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The Dom squats in front of me, lifting my chin from my chest.
“Are you okay?” he asks me curiously, attempting to stare into my eyes. My head lulls on my neck some, but I strengthen my muscles and jerk my chin for his reassurance.
“More,” I beg through a broken whisper.
My Dominant takes me at my word.
The next lash brings a groan from my throat.
When the door bursts open behind us, I’m barely cognizant enough to recognize the commotion.
I give two long, painful, and utterly confusing blinks before realizing Justin’s hands are stroking my face.
“Oh, baby,” he sighs, running his thumbs across my cheeks. “What did you do to yourself?”
I close my eyes and lean into the hallucination.
Finally.
I’ve reached subspace.
I no longer feel the lashes across my backside. I only sense the way Justin’s hands cup my face and the way his breath ghosts across my skin.
“Justin,” I sigh, and try to smile at the dream. I go limp in my confines, and a cry slips from my lips when the abused muscles in my back take all my weight.
“Help me free him!” Justin barks at someone, and a moment later, my hands fall limply to my sides, and Justin catches me in his arms.
Then a hand appears on Justin’s shoulder and yanks him out from underneath me. I cry out in pain, and it forces my eyes to open wider. You don’t hurt when you’re in subspace. That’s the point, after all. Someone drops down beside me and slips against my side, pulling my arm over their shoulder.
Pink.
Someone with pink hair.
My muscles shake and tremble as I lift my head from my shoulders and see Justin going head-to-head with the Dom. I can’t hear what they’re saying, there’s a buzzing in my ears instead. In a fit of rage, Justin yanks the strap from the other man’s grip and strikes him with it, sharp and fast across the chest.
My hearing returns with a pop, a rubber band being pulled taught and snapped beside my head. Justin grabs the chain dangling around the other guy’s throat and twists it around his hands until the Dom is choking, pulling at Justin’s wrist. Justin rears his other arm back again, the strap still tight in his fist.
“If you fucking talk to him again,” Justin screams, his face red and spit flying from his mouth. “—if I even see you fuckingLOOKINGat him!—I’m going to break every fucking bone in your hand!”
Several more people tumble into the room, and though I feel like I’m moving through quicksand, I look over my shoulder to see three security guards and a woman in a suit.
“Mr. Williams!” the woman exclaims, taking in the fuming Dom and Raine effectively keeping me upright. She pales at whatever she sees and looks between the three of us again.
Justin wipes the blood from his chin. Why is he bleeding?
What the hell is going on?
With the realization that I’ve missed something important, the haze flees as well, and with the haze’s retreat, returns the pain. And the knowledge that I’m naked.
Justin seems to realize it at the same time I do. He drops the strap and pulls his hand from the guy’s necklace so fast and hard the Dom stumbles and swears, but Justin doesn’t give him any attention. While I struggle to my feet, attempting to do so on my own power, Justin walks to the hooks on the far wall, pulls down one of the robes for use, and hurries to slip it over my shoulder.
He hauls me to an upright position, slowly and with care, then helps me put the robe over my arms. It hurts like a mother fucker where the cloth rubs against my backside, but I grit my teeth and bear it.
“Are you okay, baby?” he asks me, and I nod my head as he examines me. Embarrassment rushes to make my skin flush, and I smack his hand away in anger, but Justin simply grins and trails his fingers over my neck, twisting my head this way and that.
I don’t know whether I want to cry or scream or crawl into Justin’s arms. Either and all sound like a fine idea at the moment.
“Will you wait for me before you go back to your room? I want to examine your back before you put your clothes on.”
