21
Ryder
I lay awake for a long time. Every time I started to drift off, I shifted. It drew attention to the dried cum flaking off of my skin, and I woke anew.
I was still fighting to understand what had happened.
All right, I’d been dumb, but I’d thought I could sort of unwind the leash from around his wrist. If he’d been a heavy sleeper, it could’ve worked, but those mitts made sure it was a clumsy effort.
Or maybe you wanted to get caught.
I didn’t like the way my thoughts were going.
We’d settled into a routine, him and me. I’d behaved, and he’d gone gently on me. He hadn’t demanded more than I could take, which meant the touches had been light, almost nonexistent. I could tell he wanted more, but he had been — thankfully — reluctant to press against my boundaries.
Well. That was laughable. He’d steamrolled my boundaries, but sexually, he’d been mostly hands-off. I didn’t know if he’d thought I would go to him eventually or what, but he’d held back.
Until tonight.
Tears welled up in my eyes all over again as I thought about how I’d gotten hard despite myself, how the deft strokes of his hand had brought me to climax no matter how much I’d fought it.
What did that say about me?
He’d been so angry. It hadn’t even been about sex. It had been about him thinking I found himrepulsive, disgusting. I had at first, but now, it was sort of a part of him. I didn’t notice his scars unless he was being cruel, and that was rare these days.
It was like I’d ripped some festering wound open and left him vulnerable, scars and thoughts and all. It was like he’d let himself relax around me, and I’d gone and fucked it up by trying some stupid escape attempt that was never going to work anyway.
But that was me. Ryder, with all the terrible plans and the unattainable dreams. All I wanted was to go home, but…
But I wasn’t even sure I could.
Even if I went back, this was going to be hovering over me. He’d gotten inside my brain, deep inside where no one should’ve been able to go. I wondered what would’ve happened if I’d fought harder. Would he have known I was serious about not wanting to be touched then? Would tonight have happened?
Would I still be down in the basement, miserable and without food or water?
I didn’t know, but there was no going back.
I just wanted to sleep, to escape to a place where I was myself again — myself, not Toby, not his pet, not his dog. I wanted to be a human being who was treated like one instead of being treated like a naughty puppy.
Instead,bad, bad fucking dogechoed throughout my nightmares.
“Toby.”
My eyes snapped open, the entire world coming into focus all at once as I stared at Griffin.
He looked as tired as I felt.
I swallowed hard, not sure what to say or do.
“I… I’m sorry,” he said.
I stared at him, unsure of why he was apologizing at first. Jesus Fucking Christ, what was wrong with me? He’d raped me, and I didn’t instantly know why he was apologizing? I had to get this out of my head. “It’s okay,” I said, even though it wasn’t. But I’d responded to his touch, hadn’t I? It had been my fault that I’d come.
“No, it isn’t,” he said. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “But Toby, you can’t do that. You can’t try to escape when I give you the privilege of sleeping in my bed. Did you really think I wouldn’t wake up?”
Yes.
No.
