25. Chapter 25 #2
"It was after him, Chris," I can hear myself saying. "I was so desperate to be picked, to be chosen, that I'd fallen right into a trap. A man who had been preying on young girls who had felt lost and abandoned, as I have my whole life. In Georgia, there’s no many places that the law can’t touch for many reasons. I was as good as gone. Destin Rodgers, he’d taken me.
I didn't know if I would ever escape him, and he made me feel that there would be no one who could help me.
It was only going to be he and me. I couldn't go back to the people who loved me.
I couldn't go back to the life that I had started to become comfortable with.
My life with Liezel and the Chrome Flame.
It all comes out monotone and dry as I bear the weight of my heart and my mind to this man who had no idea what he was walking into when he asked this question. I've forgotten how long I've been here. Molten heat rushing from my floating head to my core, is a wave of pleasure.
I can't help when I come over his digits, and he swats my ass again. “Never gave you permission to come. That's earned you another two."
So, without moving his fingers, he adds a third and smacks me twice more. I cry out, overwhelmed and overstimulated.
I shouldn't enjoy this, but somehow it's made it easier for me to share the pain from deep inside. Something shaking loose the hinges of the metal box containing all of the hurt I'd felt in the past.
I feel safe and comfortable to give him this part of me. As he guides me back to his bed, I expect something but I don’t expect him to hold me by the wrists as he opened the package I brought I with the other hand.
He produces a jumble of what look like leather that I can’t discern from where I lie on the bed.
“Gonna give you these three fingers again, doll” he declares.
Handing me one of the bundles of straps he says, “Put these on your wrists while you tell me what happened with Destin,” he sneers.
It’s not that he’s unaffected by my words.
I can tell that he’s listening and doing what he can to distract me from the reality that I’m recalling.
In a way, I think he’s finding comfort in keeping me preoccupied while I talk.
"I was there thinking that my only way out was a decision.
Nearly eight months of being help against my will and doing things I never wanted to do.
I was desperate for something. A choice.
A decision I couldn't take back. The only thing I had to keep me safe was a razor blade, one I had found in the bathroom and kept for safety. But it wasn't big enough to hurt him, and I had no plan to leave. I wasn’t strong enough. If I could just disappear, if I could just not be here, that would be preferable to what I endured with him.”
By the time I finished what I’ve said, the leather is around my wrists.
The velcro pieces easy to put on for myself.
It’s soft against my skin but the little lobster-claw clips dangle from them waiting to be attached to something.
I don’t have enough focus to decide what exactly they could be attached to.
Vert doesn’t give me more time to figure that out on my own. He hurriedly attaches the clips to each other, lifting my wrists over my head again.
“How could you disappear?” He questions, eyes on mine though I’m unable to truly focus on his face with how blurry my eyes are with tears.
He wipes under my eyes and I can only imagine what I look like now having cried off most of the makeup I spent so much time applying before I got here.
He’s not concerned with the state of my makeup, it’s not a blip on his radar. “Tell me about the razor.”
“I kept it small, something easily hidden under the jelly bracelets I was a fan of at the time.
He never questioned why I didn't take them off, or why sometimes they'd stick together a little more than they used to, but I was lucky, and Liezel and Raquel and Lidia were all looking for me, and they found me before things got too bad.”
He growls and it’s the worst of all the sounds he’s made.
I’ve talked so much more than him. I’ve gotten so much off my chest. More than I’ve told anyone ever.
I don’t think I’ve gotten such an obvious response from him so far.
Bent over the bed like this with my wrists cuffed and my red ass on display, I couldn't be more vulnerable.
I couldn't be in more disbelief that I'm even in this position to begin with, because how could I when I haven't in so long?
I'd use my pain to help the women in my life get ahead, to keep me ahead, to keep me safe. I'd never gone into the role or position for anything other than revenge—revenge against the pain that wouldn't go away, and even still now it doesn't.
But under Vert's care I feel safe. I feel protected. I don't feel the vulnerability that is so present right now. Somehow I know he wouldn't do anything malicious.
His hands on my body feel like bliss as he continues tracing over it. My nerves are alight and each brush of his fingertips is grounding me more than I realized. I’m here at his mercy but he’s here for me.
He’s here to keep me safe and unknown to him, here to set free from this weight I’m bared on my own.
“Destin was there when they got there, and they let me exact my revenge on him.
Each small cut I took soothed my mind just a little bit, so I kept taking more.
I don't know how long I was there that night, but eventually they pulled me off of him.
It was long and bleak trying to find myself again, but once I did, I made a vow that I would try to rid the world of every single man like that, so no one else had to be like me. "
“So you became a monster to fight these monsters,” he acknowledges. It’s true. His eyes are still on me, his body over mine. My face is still sticky with tears and I’m beyond the point of touching up. I’m exposed and caught.
Is this what trust feels like?
I've only ever had it in a handful of people for as long as I can remember.
I'm happy.
As inappropriate as that sounds and seems, I am happy right here, and I can't even deny it.
“You don’t have to do this, you know. You could stop. You’ll never be that girl again. I’d make sure of it.”
He releases my wrists and stands. I think he’s going to let me go. And I can’t have that.
For so long Liezel had talked to me about what a true dynamic looked like as a dom herself. She's always wanted me to know that safety was first. How a sub feels is even more important. It's not about the dom's pleasure as much as it is about their submissive's.
I never came close to finding someone who I thought could be that person for me. In some ways, I really, really, really wanted it to be.
Destin had forced me to do more things sexually than I ever wanted to. For months I had to listen or go without food. Follow his instructions or withstand whatever punishment he came up with.
In some ways, somehow I knew that this man will be the one, but now I'm too deep to do what I need to do to protect myself.
I thought I'd come over here and talk my shit, get what I want. Instead, he showed me exactly what I needed, and that's not a position that I think I've been in with anyone else besides Vert.
That's what he can give to me, and I'm not completely sure I know how to handle that. In fact, I know I don't know how to handle that, which is why I don't resist his call to go under, and why I'm still here without a fight.
Sitting up, my wrists are still clipped together though I could free myself easily.
I don’t want to. He got these for me. He ordered them for me.
His care for me is unmatched. This man’s brand of play matches mine so perfectly I could weep right now.
I feel like I just might. “Don’t,” I whisper and he stops his retreat.
“Don’t leave.” It sounds pitiful to my own ears but I have to be honest. I can’t stop myself from doing so.
“A doll needs—” I catch myself saying something that feels too intimate to admit.
“What does a doll need?” Vert asks, now kneeling in front of the bed.
His eyes shine with too many emotions for me to process while I’m still a little lightheaded and overwhelmed.
“What happened to you—Fuck. What you went through, I can’t imagine.
The list of men I’d resuscitate only to end their lives again is growin’ the longer I know you.
You didn’t deserve what Destin did. This is—”
“What I need,” I sniffle. “A doll needs you. Don’t leave me.”
He assesses my state and I know how I must look here. His thumb strokes over my cheek. “Does my doll need me?”
“She does,” I nod. “Take care of your doll.” It’s not a command. It’s a plea and I hope one that he will answer without me having to bare even more of my soul.
After a moment, he seems to shake himself, pulling his shirt over his head. With his hand outstretched for me, I don’t hesitate to give him what he’s asking for. Vert unclasps my wrists and removes the bindings entirely. When I make to protest, he says, “We’re gonna get cleaned up.”
I balk at my free hands in his. “But you haven’t—“
“And that’s not important right now. You don’t owe me anythin’ but a hot shower and to get into bed. This time I’m not lettin’ you run in the mornin’.”
Yea, I’m in too deep.