Trapping Sophia (Disciples 6)

Panting heavily, I look around me and realize I’m in the basement. I don’t know when or how I got here, but I did. Checking the clock on my phone, I see that it’s precisely six-thirteen in the morning.

And I’m fucking awake.

My cock is so fucking hard and engorged, I could slam it through a steel wall.

Looking to the weight bench sitting near the wall, I feel the pull of pain. The pull of just focusing my body to one specific task. It’s a different need than the one I felt last night with Sophia.

A need to cause pain and suffering to myself.

Naked isn’t the best way to work out, but at this point I don’t really think anyone in the house will give a fuck.

Above me, I hear Mitzy’s claws lightly tapping across the kitchen floor, heading toward her water fountain. Then she taps down the basement stairs, moving at a slow pace. She’s not the fleetest of dogs when it comes to stairs because of her tiny body, but she doesn’t let them intimidate her. She comes to be with me no matter what.

“Time for some self-punishment, sweetie,” I say to Mitzy before yanking two fifty-pound dumbbells off the rack.

Time to punish my stupid fucking self for being stupid enough to risk Sophia getting pregnant with my child.

I’m not even really mad at Lucifer. He didn’t force my hand in last night’s so-called dream. He wasn’t sitting on my left shoulder, egging me on to do the things I did.

Despite all the vehemence and vitriol I spat at him, I’m the one to blame for this mess.

I’m the one who kissed her all those months back. I’m the one who fucking installed those chains on my bed after I met her. I didn’t even consciously do it. It was just one of those things I did subconsciously in preparation, I guess. Like the moving all my clothing to half the closet.

And I only noticed that when I went in there yesterday to find my suit.

Has this been destined all along? I have to question that. I can’t avoid it.

Had we met under different circumstances, would I have been so enthralled by her? Is all of this because I found someone I could actually protect? Someone I rescued from certain death who would be beholden to me?

Moving through each of the stations in the corner of the basement, I add more weight than I normally do. I want to hurt right now. I want to feel something that isn’t just confusion and that other fucking word I almost said to her last night.

What the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me?

Even my cock is staring up at me with fucking confusion. It’s still the hardest it’s ever been in my life and yet I’m not doing anything with it. I’ve never worked out with an erection before, but just knowing Sophia is in my house, in my bed, has my cock dripping with precum.

Fuck. I’m like a Pavlovian dog.

One mention of Sophia and my dick’s drooling all over the place.

It almost feels sexual though, this erection and the self-punishment. Like I want to hurt for not being able to restrain my baser instincts.

Did I press it too far with her last night? She handed me the control. She gave me the green light when it came to whose dream it was.

Like that truly mattered… we would have ended up doing the exact same fucking thing regardless of whose dream it was. Even if she tried to say the dream was hers, she would have ended chained up to the bed with my cum leaking out of her.

She’s the first chick since high school that I didn’t practice my whole mantra—no glove equals no love—with. That little mantra has kept me from having any little bastards running around the world. Little bastards that more than likely would be just like me.

Is that a bad thing? Former playboy with a girl passed out in his bedroom, who he hopefully just knocked up?

That’s not so bad right?

Moving back to set the squat bar back in its holder, I look down at my shaking thighs. Fuck, even now my goddamn dick is still hard as hell, and now it feels…

I’m not sure what it feels like. My body is tight everywhere. My skin, my muscles, and my abs are aching from the sit-ups.

And doing sit-ups with a boner is fucking weird.

My body hurts a shit ton. Somewhere between the bench press and the squats, I zoned out. Well, not exactly zoned out… The sit-ups were a bit worrisome, like my dick wanted to have a conversation with me or something, but mostly I just worked out.

Mitzy’s still here, laying down on the floor and looking at me. She’s got that look in her eye that tells me if she could talk, I would absolutely hear everything she’s got running through her mind.