Chapter Twenty Eight
Jackson Blake's POV
Warning ⚠️: This chapter may be triggering or distressing to some readers. Please continue with caution.
I stood in the empty room, the overpowering scent of my mate swirling around me. I'd left swiftly after lunch, I enjoyed the company of my new acquaintances, but the desire to have my mate was overwhelming. I felt satisfied that I'd embarrassed him enough at training, and the simple conversation we'd had made me feel heard. I feel like I've said my peace. It's strange, now the anger has simmered, I realise how sexually frustrated I am. Yet, the idea of having loving sex at this moment didn't appeal to me. I want to be dominated.
The door clicks behind me, the smell of my mate gets stronger with his presence and it drives me crazy. "I thought you'd fucked off to the guest room," he hisses out from behind me and I shiver at his deep voice. The authority in his tone makes me tingle and my head fog with the idea of getting bent over forced to submit to him.
As I spin around and face him, I knew that I was playing a dangerous game. I didn't care if I hurt him, I just wanted my desires fulfilled. My heart began to pound, and I no longer felt in control. I wasn't in control. My mind had taken a course of its own, my body listening to its every command and I felt like an observer. My wolf had taken over.
I knew what I wanted to do and I know how stupid I am. I must be broken, a normal person wouldn't do this. "I came to tell you that I don't love you. I want to leave," I spit out, feigning a brutal and vicious tone in such a way it was believable. The hurt that shot across his face knocked me sick, but I held my ground, I needed to know if this was what I wanted. Those few seconds of heartbreak on his face made me feel vile, then it's like a flick switched, and just like that he was livid.
I have to be broken. I was lying, making him angry so that he'd punish me. So that he'd roughly grab me and make me submit to him. So that he'd mark my skin, threaten me, and fuck me until I'm screaming and crying. Only someone broken would want that. Only someone broken would make their partner that angry and hurt that they lash out. Why did I want this? What's wrong with me?
As he stalked towards me, it was like slow motion, my mind racing with every thought and confusion. I want him to put his rough hands on me, to rag my hair, and choke my neck. Am I masochistic? Is it the pain I'm missing? Do I want to be on the edge that badly? I don't know how to make sense of this. I want to be punished and hurt. Has my trauma caused this? Has my past broken me?
My words had sunk in with him, the air suffocated me as his rage clouded the room. The fear that built inside me was exhilarating. The anticipation that shook my body was everything I could have asked for. That's what I wanted, that's what I needed to feel. He gripped my hair tightly and forced my eyes to his. The burn of my scalp made my heart pound faster, I felt alive.
"What the fuck did you just say," the low growl that came from his chest told me it wasn't Slater, this was his wolf. His eyes were black as his eyes burnt into mine, like he was searching my soul. The feeling of fear, lust and, love mingling in my heart and pounding across my body had me trembling in pleasure. I wanted this. I wanted a hot-headed Alpha who makes me chase after him, punishes me, bruises me, marks me, and fucks me into submission. Then I want him to kiss me and hold me against him. It wasn't normal. I'm a freak to want this.
"I s-said, I don't love you," I stammered as the adrenaline forced my nerves forward. My tone remained harsh, biting out the lie past my lips which earned a growl from him that shook the room. It ignited this feeling inside me, the deep pit of desire. It made me feel free. Even trapped beneath his grip like this, I was free, floating on soft clouds as my scalp burnt. This is what bliss feels like.
"Don't fucking lie to me," he spits out and I shake beneath him, my eyes shut as I relish the blissful feeling of pain, knowing if I opened them, he'd realise I'm lying. The fear and desire whirled inside me and let the adrenaline explode inside me. "LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU," he screamed into my face, and as my eyes met his, the glowing gold windows to my soul gave everything away. It revealed everything to him. That every word I'd said wasn't true. The bright gleam of my gold irises exposed how much I desired this. They stung with love and lust and he could see my true intentions.
He backed me to the closest wall, my body slammed against it and the pain stung through me, and I wanted to moan at the sensation. "Say it," he demanded. "SAY IT," my whole body felt so good. Watching him tear himself apart at the idea that I didn't feel the way he needed me to feel almost made me want to stop. Almost.
"Make me," I hissed, my eyes burning into his. With his other hand, he reached down and gripped my hard shaft in his palm, squeezing it tight and causing a blaring flame of pain to wash over my body. "AH," I screamed out, my eyes locked with his as the scorching agony burned through me. It hurt beyond anything I could describe and yet I couldn't understand why it felt so good. It felt incredible. My eyes showed how much I loved it, how much I craved the pain.
"Say it, or so fucking help me, God," he growled, his grip tight as he tried to cause me as much pain as he could. He wanted to physically hurt me the way he was hurting inside. To tell your mate you don't love them should be a sin because it tears your heart and burns your soul in a pit of flames. Yet I couldn't feel sorry for him, not after he'd fucked that woman in his office.
His lips were so close to brushing mine, he could see my agony and lust and I could see every emotion that glistened in his eyes. It's the first time I've seen fear in the Alphas eyes. An intense fear and insecurity that I don't love him.
I couldn't take it anymore. It wasn't the pain I wanted to stop, it was seeing how much he was hurting. He needs the reassurance and my wolf is tearing himself apart, desperate to give my mate the answers he demanded.
"Oh god, I lied, I do love you, I love you so fucking much," I whined out, gripping his shoulders as the burning from my shaft had me leaking. I let myself moan against his grip and allowed my eyes to dance with lust. He only gazed back with a flash of hurt. The idea that I'd hurt him tore me and it made me want to cry, but my focus was sex. Rough and dominating sex.
As he glared down at me, his black eyes sinister and furious, he released my shaft from his torturous grip, only to move his hand from my hair and latch his finger into my neck. He pressed me against the wall, stopping the air from reaching my lungs, and regret washed over me, had I taken this too far?
"Are you asking me to kill you?" he hissed into my ear, his warm breath caused my body to tingle and I squirmed against the wall. Our eyes locked again as he pulled back and I felt so exposed to him. He gazed at me lustfully, the hurt in his eyes masked over as he watched my body pinned to the wall by his strong hand. Pinning his rebellious mate and forcing him to submit, he's an Alpha, of course it turned him on.
"Your too weak, you couldn't kill me even if you tried" I mocked, my voice forced and strained as I struggled to speak through his grip on my throat. The glint in his eyes only worsened and he moved his hand, took a fist full of my hair, and ragged me towards the bed. My body curled down as he dragged me, my feet stumbling to keep up and the burning of my scalp fed the desire in my gut. He threw me so my body would remain bent and my ass would lift towards him. My hands sat against the soft sheets, my face pressed into the mattress and my feet pressing into the cold, hardwood floor.
His presence was powerful behind me, it made me shiver at the feel of his gaze and the furious temper that spilt through the room. He reached around and unbuckled my belt, ripping down my jeans to my knees and yanking the belt from the loops. "You want me to hurt you?" His laugh was sinister, not an ounce of amusement as he hissed out the words, "I'll fucking hurt you," he spat out, taking the belt in his grasp, lifting it in the air, and then cracking the leather against my skin. Blistering pain swelled inside me as I screamed out a deep throaty moan.
"Oh god, yes, please, give me more," I begged, my cock swelled, the anticipation of the next whip of the belt had me burning with pleasure. Slater's anger dominated the room, but the underlying lust was rolling off us in waves. Why did I want this? Why does it feel so good?
"Why do you have to be such a naughty boy," he growled in anger, his voice deep and laced with arousal as he brought down the belt and collided it with my other cheek. I bellowed once again, a mix of pain and pleasure as my cock leaked and my body tingled with excitement.
"I'm so naughty, I deserve for you to hurt me," I whimpered out, my erection pressing into the rough texture of the sheets, the feeling making me leak more against the fabric. He slapped the belt against me again, my body jolting as he caught my balls, and a squirt of my fluids splattered onto the floor and bed. I screamed at the sensation, crying out as my body shook at the forceful ejaculation.
"Such a dirty fucking whore," he hissed out, the rage still heavy in his tone, and it was like he was speaking to himself, so lost in the arousal of punishing me. He let the belt smack against my cheeks and balls again, forcing more of my juices out of my body. I continued to cry out, tears streaming down my face as I quivered beneath him.
"I'm your dirty whore," I cried out, the tears rushing down my face in a toxic mix of agony and euphoria. I pressed my head harder into the soft sheets, letting myself sob into them. Why did I want this? Why do I feel this good when the person I love is hurting me?
He continued to strike me again and again until the cum was drained from my balls and I was blistered from the marks of the belt. There was a moment's pause, his heavy breathing and my whimpered moans echoing through the room. Then the clash of the belt stung the room as he dropped it to the ground, the metal buckle chiming as it collided with the wooden floor. His hand reached out, tightly clutching the strands of my hair between his fingers, yanking me up so I was standing and my back pressed against him. I could feel the hardness of his length as he moved his hand from my hair and clasped my throat, forcing my head back so it pressed into his chest. I was forced to look into his black eyes, my gold ones beaming back as the salty tears continued down my face. Is this what we both desired?
He reached down between us and pulled his throbbing shaft from his pants, spreading my glowing red cheeks and pressing the head at my entrance. No prep. No lube. Our eyes remained locked together and then he slammed himself inside me, my sore, blistered, red ass slapping against him. I howled in pain, the dry and rough feeling caused what I could only describe as a friction burn, and a stinging pain shot through my body. It felt so good.
He pulled back and slammed into me again and I sobbed, my eyes pleading with him not to stop. The dryness stung and the slapping of my cheeks on his pelvis had me in agony, and yet as he abused that special spot inside me, the tingles and the burning created a blissful euphoria. He could see how much I loved it. Through my tears and the screams, he could see how much I wanted this. He knew if I didn't, I could overpower him and stop him. But I'm not going to do that, because right now, I'm in heaven.
"Make daddy cum," he growled at me, and that warmth blazed through me. That desire to please him made me ache deep in my groin, so I squeezed my entrance against him and grasped his cock tightly. He threw his head back, groaning in pleasure, and squeezed harder on my throat making my vision blur. The pressure from the lack of air made me feel like I was floating.
He pounded inside me roughly, his other hand moving from my hip to clench my still erect length. As he tugged I bellowed at the sensation, I was so sensitive that it stung for him to touch me, but he didn't stop, he pulled my foreskin back and forth, rubbing my cock so I screamed and squirmed against him. I dug my nails into his forearm in a bid to cease his hold on me, but he was relentless, tugging my shaft faster as punishment for protesting.
I quivered and wailed, the pleasure inside me too intense, the blaze of heated pain only fueling the pleasure further. It hurt so much but the reality was I loved every stroke of his hand. "That's it, scream for me. Make me cum," he growled into my ear, and I obliged, my hair and body covered in sweat, dampening my clothes. The orgasm ripped through my body and it hurt like hell, not a drop of cum leaving my body as I convulsed against Slater's body, my vision going black as I tried to gasp in air. He released my throat and as the blood and air rushed to my brain, I orgasmed again. I cried out from the blissful pain as my balls tightened and Slater bellowed into my ear as his juices flooded my body.
God that felt so good. He panted against me and my mind returned from the depths of dark and painful pleasure. His eyes returned to their steel grey and mine no longer glistened gold. I tore away from him and I dropped my head, my hands pressing into the bed as I bent forward. The sting blazed across every inch of my body. Across my bruised neck, my entrance, my blistered cheeks, and my balls and shaft. The ache and sting felt good, a reminder of how he'd dominated me.
My head pounded, my scalp still aching from his harsh grasp. I hissed and cried out as he pulled out of me, his liquids spilling down my legs. I guess this gives me the answer I was after. I'm a masochist. I love pain.
I felt Slater's hot gaze across me, assessing the bruises and marks he'd left across my skin. How could I lay my hands on him like that? Why the fuck would he enjoy me hurting him like that. It wasn't my voice, it was Slaters. The words hadn't left his mouth, but they pierced through my brain. Was I reading his thoughts?
"I'm taking you to see a therapist," he breaks the silence, his voice cracking as he speaks, the confusion and shame seeping into his tone. He shouldn't want me to hurt him like that. How can he enjoy my hands on him in that way? Why the fuck did I enjoy doing it? His voice growled through my head as I pulled up my briefs, the material brushing the blistered skin from the belting I'd taken. I moaned softly at the feeling, it was such a pleasurable sensation. I kicked away my jeans, not wanting the fabric to scratch the sore skin of my ass. I turned to face him, his eyes cold as he kept his distance away from me, almost fearful to come near me.
"You want me to see a therapist?" I bit out, a slight chuckle coming out afterwards at his suggestion. His gaze is firm against mine, confusion swimming in his eyes. My body and mind ached and stung, desperate to succumb to exhaustion.
"Yes, I want you to see a fucking therapist," spits out, his tone harsh and yet it was laced with concern. "You've just told me you don't love me so that I'd what? Beat you and fuck you?" He growls, uncertainty in his tone as he tried to understand what's just happened. "I don't know what to think right now, just stay the fuck away from me," he growls, turning away from me and heading to the door.
Panic started to set in, my heart pounding and my throat closing. He thinks I'm a freak. He's going to leave me. "No, please don't go," I shout, the desperation clear as I begged him not to walk out the door. His hand rests on the handle of the door, his back turned from me as he pauses from his departure. "Please don't leave me," I begged, my tone cracking from the anxiety and the uncontrollable urge to cry. My emotions high in the air and far too sensitive for what just happened. Men don't cry. But this wasn't controllable.
He spins around, stalking towards me until there's only an arms-length between us. "You can't tell me not to leave after that. You can't beg me to stay with you when you've just told me you don't love me," he hisses down at me and I feel like the worlds falling around me. I'm hyperventilating from the panic of him leaving and it's uncontrollable. I've never felt anything like it before. I was having a panic attack.
As I gasp for breath, Slater's stance changes, worry written on his face as he peers down at me. "Jackson, Jackson look at me," he orders, pulling at my chin to force my eyes to his. "Listen to me, you need to breathe," he says and I nod, taking deep breaths as I try to calm myself. There's a burning in my chest as I struggle to get air in, panic washing over my body as my mind races. He pulls my body to him and I take in his scent, gripping him like he's going to crumble to ash between my fingers. As I press myself into him and take in his scent, the tightness starts to fade.
"Don't leave," I beg, gripping him as hard as I can in my hold. What was happening to me? I'm scared of him leaving me, I'm getting off on him giving me pain? Why? What's happening?
Exhaustion started to set in, the lack of sleep and the intense sex had me drained. My body couldn't take much more and it shut off, dragging me down into darkness and through the depths of sleep.
When I woke up, I wasn't in a soft bed or wrapped in my mate's arms. No, I was lying on a sofa, the cold leather slick against my skin, my body burning from the events only hours before. As I opened my eyes, I'm met with a woman in a chair opposite me, her glasses perched on her nose and a book in hand. She's a therapist.