Ray Ch. 06: Rise

Never run blind. It was a lesson he had always failed. Sometimes blind was all a man could be when he was filled with a blind rage fueled by a blind hate because of a blind love. He continued fastening the buttons on his shirt, staring at her closed bedroom door. He wondered if she would ever come out again, terrified of how she would look at him when she finally did.

His head throbbed as he set the alarm and walked out to his car, a constant reminder of his failure. It was as if his blood was ceaselessly pounding the word through his temples, refusing to allow him to forget. It had been three days since he had ventured outside, but that was all the time he could allow himself to heal. He needed to find the monster, chase him out of hiding then rip him apart. He was certain he could do it, and it wouldn't be the first time he had done it. He thought he never would again, that he had left that part of himself in a country far away where questions were never asked. But it was still a part of himself, no matter how hidden it had remained all these years, waiting for a reason to resurface.

From the warmth of his car he watched the people walking along the street, bundled up in coats and scarves, the midday sun too shrouded in clouds to warm the air. He parked along the curb outside the office building, hoping to obtain what he needed. People glanced at his face as he walked by, quickly looking away to pretend their behavior wouldn't be noticed.

He pulled open the door, peering at the name Aiden Byron, M.D. printed in black letters over the clear glass. The receptionist looked up from her computer as he approached, adjusting her glasses as she tried not to stare at his bruised skin. She wore a familiar thin chain around her neck with a circle in the middle, homage to the masters who owned her, her smile telling him she assumed he was one of them. "Can I help you, Sir?"

"I have an appointment with Dr. Byron. And it's just Ray."

"Oh," she said, blinking a few times in surprise. Her fingers moved swiftly over her keyboard before her eyes moved back to his. "He'll be out shortly. You can have a seat—"

"Ray," a deeper voice interrupted hers, "come on back."

He turned to see his old friend smiling at him from the doorway. Thirteen years had passed since the day they first met, and it still seemed strange to see him wearing slacks and button-up shirts, neither of which were covered in camouflage.

Aiden's hand locked into his, his eyes assessing the purple covering his face. "I can't wait to hear this story."

He followed him down the hallway to the second room on the right then sat down on the examination table. "I need a favor."

Aiden picked at the bandage, peeling it away from his head. He squinted as he stared at the wound. "Looks good. They did a good job stitching it. Shouldn't scar too bad."

"I need you to give me a release so I can go back to work."

Aiden took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. "What happened?"

"I got hit in the head with a pipe."

"When?"

"Three days ago."

"You have a concussion?"

"I need to go back to work." He didn't have time to be lectured about the same concerns he'd already heard at the emergency room. "If I'm not there, nobody else will make searching for the fucking rapist stalking Mistress Natalia a priority."

"Mistress Natalia?" Aiden's eyebrow curved up along with the corner of his mouth. "I think I've seen her before. Blonde? Perfect legs? Ass even I wouldn't mind worshipping at for a little while, right before I reddened it with my hand?"

His muscles tensed at the thought of someone striking her perfect skin, even in jest. "All you doms are the same. You look at a woman like nothing more than bits and pieces of meat. Is that why they named your house Château de Gourmandise?"

Aiden smiled and leaned back against the counter, hooking his hands over the edges. "Your dommes are the same way. I was there on Monday Funday, though I doubt you saw me. Clearly I gave a card to the right man. I'd have been tapping out within the first ten minutes."

He laughed, the movement making his head throb even worse, reminding him there would be no reprieve from his repeated failures. The smile faded from his lips as quickly as it had covered them. For three years he had clawed at the walls surrounding her, stripping them away piece by piece, doing whatever he could to prove himself worthy, more worthy than the ones who came before him. But now he was beginning to believe she was right all along. He wasn't worthy, and never would be. "She hates me. She won't even come out of her room."

"She doesn't hate you. She's afraid," Aiden replied, turning around to dig through the cabinet next to him. "There's nothing more terrifying for a woman than to see her man weakened."

"I don't know what to do." He shook his head and reached up to run his hands over his face, pulling them away when pain shot through his skin. "It seems like he's always there, but I can't find him."

Aiden set a box of bandages down on the counter and turned back towards him. "Why are you hunting him if you already know he'll come to you?"

He nodded, biting into his lip as he realized his greatest mistakes.

"It's one thing to be hunted when you're unaware you're being hunted, but prey has a lot of power when it knows the hunter is coming."

"And so we wait..." He repeated the words Aiden had told him many times as they crouched, hidden in the silence of the scenery, the rabbits shifting into lions as they waited for the wolves to descend.

"Dominant or submissive, it doesn't matter. We are men." Aiden's eyes darkened as they locked on his, his voice lowering as he pulled his shoulders back. "When our goddess is threatened, we rise up. We fight. We destroy. We protect what is ours. It's in our blood."

*************

She stared into the dresser mirror, her fingers running through her destroyed hair. She had heard the house alarm beeping, but she couldn't drag herself out of bed. The strands hadn't faded back to their natural state in her sleep. The nightmare hadn't ended the minute the sun rose in the east.

Her eyes were now as brown as the darkest parts of her hair. The green and gold had disappeared into hiding along with the rest of her. All that was left was varying shades of brown. Some if it was dark, some of it was light, none of it looked good against her pale skin.

She dragged herself into the shower, shivering under the hot water. No matter how hard she scrubbed, the brown didn't disappear. As she dried herself off she heard the alarm beeping once again. She pulled out her hair dryer and curling iron, though she thought shaving her head may be a better solution.

A soft knock tapped against the bedroom door, the sound bringing tears to her eyes. "Can I come in, Mistress?"

"No." She turned on the blow dryer, not wanting to hear the silence following her rejection. She bent over, flipping her hair over her head. The heat blew over her scalp, whipping through the camouflaged strands. She flipped her head back up, freezing when the mirror refused to lie to her. She grabbed her curling iron, twisting the strands around the barrel as Ben had twisted them around his fist. Even soft waves couldn't cover the damage she'd done.

Maybe a short dress would distract him, make her hair appear as one color, one singular shade of dull brown. She went to the closet, the emptiness reminding her it wasn't her own. Her eyes moved to her stretch pants and sweatshirt, still in a heap on the floor next to the bed. She sighed and pulled them on, refusing to glance in the mirror again as she pulled open the bedroom door.

She followed the sound of his movement into the kitchen. Her thumb pressed over her fingers as she made her way down the hall, the pop not quieting the pounding of her heart. But the beating in her chest stopped the minute she turned the corner. His eyes went from the screen of his phone straight to her hair. She stood frozen, waiting for him to speak. His lips never moved, his body remaining rocked back against the counter.

"Is it bad?" she finally asked, looking away before he could speak the answer.

He walked to where she stood then got to his knees, his lips pressing into the top of her bare foot. "You're my goddess. Blonde hair. Brown hair. No hair."

She reached down, letting the tears fall where they would as she grabbed his hair and pulled him to his feet. Her hands carefully grasped at his injured head, her lips gently pressing into the purple wounds covering half his face. She climbed into his arms, wrapping her legs around him. Her body pressed against his, not even a breath could slide between them, but it still wasn't close enough. "I wish I had your key," she whispered, the words a mere thought escaping her lips.

"Don't say that or I may just cut the lock off."

She pulled her head back, breaking away from his hunting mouth. "Cut the lock off?"

His head moved forward, his lips brushing against her own. "What's wrong? I'm only joking."

She unwrapped her legs from his waist, letting her feet find the floor beneath them. "Joking you have the ability to cut it off or joking you will cut it off?"

His hands reached for her, his head shaking as she pulled farther away.

"Answer my question."

His teeth bit into his lip, his eyes moving to the floor. "I can cut it off, Mistress."

She took another step back, her mind trying to process his words. Everything had been a lie. The bars protecting her were a lie. The prison holding him hostage, keeping him on his knees for her was a lie. He could take it off whenever he wanted, and was prepared should the occasion arise.

"Mistress, please," he begged as she turned toward the hallway.

She ignored him and continued to her bedroom, her mind suddenly at war with her heart. How could she believe it was a true prison? She shut the bedroom door and locked it, then sat down on the bed.

She glanced at the white paneled wood, wondering if she would hear his soft knock on the other side. He had always knocked so gently, not a demand but a question, a hope to be answered. And he would patiently wait for the door to be opened, even when he could easily have kicked it in.

"What are you doing here?" she had asked the first time she swung open her teal door to find him standing on the other side.

He had stared at her for a moment as if shocked she had answered his request. "I just wanted to check and see if there was anything you needed, Mistress," he had eventually replied, his mouth stumbling over the words.

"What is it you thought I may need?"

"Foot rub. Back rub. Company. I'm here for your pleasure, Mistress."

Her palm pressed down against the fingers of her opposite hand, popping them in unison. Professor Holland often sent slaves in training to surprise her after rough workdays, though she was surprised insubordinate Ray had been chosen. "Are you caged?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She turned and took a few steps back into her house, allowing him through her front door. He locked it after he shut it, then continued following her. Though he kept an appropriate distance, his size and the sound of his steps behind her head pounded in her temples.

"If you're going to come into my house, you will only crawl while you're here."

"Yes, Mistress." He got to his hands and knees, his size far less intimidating when it wasn't hovering over her.

She made her way to the living room then sat down in her favorite chair, pulling her feet up underneath herself. He remained on his knees at her feet, his eyes lingering between her legs.

"What are you looking at, Officer Ray?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice, his eyes fleeing from where they shouldn't have been. "Nothing, Mistress."

"What are you thinking about?"

He squirmed as she watched him trying to create a plausible answer. "What you would taste like, Mistress," he finally admitted.

The sight of his tongue running over his lips brought her hands to the waist of her pants. She began pushing them down, unveiling what he wanted so badly. "Would you like to find out?"

"Yes, Mistress." His eyes locked on her folds, his lips rubbing together then falling slightly open as his tongue ran over them.

She spread her legs then crooked her finger, beckoning his mouth to the part of herself suddenly begging to be pleased.

He bent forward, covering her with his mouth, sucking her inside before releasing her. She shivered, surprised at his desperation, her hands moving to his scalp as his tongue began its eager worship.

"What does it taste like, Officer Ray?"

He paused, looking up from between her thighs. "Like everything I've ever wanted but never been able to have."

Her head rocked back against the chair as his tongue slid over her again. She was certain he would devour her, his aggression and need unlike the other slaves who had spent time where he now was. She began to tense, wondering who he was truly serving for. When his finger began prodding at her entrance she jerked away from him, her clenched fists almost flying into his face.

His hands flew into the air, held up before him in an innocent surrender. "I'm sorry, Mist—"

"I didn't give you permission to touch me in that way!" Her heart throbbed, her muscles trembling as she climbed over the back of the chair to get away from him. No part of any man was allowed inside her. The panic began to rise from where it had been suppressed within her. She thought the burn in her chest had been permanently extinguished but it ripped through her lungs, stealing her breath.

His face was pale as it shook back and forth. "Mistress, I—"

"Get out of my house!"

He crawled towards her front door, reaching up to grab the knob and not rising to his feet until he was on her front porch. "I'm sorry, Mistress."

She held her breath until the door was closed, the tears flooding down her face the minute she inhaled. In a single moment he had seen all her truths and all her lies. She had never felt so naked.

"Why did you send him?" she had screamed into the phone when Professor Holland's voice answered.

"I didn't send anyone, Natalia."

The statement sucked the air from her lungs, but not as much as the sound of the soft knock on her front door the following night. When she opened it there he was, still in his uniform.

"I was hoping you'd give me another chance to please you, Mistress," he said, holding out a pair of silver handcuffs to her. "I thought if you were kind enough to give me another chance, you'd feel more comfortable if my hands were incapacitated."

She wiped the tears from her face, the memory continuing to force them from her eyes. She looked at the pale yellow walls of the bedroom, the prison she had locked herself in. The familiar knock sounded on the bedroom door; the knock she'd heard a thousand times and had always prayed to hear a thousand more.

His eyes were sullen, his voice lost when she opened the barrier between them. "I just wanted to make sure you didn't need anything, Mistress."

"What is it you thought I may need?"

He bit into his lip, his eyes moving to the ground before finding hers again. "Me."

The tears blurred her vision. Her hands reached up, wiping them away before they fell to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Mistress. I would never cut it off. I was only joking. I'm sorry."

"But you can cut it off, so what's the point of it? It's all fake anyway." It was nothing but lies and games, and he had won.

His face hardened, his eyes refusing to break from hers. "It's all fake?" The words spat like venom from his mouth. "I'm not like the men you work with, or the boys pretending to be men from the college you went to. I don't need a cage to control my impulses."

She looked away, ignoring the tears continuing to fall down her face. Her hands shook as her fingers pressed over each other, the pop not enough to release the tension in her body. "Show me."

He took her hand in his, leading her down the hallway to his bedroom, then slid open his closet door. He shoved his hanging uniforms to the side and reached between them. His hand wrapped around the red handle of a pair of bolt cutters, pulling them out from their hiding place.

Her body was no longer trembling, it was jerking in its tension as he leaned the bolt cutters against the wall. He unbuttoned his pants, shoving them to the floor. His hand wrapped around the red handle once again, positioning the blades over his padlock. There he paused, his body frozen as it waited for her command.

She stared at the metal bars of his cage, the false prison she had always thought he was trapped inside. "Cut it off."

The serpents on his arms writhed as he pushed the handles together. Her body jumped when the snap of the padlock sounded, her hands wrapping around herself when it fell to the floor. He stood quietly when she reached forward, running her hand over him, her body so tense her teeth were chattering. He began to harden beneath her touch, his length far more imposing when he wasn't tied down.

She wondered how bad it would hurt. There was no limit to the damage a man could do with that part of his body, and she had set him free. There was no false prison to protect her, no other dommes or slaves to call for help. She didn't have a safeword, and didn't know if he would stop if she yelled out his.

"Do you trust me, Mistress?"

Her body shook as she met his gaze. She reached up, trailing her fingers down his wounded skin. How many times had he crawled to her? How many times had he pleased her? Served her? Worshipped her as if his cage was made of titanium? "Yes."

He dropped to his knees, pressing his lips to the inside of her thigh. "Then let me please you."

Her nervous muscles shook harder as his fingers grasped the waist of her pants, stripping them from her legs. She sucked in a breath, her fear clashing with the feel of his lips running over her stomach. She backed up until her legs hit his bed then sat down, peeling off her sweatshirt as she moved to the center.

Her body jerked, her legs trembling as his lips ran over her thigh. He pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside before covering her with his mouth. She laid back, sinking slightly into the mattress as she closed her eyes to focus on the feel of the familiar. His tongue ran over her, coaxing the arousal from her body as it had done so many times before. His breath blew hot over her sensitive skin, the warmth moving to the inside of her thigh as his fingers pushed into her. Her arousal dripped down his hand as he teased and caressed her, preparing her for what was to come.

She tensed when he began moving up her body, his tongue tracing over her stomach. Her legs pushed up over his shoulders as his mouth moved to her breasts, covering the hardened peaks before continuing to her neck. She told herself to breathe as her feet kicked over his back, his weight pushing her down into the mattress.

His hand reached down, lining himself up with the part of her he had always been denied. She exhaled sharply as his body stretched her own, surprised at how tight he made her feel. Her hands clung to his skin as he began to thrust, his mouth pressing against hers as he pushed deeper inside her.

Her body worked to accommodate him, her arousal thickening so he could slide more easily into his destination. She could feel it dripping down her backside, the friction as he penetrated through her becoming non existent. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the feel of him moving through her.

He thrust harder, drawing whimpers from her mouth. No strap-on or silicone toy could compare to how his skin felt running over her own. His mouth moved over her neck, the corse stubble on his face tickling her skin. She clawed into his arms, her nails digging into the colorful snakes as he drove into her.