Page 16 of Bound By Sin
“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled.
“What was that?” I asked, continuing to rub the blooming red spot on her ass cheek. “I can’t hear you when you don’t voice your words loud and clear.”
“Yes, Sir,” she repeated a little louder.
“Now, be Sir’s good girl and answer my question. Who did this?” I asked, moving the tips of my fingers across the puckered flesh on her inner thighs.
I needed to examine her skin to see if our night could continue. If it was too bad, I’d call an end to our night and get her proper medical attention immediately.
She took in a deep breath and released it. “I don’t want to say,” she whispered.
It pissed me off and disappointed me all at the same time that she was trying to protect some prick, but I pushed my annoyance and pride down. I needed answers more than anything so I could plan how to handle this situation because it couldn’t go unhandled. I refused to let it go without finding out who did this and dealing with that person personally.
“You’ll answer my question, or you’ll be punished.”
Her eyes widened. She hated when I punished her. I’d withhold my cock, edge the hell out of her until she was about to explode, and then deny her release. I’d hate to do it, but I was a bastard, and I’d fight fire with fire if she pushed me.
“Now, who!” I smacked her ass again, causing her to hiss. “I’m not going to ask you again.”
“It was me, Sir,” she mumbled. “It was me, okay.”
She sounded so small, so full of embarrassment. My head dropped along with my stomach, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. It was one of the many rules we had made together. She was not to self-inflict. She couldn’t judge when it became too much because of the high she got from the pain. Her pain tolerance was on another level, higher than anyone I’d ever known. So, when she became engrossed in that feeling, nothing else mattered. She lost sight of everything, including the release, staying transfixed on the pain and not caring about the end game, which turned her chase for ecstasy dangerous.
Tara was the only person I’d known throughout my time participating in BDSM who could reach subspace from self-inflicting. Not that it couldn’t be done, but I’d never witnessed it.
I’d walked in on her when I’d unexpectedly returned from a business trip, trying to surprise her, and it scared the shit out of me. Her wails, her body trembling and covered in blood—it looked like someone had beaten the shit out of her. She had been so far gone, she didn’t even notice when I came into the room. When she did, she didn’t recognize me, and it was hard to bring her back down.
When subs were in this space, they felt and experienced different things. With the influx of adrenaline and endorphins, some felt like no one existed but the Dom or Domme and sub. Others might have the feeling of floating or no pain, and everything that was wrong in the world disappeared.
Tara was completely unaware of how much pain she was actually in because the euphoria she experienced blocked everything else out. She chased that high the pain gave her without knowing she was putting herself in danger. So, when we realized the amount of danger, we made rules to protect her.
And she broke them.
When she and Brian were together, he refused to give her that pain she needed to make her feel complete. She described it once as a numbness she couldn’t get rid of. Her body needed to experience the rush of pain.
I absolutely understood.
I experienced that same numbness unless I inflicted pain.
It physically hurt Brian to inflict any type of pain to her because he couldn’t take it as far as she needed to not feel that numbness. He understood their relationship couldn’t last when that was a part of making her happy. He knew I’d take care of her and keep her safe.
How many times has she hurt herself since I’ve been gone?
She looked over her shoulder at me, her brows drawn together in an agonized expression. “Valentino…”
I threw up my hand, stopping her explanation. “Enough!”
She pursed her lips and didn’t say anything else. I didn’t need her to say I wasn’t around, and she didn’t trust anyone to give her what she needed. I already understood the reasons and that my anger was misplaced. The fault lay with me. The anger I directed toward some unknown individual should have been aimed at me. The scars gracing her beautiful skin were there because of me. Everything was my fault.
Even if I was the cause, it didn’t wipe out her punishment. She could have really hurt herself, and she knew it but decided to do it anyway.
I walked to the large eight-drawer dresser in the room. I wasn’t sure if they had what I wanted to use for her punishment, but I sure as hell was going to find something.
“You do understand that even though I realize the part I played in this situation, it doesn’t wipe out your punishment, right?”
I rummaged through every drawer until I came across what I was looking for. I removed the small bag of pebbles and then faced her with bag in hand.
“Sir, I’m sorry,” she pleaded as she looked over her shoulder. “Don’t be mad, please.”
