“You loved the feel of the whip, didn’t you, Worthington?”
He started to look away again, then stopped himself and spat out his response.
“Yes! Are you happy? I loved the feel of the whip at first. I loved the feel of the blood running down my back and the sting of every blow. I loved the pain he gave me even though I hated him with every fiber of my being at the same time. I didn’t want to love it. I didn’t want to get harder with every cut.”
He squeezed his eyes closed, and a few stray tears leaked down his pretty face. One settled into the cupid’s bow of his sumptuous lips, and I had never wanted to taste a man’s tears more than I did at that moment. I had an overwhelming need to make this man cry so I could drink those tears. I knew Worthington’s tears would taste like a sip of water after a years-long drought.
He whimpered and whispered, “Sometimes I would come just from the feel of the whip, but most of the time it would be the knife. I loved the feel of the knife slipping through my skin. It was sick and twisted, but I needed it.”
I matched his whisper for the next question.
“What about the burns?”
His flinch told me what I needed to know. But his words confirmed it.
“Fuck, no! I hated when he would do that. He knew I got no pleasure from the burns and shocks. I would scream and cry, but he’d laugh and tell me if I loved the other stuff, I’d learn to loveallof the pain. He tortured me because he loved to see me hurt. He humiliated me every day, and I shrank inside to deal with my fate. He never cared about me or how I felt. I should have realized it so much sooner. I was so stupid.”
And finally, there was the truth.
The client had lied to me. I was sure of it now. I saw and felt no evidence of dissemblance or trickery in his answers. I would double check my conclusions by contacting the client, but I was almost certain I’d been played. I was seriously displeased with this.
“You weren’t stupid. You were tricked. Then you were seduced little by little until you thought you had no other choice but to submit. He did everything to make you believe in him and only him and what he could do for you. He did everything I would do in his situation. His only mistake was not realizing that you had all the power, not him.”
I ran my fingers through his lush hair, lulling him, petting him. He eventually leaned in to feel my touch.
“You were never broken, just bent to his will. When he pushed too hard, you finally pushed back, didn’t you, Worthy?”
The use of this new name for him startled me for a split second, but it was apt. This man was worthy, it seemed. I deemed him worthyfor now.
He nodded against my hand, still begging for more gentle touches. He was so needy in every aspect of his personality. It was his sweet puppy characterizations that had caught my attention and called to that thing deep inside that I’d ignored far too long.
“I was never broken, Sir.”
I had an instant response to being called that word. My hand gripped his hair tight enough to pull out several strands, wrenching his head back to look at me.
“I’m not your fucking Sir. I’m not your Master or your Dom, boy. You don’t get a contract and a guarantee to feel safe here. You’re here because the man you’re married to wants the passwords you changed. He wants the money you stole. He wants you to answer all the questions, and then he wants you gone.”
He tried to pull his head away but only managed a few inches and lost more chunks of silky hair into my grip.
“Quit pulling away!”
He stilled immediately and showed me the whites of his eyes as he panicked. His situation was finally beginning to sink in. I needed him compliant, though. I needed him to give me something first. That voice was whispering a crazy idea in my head again, but this time I decided just to go with it.
“I’m beginning to question a few things, so I’ll offer you a deal. You be a good boy. You do everything I want, when I want, for the next week while I check out your dear hubby. If you do, I’ll give you what you need the most. I’ll show you that you’re not a freak, and you can have what you need without the hate and loathing and humiliation. I won’t hurt you anymore, as long as you comply, but you’re not allowed to leave. Just remember, I’m not your Sir. I’m your captor.”
Worthy stared deep into my eyes for long seconds, then nodded as well as he could.
“Anything you say, I’ll do. I’ll be yours.”
I couldn’t pull my gaze away from his as he agreed. I was a killer, a tracker, and a remorseless criminal. But at that moment this young man, Worthy, with his immediate trust suddenly made me feel something I’d never felt before. I had no name for it, but it felt dangerous.
I could be well and truly fucked.
