Page 35 of Interview with a Sadist
“That was … I don’t even know,” I say through ragged breathing. “It wasunreal.”
“Youwere unreal,” Nolan says. “You’re a natural.”
“A natural?”
“Oh, yes,” he says. “You took it so well, it’s no wonder you’ve been interested in the lifestyle. You’re a masochist, Bree.”
Hearing the word is like finally being diagnosed. It’s an answer to the questions I’ve been wondering about myself for so long, and I’ve never felt more relieved.
I could try to argue and deny it, but it’d be a lie. I’ve pondered and speculated about this a long time, and after experiencing it, I know for sure now. Nolan is right. I enjoy pain, and I know without the slightest doubt that it takes pleasure to heights that can’t be reached with normal sex. Nolan has helped me to step over the boundary and into a new life. He has cemented New Bree’s place, and everything I was before is gone. It’s behind me now. There’s no going back, and there is no part of me that wants to.
Nolan runs his fingers through my hair as I lay my head on the cushion, still undressed from the waist down and exhausted from the workout.
“Talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Thank you,” I reply, because besides a brand new sense of satisfaction, gratitude is all I feel.
“For what?”
“For showing me the truth,” I say. “For showing me who I’ve always been. For guiding me. For accepting me.”
Nolan grins. “You don’t have to thank me for that. Like I said—it’s an honor.”
Even through building up the strength to pull myself together and get dressed, I know something. A fact plays on repeat in my head as I slip my dress back on, and Nolan cleans off the wand I just soaked. Through fixing my hair and makeup, and letting enough time pass that the redness in my skin dissipates, and we prepare to walk out of the office, I know everything just changed. I’ll never look at sex the same way again. I’ll never have a negative thing to say about things I don’t understand. I’ve become a different person, and no matter what happens, I know there is no going back.
Thanks to Nolan Carter, my life will never be the same, and this is only the beginning.
ChapterTwenty-One
I’m sore as I walk into Starbucks on my lunch break. Each step I take sends a dull pain through my ass cheeks, reminding me of what Nolan and I did yesterday in his office. The pain keeps the memory at the forefront of my mind, and I continue seeing the images of us together behind my eyes every time I blink. Nolan holds the red-tailed flogger while I’m on my knees on the couch, my top half bent over while I’m holding a black wand between my legs.
I can still feel the sting of the tails. I can hear the crack of the wind as Nolan flicks his wrist and sends the tresses whirling around in an arc of electricity that shocks my entire body, tightening my muscles and shooting scorching hot pleasure through my veins. I can still feel the ripple effect of the orgasm that nearly sent me into another dimension. It’s all right there on the surface, poking and prodding me with every step as I walk into the small restaurant toward the table where Melissa and Teagan await, already eating together.
The two of them resemble angels with their golden blonde hair and statuesque skin. Melissa is in a white cardigan, while Teagan is rocking a teal blouse with matching earrings. When I sit down, they smile simultaneously and sip their iced coffee in sync like twins. Once again, I look like the odd woman out with my dark hair, and green, geo print blouse.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” I say. “It has been a struggle at work lately, to say the least. Chase is already looking for my next story and I’m not even finished with this one.”
They think I don't see when they glance at each other, but I do. The two of them exchange a silent look, and I get the feeling they’ve communicated about something before I arrived.
“So, how has that been going, by the way?” Melissa asks. Her eyes latch onto me like a mother inspecting her child’s face for signs of fibbing.
I’m not sure how to respond. I flip through images in my mind of everything I’ve seen and heard at The Black Collar, and each picture comes with the feelings it birthed in the moment: meeting Nolan for the first time, strolling through the club and seeing the joy and respect everyone had for one another, seeing the love on the main stage as spectators gathered to view what true BDSM is supposed to look like, and embracing the lash of the flogger as it tortured me with the most intoxicating pleasure.
This is a situation where Old Bree would respond with words of vitriol. I would lash out at people I don't know and call their lifestyle by horrible names, invoking laughter from my friends, who would agree without evidence that anything I’ve said is actually true. This is what we do. This is what our friend group has always done, so stepping outside of those lines would be driving a bulldozer through the house we’ve all shared since we met. There’s only one problem—Old Bree is gone.
“It’s umm … it has actually been going really well,” I reply, and you would think those words were a giant vacuum sucking the air out of the establishment. Clocks stop ticking, people stop moving, the fucking air conditioner shuts off, leaving nothing behind but silence and fiery glares.
“Wow,” Melissa says with raised brows. “That’s great. So, you're enjoying it then?”
“Yes,” I respond quickly. Heat prickles up my neck, but I don't shy away from the feeling. I embrace it. “I’ve loved every second of it, actually. Nolan has been beyond anything I ever could've imagined, and the club is incredible.”
They look at each other again, sending a sick feeling straight to my gut. I feel Old Bree flinch down there, but I ignore her. She has no power here, so seeing them exchange eye contact annoys me.
“What?” I ask, furrowing my brows..
“The club isincredible?” Melissa says. “You’re talking about the BDSM club with the tight leather outfits, and the sadistic weirdos who like to cut people open and use their blood for lube? That club?”
My face morphs into an expression of disbelief and annoyance.
