My Psychic Love

Chapter 9

I walked into Braydon's playroom, the smell of vodka clouded the air. Braydon stumbled from the shadows. He was drunk and clutching a whip with such a tight grip that I thought the hilt would have his fingers indented in it. "Victoria, my love, I'm glad you made it." He managed to slur out in a grumble. Tripping over his feet, he fell onto me.

"Braydon, you're drunk. Maybe we should do this later." I suggested quietly. My heart was racing, I was terrified. I knew what he could do, I never imagined how terrible he could be drunk off his ass. I feared for what was surely about to happen.

"No!" He managed to growl out coherently. "You will be punished now! You deserve it, you little, cheating slut!" He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pulled hard. I yelped out in pain, tears forming in my eyes. "Shut up!"

He was just drunk. He didn't mean it. I swallowed hard. He didn't mean it..., "Bray, at least sober up. You don't want to do something you'll regret." I started quietly, afraid of his reaction. Afraid of him.

"Don't worry, V," He started sounding angry, mocking the name Davis gave me, "It'll be as rough as you deserve. I won't regret a single thing, you fucking cunt." He laughed menacingly before walking away.

I gulped hard. He was seriously going to hurt me. And it all started with Davis kissing me, I didn't even know if he kept stalking me. We hadn't talked since he told me he was going to punish me. Maybe he watched me and Davie fuck, maybe he got off to it. I was in deep shit. I heard the crack of the whip. He was teasing me with it. Just like the first day I was in here. He grabbed my hair again, dragging me over to the hanging restraints. I was screaming and fighting against him. He threw me in front of him.

"Shut up, Vivtoria!" He yelled. "Just shut the fuck up! You're going to get what you deserve! Cheating whore." He spat on me and pulled me up roughly, starting to strap me into the restraints. He made them tight. Purposely, agonizingly tight.

"Please don't do this, Braydon." I begged weakly, blinking away tears, "Please."

He growled angrily, "Just shut up and take your punishment like a good whore, Victoroa!" He laughed cynically. I tried to mask my fear. "Aw, Slave, don't be scared. It will only hurt a lot."

I whimpered and grabbed the chain that was attached to my restraints, gritting my teeth and waiting. Naked, cold, and embarrassed, clinging onto my pride with a death grip. I tried not to cry out as the whip came across my back. The more he whipped me, the harder it was to control myself. I was starting to cry out in pain. One lash, then two, then three. He kept bringing the whip down on me. Six times, seven, eight, nine, ten. And then, as if he got bored, he stopped and unshackled me. I knew they were going to be deep.

He drug me over to a bed, a murderous grip on my arm. He pushed me on my belly, chaining me down too tight, I was hardly able to breathe properly. I heard a bzzt bzzt of something unfamiliar. He grabbed my arm and started tattooing a BDSM circle into my arm. He was tattooing me! Marking me into his world forever. Or so he thinks. When he was done he walked away. I heard a glass bottle slide across a table, footsteps slowly approaching me, and liquid sloshing around. The sound of the liquid hitting my back. Agonizing pain burned its way across my back. I hadn't realized I was screaming until he slapped me. Something cool trickled down my sides. The smell of iron and vodka clogged my nose.

I'd been on my belly for awhile, my back still burning. He hadn't made a sound since he poured the vodka on me. I heard him set a glass bottle down, probably the vodka, and the sound of drawers being opened and rummaged through. He was walking toward me again, the bed dipped down under his weight. I felt something cold and slimy being applied between my ass.