Page 24 of Sanctuary After Dark

I wasn't supposed to look at him. I was supposed to keep my eyes on the floor unless he told me otherwise. It was something he had drilled into my head to the point that I found it hard to meet anyone's eyes now.

My hands shook behind my back at the realization that he had caught me looking at him without permission, and I knew I was going to pay for it. I just didn't know when. And that was the worst part. The waiting. The anticipation rising because I didn't know when my punishment would happen. Sometimes he would make me wait for days until he suddenly decided that he wanted to hurt me. Jack liked to draw out the fear that coursed through my body when I knew I was going to be punished. He liked to see me cry and hear me beg him to stop, and no matter how hard I tried not to, I always did.

I always broke.

Not that I was whole anymore, anyway.

It had been a little over a year since Jack had hit me for the first time.

He had apologized so much the next day. He woke me up with breakfast in bed, flowers, and got down on his knees to beg me to forgive him. He had even cried, saying he was so sorry and that it would never happen again.

Apparently, he had been having a hard time at work; he had lost an important client, and he was stressed. His boss was getting on him about it, and he just hadn't handled it properly. He promised he loved me more than anything and that he would go to therapy. He promised me he would never lay a hand on me again like that outside of a scene.

At the time, I believed him.

He had seemed so sincere and remorseful. We all make mistakes, right? He was my Daddy, and I loved him, so I forgave him. As long as he was trying to be better and would go to therapy, I knew we could work through it together.

But then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Every single time, he apologized. He said he would go to therapy, but when I asked when his appointment was, he would either brush it off, saying he had to check with his insurance, or get angry at me for questioning him.

It went on like that for a few months.

Then he just stopped apologizing.

It had only been a year, but it felt like so much longer to me. Once he stopped apologizing, he would get angry at me for any little thing. He started blaming me for things that weren't even my fault.

Like how badly he was doing at work.

He said that if I supported him more and behaved well, he would not experience stress at home, which meant he would not feel stressed at work.

I didn't know what to believe anymore, and it wasn't like I had anyone I could go to. He made me quit my job and canceled our memberships to our kink community. He didn't let me go out with my friends when they asked, and eventually they stopped asking. I didn't hear from any of them anymore. I didn't blame them, though. I hadn't been there for them towards the end of our friendship. I wasn't allowed to see them or even really talk to them. Because I'm gay, my family estranged me, preventing me from going to them. Not that they would care anyway. They made that abundantly clear when they kicked me out when I was eighteen.

He was all that I had.

Even if I wanted to leave, I didn't have any money. I would be homeless.

I was stuck.

I didn't know what to do, so I just bowed my head and listened. I tried my best not to make him angry, and when he was, I would drift away to a place in my mind where nothing mattered. Where nothing hurt, and I was happy. Making up a faraway place where I was loved and protected and nothing hurt.

It was such a foreign concept to me.

I couldn't remember what it was like to be happy.

My mind and body held new scars.

Scars left there by the man who was supposed to love and protect me.

I couldn't remember the last time I regressed and he allowed me to be little. He had put a stop to that and had gotten rid of all my toys and stuffies. Daddy said it was ridiculous and stupid, and he was going to make me a proper sub for him. He was going to teach me to kneel and do whatever he told me to do because he was in charge and I had no say.

The sounds of the kink party we were at were just background noise to me while I sat with my thoughts and tried to ignore the pain in my legs and knees from kneeling for so long on the hardwood flooring. It was as if a fog had settled over me, and all the sounds were barely reaching my ears. The sounds were muffled and distorted as I gritted my teeth. I didn't want to be here, but I didn't have a choice.

I cried out a bit when a sharp pain radiated through my scalp as Jack gripped my hair and yanked my head back so that I was looking up at him. Tears pricked my eyes at how hard he was holding me. The muscles in my neck burned from the awkward angle he had me in. The collar around my neck was too tight and uncomfortable, and with this new position, it only pulled tighter.