Page 38 of Bound to the Daddy

My breath comes in shallow pants as I take out the alcohol wipe and sanitize the area. The acrid, medicinal smell fills my nose, making my brain start to calm down. It knows what this is. My body knows what’s about to happen.

It’s cool against my fevered skin, making me shiver despite the warmth in the room. One cut. That’s all I’m going to do.

The moment the razor slices through my skin, I groan. No longer do my thoughts spiral out of control. I’m fixated, concentrating hard on keeping the blade shallow.

Crimson drips down my skin and plops onto the floor. Luckily, it’s tile. So easy to clean up. So easy to hide the evidence.

A ragged groan buzzes in the back of my throat as I blot the wound. It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t make everything finally quiet down. Just like Mr. Rothsbourne’s spanking.

Only, this is something I can control. I decide how deep I go. I decide how much pain I inflict. It’s the one bit of control I have in a world where I can’t seem to command anything.

One line turns into two. Two turns into three. My body screams out in relief as I meticulously do line after line. What is it now, ten? I should probably stop.

Even now, the pain dulls to the point where the cuts prove ineffective. But they did their job. My mind clears as I start the ritual of cleansing my skin and staunching the bleeding.

With each swipe of alcohol, I want to scream out, to cry, but this is part of the process. It’s that final bite of pain to get everything else to shut up. In stark contrast, the long bandages feel like nothing as I place them on my skin.

My breaths are calmer now, even and smooth. That itch under my skin, though still there, dulls to a manageable roar. All that’s left is to prepare for the wedding.

Rummaging around the bathroom, I find a large bandage to place over the smaller ones. Just an extra bit of precaution. It’s big enough to cover the strips and keep me from getting blood everywhere if it gets too bad.

Which it won’t. I made sure to keep each cut shallow, just at the surface. I won’t fuck that up again. The only downside is, I’ll need to have the massage therapist concentrate on my neck and shoulders instead of a full body session.

No one needs to know what happens in the privacy of my own bathroom. Besides, the few times Brody saw my legs, he thought they were stretch marks. A few more won’t draw his suspicions.

Filling my lungs with as deep a breath as I can manage, I put my kit away and plan out the rest of my day. Hopefully, it will stave everything off until I can find a way to get more meds.

Disgust burrows its way into my heart as I give the kit one more look. It’s trading one addiction for another. Either the pills or pain. Which will I succumb to first?

CHAPTER 13

REX

Discussion from last week

From: anonymous

To: Rex Rothsbourne

Dear Sir,

It is my pleasure to inform you that the situation you wanted me to monitor has reached critical mass.

The package is set to be delivered tomorrow at 3:00pm at the Corner Haven Civic Center with the preliminaries for the primary package to begin at 12:00pm sharp. The second package is actually a familial package. A direct line. That package is set for delivery at 1:30 pm.

It is my suggestion that you arrive early and inform reception that you wish to meet with the custodian about an internal issue. That person is who will assist in whatever you need to accomplish with the packages. He is a father of five with a sixth on the way. His wife is currently on bedrest, so he’s the sole provider. I’m sure money will go a long way into manipulating the packages as you see fit.

I lean back into my chair and rub my lips absently, going over the email several more times to commit it to memory. A minute later, my screen glitches and the email is gone. No matter. A plan formulates in my mind as I pull up my cameras. More than likely, Stephanie will be a nervous wreck by now.

When I watch her, however, her movements are calm and easy. My mouth turns down into a frown. So at odds with what I’ve been learning about her. Then again, she could have taken another pill.

Pulling up the screen, I skim through the various side effects of the medication I saw in her bathroom. Nothing too horrific. So that’s good, at least. The only concerning one seems to be a decline in libido, but that hasn’t seemed to affect her either.

Once we’re married, I’ll make sure she meets with a therapist so she can get more pills. Such a small, inconsequential thing I can do to keep her healthy and happy. Pushing away from my desk, I go back to watching her through the screen.

She should be getting ready for her massage soon. I grip my cock through my pants as she flits about, her fingers brushing over various fabrics on the bed. My eyes narrow as I zoom in on her.

Could she be going into heat? Though she seems calm on the outside, her constant fighting with the blankets and pillows gives me pause. I can’t gain access to her medical records, so I have no idea if she has OCD or not. Based on how her apartment looked when we got her stuff, she didn’t seem the type.

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