It’s cold and dark, and I should really head home, except all I can seem to do is sit on a bench in a park at the edge of campus and cry. My trip to that party accomplished something, at least. I no longer feel nothing. I’m in pain, desperate for someone to hug me and tell me everything will be alright, except I don’t have anyone in my life who’d do that.
Perhaps I really should see the counselor. Or the hospital therapist I was scheduled to visit. I can’t exactly tell them I’m mourning the loss of my captor, but maybe talking about something else would help with this stabbing agony in my chest. Or they’d give me drugs. At this point, I’d welcome them. On second thought, a straitjacket and a white padded room might not be a terrible idea either, because I really am crazy, aren’t I?Did I really just throw myself at poor Justin like some sex-crazed creature? Oh my god, I practically assaulted him after he told me to stop, didn’t I? What is wrong with me?
Footsteps draw near, and I mentally prepare myself for another “Are you okay?”—“Yes, I’m fine” conversation when a familiar voice invades my thoughts. “I’m so fucking angry with you, Doll. I could just bend you over my knee right here and turn your ass black and blue.”
My mouth drops open as I look up, squinting through the tears at the tall figure looming over me. With a strangled cry, I throw myself at it, wrapping my arms around the person and burying my face in their chest. If this is a hallucination and I’m assaulting an unsuspecting stranger, I want to enjoy it while it lasts. “I thought you weren’t coming,” I whimper. “I thought—”
“Stupid little Doll,” Mikhail growls. He does smack my ass then, though I’m so cold I barely feel it. I do feel it when he wraps my hair around his fist and tugs forcefully. “Stupid, stupid, stupid. What did I tell you? You’re mine, Grace. Now and forever. I took a few days to clean up and make sure we’re safe, and you immediately start doubting me? I have to say, I’m disappointed.”
“No!” I hold on to him tighter, suddenly scared that he will leave for real. I’m not sure I’d survive that. Now that I've found him, I can’t lose him again. I just can’t. “Please don’t leave. Please. I’m sorry I doubted you. Please, Master, punish me.” Yes, that is the perfect solution. He will hurt me, punish me for being stupid because, really, I was stupid. How could I think he’d abandon me? I deserve to be punished, and once that is done, everything will be okay again because Master doesn’t hold grudges. “Please,” I repeat, moving to get to my knees, but Master stops me by grabbing my arms.
“Not here, Doll,” he replies gruffly and only now I realize we’re very much in public and, no matter how natural it feels to me,it would probably look strange if I just dropped to the ground in front of Mikhail. He takes off his jacket and throws it over my shoulders, and it’s the best feeling ever because it’s warm and it smells like him.
As I warm up, I start trembling violently, and Mikhail wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I’m so fucking angry with you,” he mutters, his fingers painfully digging into my arm as he marches me away.
I home in on that pain, letting it ground me and enjoying it because it means Master is truly here, that he’s real, and that he’s going to take care of everything.
“So fucking stupid,” Mikhail continues his grumbling. “I literally ordered you to stay alive, and what do you do? Walk around half-naked in the cold, hitting on strangers? Fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I’m going to make sure you never even think of doing something that stupid, Doll, even if I have to beat these silly ideas out of you one by one.”
I nod frantically. “Yes, please. I’m so sorry, Master. I don’t know what came over me. I just felt… Well, I didn’t feel anything. I just wanted to feel something, and I thought that you—”
Another painful squeeze cuts me off. “Don’t even say that. I’m already pissed, and you don’t want to see me truly furious.” He lengthens his steps, and I have to almost jog to keep up with him. I have no clue where we’re going, and I don’t really care either. He’s here, that’s all that matters.
We end up in a fancy hotel lobby, heading straight for the elevators. I keep my head down, not wanting anyone to see my tear-stained face and ask uncomfortable questions. As we enter the elevator and I glimpse myself in the mirrored wall, I realize just how good a decision it was. I look terrible. I’m pale from the cold, my face splotched red from all the crying. The lower half of my face is covered in a disgusting mix of tears and probably snot, some of which I must have wiped onto Mikhail’s shirt when Ihugged him. God, I’m a mess. It’s a wonder he even bothers with me.
I barely have time to take in the spacious hotel room as I’m dragged straight into the bathroom. “Strip,” Mikhail orders, turning on the shower. Sensing his anger bubbling under the surface, I don’t hesitate and hastily take off my clothes before sinking onto my knees.
The tiled floor digs into my knees, grounding me in the moment. I feel right again. Balanced. Everything is as it should be, and while I’m afraid of the upcoming punishment, I also welcome it because I know the pain will wash away the fear, guilt, and the terrifying emptiness of the past few days. It will also help Master let go of some of his anger, and once it’s done, hopefully I’ll have my sweet Mikhail to cuddle with and get to keep his cock warm while we sleep.
The bathroom slowly fills with steam from the running shower. Master checks the water temperature before offering me his hand and pulling me onto my feet. He hasn’t taken off his clothes, and it’s strange to see him in a dress shirt and slacks. He’s sexy, of course, but I prefer him bare-chested and wearing only low-slung sweatpants. I realize it also means he probably won’t be joining me in the shower, which opens a fresh pit of despair in my chest. Is he really that angry with me? Perhaps he changed his mind about keeping me after all?
“Please, Master,” I whisper, fresh tears gathering in my eyes.
“Shush, Doll. Get in the shower. You’re going to warm up, and once you’re no longer an icicle, we’ll get on with the punishment. Now, shut your pretty little mouth and do what I say.”
“Yes, Master.” I’m still disappointed that he won’t be joining me in the shower, but I know better than to disobey a direct order when he’s already this riled up.
Stepping into the shower, I whimper as hot water pricks at my icy skin like needles. When I try to change the temperature,Mikhail swats my hand away. “Keep it like this and stay in the spray. It will warm you up nicely for the spanking you have coming. Don’t fucking move.” With that, he leaves the bathroom.
He keeps the door open so I can watch him move around the room gathering things. Rope, leather belt, a short cane. Heat blooms in my core, and not just from the hot water raining down on me. He’ll make it hurt, I’m sure, but I can’t help but become aroused at the thought of being spanked in this fancy hotel room. Though with how angry he is with me, I doubt he’ll let me come. Damn, I hope he won’t make orgasm denial a part of the punishment. I can take pain, but unfulfilled arousal is so much worse, especially with how good he is at edging.
“Dry off and come here, Doll,” he calls out eventually. When I do as he says, I find him sitting on the bed going through my phone. I have no clue how he unlocked it, but I’m not stupid enough to ask. “I texted your parents you’re not coming back home,” he says casually, as if it were that easy. Though perhaps it is that easy? Mikhail chuckles. “They didn’t take it well.”
Of course they didn’t.
The phone rings, and he frowns at the screen. “You should probably take this.”
I grimace as he hands me the phone. Talking to—or rather getting yelled at by—my parents is the last thing I want right now. However, the caller ID doesn’t show either of my parents but a private number instead. I cast a questioning glance at Mikhail and when he nods, I accept the call and put it on speaker. “Yes?”
“Hi, is this Grace Foster?” an unfamiliar voice asks, throwing me for a loop.
“Yes, that’s me. Who’s this?” It better not be a telemarketer.
“This is Officer Olsen from the local police department. I’m calling because your parents contacted us. They are worried about your safety.”
Oh my god. They actually called the police. In other families, I suppose the action would be driven by worry, especially after I’ve already been kidnapped once, but I’m sure my parents are just pissed that I disobeyed them. They got a text from me saying I’m fine, for heaven’s sake! Sure, I didn’t write it, and I’m about to be very much not fine if the spanking implements strewn over the bed are any indication, but it’s none of their business.
“I texted them that I was fine,” I tell the officer, “that I just needed some space. I’m sorry they bothered you with this. They can be a little…overprotective.”
