That Which Destroys Me (22 page)

When his shoulders tense and he doesn’t respond, guilt floods me. Its intensity feels like a physical blow to my chest. It hurts so bad, I can barely breathe around it. Tears continue stinging my eyes. “Wesley, please. I’m so sorry. I-I…”

“You broke.” His words are hardly audible.

The weight of those words are so dreadfully powerful it causes crippling dread to invade my body. Agony and despair shred through my heart like shrapnel, so sharp and quick I gasp as tears stream down my face.

Something is happening, something profound and I can’t stop it. It’s flying at me like a freight train and there is nothing for me to hold on to, to brace for its impact. Nothing. It’s going to hit and when it does, it will destroy me.

Nausea churns in my stomach causing my mouth to water. I swallow as quickly as I can to keep the bile down.

My back slides down the counter and I wrap my arms around my knees as my bare ass settles on the grit and powder covered floor. A cry escapes my lips, “Wesley. Please don’t do this.”

He doesn’t answer, and if he tenses his back muscles any more, they’ll snap. “Okay. I let you down.” I nod at his back, “The least I can do is explain myself, answer your goddamn question the only way it can be answered. No. You are not the reason I had a nightmare. You are not why I have nightmares. My nightmares are caused by sick perverted men and usually star the sickest and most perverted man to ever live. Only he isn’t alive in my nightmares. My father is dead and I am covered in his blood, trying to silence whoever keeps screaming, but I can’t. Because they’re my screams and in my nightmare, I can’t make them stop.”

I stand from the messy floor and dust my ass off before finishing. “But yes. Every time I fall asleep after you’ve whipped and wrung my mind, body, and soul out, I wake up happy and rested and so much farther away from my nightmares and past than I’ve ever been before you came into my life.” I turn and make my way back to his room tracking sugar across the hardwood floor and plush area rugs on my way.

I shower and dress before leaving. On my way out, I see Wes still standing in the kitchen, completely unmoved from where he was when I turned around after screaming ‘Rust.’

Chapter 25

The Desecration of Beauty

I conditioned myself at a very young age to function on as little sleep as possible. Even at four, I recall thinking that sleep was an unnecessary excuse to be lazy. At first, I attempted to go completely without it. After the seventh day, lucidness evaded me and simple conscious decisions blurred. It was the eighth day that I physically lost all control. Control of my bowels, my stomach contents, my mind—Everything. The last thing I lost control of was my eyelids. I fought those to the very end. And then I fell asleep.

Through trial and error over a period of several months, I mastered sleep. From that moment on, I only allowed myself two hours of sleep in a twenty four hour period.

This long practiced sleep pattern is what blessed me every night as I lay beneath Beauty’s bed and listened to her terror.

She and I are so much alike. Except she is so much more destroyed than I ever have or ever will be. I liked to think her destruction was caused by her fighting the demons within, instead of welcoming them with open arms as I did.

My eyes literally starve when I am unable to watch her. Even after no more than thirty minutes, the physical effects begin crippling me. The longest stretch of time I’ve had to endure consisted of twenty-one hours, she’d gone several towns over to meet with a specialist and spent the night before returning.

By the time my eyes finally soaked in the sight of her, my vision was blurred from tears of agony and torment.

The last six hours of physical torture I was forced to endure because of her, all because she hadn’t had the ability to cope with the demons; all because she had to fight rather than simply give in. I lay those last hours upon her bed and constructed her death at my hands in over a thousand different and beautiful ways.

But when I see her walking up the walkway through my swollen, teary eyes, all I feel is home and love in its purest, simple form.

The powerful emotion is so incredible that a giggle bubbles from my mouth before I can stifle it with my hands covering my lips. Her eyes of every color clash with my red swollen ones, halting her in place. Her brow furrows and she frowns. When she steps towards my direction, I run the other away and hide; but not for long, just long enough to be forgotten, then I’m back in the shadows watching my Beauty once again.

Later that night, I lay beneath her bed and listen to her breath as she sleeps ever so peacefully. After six hours of listening to her sleep, I allow myself to be lulled into REM sleep.

I’m jarred awake before the sun has risen, confused by sleep. My hand grips the frame under her bed and I move to slide out from beneath it, only to be stopped by her whimpering. Excitement surges through me. This is a wonderful turn of events. Beauty’s nightmares usually happen an hour after she falls asleep. Never more than an hour. I’m euphoric and giddy with joy. A smile spreads across my face from ear to ear as I settle in and patiently wait for the orchestrated melody of Beauty’s horror.

Her whimper causes my ears to perk up. The grunt that follows causes my smile to fade.

“Shh…If you be good, and keep quiet, I’ll make sure to not hurt you too bad. I love you. Did you know that? Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you, baby girl?” The mattress above me groans, bowing from excessive weight. Movement in my periphery causes my eyes to dart to the other side of the bed where I see a pair of ugly feet, men’s feet, with his gnarled, yellowed toenails curling around the tip of each toe, peeking out of the toe of his navy house slippers.

A grunt cuts through the room followed by Beauty’s yelp before the mattress begins squeaking. The sounds, him grunting, her yelps and cries, and the mattress squeaking all interlace and sync into a morbid rhythm punctuated by a male’s grunted words of love and praise. As I lay there listening to him praise her for her tight cunt, madness consumes me. Fierce hate for Beauty swells and unfolds, blanketing and snuffing out any love I ever possessed for her. Choking and killing any goodness I ever associated with my Beauty.

She is nothing more than a weak desecration.

And Beauty will pay for her abhorrent actions, she’ll pay in the only currency I accept; blood - her blood.

Chapter 26

No Explanation

Why couldn’t she just answer the question correctly? She not only answered it wrong, she fucking safe worded out. And for what? So she could explain? She took a very simple question and contorted it completely out of its intended context.

“Shit!” I turn from the counter and am forced to look over the mess strewn across my floor. “Thank God Myrta’s coming tomorrow.” I say to the empty room as I storm out of the kitchen.

As soon as I’m behind my desk I sit back down and read over the files again; chasing the same damn ghost. After reading and rereading the files, I snatch the phone up and dial Derrick. “Speak.”

“I need more than what’s in these files, man. Something is missing, something fucking huge. I feel it in my bones. Is this all you could get?”

“Ah…it was with the information you’d given me. But I can take apart each one and look for a lead. You originally wanted a timeline, or I assumed that was what you wanted from our conversation. You want me to break apart the timeline and extensively research it from every angle? Then yeah - whatever’s missing, I’ll find it. Gonna take a lot longer than days though, Wes. We’re talking weeks. Month and a half tops. Her vagabond upbringing has her shit scattered across the state of Louisiana.”

“Yes. Do that. And the quicker you get me the info the more your fee doubles. I don’t want that shit wrapped up it a pretty bow either, send it to me in chunks. We’ll both look over it. You got anything for me on this morning’s job?”

“Oh yeah. I emailed it to you earlier, fax should be coming through.”

“Thanks, D. I’ll wire the payment immediately.”

“Sounds good. Got anything else for me, boss?”

“Yeah. Fucking hurry up.”

After the event that occurred Sunday morning. I honestly saw no other way to protect Stell than from a distance; at least until I can get this shit ironed out and I can pinpoint for absolute certainty what it is I’m missing.

The case studies that Derrick faxed over were all the conclusive evidence I needed. The key to curing Stella’s nightmares is her ability to accept her submissiveness. That was where she failed; not me, but herself.

Instead of reacting to my Dominate actions, she hesitated. That hesitation tipped the domino that tipped the next domino and ended in a cascade of tipped over dominos all ultimately resulting in her denying me as her Dom; the trust that I mistakenly believed I’d already held.

Instead of using her strength to withstand the consequences of her actions, she did what I thought - what I believed with every fiber of my being - she would never do:

She gave up. She broke.

Out of weakness, she gave up on the only thing that could save her.

I wasn’t hurting her. She’d withstood much more in the way of pain and self-discipline than a few swats to her bottom. So she didn’t safe word out because she couldn’t physically and emotionally take any more. She safe worded out because she panicked and refused to stay calm. In turn, she safe worded out by snipping any and all tethers tying her to submissiveness…to her cure.

She cut me off at the knees by saying that one syllable word. Rust.

I can’t help her. She took my ability to help her away. And until she realizes it, until it resonates through her as clear as a bell and she returns to me able to express it without me giving her the words or coaching her into understanding, all I can do is patiently wait… And pray to God to help her see what I could not.

Stella called in sick every day this week, so when I walk into my office on Friday morning I’m caught off guard by the sight of her in front of my desk.

“Good morning. I didn’t expect to see you here today.” I set my briefcase down beside my desk before shrugging out of my suit jacket and sitting down.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I must have a stomach bug or something. I can’t keep anything down. I have an appointment with my doctor today at four o’clock, if it’s alright for me to leave a little early?” Her bottom lip is pulled into her perfect mouth, her white teeth flash before chewing it.

“Absolutely, far be it for me to keep you from your health. I’m sorry to hear you’ve been sick too. I wish it was the reason I’d believed you called in sick.” I grab the phone and dial my new secretary, Barby.

“Barby, Good morning. Do you have the schedule? Ms. Reese and I are ready.”

“Yes, sir. I’m headed in now.”

“Excellent.” I set the phone in its cradle. Stella’s fidgeting in her seat and I have to bite my tongue to keep from correcting her.

I could kiss Barby’s face for her timing. Sweet girl. Not a mean bone in her body. Brunette, got a body on her that would normally have me pulling out my signature Wesley Jacobs charm. If the angel sitting in front of me didn’t have me twisted up in emotional knots.