Chapter Thirteen

Ivy

I'd been laying in this bed for the last hour, contemplating fifty different ways to beat Slash's ass. I knew he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. Rat bastard narked on me. Now they all knew. To make matters worse, Logic seemed giddy to have a new plaything to head shrink.

Had news for him.

I didn't need to be fixed. As for those meds he called in, they were sitting nicely lined up on the counter near the far wall. He could shove them up his ass for all I cared. I wasn't taking anymore meds. Take me or leave me, I didn't give a fuck. I was done hiding who I was. It was time to embrace the disturbed reality that I would never change.

And why should I?

My whole damn life, I'd played many roles: the child, the doll, the plaything, the toy, the whore.

I was done.

After last night, I was done pretending.

Now, they were going to get the real Ivy.

Whoever the fuck she was.

The door opened and Logic walked in. Upon seeing me awake, he smiled.

"You're awake."

"Been awake."

"How are you feeling?" he asked, walking over to stop the saline bag and remove the needle.

"Pissed."

"I imagine after everything you've been through; you're allowed to be pissed."

"Thank you for your permission. Now, can I get the fuck out of here or am I a hostage?"

"Not a hostage, Ivy, but we need to talk about your meds."

"Give them to someone who needs them. I don't."

Placing a Band-Aid on my arm, Logic stepped back when I sat up. Leaning against the wall, he removed the latex gloves he was wearing and sighed. "You had a D.I.D. episode, Ivy. Slash found you in a homeless encampment, whacked out of your mind."

"Is that a medical term, or are you dumbing it down for me, ‘cause if you are, there is no need. I'm pretty sure I have the highest I.Q. in this place."

Logic smirked. "Yeah, you're probably right. What triggered this episode?"

Swinging my legs over the side of the gurney, I looked at the man, shook my head, and jumped to my feet. Stretching my hands above my head, I smiled. "That's for me to know and you to find out, Doc. Now, where is Luc? He and I need to have a talk."

"Don't want to test him right now, Ivy. He's at his limit."

Smirking, I shrugged my shoulders, heading for the door. "Good, then he will be easy to push over the cliff."

Walking out of the club's infirmary, I spotted Slash walking toward me. The son of a bitch had the gall to smile at me. Too bad for him he was on my shit list. Before he could say a fucking word, I hauled off and punched him in the gut.

Gasping for air, he bent over. "Jesus fuck, Ivy, did you have to hit me that hard? I think you shifted my pancreas."

"What's the fucking rule, Michael?"

Moaning, he breathed through the pain. "Don't talk about you, ever."

Leaning close, I whispered, "That's right. You ever talk about me again and I will remove your pancreas with my bare hands. Got it?"

He swiftly nodded.

"Where is Luc?"

"Upstairs," Slash groaned, trying to stand.

Heading up the back stairs, I took two at a time. Turning the corner, I stalked down the hallway and smiled when I saw Agony sitting in a chair outside the heavy metal door, reading a book.

The same metal door Slash told me led to Luc's room.

Flipping the page, he never looked up from his book. "Ain't you supposed to be with Logic getting your head shrunk or something?"

"Aren't you a bit too old to be babysitting a grown man?"

Agony shrugged, unperturbed.

"Luc in there?" I tilted my head towards the large steel door.

Agony jerked a slight nod.

Without looking up from his book, Agony strangely added, "Walk away, Ivy. You don't want what's behind that door."

"How do you know what I want?"

"I don't, but I know Luc."

Curious, I asked, "And what does he want?"

Agony closed the book he was reading, standing to his full height. "What you can't give him."

Before I could ask what he meant by that, he walked away, saying nothing more. Watching him leave, I wondered what he was talking about.

As soon as I entered the room, a sharp chill ran down my spine, causing my body to shiver involuntarily. My heart pounded in my chest like a thunderous roar, filling me with excitement. As I looked about the dark room, a piercing high-pitched ringing assaulted my ears. Only darkness welcomed me. I could barely make anything out when my eyes landed on a mirror across the room.

There Luc stood, grinning behind me.

Spinning around, all I could see was an endless abyss of darkness.

He wasn't there.

Was this some joke? Finding the mirror again, there he stood. As Agony's warning blared in my head, the room's true purpose hit me with the force of a wrecking ball, leaving me stunned. My lungs expelled the final breath, leaving me gasping for air. My lungs pleaded for relief while an overwhelming paranoia tightened its grip on my body.

How did I not see it?

All the signs were there. He'd trained me from an early age to see beyond a man, to the soul of him. To identify the truth of what laid beyond the illusion of a man.

I'd seen it many times before, just different variations of the same.

In the end, they were all the same.

My hand shook against my trembling lips, and I couldn't help but let out a manic laugh, the sound echoing as I vigorously shook my head.

"I should have known."

"Yes, you should have." The sound of his gruff and gravelly voice enveloped me, causing an exquisite sensation that felt like tiny stings against my skin, while simultaneously, the buzz of a dark fluorescent light overhead temporarily blinded me, flooding the room with a disturbing aura of moral ambiguity.

In an effort to gain control, I concentrated on slowing down my breathing.

Blinking rapidly, I could feel awareness gradually creeping into my mind, like a gentle haze settling in. I fought against the overwhelming urge to gasp for air, instead taking deliberate, measured breaths to steady myself. I could feel the static charge in my limbs intensify while I pushed myself to stay focused on the task at hand.

This wasn't a dream.

I had just voluntarily walked into the Devil's chamber.

I felt a surge of heat in my belly as I absorbed the sight of the room, now bathed in light. The matte black walls exuded an ominous atmosphere, while an array of instruments hung proudly displayed for his amusement. Positioned prominently in the center of the room, a large king-sized bed stood as a foreboding symbol of his twisted desires.

My hands shook as I tried to act casual. I looked around the room, my eyes darting from one corner to another, and I felt a growing sense of unease when I realized I was once again enveloped in the suffocating darkness of a hellish existence, a place I had fought relentlessly to escape.

I realized I was panting.

My nipples hardened under my shirt.

That fact should have frightened me more. Despite the situation, I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement, my body responding with a surge of endorphins. I stood in the center of his lair, a mixture of perplexing and delectable cravings flooding my senses, like a dormant darkness within me had awakened and yearned for release.

Demanding that I embrace the disturbed lucidity of my soul.

My eyes widened as I blinked, instantly drawn to the wall covered in an assortment of dildos. Their presence in the room made me feel both uncomfortable and intrigued. The throbbing in my core intensified as my body pulsed with aching sensations that gradually transformed into an unsettling heat, enveloping me completely.

I suddenly became aware of his presence right behind me, his footsteps nonexistent as he moved with an eerie quietness. With a swift movement, he slid his arm around my hips, drawing me snugly against his chest.

My lips tingled with anticipation, prompting me to give them a quick lick.

His hand slid up my stomach, under my shirt, while he looked at me in the mirror.

"Choose," he growled. The deep rumble of his chest stirred a sinister longing that surged through my veins.

My mind lingered while his hand crept up towards my neck, tightening its grip with each passing second. Squeezing tightly, he choked the last bit of air from my lungs.

"Choose."

God have mercy on my soul because all I did was smile and whisper, "Harder."

His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed with determination, while his grip on my throat tightened.

"I'm going to break you."

"Good luck with that. But first I want you to make me sing like the fucking angels." I smirked, holding his gaze in a distinctive challenge.

"Then hang onto something, baby, because I'm about to take you to church."

"Prove it."

Stepping back, his face contorted into a wicked grin, he proudly displayed a length of rope, ready for whatever devious plan he had in mind. I couldn't believe what I was seeing in the mirror, and my eyes widened, and I raised my brows in disbelief. In that moment, I couldn't explain why I said it, but the instant the words escaped me, I sensed the weight of my mistake. "Better make it good."

He broke eye contact and stepped away.

I turned to face him, swiftly tearing off my shirt in a single, fluid motion. He nodded toward the small whipping bench off to his right, its wooden surface worn and weathered.

Showing no fear, I walked over to the bench and kicked off my shoes. Draping myself over the bench, I reached for the small pegs bolted to the floor and I spread my legs. Gripping the hand pegs, I arched my back as the cool air of the room chilled my back.

The fear that washed over me was so intense that my mind screamed for me to escape, amplifying the craving for the pain that awaited me.

The moment he positioned himself behind me, I shuddered as the cold steel of a knife traced a chilling path along my back. With a forceful grip on the back of my jeans, he mercilessly slashed the knife through the fabric, severing the last thread of self-preservation I possessed.

Kneeling behind me, he roughly shoved my legs together. He efficiently looped the rope around my thighs and clasped my ankles tightly together, making sure I couldn't escape.

I twisted to watch but could only see the top of his head. He worked rapidly, and I could tell he wasn't using any complex techniques. However, my familiarity with rope play allowed me to recognize the quick-release tie he was setting up, which would easily untie the bondage with a single pull.

He stroked my back, brushing my hair off my shoulders, and then he ran his hand in a long pass down my spine and over my ribs. I could feel his body heat behind me, hear the faint squeak of his boots on the cold, tiled floor. His touch was gentle, delicate, almost tentative. That's when I noticed his fingers were trembling and his breathing was heavy.

He was holding himself back, denying his true disturbed nature.

That revelation didn't bode well for me.

I wanted all of him.

Every dark, sinister, demoralizing vestige of him.

He stepped to one side and smacked my ass. With a forceful thud, his fist landed squarely on the meat of my cheek, sending vibrations coursing through my body. Then he hit my other cheek. It was a disappointment, much less than I had prepared myself for, only a fraction of what I truly wanted.

I heard him unzipping his pants.

I had a sudden thought, maybe he was punishing me. Perhaps he was in a mischievous mood, intentionally taunting me, igniting my anticipation with a promise, only to abandon me without fulfillment.

My spine tingled once again as the sound of his belt sliding through the loops on his pants reached my ears. With a quick motion, he folded the leather in half and expertly snapped the pieces together. In the depths of my imagination, I could visualize his actions vividly—his grip on the buckle, the tail strong as he confidently raised both ends over his head.

On the other hand, the strike that hit its mark was gentle, akin to the gentle brush of a butterfly's kiss against the leather, prompting me to let out a frustrated groan. He chuckled. The deep sound seared through me. He continued to strike me with the belt, each blow precise and delivered with a restrained force.

That's when I realized he was gradually getting harder.

He moved closer to me, and I was aware of the soft touch of his pants against my rear end and the back of my thighs. The fabric felt unexpectedly rough against my tender skin, reminiscent of sandpaper woven from cotton. He kneeled over me, his intense heat seemed to smother every inch of my body and his heavy weight acted like an anchor, keeping me firmly in place. His breath was hot in my ear as he bit my earlobe.

"You're mine, Ivy."

I whimpered.

"I'm going to make you cry, baby. I promise you that."

He stood, positioned himself behind me, then let his belt fly.

The forceful strike hit me hard, sending a wave of stinging pain pulsating through me. It had slipped my mind just how much the burn ignited my craving for more. What began as a gentle smolder, now raged fiercely, its heat engulfing me with a menacing intensity.

His hand moved with precision, snapping the belt against my skin, the impact hitting both of my cheeks simultaneously. With calculated movements, he glided the belt along my body, starting just below my tailbone and continuing down to the edge where my thighs met. Several of the smacks hit my clit, eliciting a deep moan from within my soul.

With each sting of the belt, my body responded with an intense surge of pleasure, my first orgasm overwhelming me. When he concentrated his attention on the fleshy part of my ass, a powerful orgasm welled up inside me, leaving me breathless. My fingers held the hand pegs tightly while I rocked my hips, grinding down as best I could.

He stopped long enough for me to think he might be done. The sound of the leather belt slicing through the air reached my ears, followed by the sharp sting on my backside, and it dawned on me that he hadn't even started yet.

I emitted an eerie, guttural noise that I couldn't even identify as I gave in to the overwhelming blaze that surrounded me, allowing it to devour me entirely. My ass was on fire. The sensation was akin to standing amidst a flaming inferno, testing my resolve to stay rooted in place. The profound sensation of liquid heat overwhelmed every fiber of my being, creating a boiling and burbling effect deep within me. It felt as if rippled currents of pleasure and pain were in constant collision, producing an intoxicating experience. Ultimately, I reached a state where I simply floated amidst the relentless flames, lost in a sea of indescribable sensations.

I heard him panting, grunting, and growling.

Or maybe that was me.

I couldn't tell.

I heard his voice, but I didn't have time to think about his words. I was cumming so hard that it hurt. The muscles in my stomach clenched and unclenched, a rhythmic pattern of contraction and release that repeated itself. My lungs felt constricted, like there was no oxygen to be found. My gasps grew louder as I desperately tried to draw in air, my lungs feeling deprived.

He stopped again.

The absence of sensation was disorienting.

The flames had grown so intense that they now covered my entire body, searing even the areas he hadn't laid a hand on. The sensation of the rough bench against my nipples left them feeling tender, and my fingers grew tired and cramped from holding on. My arms felt weak. My eyes were hot and that was when I realized I was crying.

I was sobbing, in fact, and still, he kept going.

I yielded to his craving and my own, and as the endorphins coursed through my veins, I ascended to a heightened state of pleasure that had been absent for years.

Another orgasm punched its way into my soul, and I cried out.

He stopped.

I was panting, and so was he.

I tried to push myself up onto my elbows, but none of my muscles worked.

"Want more?" he asked.

His tone was hard, cold, verging on annoying.

"Speak!" he shouted, concerned. Slightly.

"I can't cum anymore."

"I'll be the judge of that," he said, one hand on the back of my head, pressing my head down as he slammed his cock into me in one swift move, stabbing so deeply inside me that the bench rocked forward. His hand dug into my hair, pulled my head back even while he pressed my back down with his other.

He fucked just as mercilessly as he hit me.

His rock-hard shaft impaled me repeatedly.

As he indulged himself, it was like I had faded into the background, my existence forgotten.

It was a glorious mind fuck, and my very favorite kind of pain.

He didn't take long. With a few more powerful movements and a guttural grunt, he forcefully yanked my head back, releasing an earth-shattering roar of pleasure.

Gradually, I caught my breath as the world stopped spinning, and I realized two things.

One, he'd awakened my depraved mind.

And the second... I wanted more.