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Edgy. A dangerous way to play, unless you trusted your partner.
Horrible, if you wanted something painful to end, but you couldn’t make it end…
Delicious, if you were a masochist.
My eyelids drooped, my body too tired now to get turned on, although I’d been horny as anything when he told me about that.
“What would you do to me without safe words?” I mumbled through the gathering haze.
He was silent a moment, then he said, “We haven’t played with a safe word all this time.”
The sleepy edges of my consciousness widened with a jolt. He was right. With all we’d done together, all the boundaries we’d crossed, we hadn’t once discussed a word to make things stop. “You’re not supposed to play like that,” I slurred. “It’s bad. Irresponsible.”
“It raises the stakes, that’s for sure.”
“What stakes?” I asked, blinking.
He studied me a moment, then said, “Don’t worry about it. I think you’re getting tired.”
The plane moved forward, the motion so muted from the sedative that it felt like being rocked. I gripped his hand. “Don’t leave me,” I said. “You promised.”
“I won’t.”
I stifled a yawn, letting my head drop against his shoulder. “Wake me when we’re there. Or if, you know, we’re going to die. I don’t want to spend my last moments in a sedative coma.”
He chuckled and squeezed my hand. “Close your eyes, Shorty. Relax.”
“Will you hold my glasses?”
“Of course.”
He took them and folded the arms in. Without my glasses, everything was a lot less crisp. The passengers seated in the rows in front of us were blurs. The cabin was full of hissing, white-noise sounds and low murmurs.
Devin started to kiss me then, hard and rough. As the kiss deepened, I realized it was a dream. We were in The Gallery, or at least The Gallery I saw in my mind. It was dark and hazy, with a giant, mist-blue clock face in the background, the color of Devin’s eyes.
In this dream version of The Gallery, as in my research theories, there was no real time. Devin cuffed me to a rack, my wrists and ankles held tight, spread to the four corners. He stood before me, his cock huge and hard, poking out at me. He held a large rattan cane in his fist. “You’re mineforever,” he said. “I have so many more things to hurt you with.” He flicked the cane across each of my thighs, making me shiver at the sting.
I braced for the caning to begin in earnest, but then we were somewhere else, somewhere with low murmurs in Italian, and I couldn’t see. Via Sofferenza. I was in the same bondage, except that I was in the dark because of the blindfold. I felt a touch at my back, and a warm cheek pressed against mine. I knew it was Devin. He whispered in my ear but I couldn’t hear him. “Hurt me,” I begged. “Please hurt me.”
He put his hands on me, warm and firm, squeezing, tracing, spanking. I heard him take off his belt, then we were in our hotel room in the Azores. I was bent over his luggage, but instead of looking ahead at the sliding door to the balcony, there was a pale blue clock face before me. I squinted, trying to read the time, but my glasses were over on the table. “You said you would hold them,” I cried as he lit into me with the belt. “You promised.”
His belt hurt, and I sobbed, rubbing my face against the sheets. This whipping was way harder than any he’d given me thus far, but I didn’t have a safe word to make it stop, so I sank down into the pain, trembling, shaking. He stroked my back, giving me a break to collect myself. “There, there,” he said. “It won’t last forever.”
“Forever means nothing.” I raised my head to plead with him, but all I could see was the huge blue clock. “I’ve known you for six days, but it might as well be a hundred years.”
Next thing I knew, he was nudging my shoulder. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, time to wake up.” His blurry face was the first thing I saw when I peeled open my lids. I squeezed his hand, which was somehow still wrapped around mine, and blinked at him. He handed me my glasses and pointed out the window, at a jet way and baggage carts. I put on my glasses, taking in the brightness, and all the people standing up in the cabin.
“You made it,” he said. “We just touched down in New York.”
Chapter Twelve: Devin
We’d made itto the mainland, fuel intact, no need for an emergency landing. We were finally here, and I thought Dr. Ella would be happier about it, but she wheeled her carry-on bag up the jet way with an air of impending doom.
“Welcome to New York,” I said. “When’s the last time you were here?”
“Never.” She looked up at the terminal’s soaring windows as passengers crowded past us. “The east coast isn’t the best place to pick up gravitational motion. I did most of my research at Caltech and Washington State.”
She was so snotty and science-y at moments like these, when she talked about her gravitational motion and research. It made me want to fuck her, even though we were both exhausted and ready to go home.
