“Hurt me,” he pleaded, staring at her in desperation, knowing the lust and pleasure were shining in his eyes, as was the promise that he would do anything to please her if she just played along. “Go to the edge.”
She laughed, the sound a little manic. “We’re already at the edge. We go any further and we’ll fall off it.”
“Let’s do that then.” He licked his lips, making his voice seductive on purpose. His gaze was soft, submissive, which appealed to any Domme as aggressive as the one in front of him. “Go over the edge with me. Please, I’m begging you.”
She glanced toward the open door, hesitance showing on her face. “I dunno, I cut you any deeper and—”
“I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’m tough, a lot tougher than all those other pussies out there.”
“Yeah, you are,” she said breathily as her gaze ran over him once more. “You are so sexy, do you know that? So fucking sexy. I get wet just thinking about playing with you.”
“I’ll be sexy for you.” He started to reach for her when the sharp stab between his shoulders reminded Paul his hands were bound behind his back. “Please.”
“Okay,” she said, her smile bright, her eyes heavy with lust as she turned to go close the door.
Paul dropped his head when she came back to him, staring down at the expensive Italian tile in one of Arty’s many guest rooms. It was hard enough to sink in past the leather pants he was wearing and he loved it for the unforgiving impressions it dug into his knees.
He loved the fiery sear of pain even more and he dropped his head lower, his chin touching his chest in a show of deep submission. His groan was guttural when she started hurting him in earnest, the cool, smooth feeling of steel mixing with the warm slide of blood as she cut him. He waited all week for this. He was responsible and worked hard with the promise of an escape, something to ease the tension and stress his life heaped on him. Starting lineup was a huge accomplishment, mix that with steady straight A’s and he deserved the indulgence.
He didn’t give a shit about hiding wounds. He’d been doing that his entire life. He didn’t even care that Danny was starting to suspect something. The subspace claimed every worry, every fear. It let him exist on a plain where it was okay to enjoy the pain. He didn’t have to hide a pain tolerance that had yet to be pushed to its limit. In this world he could be himself and not only be accepted, but admired for it. There was a side of Paul that truly wished he could abandon real life and just be a professional submissive.
If only he weren’t living a life for a father who would never be satisfied, because Paul could pretend to hate the pain, but he couldn’t pretend enduring it made him mean or vicious. As it was, he put off joining the Marines for football, but that excuse was only going to last so long. At some point he was going to have to figure out how to pretend to be a killer when he wasn’t even a fighter.
“Bitch, you better drop that knife and back the fuck up!”
Paul lifted his head, the sharp, furious voice cutting through the haze. He frowned at the tall, imposing figure in the doorway. He opened his mouth, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him.
“Fuck you.” Her voice was overly defiant as she growled, “He’s mine tonight. Stand in line.”
Another sharp sear of pain ran down Paul’s back to the point that he dropped his head and groaned once more.
“You cunt!”
Danny rushed at them fast enough that the Domme fell back, dropping the knife with a loud clatter. Fear flashed in her eyes when Danny grabbed her arm, dragging her to her feet.
“Listen to me very closely,” Danny whispered, his voice cutting, demanding attention. “You even think about touching him again and I will get scary in a way you can’t even imagine. I want you to forget you ever met him.”
“Danny Boy,” Paul said, realizing this wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him at all. Danny really was here and the shock of it, mixed with the fear and defiance in the Domme’s eyes, had him coming back to reality. Danny looked very dangerous at the moment. “It’s just a game. You’re overreacting.”
“I don’t wanna hear shit out of you,” Danny snapped at Paul. “Your girlfriend is gonna unlock those cuffs and then we’re leaving.”
“But—”
“Don’t.” Danny shook his head as he glared. “There is nothing you can say that will justify this.”
“Shit,” Paul groaned, falling back on his haunches, staring toward the ceiling. “What’re you doing here anyway?”