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I think they only want me because I’ve been trained to really fight in the Primal games. I’m good at it, fast and strong, and I know all the tricks to take the even the biggest Boys down. If only they could see what goes on in my head.
Too much.
But the Mistress is waving her hand at me.
“Get up, Girl.”
Warily, I rise to my feet.
She turns to the dog Boy, a smile on her face, then gives me a feral grin. “It’s catch and release, Girl. Go!”
I turn and run, my mind buzzing, as always.
I want to find them, Master Séverin and Master Erek. Or, they need to find me. I cannot bear to think of never unraveling their mysteries. Why is Master Séverin so sad? How did they manage to break through my walls of trauma and anxiety to take me into that beautiful dreamspace I’ve never quite achieved before?
I run and run, and in my head the words are on repeat, like some mantra.
Find me, find me, find me.
And then I’m hit, like a punch in the back, right between my shoulder blades, and I go down like a sack of stones, the air bursting from my lungs.
Breathless and dizzy on the hard ground, wondering what new Mistress or Master it will be next. My heart is very nearly breaking.
No.
I’ve been through enough pain in my life. I will not become so attached to these Masters. To anyone.
I take in air in enormous, gasping breaths, trying to process the pain of what I think was a paintball slamming into me. I am finally able to move a little, and see a splatter of blue paint on the fallen leaves next to me. I try to resign myself to the idea that I will be passed from Master to Mistress and back again in this particular game. And yet, my heart yearns…
“Ah, it’s our little Mina.”
I don’t dare to look up; I know it’s him. Master Erek’s voice, like a blanket of silk and velvet over my skin. And all thoughts of holding myself back from them seem absurd.
“You hit her in the lungs,” Master Séverin says, an edge of accusation and annoyance in his tone.
Master Erek straightens to loop an arm around his shoulder, a cocky grin on his face as he stares down at me.
“Yes, my love, but how beautiful is she in her suffering?”
“Hmph. I’ll give you that. But let me check her breathing. We need to see if she should be taken to the medics.”
It’s Master Séverin who kneels on the ground beside me, who lays his hand on my cheek so gently it astonishes me on some profound level, then he rolls me onto my back.
“Take her head,” he tells Master Erek, who gets down on his knees and pillows my head in his lap.
I’m still gasping for air and my lungs are burning, but it’s not too bad now. And this whole situation seems almost absurd to me. I’ve been in the Primal Games so many times, but have never really been injured. Is this normal? Whatever ‘normal’ means in this realm of the most extreme kink. I know it states in our contracts that our medical needs will be seen to, but is this what happens when one of us is injured? I’ve never had more than cuts and bruises attended to by other slaves. A hot bath, some arnica rubbed onto my skin. But a Master doing this?
As Master Séverin peers down into my face, leaning in close, I can’t help but look up at him. The pain is there in his dark eyes, perhaps even more shadowed than I’ve seen them before as he furrows his brows. He touches my cheek again.
“There’s a bruise here, but it’s nothing.”
Then, to my utter shock, he bends lower and presses his ear to my chest, right between my breasts. I know that he’s listening to me breathe, and I can’t help it when my breathing speeds up, nearly to a pant, because he is touching me. Because of this odd gentleness. Because this cold, cold man feels…concern for me. And not simply concern, but perhaps empathy.
It’s like a revelation. The Masters and Mistresses are always so mysterious, even those we serve behind the closed doors of their quarters. We never really know them. But this…this is a man who feels deeply. And perhaps that’s what has made him so cold.
Before I can do anything to stop myself, I raise my arms and clasp them around his neck, and he pulls back, startled, a little angry. But he doesn’t loosen my hold. And as he watches my face, I watch his, and see a thousand shadows pass through his eyes, making mine brim with tears.
Finally he gives his head a small shake and asks me, “Can you breathe alright? You may speak.”
