by Sansa Rayne
“Abbi, if you see him again, I beg you: ask him. A man who goes off on a tear like that is either unstable or involved in something serious. This isn’t the first time he’s had a bizarrely strong reaction to something related to Good Souls.”
“When” I see him again, I thought. Not “if.” But the doctor was right. I had to ask Mason what happened. I didn’t believe I was in danger, but it occurred to me that maybe I wasn’t the best judge of dangerous situations.
“Kerri?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have any idea why Brady never chose me for ascension?” I asked. “Why was I there for so long, when all the other girls disappeared after a while?”
“Nobody knows, Abbi. Maybe when Brady is found and put on trial, we’ll find out.”
I nodded slowly. “Any professional opinion? Like, if you had to profile him?”
Dr. Davis laughed and sat back in her seat. “I’m not a profiler. Maybe he liked you. You’re a sweet girl. Maybe he had some shred of humanity left in him, and whatever he was doing to those other girls, he couldn’t do to you.”
“He didn’t act like he liked me,” I muttered.
Dr. Davis squeezed her legs together and sighed. “People have strange ways of showing they like someone.”
Like tying them up and spanking them? I thought. She had a point. Could it be possible? But why me? I wasn’t the prettiest, or the sweetest, or the strongest believer. I had sinful thoughts. I fought with the demons. Why would he prefer me over the rest?
“Abbi, Brady is an abomination of a man. For whatever reason, he spared you, but I doubt it was for anything good.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “I wish I had known, like Elspeth.”
“It’s understandable, Abbi. Be thankful she managed to escape when she did. But on that note, have you spoken to her lately?”
I tried to blink back the tears. “She saw the pictures in the paper.”
“Oh,” said Dr. Davis. “From her perspective, I could see how that might be a little shocking.”
I stared up at her, despite the burning in my eyes. “Why? I thought I was supposed to find a man and have sex like a normal person.”
“That was up to you, Abbi. If you felt you were ready, and that Mason offered what you wanted, then your decision is not the problem. It’s just the timing might strike some people, including Ellie, as a little sudden.”
I wiped my face with a tissue Dr. Davis handed to me. “It was, I guess. But I wanted to do it. I enjoyed it. I like Mason. So what’s Elspeth’s problem?”
The doctor shook her head. “Unfortunately, she’s going by the pictures she saw in the tabloid like everyone else. Perhaps if you explain to her how Mason really means something to you, and that you weren’t randomly hooking up, then maybe she’d realize she was wrong.”
“Maybe.” I wasn’t so sure. Not this time.
“I’m not saying it will happen overnight, but she won’t stay mad forever. Imagine how it looks to her: the last man you trusted was a monster, but you trusted him. Now you’re with a man — this time one you barely know, and you’ve already opened yourself up to him. What if he’s worse than Brady?”
“He’s not.” This is bullshit.
“How do you know? Ask yourself that.”
Because of the way he made me feel. What else is there?
Dr. Davis continued, “When he was upstairs, wrecking his apartment, did you feel safe?”
“Yes.” I said it with conviction. “I was concerned about him.”
“Concerned?”
“Worried. I was worried for him, not me.”
She nodded, her face a grim mask. “I’m not comfortable with this, Abigail, but ultimately you have to make your own choices.”
“I don’t mean to be stubborn, Kerri. But…” How can I explain it? “There was a trust that I could feel between us, when I was tied up. Being helpless and liking it… and needing it… It was like, all the control that I surrendered he absorbed. While I was his, everything he did was measured. Practiced. I never doubted Mason. Not once.”
Dr. Davis waited a moment before speaking. “I hope you’re right about him, Abbi.”
Me too.
After our session, I couldn’t wait to call Mason. I hit send before I even got out of the elevator, and he picked up immediately.
“Abigail, hi,” he said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. I need to see you.”
“I’m home. Come on by whenever.”
I scanned the street as I exited Dr. Davis’ building and spotted no photographers lying in wait. “Is there going to be a little mob waiting for me?”
He laughed. “I doubt it. If you’re concerned, call me when you get close and I’ll scare them away.”
I shivered and grinned, thinking of him receiving my arrival. Shirtless, chest glistening, he terrified the tabloid’s rat-faced paparazzi. “All right, thanks.”
As promised, his street was clear of loiterers, though I found myself oddly disappointed. Why not have the tabloids see me meeting the same man, and this time arriving in appropriate jeans and a tank top? They probably wouldn’t print that story, though, I realized.
Mason opened the door to his building before I even got there. As if he’d read my mind, he wore a pair of black jeans and nothing else. His hair hung slightly, still damp from a recent shower.
“Come in,” he said.
I dropped my purse on the kitchen table, sat down and waited for him to speak first. He offered me a drink, but I declined.
Finally, he said, “After the other day, I was mad at myself. I was out of control, and I can’t let that happen.”
I nodded. “My therapist told me to ask you about that. To find out the truth about you.”
Mason smiled sadly. “No.”
“What?”
“I’ve got to control my temper, I know that. But if I haven’t told you about a part of my past, there’s a good reason.”
“You haven’t told me shit.” I shot out of my seat and snatched my purse, though I was bluffing. I couldn’t leave. Not now. Whether it was the ache in my core demanding that I stay, or the curiosity of finding out what made Mason tick, I was staying.
“Yeah, what about you, Abigail Lamb?” said Mason. “Aside from the farm, I know nothing.”
“The farm is all you’ve ever asked about!” I strode toward him, pointing a finger in his face. “Not once have you asked how I got there.”
He grabbed my outstretched arm and spun me around, holding my hand behind my back and twisting it so I couldn’t break free. My heart was already pounding from adrenaline, but now I felt the need for confinement, for punishment. I hated myself for it. Whenever I talked back to Brady, he would whip me. I was falling into the same pattern with Mason, and I couldn’t even help it.
“Your story was in the news, Abigail,” he said calmly. “You ran away from your foster home before your eighteenth birthday. You were presumed missing until the raid on Good Souls. As far as anyone can tell, you haven’t met your birth parents, and they don’t know who you are either, so you didn’t have anybody when you ran away. Brady took you in, and the rest is history. Does that sound right?”
Yes, exactly, unfortunately. It saddened me that my past could be summarized so succinctly.
“I just needed some hope,” I said. “And some money.”
“What?” Mason released my arm from the hold but kept my wrist. He pulled me forward, heading down the stairs into his dungeon. I didn’t object. I wanted to feel bound and held.
“Strip,” he said. “Then talk.”
I disrobed as Mason watched, handing him each article of clothing, which he tossed into the corner of the room. He led me to the large, X-shaped device, the St. Andrews Cross, and locked my wrists and ankles into it, spreading my limbs and binding me fully. The vinyl-covered cushions felt cold against my bare skin, but they quickly warmed.
“Hope and money. Explain,” said Mason as he massaged my breasts. I shu
t my eyes, trying to tune out the need growing inside me. I wanted him to hear my story, if only so that he would finally tell me his.
“Have you ever been in foster care?”
“No.”
“I was. I didn’t get the two-parent, sibling and a dog like everyone else.”
Mason’s face fell. “I’ve heard the foster system is a mess; barely better than living on the street.”
“Basically. It was terrible. There were three other kids there, and they were awful to me. They attacked me, they stole from me. The parents did nothing to help. They fought with each other all the time. The man, Craig, he got drunk most nights. The house reeked of cigarettes.”
“So you ran away.”
“Yeah. And despite all that’s happened since, I never regretted it. Even if I’d been chosen for ascension, it would have been better than spending one more day in that place.”
Mason stopped massaging my breasts and pinched hard on my nipples. “I doubt that.”
I groaned as pain spiked in my chest.
“Do you like this, Abigail?”
“Yes.” I trembled, soaking up the agony.
“What if I were to tell you it wasn’t going to stop? What if I was going to make it worse until it became so unbearable you passed out? Think you’d still enjoy it?”
Shivering, I tried to put myself in that place: no hope, no escape, extreme pain. My knees became jelly and fluid dripped down my thighs.
“I might,” I said.
“Then finish your story. I want you to be in the mood for pain. What happened after you left?”
New tears collected and dripped down my cheek. “I had nowhere to go. I spent a week on the street. All I had was a few dollars I stole from Craig’s wallet. I spent it all on food within the first two days, but I refused to go back. Craig would have beaten me for sure. So I started to beg.”
I stopped for a moment. No hope, no escape, extreme pain. The scenario was one I already experienced, and it was easily the worst week of my life. However, I wasn’t the same person now. Some part of me wanted another shot at surviving a situation so awful.
“Go on,” said Mason.
“Begging was humiliating, and I sucked at it. For a couple days I walked and rested, moving whenever a cop or somebody would tell me to get going. I made halfhearted attempts at asking for money or food. By the end of the week, I was so starved I finally gave in. I saw a man alone at a bus station, and I asked him if he’d pay me to… to… service him.”
Though Mason’s eyes were dry, he looked as though he swallowed a sweetgum seed. He reached behind my outstretched arms and leaned his body into mine, kissing the top of my head. I rested my chin on his shoulder and continued.
“The only thing that saved me from having to go through with it was the fact that this man was Brady. When he offered to buy me a meal, no strings attached, I was so relieved I cried in his arms for what felt like hours. I ate like a wild animal. He made a little joke about gluttony as a sin, but forgivable in my case. I laughed, and he asked if I wanted to hear more. I didn’t want to be rude to the man who’d just saved me, so I listened to his pitch about ascension. It sounded like nonsense, but I thanked him. Then he offered to put me up in his hotel room, and since it sounded better than sleeping on the street, I agreed. The next day, we were on a bus to Forestburgh, and from there we walked to Good Souls.”
Mason let my words hang in the air for a minute before speaking. “No wonder you believed his lies. You fell right into his lap.”
“It felt like my destiny; like after a lifetime of suffering and doubt, I was on the verge of being delivered. Except, my ascension never came. Even though I prayed every day, and didn’t lose hope. I’d still be there now, if not for the raid.”
“Maybe,” said Mason. “Or you could be lost like the others.”
I didn’t reply. I slumped in my bonds and thought of my body decomposing in some well, or abandoned mine, or wherever it is Brady left the bodies — assuming there was any body left.
Mason picked from a shelf a small metal chain, barely long enough to serve as a bracelet. On the ends of the chain were clips of some kind.
“I don’t like talking about my past, Abigail. I’ve got a history I can’t let go. It causes me pain every day, and I don’t think it will ever be gone. I think we have that in common.”
I nodded, then watched as he attached the clip parts to my pebbled nipples. The clamps bit into them and pain shot through my chest. I gasped for breath, and when I caught it I forced myself to keep it steady. The clamps hurt, but I drank it in. When Mason saw I regained my composure, he unlocked the cuffs that bound my arms and wrists, releasing me. Letting my arms drop to my sides brought a wealth of relief, countering the pain in my breast.
“Stay,” said Mason.
My cheeks flushed, burning, as I obeyed his command like a trained pet. He gave me tissues so I could clean up the makeup that had run down my cheeks. Mason then picked out an item from his shelf, a black, leather strap, and fitted it around my neck. I quivered as he snapped a padlock in place around the thick, silver button that connected the collar’s ends. It fit snugly around my neck, but I breathed easily enough.
Mason slipped a finger through the silver D-ring that hung from the collar and pulled me along. I crossed my arms behind my back and followed, relishing the sensation of being led. The motion caused the clamps hanging from my nipples to sway, eliciting fresh pain, but all it did was feed my desire for more.
Mason stopped at the foot of the bed. “Climb on,” he said. “Get on your hands and knees.”
I did as instructed, then watched as Mason picked out another toy from the wall.
“Face forward,” he ordered. His commands sent shivers through me and obeying them sent a surge to my warmth. Throbbing with need, it begged for Mason’s cock. I could see the bulge in the crotch of his pants; he was just as ready as I was. I only had to be patient.
“You know what Brady and I have in common?” Mason said. The palm of his hand rested on my backside.
“No.”
His hand lifted, then came back down, smacking my skin. “What’s that?”
“No, sir,” I said.
“Better. Here it is: I don’t want to let you go, Abigail, and I don’t think he did either.”
“Then don’t,” I said.
I felt Mason run his hand through my hair, followed by a sense of wetness on my backside.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Mason’s hand slipped between my cheeks, spreading the oily substance all over the place. I flinched as the cold seemed to get in everywhere. Two more slaps punished my now slick cheeks, and I shuddered as I realized the man’s intention.
“This is going to hurt, Abigail. It’s going to be intense.”
I whined softly as I clenched as hard as I could. Mason showed me the toy in his hand, a black bulb with a flat, circular base. Yet, I stayed quiet. If he felt I could handle it, I wanted to prove him right.
He worked the toy in slowly and gently, but he had to remind me to relax, and not clench. I cried as I felt the bulb spread my tight bud apart, penetrating very slowly. Mason worked it in and out, back and forth, letting my back entrance adjust to the toy’s presence. Each time it dug in, the pain distressed me less and less. When the widest part of the plug found its way inside, the toy settled into place all at once, causing me to scream and shake. However, through all of this, I didn’t move from my position on the bed.
“Very good, Abigail. How does that feel?”
“It hurts,” I said, though every passing second made the intrusion more tolerable.
“Still enjoying it?” he asked, stepping around to my front.
“Yes, sir,” I admitted.
“Good.” Mason unzipped his pants and pulled them off. I could see now his tented underwear; I smiled, already imagining how it would feel to have it inside me again. Thanks to the demons, I had fantasized about both of my entrances being filled at the same
time. Now I had a chance to try it, and I felt I needed to, even if it hurt.
You’re a sick girl, the demons said to me. A disciple of the Whore of Babylon.
Yeah, whatever.
When he pulled the garment down, I blushed happily, though my face darkened a few shades when I heard what he said next:
“Open your mouth.”
I nearly lost my balance and collapsed on the bed. He put his thumb on my chin and nudge downward. Letting my jaw hang open, I gazed up at him expectantly. I had never taken a man in my mouth before. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do, and my excitement quickly turned to anxiety. I wanted to please Mason; getting it wrong was unacceptable.
“Is this your first time?” he asked, his manhood swinging in front of my face. The sight seared into my mind.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then there are two rules you will obey. First: you will look me in the eye. Second: you will do as I say. Am I understood?”
Cheeks burning, I gulped, thinking back to when I met Brady and how humiliated I was.
“Is there a problem, Miss Lamb?” He hooked a finger around the chain and pulled on my nipple clamps just hard enough for me to feel it.
I whimpered but held my gaze steady. I wanted to do as Mason wished, but part of me recoiled at the idea. “It’s just that I almost did this for-”
“Stop. I know what you’re going to say. Don’t think about that. At the time you were desperate, fighting for survival. Now you have a better reason. Do you know what it is?”
“To serve you,” I said, opening myself up to the pain in my chest and rear.
“Correct. Remember that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now if you want to be rewarded, follow the rules and my instructions. Start with your tongue. Lick the tip.”
I did as Mason said, grateful for the guidance. I tasted his cock eagerly and savored the salty flavor. He groaned as I used my tongue as he asked, working my way down from the tip to the base a little at a time. His shaft felt so hard against my tongue; I quivered at its touch.
Once I got used to having a little in my mouth, Mason trained me to take in more and more. “Remember to breathe,” he said. “Now press your lips around it and suck.”