I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that.
“Bend over the bench, slut,” he commanded, a rough bark that had me flinching.
Josh knew I wasn’t turned on by humiliation in any form, yet he was always calling me names and talking down to me. Of course, I didn’t think he did it because it was a fetish, more like a way to make him feel better about himself.
“Josh,” I said evenly, trying to remain respectful, all while eager to pull him back from the edge.
“Did I ask you to speak?” he yelled. “No, I did not! I told you to bend over the fucking bench, bitch. I’ll give you a choice. Ball gag or five more.”
For fuck’s sake.
No way in hell was I letting Josh gag me. Not only because I hated that shit but also because it would take away my ability to put a stop to this madness if and when it got completely out of control.
“Five more,” I uttered meekly.
“That’s what I thought.”
With my knees trembling slightly, I stood near the spanking bench but didn’t move into position. Truth was, I was scared. I used to know that Josh would be able to stop before he hurt me; however, that wasn’t the case anymore. I’d endured quite a few wounds in recent months that took more than a couple of hours to heal.
He pushed me from behind and I stumbled forward. Going for that whole respect thing again, I kept my glare shielded by my hair as it fell around my face. Considering I was as naked as the day I was born, it was the only buffer I had.
I could hear people whispering around us, knew they were likely concerned for my safety. Hell, I was concerned at this point. Yet I didn’t call out my safe word. Not because I didn’t want to. I did. But should I use it, that whole place-to-sleep thing I’d mentioned would go right out the window.
It was a catch-22. A Dom was supposed to be able to trust me, his submissive, to know my limitations. In that, I was failing. However, when weighing my options, having a place to sleep that didn’t involve a park bench was pretty damn important.
Now, if you were thinking I was a pitiful excuse for a human being, well, fine. Maybe it sounded that way. But I could assure you I was not. At the ripe young age of twenty-nine, I’d been around the block a time or twenty. I’d learned long ago not to rock the boat. At least not until I had a backup plan. At midnight, in a dungeon of a BDSM club, that backup plan resembled smoke in the dark.
Even though I’d put up with Josh’s shit for the past nine months, I was hoping for something to come along that would allow me to get out from under him. And to be fair, he wasn’t like this all the time. Mostly at the club. Which was the reason I’d been refusing to go with him. I honestly thought tonight would be different. I should’ve known better.
The next thing I knew, Josh was roughly shoving me onto the spanking bench. I managed to get my knees into position on the pads while I flailed for the flat, cushioned part to keep me from toppling to the floor.
Disaster averted.
“Fuck, you’re a clumsy bitch,” he hissed in my ear. “You think this’ll hurt, wait till we get home. Tonight, I think I’ll let you sleep on the back porch like the dog you are.”
Yay. He was in King Dick mode.
“Is everything cool here?” one of the dungeon monitors asked.
I peered over my shoulder, wanting to put a face to the voice. Great. His name was Chad and he was new and he sounded slightly hesitant to ask the question. If I was looking for a knight in shining armor, he would be considered rusty at best.
“Everything’s fine, Goldilocks,” Josh told him. “She likes the rough shit.”
No. No, I didn’t. But for the sake of argument, I wasn’t going to contradict him.
“What’s your safe word?” Chad asked me directly.
“Houston.”
Like, you know, Houston, we have a problem. I’d never been to Texas, but the saying seemed fitting for this instance.
I actually preferred red as my safe word because it was simple and also the same one the club used, but Josh had insisted on something else, so that was what I went with. Pathetic might be what I chose next time. It seemed to be the word of the day.
“Very well.” Chad stepped back.
Great. Another pushover Dom. Just what I needed.
I swallowed hard.
“Thirty now,” Josh declared triumphantly. “For drawing attention to your scrawny, pathetic ass.”
Annnnd we were back to that.
I draped myself over the bench, silently praying he would go the route of the squirrel. You know, find something shiny and go that direction. The man had a short attention span. Then again, when it came to dishing out pain, that wasn’t always the case. He wasn’t a sadist in the true sense of the word, he was merely an asshole.
