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“Beginning?” I drawled, “Goody, I want more.”
Blinking my eyes open, I sat straight when Joe held up a black leather whip. It was a simple one that often came in bondage sets, and yet, I'd never used one before. Obviously. “What's that for?”
He ran it along his palm, allowing the strips to fall and dangle before doing it again. His gaze was mesmerised by the movement, and I found myself staring at his chin, his ear, his ever so slightly crooked nose. The stubble that smattered across his jaw was sexy as hell, only adding to his gorgeous facial features.
“Tell me what memory burns your mind the most,” he muttered.
“Huh?” I squeaked, taken so aback by his question, I sunk against the couch.
His gaze lifted and bore into mine, hard and serious. “Tell me what memory burns your mind the most.” Coming to kneel in front of me, he traced one of my scars tenderly, almost stroking where it had gone red from the force of his hand. “I want to meet that demon.”
A rush of fear pushed through me and I shook my head as I tried to tug my arms back down. I had known that there was going to be rough play, and he had mentioned healing, but this? While I was still coming down from an orgasmic high?
“Tell me,” he hissed, pressing the butt of the whip into my thigh, hard.
“M-my foster father.” My blurted reply was shut off as my throat closed, almost heaving as the man’s face, scrunched up and tense, came into my mind.
Joe bared his teeth and clenched his hands around the whip. “What did he do to you?”
The most horrendous event didn't immediately come into my mind, there had been so many. Joe's intensity made me nervous and I shook, trying to find the demon that had taunted me the most in my memories.
“He... the worst thing he did, ironically... is abandon me.” My voice was low as I stretched my fingers out. “He left me in a drug den house after forcing me to pleasure him in front of his friends.”
“Fucking bastard!” Joe shoved himself to his feet and paced in front of me.His jaw was tight and his neck muscles taught. “And how old were you?”
”Fourteen,” I whispered, blinking rapidly to try and stop the tears.
The men had stared at me, each one of them suggesting that I pleasure them now that my foster father was okay. He had laughed and left to go and get more booze, but after an hour, I knew he wasn't coming home. When one of the other men realised too, he came for me, grabbing at my body. He'd been so drunk; I'd managed to slip away from him and escape the house.
“How can men do such things?” Joe bit through his teeth, “How dare they attack you too!”
I sucked in a breath, confused at how he'd heard my thoughts. Or maybe I'd said them aloud, I didn't remember. All I knew was that the nightmares that had taunted me since that day had never left me alone. Not even now.
Heaving as sobs choked me, I tried to sit forward. Joe came over and unclipped the manacles from my feet before releasing my wrists, catching me when my arms dropped. He lifted me and cradled me against his chest, walking slowly towards the far wall. He flicked a switch and a plush bed slowly lowered from a hideaway, its sheets plain white and the pillows puffy. If I hadn't been crying into his chest, I would've berated him for being such a male with his decor.
“It's okay,” he said, kissing the top of my head as he laid me on the bed, “You just need to remember that pain.”
Wiping my eyes, I whimpered. “I don't want to think about it anymore.”
His hand brushed the hair out of my face as he came around to the head of the bed. I looked up as he unbuttoned his suit trousers and dropped them to the floor, followed by his briefs. His erection was semi-flaccid, which shocked me. I thought he'd be raring to go, considering I'd been crying. Except, it would make him all kinds of wrong if he’d got turned on by my actual memories. I had to know where that line was and not let him cross it.
Coming back to the side of the bed, he quickly undid the buttons on his shirt and shrugged it off. He climbed up on the bed beside me and looked down at me. I wasn’t sure what he was doing, instead too busy barely holding on to my composure as the image of the men made me shudder.
“Don't think about what happened now,” he said, stroking the side of my cheek, “but remember that pain. Push the image of those who hurt you away, but hold onto that sorrow.”
Reaching for the whip, he brought it towards me, hovering it over my thighs. I held my breath as the emotions boiled and bubbled, twisting inside me. His hand came back and flicked the whip forward so fast, I barely registered it before the pain seared my leg. The straps flew back and forward again, slamming into the skin on my thighs, right on my scars.
“What do you want to do to those who hurt you?” Joe asked me, taking my hand in his and holding tight. “Tell them.”
Gasping as the pain came again, I shut my eyes tight and focused on the tears that dribbled down my cheeks and the anger that surged. “I want to hurt them so badly that they beg for forgiveness!” I shouted. “He's a fucking wanker who deserves to lose everything!”
My roar was almost guttural as Joe whipped me again, a grunt coming from him as he leaned closer. His hard penis pressed into my thigh, igniting a fire in my pussy and turning my thoughts into a confused mess of need.
“How do you feel?” He brought his mouth to my ear and his breath fanned my skin, sending a shudder right through me.
“Worthless,” I hiccupped, “dirty and afraid.”
The sting of my legs made me blink away my tears and look down. A fine line of blood tracked across one of my old wounds and I closed my eyes, not wanting to be reminded of the moment I had hurt myself.
