Chapter 13

 

I huddled in the dark, wet and cold, both women mercifully leaving me alone.

Finally.

It was an experience I could only poke at around the edges, something so shattering I didn’t yet have the courage to look at it in the full light of my consciousness.

I didn’t know it was possible to feel such shame, such helplessness. But that wasn’t the worst of it — no, not by a long shot.

The same twisted, insane thought kept blaring through my head as I debased myself before them.

At least she’s here to see it. At least she enjoys it.

What had happened to me that I’d seemed more concerned with the fact that she was pleased with what she saw, rather than the fact they’d degraded me in a way I’d never thought possible? I wanted to climb inside myself and never come out, but at the same time, the experience was almost… cathartic. I felt now that I’d reached rock bottom, that no matter what they — she — did to me now, I’d be able to endure it.

Other than killing me, how could it get worse?

But another truth gnawed at me, and it was something I didn’t think I’d ever be able to understand. My cock was as hard as a fucking diamond almost the entire time. The only time it flagged — the only time — was when my shame overtook me, dragging me down like undertow, overwhelming even my own incredibly intense, incredibly confused arousal. The teasing was hellish, but I couldn’t deny that I wanted more of it, even as my balls ached horribly, even as my entire pelvic area throbbed with a unique soreness I’d never experienced before. I’d known what blue balls were; this was in an entirely different galaxy from that pain.

And shamefully, all I wanted was one of them to touch me again. I’d been reduced to hoping they’d accidentally let me spill, that they’d stroke me one too many times, and I’d finally be granted a blessed, long-denied release.

I thought I’d gladly endure any number of tortures just to come even once. Oh dear God, just once.

My anus throbbed, both from the way the nozzle forced it wide, but also at the cramping that still clutched my bowels from time to time. I’d never experienced an enema before, not even as a child, and after today’s experience, I never wanted to again.

The thought was insane, of course, as I was well aware it was likely far from the last time I’d be forced to endure one.

My cock twitched at the thought, and I wanted to scream at it. What the fuck was happening to me? That I’d used to become aroused by the degradation and pain of the females I purchased was not lost on me. The irony, the ruthless Karma of it.

But I’d never be able to understand how — and why — my body seemed to betray me at every turn now. Was I brainwashed? Was this Stockholm syndrome? How would one even know, once they sunk down deep enough?

The most important question though was also the one least answerable. Did it matter what this was? The fact was that I’d given in, granted her what she sought. I’d played her game — and lost.

Now… now there was only obedience. Now, there was only pleasing her. And in the process, maybe, just maybe, I’d find some pleasure, some solace, some refuge in my submission to her will. It made no sense, but that was my lone hope, my only chance.

To please my Mistress.

My wrists had been bound before me once more before they’d left. They hadn’t said a word to me, and I was grateful for it, my shame so deep, so profound, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to form speech. They merely washed me down, bound my hands, and left me to ponder what I’d become… and what they might yet make of me.

I could have been mad at all of them, at whoever it was who was really behind what was being done to me, but at that moment, it made as much sense as raging at a cloud for having the temerity to drop rain upon the earth.

The important thing was the here and now. Navigating the new normal — which began and ended with doing whatever I was told, even if it hurt, even if it destroyed whatever dignity I had left. Perhaps in that obedience, I’d learn more, find out what it was that was really happening here.

And if I were very, very lucky, perhaps understand what I was becoming.

* * *

 

“I hope you know what the fuck you’re doing.” Darynn sighed, tapping her fingernails along the top of the deck railing, gazing down upon the dramatic alpine view of the Snoqualmie Valley. “None of this was in your contract. You realize this, right?”

Anna sipped her tea, savoring the subtle orange note. “There is a famous quote by Moltke that I think of often: ‘No plan survives first contact with the enemy.’ Quinton may not be the enemy, but it applies, I think.”

Darynn extended a hand toward Ivy, who lounged on one of the deep red Adirondack chairs scattered across the deck, soaking in the last of the late summer sun. “Can you believe this bitch? Next she’s gonna be citing Art of War.”

“I have no idea what either one of you are talking about,” Ivy murmured.

“Don’t worry about the contract, Darynn.” Anna shifted, stretching her legs, her seat creaking slightly beneath her. The light wind blowing through the valley carried the crisp, refreshing feel of the coming autumn. “Corddray just wants his revenge — and he’ll have it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get to have my fun too. Still, I wonder…”

“You really expect me to believe this is just you having a little fun with that asswipe? When we agreed to this job we saw him as approximately as redeemable as something we’d scrape off our shoe. Now, you’ve got him calling you Mistress, for Christ’s sake. Corddray didn’t pay you to pick up a new play toy — he paid you to make this kid’s life a living hell.”

“Nothing wrong with a two-for-one deal,” Anna said, glancing up at the gruff ex-Marine. “Corddray could care less what I do, as long as I fulfill the terms. Nothing we’ve done violates them.”

“So this is for you then. That’s it?”

“I like him.” Ivy’s voice carried on the wind, the soft tone of her words as sweet as her smile. “I think he’s actually very cute.”

“Oh, here we go,” Darynn said, rolling her eyes. “You know what he did to that girl, Ivy. How can you find him cute?”

The pretty redhead frowned for the briefest of moments, then met the blonde’s gaze. “The man in that cell down there isn’t the same one who beat that poor girl so badly. I don’t know quite who he is — yet — but I do know for a certainty that that’s no longer Quinton.”

None of them spoke, pondering those words, Anna knowing instantly that they were the truth, one she hadn’t been able to see herself. She’d seen him as evolving, as perhaps having a chance to become someone other than a jaded, twisted, selfish sonofabitch. But it wasn’t until Ivy’s quiet, but firm statement that it hit her.

He had already changed.

Could she really believe the Quinton languishing in the dark hole below them was capable of hurting anyone anymore? Yes, there was still plenty of defiance in his eyes, even anger, but the selfish, arrogant, dangerously manipulative air… that was completely extinguished.

That defiance and anger she saw there was pure self-preservation, merely what he thought he needed to endure the ordeal he was going through. It wasn’t selfishness — it was survival.

Anna turned her chair toward the unexpectedly insightful Ivy. For all the girl’s efforts to appear meek, unobtrusive, non threatening, Anna had seen her at work on poor Quinton, had watched as she brought him to the brink over and over and over again, the glint in her eyes betraying a hidden strength.

Ivy was a lot more complex than she portrayed herself. Beneath those still waters lurked a keen intellect, a steely resolve… and no small amount of lustful avarice. The sweet russet-haired beauty had very much enjoyed tormenting Quinton. Anna was willing to bet solid money that the girl’s panties were absolutely soaked as she’d sauntered from the cell, leaving Quinton a panting, aching, groaning wreck.

“You still haven’t told me — how it felt.” Anna set her mug down on the glass table, zipping up her windbreaker at the stiffening breeze. “Did you like controlling him?”

It was Ivy’s turn to blush, her fair skin suffusing a deep pink. Finally, she managed to meet Anna’s eyes. “I was scared… but I loved it.”

Darynn chuckled, leaning over the railing, but most definitely listening to the conversation. “Boys. Not so tough once they’re in chains, are they?”

“That was what I loved the most — that he couldn’t do a thing to stop me. That he just… had to take it. Whatever I decided.”

“What did you feel when you took his cock in your hand?”

The girl was — on the outside anyway — about as submissive as they came, calling to any dominant who came within sight of her. But Anna knew better. There was a core of steel inside the girl; she’d glimpsed it when Ivy had clasped him in her hand, watched the way her eyes were fixed on his anguish, drinking it in, reveling in it.

“What did I feel?” Ivy’s nostrils flared, even as she looked off in the distance. “Power.”

“How the fuck do you always know?” Darynn thrust a hand into the front pocket of her faded blue jeans. “I don’t know why I even bother with you anymore, Shaw.”

“Pay up, trick.” Anna held up her hand, waggling her fingers.

Darynn swore under her breath as she slapped the tattered twenty dollar bill into Anna’s palm.

“You… you bet on me?” Ivy’s mouth was a shocked O. “What — what was the bet?”

Anna gave her an indulgent smile, folding the bill and slipping it into the breast pocket of her windbreaker. “I bet Darynn that you’d love it — love working him. Love the power you had over him.”

Ivy turned her head toward the blonde who’d returned to the railing, leaning one elbow on it, her chin propped up by the heel of her hand. “What did you bet, Darynn?”

She shrugged. “I thought you’d be too chickenshit to go through with it — especially once he started pissing and moaning and carrying on.”

“That’s when she really got into it, Darynn,” Anna grinned at the petite Ivy. “Isn’t that right?”

The girl merely nodded, her blush burning bright once more.

“That’s the last time I bet against the Domme Whisperer over there.” Darynn kicked peevishly at one of the vertical supports of the railing with her dirt-encrusted work boot.

Then the faint sound of a revving motorcycle could be heard, Darynn’s brow arching. “That’s not my ringtone.”

Anna scowled, fishing her phone from her pants pocket, staring at the screen for a long moment.

“Who the hell is that?” The wood planks of the deck creaked slightly as Darynn sauntered over to Anna and Ivy, her heavy boots thumping against the wood.

Anna sighed, cursing silently as she looked up at her friend.

“It’s Grayson.”