My Kind of Love

Lesson Eight: Anger

A/N: So a few quick things. If you're still reading this I really appreciate you sticking with me. There's only 9 more chapters left, give or take a few. I finally know where this story is going, not sure if anyone (but me) will like it but at least I can finish it now. My computer deleted most of what I had, so I'm not sure if this can live up to what I had originally. Tomorrow I'll rewrite the second chapter I had, so that's something to look forward to. Lastly, is there anyone you really hate in this story or really like? 

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Three Rules to Remember

1. Only one can rule.

2. Sometimes the easiest decisions are hardest to make.

3. Conflicts are best solved in the bedroom.

"Does it hurt?" I walk around the bed, looking down at the two men. They are so different from one another. I couldn't help smiling to myself. So beautiful they are lying in my bed covered in their own blood. This was how it should be. I've often wondered what it would be like to be with two men and this was my chance.

"Does it hurt," I ask again. Their eyes slowly open and begin to focus on me. I can see their lips move, but no sound comes out. For a brief second, I wonder if I over did it this time. My eyes travel downwards to the new toy in my hand. The metal studs dig into my hand as I grip the handle tightly. Blood drips from the fringe onto the floor of my bedroom. Pride and disgust well up inside me.

I love hearing their soft moans. It's music to my ears. I want to continue, to finish what I started a few hours ago. With a firm grasp of the whip, my hand rises as I prepare to strike the boy on the right. I'm giddy. Imagining the tails biting into his tan skin once more is too much for me to bear. I need to see him squirming on my bed, silently begging for more. I inhale quickly, my hand shakes with anticipation.

Nothing happens as I imagine the pleasure I will feel. My hand refuses to obey my wish to hear him cry out. I try once more but nothing. The conscience I thought died long ago screams in my head to stop. Causing them too much pain will only hurt me in the end. If, the damage is great it will take longer for them to heal. I sigh, a slight pout forming on my lips. I'll be bored for weeks if I have to wait for their bodies to heal, hiding the wounds I took so long to create. I toss the whip on the pile of clothes, waiting for my dogs once I was done with them.

I look down at the two of them again before slowly crawling on the bed to sit between them. Their eyes follow my movement with curiosity. I can see their eyes wondering why I stopped and what this meant for them. I sit with my back against the headboard. Their heads turn to watch me. I see the pain mixed with pleasure in their eyes. No movement from me, I just sit and watch my two pets. My fingers dance along their abdomen. A lazy smile plays on their lips when my hand dips lower. If I can't feel the warm tingly feeling I get from watching their bodies flinch each time the soft leather caress their soft flesh, I would deny them the pleasure that comes with release.

My hand glides over their abdomen. Their heads turn to watch me as my hands delves deeper. I splay my fingers, teasing their soft curls. I wrap my hand around them and begin to rub, gently tugging. The breathing in the room gets louder. They’re enjoying themselves. I can tell from the look in their eyes. It’s a shame that they will never get to experience all the pleasure that something like this can bring. I laugh to myself as the movement of my hand begins to increase. Their bodies writhe on the bed, unable to do anything with their hands chained to the bed. They let out a moan, approaching their climax. Disappointment shows in the green and brown eyes staring at me when my hand stops. It isn’t enough to satisfy the ache and discontent I feel at not being able to put their bodies through more punishment.

I can feel the anger bubbling inside of me once again. It was this feeling that leads me to initiate the session I started with them. It was the reason why I called them and demanded them to come over at this hour. They weren’t the reason for my anger. It was him, all him. That man that my father was asked to take into our home to stay for a while. My body shakes as the fury begins to build within me.

A shrill sound cuts through the thoughts. I look over at the clock. It was a dream, just a dream. He even irritates me in my dreams now. I turn into my pillow and let out a scream. He needs to go home. He walks around my house acting like it is his. He demands this and that from my parents like they owe him. Worse still, he constantly flirts; stealing caresses and kisses from me. I remove the pillow as I hear someone knocking on my door. I know it’s him. Every morning it’s the same thing. He asks if I want to have breakfast with him, telling me that things would be so lovely if I was with him. He constantly talks about how he could satisfy me better than anyone I’ve ever been with. He doesn’t have a clue at what satisfies me. 

The knocking gets louder. I want to scream. Just get it over with, I think. I lift up, slowing untangling my body from the bed. My mind drifts back to the dream. Even in the dream I couldn’t escape the frustration that only he brings. I sigh once again as I walk to the door, flinging it open. He stands there, leaning against the wall in front of the door.

“What took you so long? Your breakfast is getting cold,” he says, glancing down at the tray in his hands. He walks into the room before I’m able to shut the door. 

So starts another day, I think. Once again I find myself thinking of the dream; I just might need to relive my dream if I’m going to survive spending time with him. I watch him take in my room with a quick glance. He stops for a brief second, taking in the handcuffs and the small knife, sitting on the dresser. Smiling, he sits down and beckons towards me.

“What are those for,” he asks. The look he gives me lets me know that he knows the answer; he just wants me to say it out loud. 

“What do you want?” My voice is louder than I mean for it to be. He says nothing, picking up a strawberry and offering it to me. 

“Shut the door and let’s talk.” He bites the strawberry as he finishes the sentence. 

I want to walk out the door and ignore him but I don’t. Instead I walk over and sit on the bed. “Who made breakfast today,” I wonder aloud. He just smiles.

“We have a lot in common Remy. Things could be so much fun.”

I can see where this is going before he gets it out. He’s trying to seduce me once again. He reaches out and touches my face. His fingertips brush against my jawbone. 

“You know,” I start, placing a hand on his chest to stop him from pulling me into a kiss, “Orrick, the problem is that we are too much alike. I prefer a certain type and you just aren’t it. I can see the flash of anger before he masks it. He’s not use to hearing no, I can tell. I stand up and hold my hand out to him. He stares at it, refusing to touch my outstretch hand. I shake my head, grabbing the hand resting on his thigh. For a second, I wonder if he will pull me towards in but he doesn’t. He allows me to pull him from my bed while he is deep in thought.

“Do you know the pleasure I could make you feel,” he whispers as he wraps his free hand around my waist. “I’ll just say this: I won’t stop until I see you naked in my bed.”

I laugh despite myself. It just makes him angry. I can feel the rage coming off him in waves when he releases me. I laugh again as he yanks the door open and slam it behind him.