Desired and Dominated (37 page)

“You’re kidding yourself if you think this is love.”

Jess is by his side. “I think it’s time to go.” She turns to me, a look of sympathy in her eyes. “We’ll talk more when things have calmed down. Just look after her, Nate, or so help me God, you won’t have to worry about Si; I’ll hunt you down myself.”

“I’ll look after her. I promise.”

Simon walks over to her, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Look at me, Sof.” She keeps her eyes to the ground. “Please, look at me. I love you.”

I watch as his eyes fill with tears, afraid for his sister. “Nyx, you can look at him, and answer him if he asks you a question.”

He shoots me a venomous glare before returning his attention to Sofia, who is now staring at him, tears coursing down her cheeks. “Come with me. I’ll protect you. I know I’ve let you down so many times, but I won’t do it again. Please, I can take you away from all of this. You don’t have to let him hurt you, and you don’t have to do as he says.”

He didn’t ask her a direct question, and therefore she just sits, crying in silence. “Are you afraid of him?”

Her answer is immediate, and vehement. “NO! He would never hurt me. He’s telling you the truth.”

“Why are you doing this? I don’t understand.”

“Because it’s who I am. It’s a part of me. I didn’t change for him. He didn’t corrupt me. He tried to push me away, but I wouldn’t let him. I need this, and he’s the only person that understands. He’s unlike any Dominant I’ve ever had.”

“There have been others? How many?”

“I’m not talking about that with you, and not in front of my Master. It’s disrespectful.”

“Why, Sofia? Why do you need this?”

“I’ll never be able to make you understand. I just do. I crave it, like air. I’m lost without it; without him. I love him. Please, don’t make me choose, because I love you, but I
will
choose him. I’ll always choose him.” My heart takes flight, fighting to break free.

Simon looks crushed, and I can’t help but feel sympathy for him. Even if he hates me for this, I still care about him, I always will, but Sofia is my priority. He doesn’t say another word to her, raising himself to his feet, and moving round to where I stand, squaring his shoulders. “You’re fucking dead to me, Nate. This isn’t over, not by a long fucking shot.” He shoves past me, slamming his shoulder into mine as he makes his way over to Jess and heads for the door, and as it slams behind them, I can hear him cursing in Italian, before an almighty thud reverberates throughout the room.

I wait until I know the elevator is gone, before opening the front door and confirming my suspicions. There’s a fist sized hole in the wall outside my apartment, with blood dripping down the stone colored paint. A stark and chilling contrast.

When I close the door, I’m met with the soft whimpering sounds of Sofia. She’s still in position, but unable to contain the grief that wracks her body. It’s now or never. If I’m going to try and rebuild our relationship as Master and submissive, it needs to start now.

“Stand up, Nyx.” She does as I ask, her sobs subsiding at the sound of my voice. “Go to the room at the end of the hall, strip, and wait for me in your position.”

“Yes, Master Callaghan.” She turns and makes her way down the hall, leaving me to catch my breath. After everything that’s just happened, I need a moment to process.

I slump down onto the couch, my jaw tender from Simon’s punch. I grab a bottle of beer from the table and finish it in one gulp. This is not how I pictured finding my control again, my confidence as her Master, but anger and my instinct to protect her, always brings out that side of me. I guess I needed a reminder of that.

The last time I was back in New York, I had my empty guest room turned into a playroom for Sofia and I. I didn’t know if she’d feel comfortable going to Andromeda after what happened in Paris, and I wanted us to have somewhere to express ourselves freely. She didn’t know it was there until two minutes ago, when I sent her in. I can only imagine her surprise. I need to punish her for her behavior tonight. For her disobedience and lack of respect. She said it herself. She needs this. She craves it.

I make my way towards the door, discarding my t-shirt, and removing my watch, shoving it in my pocket. Adrenaline pumps hard and fast in my veins, my dick twitching at the thought of what I’m about to do. I turn the handle and enter my playroom, my domain. The fresh smell of paint is still in the air, and everything is in its rightful place; the couch, the bed, the table…and Sofia.

“Good girl. Now, stand up and go to the wall behind you. Bring me the cat o’ nine tails.”

Six Weeks Later

Nate is the one good thing in my life. He’s the reason I get up in the morning, and why I keep fighting against the darkness that threatens to pull me under on a daily basis.

Since the night he sent me to the playroom in the apartment, things have started to get better between us. The first few weeks were amazing. We reconnected through pleasure and punishment, and although things weren’t perfect, they were so much better than before. For Nate and I, pleasure has always been at the center of our lifestyle, but lately, I’ve found that punishment gives me a release that I can’t get any other way. It lets me switch off in a way that dancing used to.

I can leave all the hurt, and pain, and emotion behind. I can find a quiet space in my mind, where feelings have no place. It’s hard to explain, because of course, I feel the pain that is being inflicted on my body, but it somehow allows me to zero in on that one feeling, that one sensation, and it obliterates every other conflicting emotion I feel. It forces them not only into the background, but into a temporary oblivion. When I’m being whipped or flogged, or spanked, I have a reprieve from my own self-loathing.

I used to cling to ballet, it was my saving grace; my redeeming quality. I’ve put my family through so much heartache over the years. I changed the course of Simon’s life, and it’s only through his own force of will and sheer determination to make things work when he met Jess, that he was able to turn it all around. It’s given me some small comfort to see how happy he is now, but I can’t forget the years I spent watching him push everyone away. I can’t forgive myself for how he shoulders such a burden for protecting me. And now, I’ve broken his heart again.

I’ve tried not to dwell on his reaction to my choice of lifestyle. I still don’t know why I told him. It’s something that I’ve always considered extremely private. No one’s business but my own. He confirmed my worst fears about myself. There’s something wrong with me.

I love to be bound and vulnerable, I adore the feeling of being spanked and flogged and paddled. I have the most intense orgasms of my life, after I’ve felt pain. Is that wrong? I crave the power that I hold. I make the decision of what my Master can and can’t do to me in the playroom. I decide how much pain I can tolerate, and I can stop everything that’s happening with a single word. I want to feel secure enough to give myself over completely to another person. I don’t think I could cope with the intimacy any other way.

If there are no boundaries, and no rules, then there are no limits to how much another human being can hurt me, and I can’t deal with that.

As much as I love Nate, and as much as he wants to fulfill my needs, when it comes to pain, he’s pulling back when I say harder. I know I’m not supposed to ask for more when I’m in the playroom, and initially it got me further punishment, which I relished; but Nate is an intelligent man. He realized weeks ago that I wanted him to punish me harder, and if I want it so badly, then it’s not really serving its purpose. Nate uses painful punishments sparingly. He’s never been a sadist. He enjoys giving pleasure, and if a little pain heightens that pleasure, then he is more than willing to inflict it. However, when pain is purely for painful ends, he’s not willing to cross that line. More and more he’s using pleasure as my punishment for disobedience. He withholds my release, he withholds his body from me. He won’t let me touch him, or allow me to give him any form of pleasure. When he pushes me to the edge of insanity, where I would do anything for that last caress that will give me the most euphoric release imaginable, it’s then that he pulls me back, leaving me frustrated and begging for mercy – that’s a real punishment for me, and he knows it. I hate to be denied. I hate that I can’t get my fill of him. Physical pain is nothing to me. I welcome it. But, to have him stand in front of me, my God-like Master, so handsome and strong, and virile, and have him withhold my orgasms – is excruciating.

With no pleasure release, and no pain, I can feel the pressure building, and all I want to do, is lose myself in a bottle of pills. It’s all I can think about. Just a few to take the edge off, to give me some relief from the constant ache inside of me. A break from feeling every ounce of hatred towards myself that’s always there, festering under the surface. I don’t want to let him down, and I can’t tell him about the one event that triggered all of the pain and suffering I have ever felt. He already looks at me differently. Since Budapest. He doesn’t have that same spark in his eyes when he holds my gaze. The adoration that I once saw reflected back at me, has dulled. It’s still there, and I love him so much for that, but it’s changed. I’ve changed. I can’t go back to using. If I do, I might not survive it, but I feel like I’m fighting a losing battle, and I’m terrified.

I want to talk to Nate about it, but instead, I find myself pulling away from him. I want to run into his arms, but instead, I avoid them. I sit in silence when I’m screaming inside for him to help me. He can’t help me now. He won’t do what I need, and I’m angry. Some days I can rationalize, and I know that he’s acting in my best interests, but on days like today, when all I can think about is using, I can’t be rational. I feel angry and hurt that he won’t punish me; that he won’t help me to find that moment of calm, the eye of the storm. Why doesn’t he understand? I’m supposed to tell him when it’s too much. I’m supposed to decide what I can handle. I’m supposed to be in control of how far is too far. He said he wants to make me happy, to give me what I need, and yet he’s not giving me what I want
or
what I need.

I need drugs, or I need pain. It’s one or the other. I don’t have dance, I don’t have my brother. I don’t even have the escape of a peaceful night’s sleep anymore. I’m plagued day and night by my memories, by my failures, and the longer I go without feeling the physical pain of my Master’s punishment, the worse it gets, the growing distance between us seeming insurmountable.

I love him and hate him in equal measure. Why can’t he see that I need him to punish me so that we can be together like we used to be? I can’t love him the way he deserves, when I hate myself so much. Those feelings that were pressing down on me in Budapest, crushing me from the inside out, are starting to fill my mind again. The darkness creeping in and consuming my every waking thought.

If he would just punish me like I deserve, then those feelings would go away. If I atone for what I’ve done, for being bad, then maybe God will let me be happy…with Nate. That can’t happen until I’m properly punished.

It’s the only way to save what Nate and I have.

Every time I think that things are getting better with Sofia, we seem to have a setback. As soon as I let my guard down, even a little, I’m thrown back into the emotion turmoil that our relationship has become, and I’m so frustrated, because I can’t seem to find a way to maintain our connection when we find it.

After the mess with Simon, I knew that I wasn’t helping by holding back as her Master. She needs that control in her life, and when I walked into the playroom that night – fuck, she was so beautiful. I punished her for her disobedience, and it was fucking amazing, for both of us. We spent hours after that, making love, and fucking like our lives depended on it. We had been starved for each other, and the intensity of our bodies coming together again, was beyond euphoric.