Page 13 of Obey

“Your dom.” Knives’s sneer gets even meaner. “You let that stringbean claim you?”

I don’t even know why I called Carl my dom. It’s going to hurt Carl when he realizes I didn’t really mean it, that I was just trying to goad Knives even though I knew it was a bad idea.

“I let him flog me,” I say, my own voice dark and steadier than I’d thought possible. “I let him do all sorts of things to me, Knives. And guess what? He doesn’t treat me like I’m trash.”

And I’m not.

I’d made a mistake years ago. Years.

All right, so maybe it had been a major mistake. It could’ve really hurt Knives. The fact that he’d come out of it only with jail time had been a miracle.

But I’d been young and stupid, and I’m not the same person I’d been back then.

I’d never put him, or anyone, in danger like I had. Never again.

Now Knives snorts with derision. “I shoulda guessed. You can’t handle anything hard. You give up after just a little bit of pain. No wonder you need somebody like him.”

“Better than someone like you!” I snarl back at him, and all of the anger, all of the pain, coalesces into a moment where I can’t even stand to look at his smug face anymore. “Now get the fuck out of here before I lay you out on the fucking floor.”

Knives bursts out laughing. “You couldn’t even if you wanted to.”

We’ve drawn a crowd, and I think I hear somebody shouting for help, but all of my focus is on Knives and his fucking everything.

I’m tired of taking all this shit from him. I’m tired of letting him get away with his petty, childish nonsense.

And hell, maybe I’m tired of letting other people do all the dirty work for me.

So I punch him in the goddamn face.

He must not have thought I’d actually throw a punch at him, and he wasn’t exactly off the mark. I’ve put up with so much, so fucking much, from the people around me. I don’t react out of anger.

I’m not like him.

But I take another swing anyway.

I dimly hear Carl shouting my name, but I don’t care. I’m at my breaking point, and Knives is the reason for it. He’s pushed me too far, and I’m not taking it anymore.

Knives grunts and stumbles back, clutching his face. He looks at me with wide eyes before he straightens and gets into a defensive stance. “You fucking asked for it.” He lunges forward, driving his fist into my side.

I’m not as fast as I used to be. I’m out of practice, maybe, but I’m not going to just stand here and take it. I grunt when his punch lands, but I swing again, lashing out with my fists because hell, lashing out with my words hadn’t done a damn thing except make him fucking laugh.

He grapples me, and we crash into the hard floor. I get another punch in too, and knee him as best I can.

It’s hard to keep track of what’s going on. There’s more shouting, Knives grunting and throwing punches, the pain that follows.

“Fucking little bitch,” Knives growls as he lands another hit on me.

I hiss through the blow and manage to slam my palm into his chin next. He heaves, his breath washing over my face.

I think I can feel his erection against my body.

Before I have time to process that, somebody pulls at my shoulders, and I’m forced away from Knives.

There are two big security guys on us now, keeping between us.

A woman stands there with her phone in hand, watching us warily. “Do I need to call the cops?” she asks. Her gaze flits between us, then she adds, “Or an ambulance?”

“No,” I tell her, breathing heavily as I stare at Knives.

---