Page 88 of Don't Leave Me

I walked in and Michael was sitting on the couch, his legs crossed as he looked down at a book in his hand – wait, it was my journal. My fucking private journal.

“Michael! What are you doing?” I exclaimed angrily, stomping towards him.

He looked up with raised eyebrows. “I’m just going through your private things, like you’ve chosen to do with me,” he said arrogantly, then looked back down at my journal.

“That’snotthe same thing, Michael!” I snapped, hovering over him and taking the journal from his hands.

“Isn’t it, though? You’re going through my private things without my permission, Hana,” he stated, standing up and being the very intimidating man he could be.

I sighed. I didn’t want to be fighting with him.

“Can you tell me who this Jackie person is?” I asked, toning down the anger in my voice.

Michael sighed and rolled his eyes, then ran his hand through his hair before he sat down again.

“I met her a few months ago on a BDSM dating app,” he started, looking down at his hands. “We seemed like a good match at first. She was compliant, she wanted to submit. And then after a couple weeks…she started to show her true colors,” he shrugged as he shook his head, then looked up at me, his eyes hesitant.

I raised my eyebrows. “Her true colors? What did she do?”

Michael sighed heavily. “She just has…severe psychological problems,” he explained vaguely.

“Michael, that doesn’t tell me anything,” I sighed, putting my hands to my hips.

What is he trying to hide?

“She started to do weird things. She was very manipulative, a huge liar. She carved my name into her arm, into her leg. She told my family we were getting married…two weeks after we met,” he shook his head in disgust. “Just…very unstable,” he went on.

I dropped my head and looked down at my hands.How the hell do I respond to that?

“I got her into a 72-hour hold at Lenox Hill Hospital a few months ago, but they let her out,” he continued, shrugging. “I’ve wanted nothing to do with her since.”

I sat down next to him and sighed to myself.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Michael shook his head, putting his hand atop mine. “I didn’t think it was important,” he explained softly, although I could tell he was torn about it.

I just nodded, softly biting my lip.

“I’m sorry for snooping,” I apologized, giving him my best puppy dog eyes.

He smiled crookedly at me. “What do you think your punishment should be?” he questioned quietly, his eyes hardening.

I gulped; I was simultaneously turned on and horrified.

“Whatever you think is necessary, sir,” I breathed out, my voice small.

Michael looked totally amused. He stood up and put his hands in his pockets, slowly pacing the living room while he observed me in deep thought.

“Deny you of an orgasm for the whole weekend?” he wondered, raised eyebrows, putting his hand to his beard and scratching it.

I frowned. This was a real punishment – not something good like a spanking or whip.

“Tie you up and tease you, using your new rabbit vibrator?” he went on. “Of course, building you up but not letting you come, over and over,” he smirked – he was getting a kick out of this.

“Yet, I think you’d like all of those things. I don’t think corporal punishment will due,” he sighed, stopping in front of me and crossing his arms.

I frowned again – he was probably right…I liked pain, I liked being teased.

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