Mercy (ManxBoy)

32: ∂єѕιяє

Boy, I'm gonna love you,

I'm gonna tear into your soul.

Z A I R E:

Since I found out that I was the one that the gun was aimed at, I was overcome with guilt. I couldn't help but feel responsible for him getting shot. I mean, honestly, I feel as though this is my fault. And it was justified. 

If he hadn't have moved in front of me, that bullet would have hit me. It was aimed at me. It had my fucking name on it, and then he fucking moved in front of it. 

I didn't want to die, but if it saved Sykes pain, I'd lay down my life without hesitation. He has been the most caring, compassionate master anyone could have asked for. I found myself adoring him more and more by the minute, and though that's a good thing, I felt like I was hurting him more than helping him.

He invited me into his home, he made love to me multiple times, held me while I cried, led me with a strong hand, and gave me everything I needed. How did I repay him? By getting him shot in the heart and nearly dead.

Okay, I realize he wasn't actually shot in the heart. His heart was grazed, though... and that's close enough for me. 

Despite him being shot, he still found a way to pleasure me. And I'd put complete faith in him, despite my nerves. I knew that he'd never push me too far, he'd never hurt me in a way that I didn't consent to. 

BDSM is all about consent after all. But being a slave is different than being a submissive. To be completely honest, being a slave means literally you have no control over any part of your life. Master says jump, you say how high. You aren't a person if they say you aren't. You bark like a dog and shake your ass if they say to. They tell you to quit your job you do it. That's being a slave. Submissive is slightly different, more so leaning towards having a choice in all of the aforementioned. If you didn't want to be an object, you could say so. If you didn't want to bark like a dog and shake your ass, you didn't have to. If you didn't want to quit your job, you don't have to.

So being a slave is about total power control, and I understand that some submissive people give total power control to their master, but it's different then. You still have safe-words, and absolute hard limits they can't touch.

Being a slave, a slave can put hard limits into place, but if the master doesn't see fit to uphold them, oh well. Sure, there are rules. Don't murder your slave. Damage them beyond repair. Don't starve them, or thirst them. But as far as it goes, even the safeword doesn't have to be followed if the master doesn't want it to. 

But Sykes wasn't a typical sadist. He completely dominated me, but he let me make some decisions for myself. Sometimes he'd pick out my clothes, mostly when we're at the club, but most times, I picked out my own. He let me pick out what to eat, and when to eat it. 

He also told me he loved me. I mean, I know sadists can fall in love, but knowing that the Master Sadist, the Sykes Bennett loved me made me feel invincible. I couldn't imagine submitting to anybody else, ever in the future. My eyes were completely and firmly locked on the sexy older man that I gave myself too. I couldn't imagine it any other way.

Sykes made me feel good. I couldn't get enough of serving him. It didn't matter if it was something as platonic as scrubbing the kitchen floor, or if it was something as sexual as servicing him completely and getting no release myself. He left me feeling fulfilled entirely even if I didn't get to cum. 

All I truly wanted was to feel his warm hand resting on my head as I kneel before him, naked and exposed all except for my neck which bore his collar. Knowing that in the end, no matter what I did I belonged to him, and only him.