Chapter 12
It’s taken me a long time to forgive Rafe; we now talk through texts, have met up few times up, just not particularly regularly.
He’s busy on tour again, and I’ve got my life and work here now.
My family are the ones that have kept me sane, and work has kept me occupied.
I took a few freelance jobs when I left Rafe, mainly ones that took me overseas.
I couldn’t watch or hear anything to do with him; I still don’t, but at least now it’s not painful.
I’m slowly getting back into the scene. I’ve been going back to Bound with my brothers, especially when Saint collared Noah.
That was a night I couldn’t miss. I’m at Bound tonight with Rees—we’ve spent a few evenings together—he’s a good Dom.
The scenes we’ve had have been slow and steady.
I’m happy that we didn’t go full-on from the start, but tonight is different because I’ve agreed to a private room and a scene he’s been thinking about.
He’s run through what he wants, and while it’s intense, it should give us both a high worth waiting for.
The club is busy tonight, but I know none of my brothers will be here.
They’ve seen me submit enough times to know I like it hard, but also crave the warmth of the aftercare, wanting that as much as the scene.
So, with my excitement building, I walk up to him and kneel before him, my head down.
He stands, motioning for me to also stand.
We walk, his hand firm on the back of my neck.
“I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time, a very long time,” he says as the door clicks shut with ominous click.
I look up and a wave of uneasiness sweeps through me.
Something about him changed; he seems too wired, like he’s on something, and his smile is off.
This has now gone from exciting to daunting, but we haven’t got far and still have to agree to the scene and confirm our safe words before anything starts.
“Strip,” he says as he strides away to look at the array of floggers, canes, and whips, not even bothering to look at me.
“Hey, Rees, hold on,” I tell him, making no move to undress. “We have some things to discuss first.”
“Like what? We’ve been in scenes before; this isn’t our first time. I told you I know exactly what we’re doing tonight. So, strip, boy,” he sneers and picks up a cane.
“No, I want to reaffirm our limits, our safe words, as well as discuss the plan you seem to have decided on.”
“Fine, I know yours, and while I agreed with them, I lied; I don’t believe in limits or safe words. And I’m going to tie you up, cane you, then when you’re suitably submissive, I’m going to fuck you until you scream.”
I wave my hands in an ‘oh no you don’t kind of way.’ “I’m not happy about this. My safe words are the colour system, and where’s my enjoyment in this going to come from?”
“I’ll make sure you love it.” His persona has changed; I’m confused.
He steps up to me, his hands in my hair.
It’s a soft grip, not bringing any pain.
“Excuse me? I thought you wanted my dominance from the start.” He brushes his lips over mine.
It’s gentle but persuasive, and I allow myself to sink into it, letting my mind switch on to the sub side of me.
When he pulls back, his eyes are warm. “Now, are you going to let me get my hands on that delectable body of yours?”
I undress slowly, enjoying the way his eyes roam over my body as I uncover it. When I’m naked, he trails his hands over my chest, stomach, and around to my bum. A hard slap on my right cheek has me moaning, ready to slip into my role. “You’re beautiful. I always thought you were.”
That’s a weird thing to say; we’ve done things here before.
But this has just got seriously strange; he seems to know more about me than we’ve discussed.
I duck my head and let him lead me to the cross.
Before he restrains me, he holds up a metal cock ring.
It’s thick and looks heavy but will probably be a part of an epic orgasm at the end of the night.
I nod my consent, and it’s deftly fitted around the base of my dick and around my balls, then I’m strapped and bound to the large wooden X frame.
I melt as his hand smooths slowly over my back and buttocks.
The first swish of noise then contact to my skin has me surprised.
It’s a flogger, not the cane he mentioned.
Maybe he’s working up to it, getting my skin hot and ready for more.
Nope, he’s not holding back with it, and he’s not as competent with it as he thinks.
Some of the swipes are sloppy, hardly grazing my skin, then the next will be too harsh, the leather fronds more a whip.
I want to give him a bit more chance to improve, to give him time to warm up, but unless he gets better soon, I’ll be calling it a night.
This is not how he’s behaved before; it’s like he’s a different person—calm, focused, possessed.
He doesn’t get it right, not for me anyway. “Yellow,” I say, then repeat it because he doesn't stop. “Rees, I said yellow; we need to talk,” I tell him, sharply this time.
He walks around the cross to face me. “What? We were just about to get to the good part.” He holds up the cane he must have had in his hand the whole time.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to stop this here. It’s not right for me. Please, untie me.”
He just stares at me, his face turning into a vicious mask, his eyes steely, fixed on me. “No.” Then steps back and moves around the cross. There’s another flicker of something I should know about him. Who is this fucker?
“Fuck you, Rees. Get me off here. “Red, I’m calling RED.”
He ignores me. The next swipe that hits my back is from the cane.
There’s no stopping him, however much I shout at to him to stop.
The swipes keep coming, then there’s a pause.
He’s finally finished. I sag against the frame, my back on fire, panting hard as the sweat runs down my face and body.
“Enough. Get me out of these FUCKING CUFFS!” My voice rises to the loudest shout I have.
I scream as a spray of alcohol hits my back, burning the welts from the cane. “YOU FUCKER!”
Rees stands next to me, his mouth so close to my ear I can feel his breath.
He’s breathing almost as heavily as I am.
I can feel just how much energy he used during the beating.
“You always were a little cry-baby, snivelling to your mother about every little thing.
I never understood why she kept you. I had to keep her drugged up to stop her from running back to get you; it only took a week to get her totally hooked on the brown.
“It was easy after that to keep her high as a kite, even pimped her out for a couple of years. She got sloppy and got caught with enough gear to send her straight to jail. Prison sorted her out, but I was waiting for her when she got out. It didn’t take long to get her hooked again.
The stupid bitch got sloppy and ended up OD’ing. That was a shit show to clear up.”
My mind is a whirl of confusion as I work through his words.
Fuck! “Warrior?” I turn my head to the side, and I don’t know how I failed to recognise him.
I’m trained to see this sort of shit. God, I’ve got sloppy, too comfortable and settled.
This is a lesson I’m not going to forget.
He must be late forties, maybe fifty, but he doesn’t look it.
He clearly got clean and fit, unlike what he did to my mother.
I tuck that away for processing when I’m alone.
“At last, you recognise me. I knew you were queer; even as a kid, it was obvious. She always put you first, even when I got her away, it was always you she talked about. It took me a while to find you. You disappeared off the radar for a few years. But here we are. Time to get back to this little game. I’m having a great time. ”
This is all because he was jealous of a kid? Fuck that. I fight against my restraints, cussing out words I haven’t used since my army days. Until he starts again. It’s only a dozen more hits until the cane drops to the floor. “Time to ruin you, you fucker.”
The buckles come off, and before I can take a swing at him, his hands are in my hair, and he’s got me on my knees. “You’re gonna suck my dick, and you’d better be good at it, or I’ll take over. No ideas of using your teeth.”
As he shoves his dick in my mouth, I gag.
This is going to be brutal; I haven’t got it in me to actually take part, and there’s no way I’m making this consensual.
Of course, that leads to a face-fucking like no other.
Only ending when I finally retch up the contents of my stomach and vomit over the floor.
“Time for your arse, now.” He pushes me to the ground barely an inch away from my sick.
At least his dick is slick, but with no prep, this is gonna hurt.
I let my body go slack and let him do what he wants.
It will be over then, and I can get out of here.
One thing for sure, he’s not going to get away with this.
He just keeps going; how much stamina has he got?
He must have taken something. He pounds away, cursing me the whole time.
As well as talking more shit about how much he hated me as a kid, how he’d tried to get rid of me for years.
Then to find out I had a better life with a wonderful family makes him hate me now.
He’s got a screw loose for sure, because he’s acting like a fucking madman.
With finally, with a grunt, he shudders as he comes and slides out of me, his cum dripping out of my battered hole.
I wonder how much damage he’s done to me internally.
What the hell has happened to the security camera in here?
“God, you’ve got a nice tight hole. It’s a shame it’s time for me to leave.
It was good to see you again, squirt.” He clambers off me, and before I can move, his heavy black Doc Marten’d foot kicks me in the stomach and stamps on my thigh as I curl up.
“I bet you wish I’d dumped you at the police station now.
I would’ve got my own way then; I would’ve won. Well, I’ve fucking won now.”
The door opens, and he’s gone. I don’t know what to do or what to think. I’ve just been raped, not that it would be taken seriously if I wanted to report it. I’d be laughed at by the cops: how do you get raped in a sex club? I curl up, hunched around my knees, and let the tears flow.
I don’t know how long I cry for but then I’m aware of someone near me. “Hey, Drake. You okay, mate? Christ! What the fuck happened? Can I get someone for you? I think I saw Saint here earlier.”
I look up. Kris, another Dom. I shift, unwrapping my knees so I can wipe my face. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
“Let me get you up, and you can get dressed.” He’s concerned, but I’ve gotta get out of here. I want to be at home. To be by myself. “I don’t like leaving you like this; it’s not right.”
“I’ll be okay, and I’ll get it sorted.” I’m panting at the pain I’m in now that I have clothes on.
I wait until he’s gone before trying to walk. I wobble a little but keep my balance. I manage to get out of the room and set out, my head down to stop looking to see if any of my brothers are here, and I leave.
As I stumble through the door to my apartment, the enormity of what has just happened hits me. Warrior, the man who left me homeless and alone when I was only thirteen-fucking-years-old, did this to me. What the fuck do I do now?
I need to get clean, to get every inch of where he touched scrubbed.
The problem is my back. How am I going to treat the welts and bruises by myself?
I’m genuinely afraid to look at the mess he’s made.
I walk slowly, carefully, down the hallway to my bathroom.
Getting my jeans and underwear over my arse and down to my thighs is like razorblades slicing into my skin.
I look down as they slide down my legs to the floor and see the blood covering the back of my briefs.
More frightening is the blood mixed with the remainder of cum in the gusset.
I’m going to need testing. I wouldn’t put it past that bastard to lie about his sexual health and history.
He’s been doing drugs since I was a kid; he may have cleaned up now, but Hep B or C is a possibility.
My shirt is harder to get off; the blood has soaked into it, dried, and stuck to my skin. I can’t do this by myself. I struggle to bend down and retrieve my phone from my jeans pocket, my breath hitching as the shirt tugs.
“Hey, it’s me. I need your help.” That’s all I can manage to say.
“I’m on my way.”
I drop my phone to the floor, where it clatters on the tiles, and wait.