Page 22 of My Skin Begs You Please

Trembling, he nodded. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Sit down.”

He dropped to the chair again. Tears ran down his cheeks, snot started to leak from his nose, and he wiped it with the back of his hand.

He was a mess in so many ways. My responsibility as a Dom was to see him through this, to de-escalate the scene, to give him aftercare and keep him safe. There was no way I could let him drive home tonight. Aside from the fact that I’d just fucked with his head, he was beaten and bruised from the asshole he’d gone to before me. Even without the mild pain and degradation play we’djust performed, he wasn’t in his right mind. I needed to help him into a safe mental place now.

“Steady?” I asked, as I approached with my hands out.

He nodded.

“You’re staying the night here,” I ordered. “On my sofa.”

He blinked up at me. No excuses or rejections.

“In the morning, you’ll leave and go to school, or work, or home. Wherever it is you’re supposed to go. I’ll go to my work. Later, we’ll talk on the phone, plan a scene, and in a few days’ time we’ll meet up again.” I ran my hand down to touch his throat. “In the meantime, you’ll stay away from the jackass who did this to you, and you’ll heal up. That’s an order. I don’t want my boys covered in bruises that aren’t from me.”

Minty’s round, blue eyes grew hopeful for the first time. He licked his lips, and when he spoke, his voice shook. “Yes, Sir. I’d like to wear your bruises, Sir.”

“That’s right. Until the day I tear this up, or you do,” I said, lifting the contract. “You’ll wear only my bruises.”

He nodded.

“Good.” I got him a glass of water, watched him drink it down, and then I pushed a bag of chips into his hand. Not the best aftercare food, but not the worst either. I sensed he wouldn’t respond well to an overt attempt at caretaking, and I didn’t want to undo the progress we’d made tonight. He was trusting me to help him, to make him feel the things he needed to feel in a safe and consensual way.

I was relieved Minty didn’t fight me when I led him into the living room and over to my sofa. He let me guide him to lie down on one side of the sectional, and he watched as I took up my spot on the other end.

“Eat the chips,” I said, turning on the TV.

The sound of his crunching and the opening strains of thetheme song toCheerscued the end of our session for me. I relaxed as the two of us watched reruns long into the night. We didn’t talk much more, aside from him asking where the bathroom was, and then returning to curl up beneath a crocheted blanket I passed over to him.

Around two in the morning, he fell asleep. I turned off the TV set and went upstairs to my bedroom.

Struggling to drift off, I kept thinking of his shout of pain, his violent rage when he kicked me, and the complex problem of his need for being hated on. I calculated and schemed and made future plans to hurt him. As I imagined scenarios, I found myself hard again. I didn’t jerk off, though, preferring to hold on to the edge.

When I finally succumbed to unconsciousness, it wasn’t restful at all. Dream-me was full of buzzing arousal and sadistic glee as, for hours on end, I dreamed of making Minty break.

***

Luke

When I wokethe next morning, I walked downstairs to find the living room empty and so silent I thought for sure Minty was gone. But when I padded into the kitchen, he was standing by the stove looking disheveled and nervous.

Holding a bowl of batter and brandishing a ladle.

“Um, good morning, Sir,” he said with a flashy smile that was as beautiful as it was false.

“Good morning. What are you doing?”

He flushed, but went back to dolloping scoops of batter onto an oiled frying pan. “I’m amazing at pancakes. Back when I had a job at this great grocery store—Nature’s Foodway—”

“I’ve heard of it.”

“Well, in exchange for a blow job, the night manager would give me all the out-of-date box mixes and canned stuff for free.” Heshot me a glance. “You know, instead of throwing them out.”

I stared at him. He was babbling. It was sweet. “Whoring yourself for brownie and cake mix. Are you always that easy?”

“Of course.” Another flashy smile.

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