I had hoped that my light tone bordered on humorous would relax him. When it appeared that it hadn’t relaxed him at all, I pushed myself off the padded table and wrapped the towel around my waist. Brandon followed me as I walked back to my locker to get dressed.
“Dude, those welts look really bad.”
“I put some medication cream on them. They’ll heal.”
“Andrew, you have layers of days’ worth of bruises. That means you’re enduring the same kind of impact over and over,” Brandon explained, even though I knew damn well what had happened.
“It’s all good, Brandon,” I reassured him as I playfully slapped his upper arm. I tried to downplay it some, but I knew that my ass looked really battered.
“No, it’s not,” Brandon insisted.
“Remember, though, I’m a masochist,” I reminded him.
“So am I.”
This was a fine line to walk with him because I knew James had been working with him and trying to teach him the difference between healthy play and unhealthy play. Whatever I said would be counterproductive to whatever James has been teaching him.
“Sometimes, I would look like that for months, Andrew. It’s not good, man.”
Brandon sat across from me, basically calling me on my bullshit without really saying it. He knew that the bruising and welts on my ass weren’t from a single day. All I could do was dance around the subject with him as I got dressed. I needed to catch James.
“Is it from her…Mistress Elise?”
I nodded while all the warning bells about Elise’s behavior had been going off in my head again.
“I like pain, Brandon.”
“I do too. But Master James says there’s a difference between good play and bad play. What you have going on looks like the kind of shit I left behind.”
I seriously doubted that. I have heard those underground kink houses are dangerous and it’s almost impossible to get out of one alive.
“It was good that you left that behind, Brandon. And yes, Master James is right.”
“You learned from him, didn’t you?” Brandon asked and stood up when I closed my locker door.
“Yes, I did. He’s very wise and patient.” I carefully leaned over and picked up Elise’s crop from the bench and turned to face Brandon. “Is Master James still here?”
“He should be.”
I nodded and headed towards the locker room door, with Brandon on my heels.
“Are you going to tell Master James?”
“No, I need to see if he knows anyone who can repair this crop.”
I held the locker room door open since he was following me. All the way to the main room, he was inquisitive.
“Andrew, Master James would be supportive.”
“I know. He’s always been supportive,” I agreed with him.
“He’d help you.”
“I don’t need help, Brandon. There’s nothing wrong.”
Not really anyhow. But I had a feeling that even Brandon saw through my mask, which made me more concerned about seeing James. If Brandon saw through it, James would see it too.
I spotted James as he walked away from the bar with a glass in his hand. He sat down at a wingback chair and took a sip from his glass before setting it down. I headed right over to him, and when I got close enough, I could see his eyes glance in the direction of the crop.
