She took a big gulp of soda and smiled at me again.
“Well, I will be on my best behavior, but honestly, her eyes darted back and forth, and her hand trembled; if you burn my flesh or do something horrific to my body, I can’t promise I won’t try to wriggle away or scream."
With a smile, I finished what remained of my sandwich and washed it down with the last of my water.
“I can promise you I will not burn your flesh, so stop letting your imagination get the best of you."
She looked at me cautiously before replying.
“W....well, I don’t know you or what you are capable of. After you spanked me almost raw, and I saw those things in the closet, well, yeah, I am a little worried about what your plans are for me.”
I reached out and caressed her leg while she bit into her cheesecake. She didn’t flinch or try to pull away this time.
She has Tuna on her mind.
“Let me explain things in more detail so you will understand who I am and why you are here. As I have told you many times, I consider you my property. I am obsessed with you. I don’t care about why anymore. I want to play with your body, bringing you pain mixed with pleasure. I discovered BDSM as a teenager, and it has shaped who I am ever since."
My hand traveled higher, resting on her thigh.
She didn't flinch, but she had a worried look.
I smiled as I continued my journey, testing her reaction.
"My ability to kill people without remorse is irrelevant. This is a sexual fetish, and nothing more."
She shifted her eyes from side to side.
“So, are you going to whip me and cane me often?”
I rested one hand on her thigh and rubbed my chin with the other. “Not every day, but if I inflict pain on you for my own desire, it won’t be without a reward. I will never draw blood from your skin. I don’t want you full of scars. However, I won't reward you for discipline. You will deal with the punishment without pleasure."
She laughed nervously. "I suppose I can’t bargain my way out of the punishments I owe you.”
I raised my brows, grinning at her. “I rarely bargain on a punishment, but I can give you a choice. Which would you prefer? Pain or humiliation?”
She cleared her throat before answering my question.
“I hate pain, even though I self-harmed as a teenager, cutting myself. I think that was a different type of pain. It-“
I interrupted before she could finish.
“You were a cutter in the past?” I asked her, surprised.
“I saw no scars on you when I put you in the tub.”
Her eyes moved back and forth as her mind sifted through her memories. “I had some scars on my thighs, the back of my knees, and the upper part of my legs. Laser surgery removed them. I had to have quite a few sessions before they disappeared. I never cut myself deeply, just on the surface of my skin."Her eyes fluttered as the memories came flooding back.
"It was still painful, though, and now that I think of it, I welcomed all of that discomfort with pleasure. I found release in the pain I created."
My brow lifted as my gaze burned into her.
I didn’t know I had a little cutter on my hands. I can feel myself salivating as I listened to her talk about how she enjoyed the pain.
“So, tell me, when did you stop hurting yourself?”
She moved her head to the side, digging through her past.
“It was when I was about seventeen years old, I believe. At my father's request, I had to see a shrink for a while. My mother and I had a horrible relationship, and she used to beat me with belts, paddles, shoes, fly swatters, and whatever else she could get her nasty hands on. My childhood wasn’t all roses and dandelions. It was pretty screwed up.”
