Page 28 of One Cut Deeper
It’s never over until the Master comes.
My stomach flips over with the first sense of unease when he chains my ankle to the bottom of the bed. I lift my head and watch him walk around the foot of the bed toward my other leg. He spreads me wide, to the point of strain if I try to move too much. I can bend my knee a little and shift my foot against the mattress, but that’s it.
He stands back to admire his handiwork. “There. Now that’s what I saw in my mind when I came home this morning and found you asleep with Sheba.”
Was that only this morning? It feels like years, a lifetime ago.
For the first time, I notice that he’s still completely dressed. My mouth falls open and I stutter, “Y-You still have your clothes on!”
He laughs and comes to the side of the bed, close enough to smooth my tangled hair off my forehead. “All in good time. I’ll be right back—I need to go blow out all those candles before we burn the house down. I’m going to bring Sheba in to sit with you, all right? You won’t be alone.”
I don’t want to ever be alone again. More, though, I don’t want to wait another minute to have him inside me. “I’ve done what you wanted,” I whine, trying not to cry. “Why—”
“No, you haven’t,” he breaks in, still smoothing my hair from my face. “I did whatyouwanted.”
“But—but—didn’t—”
He shushes me with a finger over my lips. “I definitely enjoyed it, more than I’ve ever enjoyed a scene in my life. But there’s one thing left that I want very much indeed before I’ll fuck you like you want. Like we both want.”
Then he’s gone, his voice at the door calling Sheba. She comes to the side of the bed and hops up enough to put her paws on the mattress. Wagging her tail, she cocks her head and looks at me with reproach, as if she’s thinking,Why won’t you pet me? Why are you tied up like that?It makes me laugh despite my worry.
Because I’m definitely worried. What else does he want? What am I missing?
Every muscle in my body hurts, but I don’t think he left a single mark on me, other than maybe a few bruises from that first body slam to the floor. I could walk out of here in the morning—assuming I could summon the strength despite my protesting muscles—and no one would be able to look at me and know what happened.
No one would know that I’ve been brought to the edge of ecstasy over and over and over with nothing more than pain, until I almost blacked out. Other than my soreness, I have no proof that I spent an incredible night chained to Charles MacNiall’s bed. The very foundations of my mind are rattled and shaken, as if he tore down my mind and put me back together again. How could he leave such a mark on my psyche, but not my body?
I want some kind of brand in my flesh. A reminder that it happened. He really was able to bring me to release with pain not once or twice, but several times.
No one has been able to do that for me before.
No one has ever bothered to try.
And I have no proof, no lasting mark to touch.
Sheba gives a little whine and licks my hand, then she’s gone. I turn my head, watching her leave. He stands at the door and whispers a command to her. Even though it isn’t directed at me, I shiver.
Which only makes me groan, my muscles complaining at the movement.
How much longer? How much more can I endure?
He shuts the door, barring the dog from the room. Then he turns out the light.
I suck in a harsh breath, shaking. I don’t want to be in the dark. I want to see him. I need to be able to see his eyes and know what he’s going to do. Maybe then I could figure out what he wants. What he needs.
In the darkness, I strain to hear his movement. A creak in the floor, a whisper of cloth, but only silence echoes in my head. He wouldn’t bring the dog in to sit with me while he was gone, only to leave me alone now. But what is he doing?
In desperation, I give him the one thing I challenged him on from the beginning. “Charlie?”
My voice quivers like a child’s, fragile and breathy with fear.
“I’m here.” His voice seems to come from everywhere, though, all around me. I can’t even see a shadow of where he is, what he’s doing. “Are you afraid of the dark?”
I’ve never been afraid of the dark before, even as a child, but now… “A little.”
“Good.”
I close my eyes, concentrating fiercely on his voice to pinpoint his location. Maybe he went toward the bathroom, though I didn’t hear his footsteps. I turn my head slightly to the right, trying to hear better.