Breathless (The Game 3)

River walked behind the cross so he could look me in the eye, and he produced a blindfold from his jeans. “There’s a time and a place for the kind of degradation you undoubtedly wanted when your only goal was to be punished. You’ll receive that kind from me too—with the difference that we won’t let you forget who will be there to pick up the pieces afterward.”

I didn’t know how he could command every fiber of my being so easily, including my focus, but everything else just fell away. When he spoke, I listened.

“You’ll get a taste of another type of degradation tonight.” He slipped the blindfold over my head but left it at my forehead for now. “I’ll be in your head the whole time.” He snatched up the headphones from the floor next. He’d left them there earlier, I presumed. “See the chair out there?”

I followed his nod toward the tinted patio doors and saw he’d placed one of the lawn chairs right outside. Another pair of headphones hung over the armrest, along with a pack of Marlboros and a lighter. If he was going to “be in my head,” I assumed there was a microphone function on his headphones. A glass of whiskey sat on the floorboards.

“That’s where I’ll be,” he told me.

I shuddered and felt Reese come up behind me, pressing his chest to my back, and he attached something near my hand. A buzzer of some sort with an adhesive back to it. It had a digital display, not that I’d see it when the blindfold was lowered, and a big button at the center.

“You won’t be able to hear much with those headphones on,” he murmured in my ear. “If giving your safeword verbally doesn’t feel like it’s enough, you can press this button, and it’ll send vibrations to a device in my pocket. Understand?”

I nodded quickly. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good boy.” He smacked my ass before taking a step back.

River stole my attention back by clearing his throat, and he held up the headphones for me. “You ready?”

“Yes, Owner,” I repeated. I was as ready as I could be for something I couldn’t predict.

“Enjoy and let us control you.” He smiled and put the headphones on me. Holy shit. They blocked out virtually all sound. They sat firmly too. I wouldn’t be able to shake them off. Next, he slid down the blindfold, and everything went dark. Welp. I startled slightly when he pressed a kiss to my lips, but I quickly returned it.

Okay, then. Not at all what I had expected. Pitch black and silence. Would Reese give me a warning of any kind before he struck me?

Fuck, I hoped he wouldn’t surprise me by using the coconut flogger first. Like some sadistic version of a “warm-up.” Using the worst thing first. No, I couldn’t see him doing that. Mainly because the fun would be over too quickly.

I’d only been beaten with something made of coconut fibers once before. The material was scratchy and irritated the skin; it felt like being scraped up by tiny little needles. And those tiny little needles could create tiny little wounds that were invisible to the eye, except, after a severe beating, when you took a step back and watched the result. While the tiny little wounds remained unseen, it looked like your skin was crying blood, but it was pink and clear because it mingled with sweat. My God, that shit hurt. And Reese was going there tonight, wasn’t he? Of course he was.

This was how the mindfucking began. They hadn’t even touched me, and I was already questioning when the first strike was going to come, what Reese was going to use, if there would be a warning, when I’d hear River’s voice…

Oh, motherfff—I gritted my teeth against the fire that spread across my back. No warning. Understood. Oh my God, no warning whatsoever. Flogger, definitely. Leather, not suede. Suede had a more muted, thuddy, softer touch. This was sharp, cold, and unforgiving. And Reese packed plenty of force behind each blow.

I gripped the leather straps my wrists were attached to, and I held on tightly.

Adrenaline coursed through me and made every nerve ending hyperaware.

Seconds later, the assault ended, but there was no time to relax. Reese came forward and slowly, seductively drew the strands of the flogger up the inside of my leg. At the same time, the first notes of a goth song filled my ears. A dark, deep voice sang of a beast that was going to get me, and I recognized it. River had played this album in the cabin. The goth metal band was called Type O Negative or something with a blood type.

I sucked in a breath and suppressed a groan once the beating resumed. Without the ability to see it coming, I only knew one thing for certain. It was gonna be a long evening.