The Adventures Of An Aromantic Asshole (In A Shockingly Cliché World)

Chapter 10 | BDSM: But Do Stab Me

BDSM Cliché Part 2

My heart is beating in my throat. 

I stumble through the halls and make it out of the mansion. Through the garden.

My hands are blood-stained, knuckles white from clutching something.

The world is spinning.

 ~¤~¤~¤~

[A day prior]

Alright.

Usual procedure. 

Step one: Piss him off.

Now as a PSA I would like to mention, boys 'n girls, if you ever do get kidnapped/held against your will, be careful with poking your kidnapper/employer too much. Some of them are crazy and you could get shanked.

That being said. I knew I was in the clear. Mr. Maccoy was in no position to murder me.

He may be a big ol' lawyer and whatnot, but oh honey I've danced this tango before. Solo.

We had a contract, and despite that mentioning that I was required to partake in his freaky hobbies, it also mentioned the location of the mansion and his full name. So, in case I die, people would notice and know.

Ha-HA.

That is if you overlook the fact that I stay away from school on a regular...

... And that my parents think I'm currently in college. 

Huh.

Inhale. 

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOOOOOR"

"LOVE ME LIKE YOU DON'T LOVE LOVE LOVE ME LIKE YOU--"

A big hand came down over my mouth, muffling my exceptional Ellie Goulding impression. The chains around my hands jangled and I tried kicking my legs around. After chaining me to a bed a good 15 minutes ago, Maccoy had just been walking around cleaning up the mess I had made and hadn't been emoting much. In that timespace, I had been sure to provide plenty of musical entertainment.

But it seemed I had reached a boiling point for our dear old fuck here. 

I muffled underneath his hand, "What, I thought you would like that one!"

A vein had become visible on his forehead, and instead of giving me another smooth remark he leaned back and grabbed something. Then he slowly placed a ballgag on the pillow next to my head, as a warning I presume. I shuddered at the thought of that thing being unwashed but tried to seem unphased. 

Step number one had failed, extreme annoyance wouldn't do much here.

Step two: Indifference. 

Mr. M (could stand for 'moron', 'mutt', 'motherfucker', 'mudblood') seemed indecisive as to if he should focus his attention on me or if he should pace around like a lion in a cage. Before he chained me down he had removed the jumpsuit that I wore whenever I cleaned the mansion and left me in my shorts and t-shirt.