Page 27 of Regal Feather
Another whimper slipped out. “Yes, Sir.”
My heart raced. There had to be something wrong with me.
I knew there wasn’t. I was friends with masochists who took much more pain than I did. I knew there was nothing wrong with them, which meant that it applied to me, too. It just toyed with my head. I was unable to let go of the idea—and every dwindling emotion that came with it.
“That’s right.” Sir Ismael chuckled. “Are you with your friend?”
“Not t-the same one.”
Danny tightened his hold on my hair. It only lasted a second. I bet he was curious. Or maybe he’d just gotten nervous that I was about to out him or something.
I would never.
“Your group of friends is such a curious thing,” he mused.
“Sir.”
Something broke.
I couldn’t explain it.
One moment, I was holding my breath, lulled to a sense of safety by Danny’s fingers on my hair and Sir Ismael’s words.
The next, my breath hitched once more, and my voice came out high-pitched, and all the tears I’d been holding were slipping out in sobs and hiccups and the most embarrassing display I’d made of myself to date.
I heard Danny curse to himself, but it was muted. Metaphorical water clogged my ears. My fingers clutched the phone tight.
“Breathe.” The command Sir Ismael gave was clear. I couldn’t do it, though, not well enough. My attempt was choppy, ragged, wrong. “Tell me what you need.”
“I…” Air wasn’t quite reaching my lungs. It was illogical, but it wasn’t happening. “W-what’s my other punishment?”
I glanced up. Danny looked confused. There was no way I was going to be able to look him in the eye ever again. That was if he didn’t call everyone and get my membership suspended or something.
“I don’t think punishments are a good idea for the two of us going forward.”
Everything quieted then.
“What.”
The thing I hated the most about this monster of a home, aside from where it came from and what it symbolized, was how stupidly soundproofed the whole thing was.
I hated the silence. Hated hearing every heartbeat as if it was amplified by a speaker because there was nothing else to distract from it.
“I can’t dole out discipline when I can’t predict the result, can I?”
“B-but…”
But I liked his discipline. I liked how it felt like a leash anchoring me in place. I liked that I knew I was giving him thismuch power over me, that my actions would have consequences, and he was going to make sure I was the best version of myself.
“Keep breathing for me,” he instructed next. As if he hadn’t just turned my world upside down, and I wasn’t in the midst of processing whether or not it made me pathetic that he had managed such a feat. “I want to keep you as my sub, piggy. I simply don’t want to hurt you beyond what I can heal.”
The words made sense, I supposed.
They sounded rational.
They still left me feeling abandoned.
I was barely aware when I ended the call.
