8. The Control
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE CONTROL
Layla
I sleep in the following morning, forgoing my morning exercise routine. I attempt to do some barre every morning, as well as some basic cardio and weight training, but I was up late reading over Starboy’s contract. I also spent at least an hour tossing and turning, wishing I could get rid of the pulsing between my legs. Alas, I wasn’t desperate enough to break the rules on night one, but it definitely left me feeling empty and burning until I finally fell asleep around two.
The contract was simple and basic. For a minute, I considered asking Zoe for help, since she was more experienced in all of this. However, after some thought, I decided I’d talk to her about it in person the next time I saw her.
The contract didn’t touch on anything other than what we discussed, though there was a clause about safe words. It explained the stoplight system—how the word “red” was to be used to stop all play, “yellow” to pause and communicate, and “green” to keep going. I couldn’t envision a scenario where I’d need to use it, especially since our play would be online and mostly to gauge what I liked by taking it slowly.
The part that kept me up was the in-person meeting part, which was marked with an N/A.
Not applicable.
Except I do want to meet him in person, and the need to do so is strong, which surprises me. But if he only sees this as an online thing… I shouldn’t be getting so attached so soon.
It would almost certainly lead to my heart being broken.
Also, this isn’t me.
I don’t get attached to men. I just don’t. Emotional connection takes a long time to establish, and to me, it’s not really worth it. I’m never interested like this , or if there is a small inkling of curiosity about a date, they usually ruin it by bringing up my dancing or trying to get into my pants before I’m ready. In my very narrow experience with okay sex, it only happened once I’d made friends with someone, and even then, I was never truly into it.
Society places such a strong emphasis on physical attraction and sexual chemistry as important parts of dating and relationships. Being demisexual, I so often feel out of sync with the norms, which leads to me feeling isolated and misunderstood.
So why am I so into this stranger on the internet?
What is it about Starboy that appeals to me?
Is it just that we bonded quickly and deeply? Or is it because Starboy wasn’t placing pressure on me?
Once, before I knew what demisexuality was, I’d dated a guy who was kind, patient, and willing to wait for my feelings to develop. And they did—a little bit, at least. His name was Erik, and him taking the pressure off helped immensely with letting things happen organically. It didn’t work out in the end, but it was very difficult to find men who were so willing to wait for me in that way.
Perhaps it’s because Starboy and I are only talking online, which means the societal pressure of instant attraction is off the table?
Except I was attracted to him immediately.
And I suppose I was curious to see if that attraction would translate in person or if he was actually just some online creeper.
I hope not, since I’d sent Starboy my address.
My nerves are all over the place because I gave a strange man my home address. But my dad had helped me install a state-of-the-art security system when I bought the place, so I am at least protected that way. Besides, I hate to admit it, but if Starboy broke in wearing his mask, I’m not sure I’d be scared.
I think I’d be turned the hell on.
What is happening to me?!
Groaning, I roll over and cover my face with my hands. Sparrow purrs on the pillow next to me, and I reach over to him, pulling him into my chest.
“What am I going to do, Row Row?”
Sparrow meows his answer and purrs louder, nuzzling into my neck.
Suddenly, my phone rings, scaring Sparrow enough to send him jumping off my bed.
My heart leaps into my throat when I see it’s Starboy—or Master, as I’d renamed him in my phone.
I frantically sit up, pull my glasses on, and smooth my hair, running my tongue over my lips and teeth so I don’t look like I just woke up.
Crap, crap, crap.
I hit the answer button, hoping the still-dark bedroom will work to my advantage. Starboy is muted again, and today, he’s wearing his mask but no hoodie—just a black, long-sleeved shirt. The balaclava covers his whole head, though, so I can’t even tell what color his hair is.
His video is also just as dark as last night.
“Morning ,” he signs.
“Morning,” I croak.
“Did you just wake up?” he asks, signing.
I smile sheepishly. “Yes. I was up late envisioning a masked man breaking into my house because I stupidly gave a stranger my home address.”
His shoulders shake with laughter. “ A nightmare or a daydream?”
I smile. “A little of both,” I say.
He laughs again. “ There’s a package waiting for you at your door.”
Perking up, I tilt my head. “Already?”
He shrugs. “ You don’t live far from me.”
I get out of bed and hold the phone up as I walk to the front door. “Is this the part where you start stalking me?”
He cocks his head. “ Would you like that?”
I smile. “It depends. Hold on one second.”
Setting the phone down, I open my front door to see a small, matte black box with a black ribbon and bow. Butterflies erupt inside me when I retrieve it, and I can’t help but grin as I pick my phone back up and walk to the kitchen table.
I’m wearing a white cami and dark purple boy shorts, so I set the camera up to show myself from the neck up as I sit down and open the box.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” I say softly.
I untie the bow and pull the ribbon off the box, and then I lift the lid up.
A dainty gold bracelet is clasped around a black, small velvet pillow, and I smile even wider when I realize there’s a small, golden disk with a diamond constellation in the middle.
Stars for Starboy.
“Do you like it?” Starboy asks, leaning forward.
My throat constricts slightly. “This is really nice. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I unclasp it and put it on. The thin, golden chain hangs delicately around my wrist, and it’s discreet, so wearing it won’t annoy me.
“I like to get my submissive a gift when they sign the contract,” he says slowly. “ You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to, but I thought it would be a good way for you to remember who you belong to.”
Arousal pierces through me, and I look down at the bracelet. “Thank you.”
“I should go, but let’s talk tonight at 10p.m.”
“I had one question about the contract,” I blurt quickly. He leans forward, waiting for me to continue. “You marked N/A for the in-person parts of the contract…” I look down, suddenly embarrassed to ask the question that’s eating me up.
When I look up, he has the dry-erase board again, and he’s writing furiously.
My heart pounds as he holds it up, fully expecting him to give me a reason that we can never meet in person.
My in-person contracts are much more detailed. If/when we reach that point, I’ll have you sign my regular contract.
Relief washes over me. “Okay,” I breathe out.
“Do you want to meet in person?” he asks.
I nod.
“Words, Layla.”
Something hot slithers through me at his command. Do I like this? I think I do.
“Yes. Eventually.”
He sits back and crosses his arms, watching me for a few seconds. My cheeks grow hot as he takes a deep breath. It’s as if he’s trying to cool himself off, too.
Is it possible that he’s just as aroused by all of this as I am?
He uncrosses his arms. “ I’d like you to do some research today.”
I nod eagerly. “ Sure. What kind of research?”
He signs again, and my brows knit in confusion because I don’t know the word. He starts signing the letters.
S
A
D
I
S
T
I suck in a sharp breath, staring at Starboy as I squirm in my seat.
“Sadist?” I ask.
He nods, and then he grabs the board again.
I am what you’d call a sadistic Dom. I derive pleasure from inflicting pain, suffering, and humiliation. This usually pairs well with someone who’s interested in your kinks, like degradation, but I want you to know exactly what you’re getting yourself into with me. Is that clear?
I take a deep breath. “I think so. But I can let you know for sure later tonight after more research, Master. I’m ready to learn.”
A shock wave goes through Starboy’s body, and I swear he’s smiling as he writes something else on the board.
You’re going to wish you didn’t just say that, Little Dancer.
I smirk. “Doubtful.”
“I’m not a good person. If you’re looking for a pleasure Dom or a soft Dom, you’ll need to look elsewhere .”
I tilt my head and smile. “Sounds like you’re trying to scare me off.”
His eyes—which I can’t really see—stare at the camera for a few beats before he looks down at the board and writes some more.
I don’t pleasure my subs. I break them.
My heart pounds against my ribs, and the space between my legs pulses with each beat. My hardened nipples brush against the soft fabric of my cami. Even if I’m not experienced in this stuff, my body responds positively.
“Trust me. It takes a lot to break me after what my mind put me through for years, and I’ve already been at rock bottom. So you can try, but you won’t succeed.”
His eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then he shakes his head and looks down.
When he looks back up again, he looks almost… pained.
“Where have you been my whole life?” he asks.
“Waiting for you,” I tell him.
“We’re going to talk about your past when you’re ready.”
My past.
Right.
He leans back and runs a hand over his masked face, and I almost ask him to remove it.
This exchange got intense quickly, and I want to see the person I’m getting attached to. I want to see what color their eyes are, the color of his hair… if he shaves every day, or if there’s scruff. I want to run my hand over that face, but I don’t even know what it looks like.
“Tonight, 10p.m.”
“Okay. Thanks for the bracelet,” I tell him.
“My pleasure. Don’t forget to abide by my rules.”
“Yes, Master.” My voice is low and a bit more sultry than normal on purpose, and it has the intended reaction.
His body sags in resignation once again, and then he shakes his head before he disconnects the video call.
I set my phone down and take my glasses off, rubbing my face with my hands again.
Before I forget, I grab my phone again and text Zoe and Remy.
Still on for drinks tonight?
Zoe responds right away.
Zoe
like id miss hearing about starboy… pls.
Ha ha.
Remy
Same place as last time?
I think back to the last girls’ night a few weeks ago. We’d gone to a new bar in Huntington Beach, but I don’t feel like finding parking or sitting in traffic on Pacific Coast Highway tonight. Plus, my curiosity is piqued about Orion’s new place.
Hear me out …
Zoe
omg u want to go to inferno, dont u?
theres limited alcohol. one-drink rule
orion will lose his shit if he finds out
on 2nd thought, id love to see that
Remy
How about a compromise? We go to Inferno, see what it’s all about, and then we’ll walk down the street to one of the other bars?
I’m in.
Zoe
you are a chaos gremlin and i love it
Remy
Okay, I’m in. Inferno first. Someone needs to be on Orion watch though, because if he finds out Lay is there… pretty sure he’d ravage everyone inside the building.
Very funny.
Remy
Thanks, I try.
Zoe
im on it. going to have liam invite himself over 2 orion’s place and distract him
So what if he knows I’m there?
Remy
*scared face emoji*
No, really. Screw him. This isn’t the 1800s where my older brother has to look out for my every move.
Zoe
stepbrother
And?
Zoe
just saying… kissing your brother is ick, but kissing your stepbrother isnt
Remy
YOU KISSED ORION?!
I’m going to kill Liam.
Zoe
have to go, im under deadline for this book
Remy
Let’s meet at my place at 6.
I heart Remy’s text while chewing on the inside of my cheek.
Great, so now my best friends know that I kissed Orion a few months ago.
Liam had seen us kissing, and he’d obviously told Zoe.
Ugh.
The night I kissed Orion at Liam and Zoe’s rehearsal dinner was the best kiss of my life… with the worst person ever.
I’d been ignoring the obvious for months now—that I was attracted to my stepbrother. It’s wrong, and I hate myself for it. Obviously because we used to have a close bond, it could lead to emotional intimacy. It doesn’t matter, though, because it’s wrong. Besides, he’d walked away after that kiss. I’ve tamped down my feelings for him because I don’t even know if they’re valid or if I’m crossing some ethical line. I couldn’t exactly talk to Zoe and Remy about it. They know how I identify, but still, it’s Orion.
It can never happen, and now I have another person in my life to give my attention to.
Nervous flutters begin working in my stomach when I think of tonight. A kink club could be the perfect place to actually see if this lifestyle is something I’m interested in pursuing with Starboy.
Walking to my coffee machine, I turn it on and grab a mug. When it finishes, I add some milk and sugar and sit back against the counter. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the sweet, rich taste of the coffee. It’s only been in the last couple of years that I’ve allowed myself to enjoy things like full-fat milk and sugar. For so long, I used food as a punishment, and that meant restricting when I’d been bad. It wasn’t until I collapsed on stage one night when I was dancing for LAB that I realized I’d been given a once-in-a-lifetime chance to start over.
Two years ago, I found my therapist and started working on my food issues. I was diagnosed with body dysmorphia and EDNOS—eating disorder not otherwise specified. I wasn’t anorexic or bulimic, but I was abusing “healthy” food to the extreme. As a teenager, the only person who ever bothered to help me was Orion. My dad didn’t understand, and at the time, he was still reeling from Felicity’s cancer diagnosis. But Orion noticed. He used to take me out for meals. He wouldn’t say anything. He’d just ask me what sounded good and order it for me. He never made me eat anything or said anything when I didn’t or commented about what I ordered.
Over time, he became my safe space—until he started drinking heavily, that is.
I finish my coffee and make a second cup, pulling things out to make a veggie omelet. Cooking doesn’t come naturally to me, but I enjoy fueling my body with foods that make me feel good—which means I just listen to what I want to eat. Sometimes that means Coco Pops for breakfast, and sometimes it’s boiled eggs and a tangerine. Letting go of the power food held over my head for so long was the key, and I now happily eat whatever I want until I’m satisfied.
Sparrow meows and slithers between my legs, and I open a can of cat food, scoop it into his dish, and set it down for him.
A few minutes later, I’m eating while I stand in the kitchen as I scroll through Reddit posts that talk about sadistic Dominants. My skin pebbles as I read a firsthand account of what it’s like to be the submissive of a sadistic Dom.
When I’m with him, I don’t have to think. I just have to exist. It’s amazing, but it’s also terrifying.
The concept of a sadist unleashing their rage upon a willing victim can be a dangerous situation.
The lack of control is a surefire way for things to go horribly wrong.
I’m not sure how common it is for Doms to work out their rage issues through kink. It’s safe when it’s consensual. Communication is paramount.
Paired with the right masochist… a sadistic Dom can be FUN.
It’s like a fresh chocolate chip cookie hot from the oven… you know you’re going to get burned when you bite into it, but you will love every moment of the glorious agony.
It takes a lot of self-discipline to let the sadism out but still keep control.
A sadist might enjoy causing you pain, but it’s structured around what you want, what you can handle, and what your needs are. That’s the difference between a sadist and an abuser.
I set my phone down and finish my breakfast, unease sliding through my core.
What kinds of things does Starboy enjoy doing? Is it all to fuel his sadism, or does he enjoy giving pleasure, too?
I don’t pleasure my subs. I break them.
Placing my plate and mug in the dishwasher, I walk to my bathroom and run the bath. I’m feeling antsy and nervous, and as I wait, I do some more research on sadistic Doms.
All in all, it seems… fine to me.
Liberating, even.
In my research, I’d come to learn that I was probably a masochist. I enjoyed pain—I always had. When others complained about their feet hurting, I craved the sting because it meant I was progressing.
I could control the pain, in a way. It was physically real, something I could manage however I wanted to, and that helped me reclaim a sense of control.
That was especially important to someone with an experience of feeling helpless.
Taking my cami and underwear off, I pull my hair into a high bun and step into the scalding-hot water, hissing as I lower my body into the steaming water.
I always used to joke with friends that things like scalding baths hurt so good.
I mean, you don’t get a VCH—vertical clit hood—piercing unless you crave that kind of pain, right?
Smiling, I sink lower into the water. It’s something I did last year after reading about it in a book. It was crazy, and not something I’d ever considered doing before. Not even Zoe or Remy knew I had it, and it felt like my dirty little secret.
Taking control of my sexuality is a part of my healing process, and the piercing was a big part of that. Despite not exactly being sexually active, I do find it boosts my confidence and makes me feel powerful — something I didn’t feel after… after my power was stripped from me .
Literally.
Before then, I’d never believed I’d be a victim of sexual assault—no one does—but it had broken me. It resulted in fear of men for years. Self-doubt. Self-loathing.
Through long and helpful therapy sessions— I wouldn’t have survived without those dark days— I realized my fear was their power, and I took that power back.
It certainly helped when Orion had beaten the guy to within an inch of his life, and of course his father, Charles Ravage, paid the judge off so that Orion wasn’t charged with assaulting a minor.
I close my eyes as I remember that week.
How everyone at school turned against me because he was a popular football player, and I was a nobody.
How I almost gave up dancing.
How I turned to books to stay sane.
How I hardly left my house for years unless Orion was with me.
The idea of handing myself over to Starboy doesn’t scare me.
I’ve seen and experienced enough shit to know what real pain feels like. I’ve isolated myself, mentally beat myself up more than I thought possible, and experienced such crippling self- doubt that I could barely get out of bed some days. Mixed with the restrictive eating?
I was in a bad place for a very long time.
I felt completely disconnected from my body.
Perhaps that’s why I enjoy pain now—as a way to reconnect with my body. To experience intense physical sensations that bring me back to a controlled environment, to help rebuild a sense of physical presence and ownership over my autonomy.
For so long, I felt stigmatized and, even now, a bit isolated in my sexual identity.
Starboy, despite being a literal stranger, makes me feel like I belong. Like my desires are normal and accepted.
Doing this with him feels cathartic, and I’m excited to see just how far he thinks he can push me.