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Prompt word: #Flame
Photo Source and Credit: Pinterest
The harsh steel of the chains was digging into his skin yet he chose to ignore them. All the discomfort, tension and the pain in his right eye were a mild nuisance, a flesh wound. They had nothing on the bitter taste in his mouth.
That familiar flame of rage was choking him in a worse way than the heavy collar she had put on. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he was powerless to stop them or at least wipe them to save some dignity.
His Mistress reappeared from the bathroom in nothing but a satin robe. That magnificent posture, golden eyes and auburn veil that cascaded down her shoulders made the flame inside him white hot… and just one scowl of disapproval threw him back in the pit of despair.
“You disobeyed me.” How was it possible that a voice as deep and soft as the richest velvet could hurt worse than the steel of the knife?
“Yes, Mistress.” He uttered and clenched his fists. It was a struggle to look straight into her face as she demanded. The painful longing was even stronger than the fire.
She’ll leave me. I know it. So many boys wait for their chance with her…
The fire burst in his chest and his flesh winced as the horrific thoughts invaded his mind.
“You knew how our relationship would be from the very start.” She ran a nail down his chest and narrowed her eyes. “… and yet tonight you acted like you had rights over me. You completely lost control, you got into a fight and disrespected me in public.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress…” He bit his tongue and tried to evoke a wave of calm over his frenzy mind. “I get crazy when I see you with him. He has no right to…”
“… and who are you to decide who has right over anything?” She sighed with exasperation. “I knew it I made a mistake with you.”
The experienced sadist that she was his Mistress always knew how to unleash a thousand invisible whips with just a few words.
He gritted his teeth and looked down, trying not to show the wound in his gaze.
“I’m sorry, Mistress, I know I was never good enough but…”
“It’s not that.” She cut him off and lifted his head with one smooth movement. Her cinnamon scent overwhelmed him. “Quit your pity party. I’d never pick you if I thought you weren’t good enough. You just have too much fire in here…” Her lips were tantalizingly close. “That flame needs to be tamed and I’m no longer sure I’m the right person for the job.”
That silky touch was killing him and at that moment he almost hated her.
“I should let you go…” His Mistress whispered. For the first time, he could catch notes of melancholy in that melodic voice. “There is just one problem, little one.”
He stared at her intensely and swallowed. His death sentence was waiting for him.
“… I can’t.”