Page 49 of Madness

That was all this was. She was a toy.

Then why did I hate the sound of that?

26

Kincaid

Ithrew the old paperback down onto the bed. I’d been picking up one book after another all day, but nothing kept my attention. I stood and started to pace my small apartment. I took four steps before I had to turn around and walk back. I did it over and over again until a loud bang from below alerted me to the fact that I was annoying my neighbors. I wasn’t exactly a quiet walker on a normal day, and today wasn’t normal.

My feet slapped the floor as I paced. I went back and forth a few more times before a Spanish curse came through the walls. I flopped back down onto my bed, staring at the dingy ceiling.

Four weeks. That’s how long my arrangement with Maddox had been going on. I saw him at least three times a week, sometimes more. It was always the same.

Tristan picked me up, making me uncomfortable as he drove me to Maddox’s house. Where Maddox escorted me upstairs to change. I tried wearing the other dresses he bought, but he had me change every time. I never understood why, and I never asked. He let me keep the clothes too. My closet was now full of expensive dresses I would never wear again. I should sell them.

Except they held memories. It was strange to think. But each dress held a different memory of Maddox. A different way he’d tortured my body. Made me come. Had me make him come. But he never fucked me. And I’d never seen him naked. I’d also never seen any part of his house beside the guest room and the dining room. The whole situation was fucked up.

I changed, we had dinner, and then he’d exact his punishments. Which I could now admit, to myself at least, that I liked. I shifted on the bed and felt the burn in my ass from the cane he’d used last night. I think I figured out why I liked it so much.

It made me feel alive. It was the only time I wasn’t worried about bills or my life. Or my loneliness. Maddox was in control. I was his prey. I could just feel. I didn’t have to make decisions. I didn’t feel the unbearable weight of my devastating life.

I had even started to like him. Or maybe I was just adapting to my new normal. I no longer felt the urge to run away. Instead, anticipation coursed through my veins. It felt like my life was on pause until the next time I saw him.

Oh god! I brought my hands to my face and covered my eyes. This was what he wanted. I was falling into his cage. He was making me think he was okay. He was normal. That what we had was normal. But it wasn’t. And I was reminded of that every night after I left.

Tristan took me home again and handed me an envelope full of cash as I exited the car. The burning embarrassment of what I’d done or who I was made my cheeks flush.

I was paid. I was a whore. This wasn’t a relationship. I couldn’t even look Tristan in the eye. I was pretty sure he’d seen me. That he knew what Maddox did to me. Maybe they all knew. Maybe he lied, and he had a different girl there every night.

I’d let myself become this, and I wasn’t sure how to get out anymore. Or even if I wanted to. I knew he was dangerous. To other people, to me. He could get bored of me and have me killed. Once he was done with me, there was no reason to keep me alive. And there was no one who would come looking. Except for Tessa.

Tessa, who I hadn’t told what I was doing. She thought I was waitressing at a fancy restaurant downtown and that my employer had bought me the dresses. Technically that part wasn’t a lie. Why hadn’t I told her?

Because I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t explain why I’d said yes. Why I continued to go back. Why I liked what he did to me. Why I liked him.

In my own twisted mind, things made sense. But I was afraid if I said them out loud, explained them to her, it would all fall apart. I was on a thin sheet of ice. She would crack it. I would go tumbling into the cold hard water of truth.

The truth that I should hate him. Be afraid of who and what he was. Be disgusted by my body’s needs. That I should end it. Run away while I was still alive.

But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

All I could do now was hope that whatever pain he gave me, I could survive.

27

Maddox

Irelished the burn of the whiskey as I sipped my drink and waited. The club’s music was too loud, reverberating in my bones as I waited for Constantine. I wasn’t sure why I’d picked this place for our meeting. My excuse had been to check on the new manager, but the longer I sat here, the more I thought it was because of her.

I still felt Kincaid’s presence even though I wasn’t in the private room. Even though she hadn’t worked here in over a month. A month I’d had her with me. At my house. Under my rule. And I still hadn’t broken her. Hadn’t fucked her.

The question was, why? What was I waiting for?

Each day with her, I told myself I’d take one more before I broke her. I hadn’t fully given up the idea. I still hurt her each night. And it still had no effect on her. She took each of my punishments with pleasure. Her pussy only getting wetter for me. Welcoming me.

I’d hit her with my belt, a cane, a whip. She’d only come harder. I’d made her swallow my cock until she almost passed out from lack of oxygen. Over our time together, I’d bruised every inch of her skin. And she still kept coming. She still wasn’t broken.

If anything, she’d softened. She’d taken the punishments with a look of peace. Like it was the only time she could relax. I’d come to crave that look. Crave the feel of her skin. Crave her covered in my marks.