Durability (The LockDown Series Book 3) (22 page)

I can feel my pulse hammering away, my blood pumping fiercely through my body. I am sweating, little droplets falling rapidly down my face. Do I trust him? Do I trust a man I have known for all of a few weeks to bring me back to earth and back to my family?

He has yet to steer me wrong, he has
been there, relentlessly helping me in the past few weeks. Thro
ugh his guidance and help, I have calmed down a little but it is still potent inside of me, like a venom attacking every system inside, breaking me down piece by piece. I need it gone, I need to banish it from me so I can live and breathe again.

I look at him, taking a frightened breath.

“Okay.” I nod lightly, looking to the floor. I can’t stop the fear of failure inside of my head.

“Okay?” he asks for confirmation.

“Yes, okay. I’ll do it, I’ll do anything,” I repeat, my body trembling. “I have to get back to her, I need her Marc.”

“Good. Let’s start.” I can hear the happiness in Marcus’ voice, he is going to enjoy this.

There is no way in hell I will ever be able to tell Abbi how I overcame the demons inside. She will laugh at me; see me as a weak man.

“Submit.” I hear Marcus say in a deep, barrelling tone. I take an encouraging breath, feeling the oxygen flood my system and giving me strength.

I exhale and drop to my knees. I keep my head bowed forward, staring at the floor. I hear the footsteps as they sound around me, the gasps of people recognising who I am. Marcus’ boots circle me, over and over again, analysing me. “One would think you do this often, Leighton. You are a natural, you’re body responds perfectly and your posture is admirable.” He isn’t laughing at me, but I know inside he is enjoying this, enjoying getting a grown man to submit to him.

This isn’t sexual for him, I know he isn’t interested in men. Regardless of the intense kiss in the alleyway, regardless of the fact he is hard, it is more the dominating that affects him. I know there is no position in his sexual life for my desires or me.

“Stand,” he orders me and I stand, standing straight with my hands behind my back, the way I always have Abigail stand. I look down once again, keeping my eyes to the dark floor.

I inwardly hope he will move us, take me to somewhere more secluded and private. The humiliation alone makes me want to cower and sink within myself. “Come. Follow me,” Marcus asks and I look up to see him moving across the room. I follow him, keeping behind him the entire time. I keep my arms behind my back, submissively, steering left and right when he does.

His eyes focus in on a wall, shackles in the corners. “Stand by the wall, assume the position,” he requests, waiting until I follow his orders. Embarrassment floods me as I walk to the wall and stand still. “Remove your clothes, Leighton.” I hiss a breath inwards, fear overtaking me.

“Marcus.” I beg him, looking into his eyes.

I berate myself as I watch him walk to me. He clasps my shoulder, digging his long fingers into the pressure point there. My shoulder drops down, trying to alleviate the pain. “Try again, Leighton.” He grits his teeth at me and I inwardly groan.

“Sorry, Sir,” I answer, bringing my hands up to unbutton my polo top. Pulling it over my head, I smile when the warm air hits my bare skin. “Good. Now the jeans.” I breathe in heavily again, unbuttoning and unzipping the denim. I push them down my thighs and over my feet.

Naked. I am stood butt naked in the middle of ‘The Den’. I can feel eyes burning holes in my naked skin, but I have to do this, I have to fight for what I want in my life. “This isn’t going to be a sexual experience for you, Leighton. You are going to experience pain, enough pain to drive this anger and hurt away. I won't harm you, however, but I will make you bleed your soul out to me.”

I nod, unable to answer through my fear. Nobody has intentionally hurt me since my father had. Nobody has gone out of their way to humiliate me and damage me. Will this really work? Can Marcus seriously banish my sins away?

“I am going to shackle you to the wall now, you will not be facing me, you will face the wall and allow yourself to feel and allow yourself to forgive. Turn around now, Leighton.” I do as requested, turning to face the cold concrete. It is dark, which to my surprise relaxes me. How am I relaxed at all, with my arse on show for everyone to see, for everyone to talk and laugh about?

“Good man. Well done.” Marcus praises me and I smile a little at his rewarding words. Slowly and efficiently he chains my ankles and wrists to the restraints, making sure they aren’t too tight or loose. My head is so close to the wall, I want to rest my forehead against the cold brick to try and alleviate a little of the hot tension inside of me.

I feel warm cover my back. “Forget anybody is here, Leighton. It’s just you and I, just the two of us exorcising your demons. Allow yourself to feel, allow every whip and lashing to open your soul up and let the bad slither away. It will help. Relax yourself and embrace
the pain. Relish in letting go, wallow in allowing another to support you and keep you grounded. I will keep you safe, Leighton, I promise you.” I feel his erection hot and heavy against my back, pushing me into the wall. My face presses against the smooth concrete, cooling me.

“Oh, and Leighton, don't think the erection is because I’m into you. I do not have sex with men nor do I like them. I am simply aroused by somebody submitting to me, allowing me to dominate them. Now, I am going to start light and work upwards. You ready?” he asks me, chuckling a little at my shaking body.

Am I aroused, scared, nervous? I have no clue, but restrained and bearing all to this man who assures me he can help, I feel vulnerable and volatile.

“Yes, Sir,” I reply, clenching my fists as I prepare for the first thing.

A flogger hits the backs of my thighs gently, a soft thud sounding around. It is bearable, even as it continues to attack my skin, covering my arse, back and legs in a pleasant tingle. I can see why Abigail enjoys the flogger so much; it is somewhat relaxing. “I can tell you’re enjoying this one, your body is humming Leighton, and you are releasing this remarkable groan every time I hit you.”

I groan again, embarrassed that my body is reacting to this.

“Argghhh!” I scream as the flogger changes to a cat, the nasty thongs smashing against me. They whip through my resolve and straight into my pain threshold. I clench my fists tighter, agony flooding me.

“Feel it. Allow it inside of you,” Marcus instructs.

“FUCK YOU!” I shoot back, rewarding me with a further ten lashes, my skin raw and probably bleeding. “GO TO HELL, ARSEHOLE!” I continue screaming as tears fill my eyes. How does Abbi do this all the time, without so much as blinking?

“I'm already there, wise-arse, trying to drag you out. Now brace yourself, because this is going to sting.”
This isn’t already stinging?
I’d love to strap this bastard down and take a cat o’ nine tails to him.

Fire, it burns through my back, slicing through my skin as the tip of the whip thrashes against me. I allow the tears to fall, angry and bitter against my cheeks as I struggle in the bonds that hold me. My soul begins to shatter. “Please. Stop,” I beg, my chest heaving a sob that wants to be released. I need Abbi, she will make the pain go away, she will save me.

“Getting there, but not close enough,” Marcus sadistically replies. I hear the slice through the air, then the crack like thunder, as the tip breaks the sound barrier and splits my skin. I am sure it has cut me open, leaving me to bleed out. My heart is certainly aching, crying and pleading for my wife to come and save me.

Sagging in my restraints, I take blow after blow of the whip as it slowly kills me. “Please,” I mumble out, spittle falling from my lips, my arms hanging a little painfully.

“Just a few more, Leighton,” Marcus answers, dropping something to the floor.

I hear a ‘WOOSH’ in the air as something wisps around me.

A cane. A mother-fucking cane. I brace myself, knowing no matter what I do, this will hurt more than anything I have ever felt.

It hits my skin, setting off an atomic bomb against my flesh. Lightning strikes attack me, burning every pore on my aching being, splitting through my body and straight to the core of me. “Feel and forgive yourself.” I hear him instruct me through the relentless strikes against me.

The only thing I can feel right now, is my heart breaking. I can’t feel the outside pain anymore, my body is becoming numb, but inside my heart and soul I am shattering open, my wall crashing down. “You can feel it can't you? You feel the pain?” Marcus asks me and I know he is referring to the internal pain, not the blisters and welts on my flesh.

Whoosh after whoosh hits me, but I feel none of it. I can only feel my heart crashing to the floor as I imagine the pain I am causing Abigail and my family. I feel a raw hate for myself and for the animal that is controlling me.

“Let him go, Leighton. Let him free.” I drag myself up tall, using every ounce of strength I have to stand up. I feel the energy return, the hurt and anger surfacing.

I roar, like a mother-fucking lion. I bring my head up high, screaming at the top of my lungs. Everything I hold inside falls from me, the hurt, the anger, the frustration, slowly dwindling out of me. I allow myself a breather, allow myself to forget the self-hate for a while.

“Finally,” I hear Marcus say proudly as he unshackles my wrists and ankles. I drop to my knees, bringing my hands up to my face.

I cry.

I allow the tears built inside of my body, to break free. They smother me, drown me in the fear I feel. “Well done,” he tells me, wrapping a blanket around my shaking body. He sits me down, leaning against the wall. His strong arms hold me to him, my head on his lap as he strokes the back of my head. “Cry, let it out, let him out. You are not that person, Leighton. You are strong and you are loving. Abigail needs you, so you need to fight. You are getting there, you are so close. Let him leave you, let him go.” Marcus whispers as I tremble and shake in agony.

“I need her.” I cry quietly, wanting Abigail by my side. I need her, I need her warmth and her love to guide me, to keep me from falling.

“I know, and she needs you too. But you need to be completely better before you go home. I am so proud of you Leighton. You are an amazing man, don't ever forget that,” Marcus tells me, hushing my cries and holding me into his comforting warmth.

“How will she ever forgive me?” I ask him, my lips shaking with my tears.

“She will forgive you the second she sees you. She loves you Leighton. She will be happy to know you are safe and well,” Marcus informs me and I calm a little, relaxing into his comfort.

“Sleep now, Leighton. Allow the nightmares to go.” I feel my heavy eyes closing, everything overwhelming me.

“I love you, Abbi,” I whisper as I fall, darkness surrounding me.

A month!

It has been a long, dreary and depressing month for me. It has been thirty-one days since he walked away, leaving me sat in my hospital bed in utter despair. How do I even tell anyone or describe to them, the agony inside of me, the feeling of my heart slowly breaking, the cracks splitting under the unbearable pressure of everything? To wake up every morning, looking to the side of me to see if maybe he has crept back into the bed beside me and everything will be ok, or maybe this is all just some fucked up dream that I need to forget about.

I am sadly disappointed as I awake every morning to the empty, cold crisp sheets, no crumples or wrinkles from his usual presence. My entire being is non-existent, my soul having escaped its vessel and probably wandering aimlessly through the never ending array of gases and substance that creates this earth. I’m not even close to finding myself again, finding the person who I am. Leighton is gone and I can’t, I refuse to accept the fact he isn’t coming back.

Nobody has found him or seen him, he has gone off the face of the earth without so much as a tiny bit of evidence he was once here, other than the identical looking child he fathered, I wouldn’t even know he has ever existed in this world or the next.

I have been putting myself through the paces at physiotherapy, desperate to get my arm working. There is no way, if he returns, I am going to be weak. I will show him how strong I am, how much I have fought to better myself, without his help. And maybe, just maybe there is a sick satisfaction in the fact I can possibly bust his cheek up with a nice right hook, courtesy of his training.

My life had been hectic before, but now, with Maria about to pop, already suffering Braxton hicks and still a month to go, although docs think it won’t be more than a week, I am ready to pull every strand of my hair out to maybe feel some relief through the pain.

It has been far too long since I have endured his gloriously painful touch and my body is aching with a strong need to feel his hand against my raw and sore flesh, to send those delicious throbbing bolts of pleasure through me, grounding me, reassuring me I am loved and he cares for me. I need that pain, I fucking need it and he is letting me down, making me suffer in the most horrendous way I know possible.