Joseph
Her face freezes. She looks at me with an aghast expression, her breath stopping for a moment before she gathers herself enough to speak.
“What did you just call me?” she asks.
Fuck.
Never call the girl by her name. Never.
I’ve been so mad at her for not sticking to the rules of our contract in the beginning, and now I’m the one who breaches it in the most pathetic way possible.
She’s my whore. My pet. My toy. As far as I’m concerned, she has no name, and she’s never to be addressed with any name I might have been given. This has never been a problem before.
Why now? Why did I just call her by her name? Or rather, the name she uses for her agency listing. The only name I’ve ever been told.
It fucks with our deal, and I damn well know that. The way she’s looking at me now says it all. She’s confused and alarmed, because she knows that I vowed to never address her as anything but ‘my pet.’ It was clearly stated in our contract what she is to me.
“Nothing,” I say, moving away from her.
I jump down from the bed, leaving her tied and helpless, with her bent legs still spread apart, looking fucking delicious. Normally, I would take her with me, feeling her up and possibly fucking her against the tiles while the warm water washes our sweat away. But right now I just need to get out of her sight, pretending that my transgression never happened.
Her eyes follow me as I flee to the bathroom, hastily closing the door behind me. I hop into the shower, soaping myself in angry haste, as if I’m trying to wash my mistake away.
How could this happen? Everything was going fine, great actually, before that dumb mishap slipped my tongue.
It was more than great, though. I knew the built-up anticipation would lead to an outburst of unmatched degree when I finally fucked her, but I didn’t expect it to be like this. This fantastic. Mind-robbing. Violent.
I lost myself with her. I know I was rough beyond measure. Fucking her awoke the beast inside of me, the wild creature I’ve been hiding for so long. If I hadn’t spent so much time learning to control the monster inside me, she could have been in actual danger.
But of course, she isn’t. I could never hurt her for real, or take anything from her that she isn’t willing to give. It’s the whole reason behind my patience.
My concern for her reminds me that she’s still tied up and unable to move. I turn off the water and quickly wrap a towel around my waist, before heading back to the bedroom, water dropping down my skin as I approach the bed to save her.
She’s lying on her side, her legs close and squirming against her restraints, while she casts a pained grimace at me.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, gently pushing her onto her back, so I can untie her legs.
“It’s okay,” she whispers, her voice weak and empty.
“No, it’s not okay,” I say. “I shouldn’t have left you here like this. Your Master made a mistake.”
She looks at me, her expression lined with disbelief, as I admitted to my mistake.
“Will you accept my apology?” I ask her.
I have unfastened the knots on one leg, but hold it in its bent position, only slowly allowing her to stretch it, so the blood flow can resume normally. A sigh of relief escapes her when she’s finally able to move her leg freely.
“Yes,” she breathes. “Of course.”
“Good,” I say. “It won’t happen again.”
I free her other leg and let her stretch for a few moments, watching as she turns her ankles in circles, expanding her legs on the sheets as their color changes back to normal. The frog-tie is not as tough on the blood circulation as other knots can be, but my knots have been tight and she has struggled against the restraints, pushing herself to the limit while I had my way with her.
I help her to sit up, turning her back to me so I can unfasten her arms, as well. The box-tie must have been even tougher for her than the tie around her legs. I can tell by the marks the rope leaves on her delicate skin - and by her moans as she’s finally freed.
She observes her skin, tracing along the red lines the hemp strings left on her, while I take up the rope. The smile on her face is the most beautiful expression I can think of. It’s a smile underlined with satisfaction and pride, the kind of pride only a submissive knows. The marks are telltales of her struggle, and a reminder that she’s capable of not only overcoming the pain that’s associated with it, but also taking pleasure from it.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“No, not really,” she says, sounding almost disappointed. “It’s beautiful, though.”
“I agree,” I say. “Nothing prettier than marks on a woman after an intense play session.”
She blushes as she looks up to me. Our eyes lock onto each other for a few moments, silence filled with unspoken questions stretching between us. I know she hasn’t forgotten, and neither have I. I was hoping that she’d be smart enough to refrain from pointing out my other mistake again, but it turns out she just waited for the right moment to go back to it.
“Why did you call me Ruby earlier?” she wants to know, shifting over to the headboard and leaning against the cushions with her legs pulled close to her body.
I cast her a dark look.
“I’m sorry,” I retort. “I shouldn’t have done that. This is another thing that won’t happen again.”
She looks at me as if that reply confuses her even more.
“But… why?” she presses. “Why Ruby?”
Now, I’m the one who’s confused. She knows very damn well why I would call her Ruby. Ruby Red. That’s the name written on her business card, the name she was listed under at the agency. She must be aware of the fact that I know that name. Why is she so surprised?
“It was a mistake,” I repeat. “You’re my pet, and I’ll never address you any other way again.”
“Okay.”
She looks at me as if she’s trying to solve a puzzle, still in the dark about the meaning behind my mistake.
There is no meaning. Nothing to solve, nothing to understand. There can’t be.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, diverting from the subject.
She hesitates for a moment, before she nods. “Yes, I am.”
“I’ll bring you something up,” I say, gathering my clothes, before I flee from her room.