Page 97 of Masked Sins
“We’re going to take a break,” I tell her, rolling her back onto her stomach and walking over to my side table for the soothing balm I use during aftercare.
She doesn’t move as I rub it into her sore spots, and the guilt gets heavier as bruises begin to bloom along the entire backside of her legs.
This is my fault.
She’s been giving me her colors, but I haven’t been doing my duty as a Dominant and visually confirming that she’s okay. Nadine tends to go hard, always to her detriment, and I should’ve been more careful with her.
Instead, I got lost in my own intrusive thoughts, not checking that she’d gone into a submissive frenzy. She knows her limits—but only when she’s of sound mind.
She would’ve kept saying green until she passed out or worse.
I gently rub the cream into her skin, out of view, so she doesn’t see me and beg me to keep going.
She can’t.
Ican’t.
My chest aches as she eventually falls asleep, and I do everything I can to make her comfortable. Setting out someibuprofen and water for when she wakes up, I let out a heavy sigh and run a hand over my face.
I try so fucking hard to keep my fragile control, but I lost it tonight. And now Nadine will face the consequences.
Walking out of my bedroom, I hear Earl squawking from the kitchen. When I enter, he’s sitting on the island with a rubber band stuck around his feet.
“Earl stuck,” he says, his voice frantic.
“Shit, sorry, buddy,” I say, walking over as he lifts his leg out. An old rubber band is wrapped around his twiggy leg and handle of a drawer, and more guilt washes through me. It’s an easy fix for me, but it makes me wonder how long he’s been calling out for me. Once I’m done, I carry him over to his aviary, shutting him inside and ensuring he has enough food and water.
“Pretty girl?” Earl asks, his voice warbling and unsure.
“No. Not tonight.”
“Earl sad,” he croaks.
I swallow as I walk away. It’s well past midnight, but I need to do something to clear my head. Stripping down to my boxer briefs as I walk to the pool, the icy cold bites down to my bones.
“Fuck,” I hiss, jumping in and swimming.
I swim until I’m gasping, until my arms feel like jelly, until my whole body trembles. While I sit in the water, my breathing turns shallow, and I can’t stop shivering.
Top drop.
The realization hits me as I get out of the water. Of course because I didn’t plan on swimming for two hours, I don’t have a towel. My teeth chatter as I grab the clothes I tore off earlier, feeling lightheaded, cold, and really fucking shitty. Just as I’m about to walk inside, it begins to snow.
In fucking Crestwood, California.
I stop walking and turn around as the snow begins to fall in earnest, soft drifts clinging to my patio furniture and the concrete. I’m too shocked to move.
I was a young kid the last time it snowed in this part of California.
It’s so easy to descend into that darkness, to let it consume us. But sometimes if we’re lucky, we’re shown a light.
One day… maybe a week, or a month, or a year from now, I want you to remember this conversation. When you finally pull your head out of your own personal pity party, you might find that she doesn’t hate you as much as she says she does.
One day.
Despite feeling emotionally depleted and on the brink of hypothermia, I smile. It’s cathartic. Everything about tonight feels cathartic.
I could choose to let the guilt eat me alive, or I could keep trying.
