘I called him.’ But I didn’t call him—you did. How did you have Marty’s number? How do you know Marty?”
Edward sighed, then walked to the door, shutting it on broken hinges. “Well I guess,” he said, facing away from me. “As they say in the movies, the game is up.”
A cold shiver ran up my spine, freezing my joints as it went. Everything was starting to click into place. “You knew Marty would be here, didn’t you? Because you were the mysterious benefactor.”
And then more pieces fell. The why. “You knew I was never going to end up with you, didn’t you? That we were too different. That’s what attracted us both, but worked against us in the end.”
“I knew you would never be the submissive I wanted,” Edward said quietly. He was leaning against the door, staring at me, waiting for me to figure it out.
“So you took steps to fix it,” I said. “A precaution. If I said yes to the contract, you could expose Marty before he got close, ingratiate yourself. But if I said no…”
I paused, thinking things through. “Sick, twisted Marty was the chance you needed to plant yourself so deeply in my subconscious as my protector that I would do whatever you wanted in return.” I looked at him, horrified. “Like sign a contract. You said it yourself—after rape, anything seems easy.”
Edward pushed himself off the door. “Very good Tiffany. Or should I say, Miss Kitty. Really, you weren’t too hard to find once I started searching.”
He moved toward me. “I’d hoped to do this the easy way. But it seems you’ve taken away all my options.”
“I don’t understand,” I said, suddenly fearful.
He sneered. “Of course you wouldn’t. You’re a woman. But let’s try and dumb this down for you, shall we? You’re here. And I’m going to get what I want, whether you like it or not.”
I backed away, trembling. “And what is it that you want?”
He grinned, a slash across his face. “To hear you scream. To see the fear in your eyes you never show. To make you beg for mercy.”
“Edward… this isn’t you.”
He shook his head. “No. Before, that wasn’t me. The things you do to me, that isn’t me. The things you make me feel, that isn’t me.”
He picked up a length of rope from the table. The same length of rope that User69 had used to tie me. My eyes flashed to the knife beside it.
“Edward, I don’t want to do this.”
“Tiffany.” He said my name with a sneer. “I’m not asking.”
“Edward, we can talk about this.”
“Tiffany.” He picked up the roll of tape, too. “No we can’t.”
He leapt toward me, crashing us both back against a shelf; pots, pans and jars smashing to the floor. He grabbed a wrist; I kicked out in terror, hitting his shin. His face screwed up in pain, then his other palm round-housed against my temple, sending me staggering. When my vision cleared, both hands were behind my back and I was being trussed once more with rope.
When done he pushed me and I stumbled; I fell to my side, hard, new bruises springing upon old. He loomed over me, the knife glinting in his hands. “When I first met you, you were a conquest. A notch on my belt, nothing more.” He drew a breath, and I noticed his eyes—they’d turned dark. “But then you turned me down.”
He squatted, dragging the knife along my trembling skin. “You shouldn’t have done that, Tiffany. It wasn’t nice. People don’t turn me down. Ever.”
“Edward-”
“Shh…” he cut me off, the knife to my lips like a finger. “Quiet now. You’ll have your time to… voice… your feelings soon. Oh yes. I want to hear you scream. But first you have to know why. Pain without reason is torture. I don’t do that… oh no. I always explain why I’m going to hurt someone. It makes it so much more… satisfying.”
He stood, walking to the fire, facing it with hands clasped behind his back. “I can’t get you out of my mind, Tiffany. I thought I could, but I can’t. Each time you say no, it makes me want you more.” He reached for an iron poker leaning up against the wall, then placed the end very deliberately into the hot coals. “I don’t take no very well. I don’t hear it very often.”
He returned, and squatted before me once more. His knife went to my dress, slicing easily through the shoulder strap. It fell broken across my chest.
“All you had to do was let me buy you. All you had to do was take my money and sign the fucking contract. It wouldn’t even have been for the six months. I get bored when things get broken.” The knife drifted lower, leaving a red line across my exposed flesh. “It’s the breaking that’s the fun, and that never takes long.”
The knife moved now to my legs, pulling the hem up above my knees, above my thighs, eventually above my hips, exposing me. He closed his eyes then, and breathed deep, as if drinking in my fear.
His eyes snapped open. “Now we do it the hard way. But don’t worry—the end result’s still the same.” The knife slid under material then—the cotton of my underwear. A brief pull against flesh, and it was sliced through. The lace fell from first one leg, then the other, and Edward reached down, eyes locked on mine, to pull it free. He raised it to his nose and breathed deeply.
I closed my eyes, begging for strength I no longer possessed. Because for the second time today, I was about to be raped. But this time, I fea
red, that was just the beginning.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Contract (extract)
Posted by Miss Kitty [More than 6 days ago]
…The thing I’ve realised since then is that when money can buy you anything your twisted mind desires, the thing you want most is that which you don’t have. He didn’t want me because he loved me. He wanted me because he couldn’t have me…
“Get away from her, you freak!”
My eyes opened. A shadow stood in the doorway.
Edward’s eyes opened too. He cocked his head. “I see you got past Ivan.”
Ryan stepped into the light, rubbing his knuckles. “You know what they say—the bigger they are…”
Edward stood up. “50 Million dollars to turn around right now and forget you ever saw this.”
Ryan spat to one side. “Not for all the money in the world.” He looked to me. “Are you all right, Tiff?”
I nodded weakly.
Edward chuckled. “She’s still got spirit, I’ll give her that. She’ll lose that eventually. He frowned. “How did you find us?”
Ryan looked toward me, then back to Edward. “My image matching algorithm, actually. When Tiff’s phone cut out, I called up security footage from her apartment. A screen-grab of that taxi driver’s face was all I needed to trace his network of friends and associates.” He turned to me. “You’ll never guess who suddenly got put on Edward’s payroll last week. Once I saw that, it was a simple matter of searching for any property Edward owned in the area, one near woods of some sort.
Edward laughed. “Too clever for your own good, I see. You must be the one all the papers are talking about—the newest man to join America’s rich list. I heard Google is buying you out for a considerable sum of money.
“The game’s up, Edward. You’ve lost.”
Edward stooped to pick up his knife, the same one Marty had used to threaten him. “What do you care what I do to her? We’re above people like her. They’re playthings to us.”
Ryan’s eyes went dark. He took another step forward, fists bunched. “You’re not worthy to kiss the ground she stands on. She’s the most beautiful, perfect creature that god ever made and don’t you fucking dare insult her like that.
Edward’s eyes widened. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”
Ryan paused. “She’s my angel—but if all I can take is her friendship, and she’ll forgive me, I’ll take it and be the happiest man in the world.” His eyes fell. “I’ve been an idiot, Tiffany. I’m sorr-”
Edward chose this moment to attack, leaping forward with knife in hand to slice a long, deep gash at Ryan’s hip. If Ryan hadn’t begun to move at the last minute, the cut would have gutted him.
The two men locked together, Ryan seizing his assailant’s arm in a steel grip as they wrestled, falling to the ground. Edward landed on his back, and Ryan pressed the advantage, landing several quick blows in succession with his free hand. He put his weight on Edward’s arm, forcing the wrist back until he dropped the knife. Ryan kicked it away as Edward’s free hand reached for his eyes, gouging, searching for weakness. Ryan grunted, his focus slipping, and Edward rolled them both before landing an uppercut that would have floored a lesser man.
Ryan shook it off, and the two began trading blows, rolling across the floor with the savagery of wild bears; all of their considerable musculature focused on a single task—dominance of the other. Vicious roundhouses began to rock off each other, Edward taking the blows with a body built from BDSM, Ryan taking the blows with a body fueled by rage.
Eventually, rage began to win. Edward’s blows only served to make Ryan angrier. Ryan’s blows were gradually weakening Edward’s body.
But then Edward tried a new tactic. His hand shot not as a fist toward his opponent’s face, but as a claw toward the gash along his side. A gash that was now bleeding freely. He twisted viciously, and Ryan cried out in pain.
Edward scrambled back, forcing himself up and leaping to the fire as Ryan clutched his side. He pulled out the poker, now glowing, that he’d placed there earlier. It paused inches from my neck. “I’ll do it!” he threatened. I could feel the heat even from this distance.
Ryan straightened, hand dropping from his side. “I don’t care what happens to me. But if you lay one single finger on her, so help me I’ll rain fire down so hard on your ass you’ll swear you were sitting on a fucking volcano.” He took a step forward.
“I’ll do it!” Edward held the poker now in front of him, ignoring me as he dealt with the threat before him. I began to struggle against my bonds quietly.
The poker swiped once before Ryan, then twice, but he continued to advance. Edward lunged forward, but Ryan stepped to the side. The poker slashed across his cheek, the flesh searing in a red welt from lip to ear. Fueled by his need to protect me, Ryan didn’t even flinch.
Edward thrust again, but this time Ryan’s hand shot up, grabbing the glowing tip. I heard flesh begin to sear, and the scent of burnt meat immediately filled the air. Edward’s face widened as Ryan took one further step toward his attacker, hand sizzling fiercely, and then his other balled into a fist. Ryan swung.
The punch connected directly with Edward’s jaw, Ryan’s full body behind it. Edward staggered back, the poker falling from stunned hands. Ryan’s other hand came up now, the burned one, to grasp Edward’s shirt. He pulled him close, no sign of pain on his face.
“You like to give out punishment?” Ryan growled. His fist stretched back. “Think you’re such a big man hurting a woman?” The fist slammed into Edward’s head. “Let’s see how you like it, fucker.” His fist pulled back, then smashed down again. Then again, then again, Edward’s face slowly turning to pulp under the onslaught. His nose broke, blood spraying everywhere.
“Ryan…” I began.
Ryan was in a fury, raining blows down upon his opponent. He could feel no pain, because all he cared about was dealing it.
“Ryan!”
He didn’t stop – his rage so complete he was oblivious to everything but fist and target. “I don’t care what you do in your private life. I don’t care what you do to me. But when you start hurting the one thing I love more than life itself? You can be damn sure I care about that.” His fist slammed into Edward again, the man now unconscious before him.
He was going to kill him. I could see it in his eyes. “RYAN!”
Ryan turn to me; liquid rage now barely human.
“Ryan,” I said softer, again. “I’m okay. You saved me.”
“He needs to pay,” Ryan growled. “Let me make him pay.”
I shook my head, speaking softly, as if to a wild animal. “Ryan. You need to let him go. Let him go, Ryan. Come to me, I need you.”
The rage in Ryan’s eyes dimmed as I continued to talk, bringing him back from the edge. His eyes cleared, then he looked down to the blood stained shirt still gripped in one fist. The fingers opened, slowly, and Edward slumped to the floor with a groan.
“Tiffany?”
“It’s okay Ryan. Come untie me.”
“Tiffany? What happened?” Ryan moved to me, and for the first time seemed to look at me properly. He began to untie me, his cheek a jagged welt where the red hot poker had sliced across his face. I noticed him begin to favor his unburned hand.
The ropes around my arms loosened. Ryan helped me to my feet. I stumbled, the circulation returning slowly, and fell against Ryan’s broad chest. His arms wrapped around me tightly.
The car crash. Marty. Edward. It all became too overwhelming. “Ryan, take me home” I struggled. Then I burst into tears.
Ryan picked me up in strong arms, kicked Edward—now groaning on the ground—one final time, and then carried me from the building.
CHAPTER NINE
Signing Off
Posted by Miss Kitty [09:15]
Today, dear readers, I’ll be signing off for a while. Just the weekend, I think. But who knows, maybe longer. The events of two weeks ago… well, blogging about them has hel
ped, but I’ve got other things I need to focus on now. Things like my new relationship. As they say—out of the ashes, right?
He stayed with me at the hospital—refused to leave my side until I’d been checked out. Then I stayed with him, refusing to leave his till he’d been fixed up too; he’s got a couple of very sexy scars, but he’ll be okay. As for us? Well, we’re taking it slow. There’s been no rush.
But we’re going away for the weekend, just him and I. I think we both have the same idea—I’ve seen his packing list, and clothes do not look like an option. That’s okay with me! Because for what I have in mind this weekend? Clothes aren’t going to be needed anyway.
Grrrrr…
Miss Kitty.
Candles lit the room—gorgeous big fat ones, each on its own heavy crystal base.
The bed was a gorgeous four poster, covered in the most luxurious downy blanket, so soft you might lay on it and disappear from sight. Not that it mattered. Because we didn’t intend to be on the bed. Though maybe we would use the candles.
BDSM wasn’t just about the sex. On the surface it was that, certainly. That’s what I’d had with Edward. But underneath? It was something entirely different: an expression of intense feelings between two people. That’s what I had with Ryan.
The push/pull of the Dom/Sub relationship was, at its heart, about trust. And there was no-one that I trusted more than Ryan. I knew that now. He’d saved me, and not just physically. He’d filled a void that I hadn’t known existed. If the day I’d thought our friendship was over had been the most frightening of my life, even before the events of the cabin, then my time after had been the most wonderful. I looked at Ryan, as he stood before me in a crisp, designer shirt. He had a scar across his cheek now, but that only made him hotter.
We’d both wanted to do something about this from the time he got out of hospital. Ryan knew I enjoyed BDSM. He’d said he wanted to join me on this journey.