Page 36 of Truth or Dare

“Can you stay?”

It was a mistake to keep getting in bed with her. I knew it. I told myself we were tired and it was a big bed and nothing was gonna happen but I knew it was a mistake.

“Keep your hands and your mouth to yourself, all right?”

“I will,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“Let’s try to get some sleep.”

“Don’t cry,” he said softly a few minutes later. “You’re gonna be okay.”

I wanted to believe that. I didn’t mean to make my crying obvious. I thought he’d fallen asleep.

“You don’t have to fuck to survive anymore.”

He sure hit the nail on the head.

“Could I have my collar back, Master?”

“What?” he spat. He sounded disgusted.

“My collar. If you put it back on me, I’ll sleep better. I keep freaking out inside and if I have the collar on it’ll help me know they can’t take me back because I’m yours. In the dreams the collar gone is why they can get to me but…”

He stormed out. I felt my chin trembling.

A few minutes later I didn’t know if he had gone to the other room or not. I was driving him away, he’d get sick of my crap, he’d send me away. I squeezed my eyes shut tight and tried to get my heart to settle down, to push the panic away.

The collars at the club that were single strand were the collars for girls available to all patrons. Double-strand collars were slaves booked for the night to a specific patron or party. The triple strand collars were for girls who were owned. Mine looked more like a choker but it had the design of the collars, in essence. Any visitor knew by looking at a woman’s throat whether they could have her or not. It was always respected.

My throat had been covered with a different coded collar for the past month and a half, the black X advising that I was off limits, that I belonged to someone who had not yet claimed me. In the past, I’d spent most of my time in single strand collars and plenty of time in double-strand collars. My first seven months there was spent with a double collar and it was often attached to a leash.

The minute Dare put that triple strand jeweled necklace on me at the resort it felt different. I’d been waiting for that moment for a long time. It was beautiful; it meant I was at Point C.

I really felt like it might send the nightmares away. I hadn’t had dreams in over a year, not since Mr. Frost died. I hadn’t dreamt until Dario Ferrano strolled into that room in his tailored suit with his stormy blue eyes, his olive-toned skin, that beautiful body, but now the nightmares were back and they were absolutely horrific.

He was back. I could smell smoke and the outside on him so knew he’d gone out to the balcony. I heard a tinkling and he softly said, “Up; let me put this on. I don’t know that this is the right thing to do, baby, but if it chases the bad dreams away…” He let that hang.

A wave of relief washed over me. I lifted my hair as I sat up and he fastened the necklace for me. The feel of his fingers on the back of my neck, it was going to be my undoing.

I let out a little whimper. “Thank you.” I closed my eyes and absorbed the feel of it and felt my body settle.

“May I speak?”

“Stop asking permission.”

“Can you, could you, um… hold me? I’m not still asking for sex, I just, I’m so fucked up…” I asked, knowing I was pushing him but I only hoped I wasn’t pushing him too far. What I really wanted, needed, was for him to hold me down and take me, but I knew that wasn’t an option. My scalp prickled. I couldn’t believe I’d sworn again. I hadn’t cussed aloud, or barely even in my head, in almost 2 years, not unless I was instructed to, not since I had my mouth washed out with something disgusting as a punishment for telling a trainer to go fuck themselves.

“Come here,” he answered and the sound of his voice, those words, I felt them between my legs and deep in my chest. I rested my head on his chest and wrapped my arms around myself. He was warm and cozy and between being there with him and having his collar on my throat I allowed something that I hadn’t allowed in a long time. I allowed myself to hope, and not just a little.

“Thank you,” I said, knowing in my soul he was different from the men I’d been acquainted with in the past two years. I’d have never made requests or been so bold otherwise. Bold me today was nothing like the bold me of two years ago but bold me of today was not exactly like Felicia of last week, either.

“Okay,” he answered. He put an arm around me. But he did it stiffly.

“Thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered and gave a little squeeze and kissed my forehead. His body loosened then and his other arm came around me and it didn’t feel stiff or awkward any longer. It felt like that was just where I belonged. I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

This was not cool. Not cool at all. I didn’t know how to handle this shit. One part of me thought I should start being a dick to her, so she’d get over her hero worship. But after what I could only imagine she’d been through I’d be a heartless prick to do that. Yet I did not want to encourage this. Not a bit.

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