Mentor (An Impossible Novella) (10 page)

By the time He brought the melon to my lips, I was so tense that I flinched away from his hand.  He handled me so tenderly, but the sadistic glint in his eyes let me know that He had something unpleasant planned for me.

“Not hungry?”  He asked, removing the food before I could answer.  Apprehension had risen up in my throat, blocking my vocal cords.

All that escaped my lips was a small squeak of surprise when He gripped my hips and flipped me over.  He sat on the edge of the bed, and suddenly I was staring at the concrete floor, my waist bent over his knees.  I squirmed in his lap, struggling to right myself.  His large hand gripped my hip and his forearm pressed down on the length of my spine, firmly holding me in place.

I stopped fighting.  I knew I was about to pay the price; I was about to get the answer I so desperately needed.

“I need to control you because it makes me feel alive.”

He uttered the profound words as though it was a simple statement.  My heart swelled, and my joy bled through my fear.

Everything I had suspected about Him was true.  He didn’t feel human emotions.  Or at least, He hadn’t.  I had changed that.  I was of vital importance to Him.

He was the only real thing in my world, but He couldn’t be alive without me.

“I’m going to hurt you now, pet,” He told me in that same even tone.  “I
need
to hurt you.”

Again, I understood so much more than what his words directly expressed.

He’s broken.  He can’t feel anything without controlling me, and now He knows that I know that.  I have too much power now.  He needs to hurt me to feel like He’s still in complete control.
 

His hand came down on my ass with a resounding
smack.
 

“Quiet,” he reprimanded.

“I-I didn’t say anything, Master,” I protested, the fresh tears in my eyes matching the burn of his hand on my bottom.

“I could hear you thinking.”  The words were disapproving, but his tone was one of fondness.  “You don’t have to think when you’re with me.  Pets don’t think for themselves.”  His hand came down on me again, and I cried out.  “Take what your Master gives you, and don’t question Him.”  His voice turned low and feverish on the last.

I craned my neck to look up at Him.  His pupils were dilated with lust, his lips parted with desire.  His stunning features were illuminated by the rush of pleasure elicited by his hand upon me.

His fingers tangled in my hair, fisting it and tugging my head back.

“Eyes forward,” he commanded.

I had asked my question, and He had answered.  I owed Him this pain because of the terms of our agreement.  But there was more than that: I
wanted
to give Him my pain.  I wanted Him to know that it was okay to need me.

I needed him to realize that He cared.  Then He would let me go.

“Take what your Master gives you and don’t question Him.”
 

It wasn’t as difficult as it should have been to relax across his knees, submitting my body for his punishment, for his release.

He began to exact the cost I owed Him from my flesh, his hand coming down on me again and again.  At first, He dispersed the blows carefully, enflaming every inch of my bottom and thighs.  Then the hits began to overlap, driving the sting deeper, turning it to a relentless throb below the surface of my skin.

The pain hit a pinnacle, a place where I didn’t think I could take any more.  I begged Him to stop.  But He didn’t.  He showed me that He had all the power, and there was nothing I could do to stop Him.

Realizing the utter insignificance of my words, my wants, I sank into acceptance.  I stopped fighting the pain.  I allowed it to flow through me, to claim all of me.  My body and mind were beholden to the pain, beholden to Him.

“That’s it, pet.”  He pressed his hand into my flesh, holding the heat there.  “Accept it.”

His palpable pleasure morphed the pain into something… different.  Every blow hurt, but the stinging barbs turned to little tingles that raced up my spine to flood my mind.

I gasped as the high hit me.  It was almost more intoxicating than the pleasure that had rushed through me when I was impaled on his cock.  I was connected to Him, but this was a different kind of intimacy, one found through pain and acceptance, through control and submission.  He had dominated my body when He took me, but I had met his thrusts eagerly, joining with Him in achieving our mutual pleasure.  This was a complete power exchange, and I gave Him everything as I gloried in the rush of total release.

I didn’t have to worry about my sanity or resisting lust or escaping Him.  I didn’t have to worry about anything.  It wasn’t trust so much as it was a complete acceptance of his control.

My consciousness retreated, leaving me floating in his power.  I reveled in it.

I barely registered when the bliss-inducing blows stopped.  The heat of his hand retreated, but the heat of his punishment remained simmering deep within me.

His low, lustful growl tugged me back to reality, to Him.  He was my reality.  My eyes fluttered open, and I drank Him in.

He flipped me onto my back, and my legs dangled over the edge of the mattress.  His clothes were gone, and I could cherish every inch of him for the first time.  The defined muscles I had once feared were now the most breathtaking thing I had ever seen.  In that moment, I couldn’t recall having seen anything at all before He came and released me from my darkness.

Every line of his body was sculpted, as sharply defined as his cheekbones.  The planes of his chest gave way to rippling abs.  The V of his hips was an arrow leading to the cock that had given me so much pleasure.  My mouth watered at the sight of it.

His jaw appeared even stronger than usual as He bared his teeth in a possessive snarl.

I would sacrifice myself to this God a thousand times over and never regret it.  The savage intensity of the inferno in his eyes was an acceptance of my offering.

He grasped my ankles and pulled my body against his.  My wetness already coated my thighs, and He entered me in one thrust.  My back arched on a shocked cry at the sudden impalement.  His heat branded me, marking me as his own.

My legs rested against his shoulders, and He leaned forward to grip my hips.  My hands closed around his, ensuring that He kept me in his hold.  His fingers curled around me, but his harsh hold was somehow sweet.

He cares.
 

I wept with joy as He moved within me, pinning my body in place for his use.  When his head dropped back with the beginnings of his own orgasm, He pinched my clit.  The shock of pain made me clench around Him.  He shouted out his release as my own rolled through me.

He collapsed atop me.  My legs fell to either side of Him, and He remained seated deep within me, both of our bodies trembling with the little resounding jolts of our pleasure.  The weight of Him upon me and the ache of bruises where my bottom pressed into the mattress enfolded me.  He was all around me, and I breathed in his earthy scent with rapture.

His nose traced the line of my jaw, as though He was reveling in me as well.  Then, for the first time, his lips brushed against me.  The soft kiss was feather-light against my neck, but the answering ecstasy hit me with the force of a truck.

He cares.
 

His Journal
 

May 21, 1978
 

She asked me why I need to control her.  I told her the truth.  She makes me feel alive.
 

I don’t know if I can allow us to carry on this way any longer.  I’m addicted to the pleasure she gives me.  She has that power over me, and she knows it.  I gave her pain to reclaim my control, but is it really control when she wants it, too?
 

And damn it if the sight of her ecstasy under my harsh discipline didn’t make me harder for her than ever before.  I had thought I wanted her screams, her tears.  I’ve gotten them, but not in the way I had expected.  She screams in pleasure and weeps in joy.
 

And that makes me… happy.
 

I don’t know what to do with what she makes me feel.  Everything is so new, so visceral.  Emotions were a glorious discovery at first, but now I’m enjoying them at the cost of my control.  If I don’t have control, the darkness will return.  I can’t allow that to happen.  If it does, I might as well kill her and be done with it.
 

It might be time to break her.
 

Chapter 8
 

Kathleen
 

Can I escape?
 

He
spanked
me.  Like a disobedient child.  He spanked me, and I liked it.

My old disgust rolled through me in my darkness.  It was a struggle to hold on to it.  When I thought of the heady release I achieved from the pain of his hand striking my bottom, I flushed with remembered pleasure.  It warred with the disgust the memory elicited.  It almost swallowed the disgust whole.

I recognized that I was going insane.

“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”  
A man who had loved me once said that.  That was a long time ago, in another lifetime.

My hollow laugh echoed in the darkness.  I wasn’t strong.  I hadn’t fought.  Not really.  I had just laid here and accepted abuse.

I had fought the crushing power of abuse before I was taken.  I had overcome it with my mind; my body hadn’t been strong enough to fight off my father’s brute strength.  What could a child do against a grown man?

I had thought that my mind would see me through this new torment.  I fell back into old practices, relying on my wits to see me through.

But my captor was too intelligent.  Possibly more intelligent than me.  That thought rankled, but it was true.  I had studied hard to gather my knowledge, but He seemed to wield an innate genius for manipulation.

My father had been stupid, uneducated.  My mind had been capable of seeing me through his torment.

But Him…  My mind was pathetic in comparison to His.  He was always so far ahead that my efforts to resist Him were turned against me.  He did it so easily, I might as well have been a child.

But I wasn’t a child.  Not anymore.  I may not have been strong enough to fight my father, but I was a woman now.  The strength of my captor’s muscles had intimidated me from the very beginning, stifling thoughts of physical resistance.

Now, it seemed the only course of action available to me.  He might anticipate my questions, my emotional responses, but He wouldn’t be prepared for me to actually fight Him.

The element of surprise.  It was all I had left.

Can I escape?  
It was a silent question, one I would never ask aloud.  I wasn’t about to ask for his permission.  I knew what his answer would be. His
No, pet
would come out with an amused lilt.
 

I was exhausted from the efforts of formulating thoughts, especially ones of resistance.  The darkness crept in, blanketing my mind to silence once again.

When He finally came to me, I struggled to recall my plan.  The rush of pleasure elicited by his first touch upon my cheek was enough to draw forth the echo of my disgust.  I clung to it, desperate to remember my plan.

He noticed the change in my demeanor.

“Did my pet want to ask her Master a question?”  His tone was perversely hopeful.

I shook my head.  “No, Master.”

Abruptly, He ripped the blindfold from my eyes.  His face was twisted into a scowl, and I shrank back into the mattress.

“What have I told you about lying to me?”  He demanded angrily.

“I…”  I gasped.  “I’m not lying, Master.  I don’t want to ask a question.”

His scowl faded to a frown as He considered me.  He cocked his head, a furrow forming in his perfectly smooth brow.

“No, you’re not lying,” He allowed after a long minute.  “I won’t force you to ask now.  You’ll say it when you’re ready.”

I’ll never say it.  Not to You.  I won’t ask if You’ll allow me to escape.
 

“Thank you, Master,” I said instead.

The lines of his face were taut with his puzzlement when He pulled the blindfold back over my eyes.  Despite his evident frustration, He was as tender as ever when He uncuffed me and fed me.

Not now.  Not yet.
 

It was too soon.  I couldn’t hope to fight Him while He held me in his arms.  He wouldn’t fully release my body until He placed me in the shower.

As He carried me to the bathroom, I began to tremble.  His arms tightened around me, and his low growl gave voice to his irritation with my reticence.  It must be driving Him crazy that I was keeping something from Him.  He wasn’t in control.

I’m driving
Him
crazy?  
It took effort to hold in my mad giggle.  If only that were true.

My feet hit the smooth porcelain of the shower.

Now!
 

I wrenched off the blindfold before He could stop me.  I needed my sight.

His eyes had half a second to widen in shock, and I took advantage of his moment of inaction.  I knew a man’s weakest point.

I brought my knee up sharply, cringing as it drove into his groin.  He gasped, clutching himself as He doubled over.

I skirted around Him, forcing my disused leg muscles to steady beneath me.  I almost made it to the bottom of the stairs when his furious roar echoed through the small bathroom.  His feet pounded behind me.

Get to the stairs!  Get to the stairs!
 

I was so close.  So close-

My scalp screamed when his fingers closed in my hair, jerking me away from freedom.

“No!”  I managed to cry out my anguish just before my back hit the wall.  My skull cracked against the concrete blocks.  My vision went black for the space of a second, and when sight returned, I was sprawled on the floor.  His rage slammed down on me from where He towered over me.