I look at my Master. He was always so strong, so defined and a leader. Now, looking into his eyes, he is lost, and I can see that he can’t find his way back. I need to guide him back, not just to me but to himself. I was always his follower, but right now, I need to serve him without being asked. I now understand what he meant, ‘sometimes you will just know what I need and do it’. Right now, he needs to find himself again, and I am the one to do it, the only one capable of it.I have never seen a man so broken. His screams are the sound of a broken soul trying to mend itself while, in the process, it causes more pain and misery. It is like his body is overtaken, like he can’t control it, can’t stop it, the crying, the screams rippling through him as he stays collapsed on the floor.The man I am looking at is not my Master. He is far from it. He is a broken man, a destroyed man, with sorrow in his eyes. When I look, all I can see are tears, tears he can’t control, tears he can’t st
“He has been arrested. I kicked the door open and saw him standing with the gun, waiting. I jumped to the side, and he fired. I had no idea Marcus was behind me. I heard the shot. I heard his body as it slumped to the floor.” I feel my heart break, break for Jackson, who blames himself so much, and break because Marcus is gone.“I chased after him; I nearly killed him, the sight of Marcus on the floor was plaguing my mind like a cancerous cell, spreading too quickly to control. I lost control. I kept hitting him. Everyone pulled me off him. I was ready to kill him, ready to commit murder right there. Max will walk away from this. He might be locked up, but he doesn’t deserve his life.”I never thought I would hear of Jackson losing control. I feel that there is more to this than he is saying. What had he done to Max? Because I feel like he is still hiding something.“You are not to blame. Max is the only guilty one. I am so sorry, Jackson.” My arms wrap around him, trying to comfo
He sits on the edge of the bed, and I begin to strip.Standing here, naked, I put the blindfold on, standing in the spot I always do, waiting. I hear him move and walk out. I stand here waiting. He sometimes leaves to build up the tension. However, what seems like over an hour later, he still isn’t back.I remove the blindfold and get dressed and go to find him. I walk into our bedroom; he is here, sitting on the bed. Maybe, I should switch, and become his Domme. The last time I used the whip, it drove him wild. Maybe that is the key to bringing him back. He never agreed to me whipping him, he quickly took control when I had before.I grab his hand, trying to prise him off the bed. He stays, unmoving, his eyes looking at me. Every time I look at them, it breaks my heart a bit more.“Trust me, Jackson, as I trust you”. I pull him again; this time he stands up and walks with me. I guide him back to the playroom.Tears build in my eyes as I begin to undress him. When he is fully naked
I grab the smaller brush, preparing to do his eyes. As my hand reaches up to remove his blindfold, I whisper, “Don’t open your eyes”. I lift it, his eyes staying shut. I slowly stroke the brush across his eye, watching as they flash open, his hands pulling down and ripping the chains from the ceiling.“What the hell are you trying to do Alena, humiliate me so that when I leave everyone can see you’re trying to degrade me?” His hands whip down. As he speaks, he grabs me, throwing me on the bed. His eyes are still not the same, but at least he has responded.He is doing something. He has me pinned to the bed, his eyes black, pitch black. I feel abused just looking at them, trying to hide myself from them. “Don’t ever do that again,” he snaps, then looks at me and now notices my tears.“I hated it, I fucking hated that Jackson, but what choice did I have?” I shout back, my hands trying to fight against his grip. I watch as his face falls, his eyes lightening slightly, but not back to th
**WARNING** This chapter includes extremely sadistic material, including animal play, degrading, and humiliation. It shows why the BDSM lifestyle should be avoided when someone is not sound-minded.He moves quickly, not even answering me. He has me flipped on my stomach instantly, his hands pulling me up from the bed. He lies me on the table, my stomach against it, my boobs hanging over the edge.The table is small. He grabs my hands, pulling them behind my back. Still, as he does, he lifts my legs, tying my legs to my hands. I nearly cry instantly. He has gone straight for the things I hate, my hard list, one being hogtied. I hate the idea, and now here I am, in that same position. I want to scream ‘peach’, but I don’t, even though I already feel humiliated, even though only he can see me. I feel the blindfold covering my eyes. I am grateful he won’t be able to see my tears.I feel the gag pushing into my mouth, then him putting the ball in my hand. I want to drop it. Maybe me break
I cry for hours; I hate him, and I hate myself. Why did I let him do that? Why didn’t I stop him earlier? Why was I so foolish? I told him he could do anything to me, and I wouldn’t walk away. I was wrong. I’m not sure if I even want to look at him again.The pain and humiliation are there, just like it was with Max, only under different circumstances. This is my fault, my fault for not saying the safe word, my fault for trying to make him snap back and not thinking of myself. I feel worse, worse because I am solely to blame. Why didn’t I just say the safe word? He would have stopped instantly, at the start, had I done that.I look at the clock. It’s 5 am. I don’t move. I stay lying here, watching the clock: 6 am. 9 am. 10 am.“I am sorry, Alena, please open the door,” Jackson calls through, his fists banging on it. I cover my ears with the pillow. I continue watching the clock. I just stare at it, watching the time pass. It is 11:45 pm. There is a knock at the door. I cover my ear
My body is screaming to stay away, but my heart needs him, needs his arms wrapped around me, showing me it is okay. He looks at me, not saying a word. I feel like what happened is the real him. If it is, I can’t give him what he wants, and he would be better off without me.“Please don’t leave. I am sorry I went too far.” His plea is filled with hurt and despair at the thought that I am going to leave.“I’m not leaving.” My voice is just a whisper, hardly there at all.“Come and sit, please.” He reaches out his hand, but I shake my head, unable to move closer to him.“This is my fault. I know it is. I should have stopped you before it got that far. I thought I could handle it, and I kept putting it off. I was wrong, and I am sorry. The safe word is there to stop this from happening. I wanted to try to fix you, and in the process, I broke myself.” My words come out in a rush; my apology for being stupid and not saying ‘stop’ when I needed to, is pitiful.He did nothing wrong. He did wh
I decided I should go for a drink. I leave the room, walking past where Max is. Standing at the machine, I grab a drink. I begin walking back up. This time I stop outside his room. “May I go in please?” I look at the police officers. They look at each other.“I know him. I just want to know if he is okay.” Okay. I don’t care if he is okay, so why do I want to go in there? They glance at each other before nodding. Walking in, seeing what I can, it isn’t what I was expecting to see. Shock overtakes me. Jackson hadn’t told me the whole story. Max is barely recognisable. His face is swollen, with cuts all over it. His leg is in a cast and there are bandages across his chest.I begin to shake my head. Why do I feel sorry for him? Why do I care that he is hurting? I shouldn’t, after all he has done. I begin to walk towards him, his eyes following me. I wonder if he can see me because he never says anything; he just stays quiet.Standing here by his bed, I look at him. He actually lo