“I’m taking a work trip in February.” He shifts awkwardly in the chair, as if he’s the one who’s uncomfortable talking about this. I don’t know why he would be. Reik takes work trips all the time.
“Okay.” I bite my lip. “Just let me know the dates.”
“Get this house cleaned up, Lizzie. I’m tired of living in filth.”
That stings. Because the house isn’t disgusting by any measure of the word. It just hasn’t had its deep scrub before his mother arrives, or the decorations changed over from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Though he’s not wrong, I’m rather late in the game of doing that. Usually, I have all of that done as soon as we tick into December.
“I’ll get on it. Thank you for the reminder.” I pull my book a little closer and stare down at the pages to end the conversation with him. I don’t want him to start yelling at me, but I also don’t want to continue the scolding that I’m getting.
I’d rather be scolded by my new favorite online toy. I frown at that thought. BandAid42 isn’t a toy. They’re my savior in the darkness that has shrouded my life for years. I just hadn’t realized how much I needed to get out until I met them, how much I need the spice of life to return to my world.
Reik leaves the living room, and the quiet settles over me again.
“I should punish you for not keeping up with your chores.”
My lips pull up at the corners as the voice reaches my ears. “I wish you would. Your punishments are much better than his.”
I hadn’t actually said that, had I? Biting my cheek, I hold any more words in. I can’t let them know too much, although they should have been able to tell there is distance between me and Reik, and then the other night when I’d masturbated after sex with him? Oh yeah, they had to know.
“Well then, Elizabeth Jane Noble, perhaps you will be punished.”
“I’d rather you just take me away from all of this.” Fingering the edges of the book, I stare blankly at the floor in front of me. “Make me cum so hard that I forget this is my life.”
The silence is louder than I anticipate. But this is perhaps the most honest I’ve ever been with BandAid42. It’s not just about fantasy and sex. It’s always been about escaping the reality that I’ve found myself caged into, this prison that I’ll never be able to escape. Or so I’d thought at one point. But now…now I wonder if there’s another life for me out there, one with BandAid42, or perhaps one adjacent to them.
“I just mean that I wish we could do this in person, instead of through distance. You’ve told me not to look for you…but I could find you if you’d let me.” I hold my breath, not entirely sure what my ramblings will get me in terms of punishment. But I can’t stop the words from leaving my lips. Something about this entire setup, the relationship that we’ve been building, is so filled with raw honesty that I have to share.
BandAid42 has to know the effect they’ve had on me.
I need them to know.
“The only way you’ll meet me is if I choose to take you.”
A shiver runs down my spine. I look directly into the camera that’s in the corner of the living room, hoping that they’re looking right back at me. Because what I’m about to say is the most honest thing I’ve ever said in my life. I hold my breath until it burns my lungs, then the words leave my lips.
“Then take me.”
Chapter 17
February 14 - Hour 9
My butt is so cold. I blink my eyes blearily and shift slightly, but it’s so damn hard to focus on anything right now. Sliding a little, I stop. Not only is my butt frozen, but so is my back. I’m pressed against the edge of the wall, sitting on my ass—or rather slumped down—barely keeping upright. The only thing helping is probably the rope still tied around my wrists and held above my head.
I’m not standing any longer, and I have a bit more give in the tension of the rope. I slide one leg out from under my body and the other one moves with it, the bar rattling on the concrete floor as it jostles. I groan. Every muscle in my body hurts, and I’m not sure it’s ever going to feel right again. My ass, my asshole, my legs, my toes, my arms and fingers, literally everything hurts.
Yet, I feel so damn good at the same time.
Sated.
For the first time in ages, it’s as if my needs really have been taken care of, as if they matter to someone. My throat is so dry, and my mouth parched. I haven’t had anything to drink sinceI was taken from the house and I spilled the wine all over the landing and stairs. My stomach grumbles, reminding me it’s been even longer since I ate.
I must be alone. Because if my captor—no, my master—was here, surely they would see that I’m awake by now and be coming over to either check on me or fuck me or beat me. I hope I passed the test—whatever test they gave. Moving again, I stretch my legs out in front of me and point my toes toward the far wall that I can’t even see. The dim light that had been on is only enough to make out the pillory that still stands in the center of the room like a pillar to my torment and pleasure all wrapped up in one.
“Are you here?” I ask, my voice so raspy that I’m not even sure how the words form properly on my tongue.
I swallow, trying to wet my mouth and throat, but I’m not sure it’s going to do me any good. When I get no reply, I don’t panic. I know my master can’t be far. They wouldn’t leave me here on my own like that. For some reason, I trust that deeply. If I’m tied up, they’ll be nearby, listening in, or watching me somehow. They have been for months now, and it’s clear that, even while we had quite the period of silence, they were still watching over me.
I point my toes again, turning my ankles to stretch my muscles out. The ache in them is sweet and tender, exactly what I want to feel when I’ve been used exactly like I dream of. How long will this break last? How much time is even left? They’d said I was theirs for the night, and I agreed to that, but how many hours total will they keep me before release?
