Thinking of Suicide

Pain



He opens the door and beckons me to go inside. I comply and stop a few steps inside the hall, silently waiting for his next command. I stare into the wall, but in the corner of my eye I can see him watching me. I stand tall, my back straight and my head held high, eyes locked on the wall. I am not really what you can call submissive. I never have been. I am always obedient to my Keeper, yes, but I do not cower. He knows that and he respects it. And I respect him for that in return.



A low but sharp whistle catches my attention and I turn my head to look at him. A little smile is playing on his lips and I can see in his eyes that he is already satisfied with me. That is something completely new. None of my previous Keepers were ever satisfied with me immediately. Some of them were never satisfied with me at all. They didn't like my silent, complying demeanor. They didn't like the idea that I never put up a fight about anything they wanted me to do. That much power scared them, and in the end, all of them gave me up. He, on the other hand, will never be scared. I know he is the one I have been looking for for all these years. He is the one who will finally give me what my soul has been craving for.



Pain.



He walks over to me and stand so close that I can feel his warm breath against my face. He leans in until his lips almost brush my ear and an involuntary shiver runs down my spine, making me tremble. I swallow hard, feeling the chain pressing against my throat for a second. I have to force myself not to move and it has never been this hard before. I am even eager to know what he has in plan for me.



“Take off your coat and shoes, DiNozzo”, he whispers into my ear. “Then go and sit on the couch. I'll be with you in a minute.”



“Yes, Boss”, I say meekly and he gives me a smile.



“Good boy.”



He leaves me alone and I do as I have been told. The shoes go off rather quickly but I am more careful when I remove my coat. My damaged left hand is throbbing and every time the fabric brushes against my palm I cringe. Finally I can put my coat on a hanger and go to the living room. I take a seat on the couch, on the edge of it, not wanting to make myself comfortable. It doesn't take long before he comes to me again, now holding a big plastic bowl filled with snow. He sit down in front of me, on the coffee table, and places the bowl securely between his knees. I watch as he pick out some bandages and other items from his pockets and puts them beside him on the table. My eyes narrow as I realize that he is going to tend to my damaged hand, and I have to restrain myself from speaking up. I don't want him to tend to my hand. I want to keep feeling the throbbing pain, but I do not dare to tell him that.



You don't tell your Keeper what he can or can't do.



Suddenly he grabs my wrist and lifts up my damaged hand. The back is covered in dry blood and the palm and fingers are full of blisters where the skin isn't burnt or sooty. He smirks at me before he presses a finger to my hand. The sudden outburst of pain makes me gasp sharply through gritted teeth and I flinch, making him tighten his grip around my wrist so I won't pull it out of his grasp. Utterly slowly he trails my hand, making me pant with the effort of holding still. It feels like he has put the lighter to my hand again. Oh, how I love it!



When he finally releases me I am bathing in sweat and my whole body is shaking uncontrollably. I even think I came once, but I am not sure. He runs a soothing hand through my damp hair and then he puts my damaged hand into the bowl of snow.



“You have been very good”, he tells me as he washes my hand with the ice-cold water from the melting snow. I sigh with relief as the pain subsides and I let myself relax. I can't deny that it feels good.



I keep my eyes at his hands as they surprisingly gently rubs my hand free from blood. The water is turning red and soon my self-inflicted cuts are clearly visible. I see him frown as he reads his own name on the back of my hand. The cuts aren't deep and they don't need stitching, but they will still probably leave scars. For the rest of my life I might have his name engraved in my skin. I can see the realization of it hit him as he seeks my eyes. I can see a question form inside him, but I beg him not to utter it with a pleading look. I know that I cross the line by doing so, but I can't tell him why I carved his name into my skin. I can hardly even explain it to myself. It just seemed so right when I did it and I couldn't stop myself once the knife penetrated my skin. I had to finish what I started and I can only hope that he will understand that.



His eyes turn to steel and he straightens his back. The next second I can feel his hand hit the back of my head, making it cringe forward. The slap is harder then the ones he uses to give me, but I, on the other hand, accept it without a comment. He has every right to slap me. He is my Keeper. By clasping the chain around my neck he told me that I don't belong to myself anymore. My body, mind and soul belongs to him now. He can do whatever he wants with me.



He takes my hand out of the melting water and carefully wipes it with a clean, soft towel. Then he puts a cooling salve on my blisters before wrapping my hand in gauze and bandages. I know I should go see a doctor, but not tonight. My hand is the least of my concern right now. I'll let Ducky take a look at it in the morning. He is the only doctor I trust, anyway.



He stands up and beckons me to do the same. We walk over to a more open part of the room and I feel my heart rate speed up a bit, my breathing getting deeper and a feeling of expectation wells up inside me. I know this is it. What he did with my hand was just a teaser, a delicious little teaser, but I can't help feeling a little nervous. The first time with a new Keeper always makes me nervous, because I never know what they have in mind for me.



I can still remember my first Keeper. She was the one who taught me about the pleasures of pain. Our first night, she nearly even killed me. I have never screamed so loud, or so much, in my entire life. I will never forget the pain. She broke me that night, shattered my mind and soul to tiny little pieces, and I have never managed to put them back together again. She installed the need for more pain in me and for that I am forever grateful.



He is circling me once more, letting his eyes wander over my body. I clench my fists and my jaws, hoping against hope that he doesn't see how I tremble with excitement. He stops behind me, so close that his hot breath tickles my neck. Me entire body is screaming for him to begin but I can feel that he is enjoying making me wait.



It feels like an eternity has passed before he walks around me to stand in front of me. He looks me straight in the eyes before he grabs me by my throat and pulls me closer. His grip is so tight that I can hardly breathe and the chain is pinching my skin. I try to swallow, but he doesn't allow me. I look into his eyes and I can see his determination. He wants to give me pain. He wants me to suffer. He wants it because I want it, and I know that he will put his entire soul into it.



He will not let me down.



“Are you ready, Tony?” he asks huskily, looking deep into my eyes. His grip is making it impossible for me to speak, so I just nod. He lets go of me, finally letting me suck some much needed air down my lungs, and takes a step back. I take a deep, calming breath and stand tall again. I am more than ready. This is what I have been waiting for for so long. And I am glad that he is the one who will give it to me.



“Take off your clothes”, he tells me and turns around to walk away. “I'll be back soon.”



I am alone before I get a chance to reply. Slowly I do as I am told, neatly folding each garment and put them on the couch. When he returns I am back at the same spot where he left me, completely naked. Nothing is between him and my bare skin. Nothing except the chain and the bandages. I am ready.



He walks over to me and I can see him holding a piece of cloth between his hands. A blindfold. He locks eyes with me beckons me to kneel. I sink down to the floor and he walks around me to stand behind me. Surprisingly gently he ties the blindfold around my eyes, making sure that I can't see a thing through it. Then he bends down and puts his mouth against my ear.



“Do not move”, he growls slowly. “Do not make a sound. Have I made myself clear?”



I try to speak but I can't make the words pass my lips. He slaps me hard again before grabbing my hair and yanks my head backwards.



“I said, have I made myself clear?” he repeats, his steel voice sending shivers down my spine once more.



“Yes, Boss!” I manage to say and he lets go of me, giving me such a hard shove that I almost topple over.



I hear him move around but I can't figure out what he is doing. I am all on edge, anxiously waiting for him to strike, but nothing happens. Soon everything is quiet around me. Has he left me alone? I want to call out to him, but that would mean disobeying his direct command, and I dare not do that. My heart is racing in my chest, my breaths are shaky as I almost hyperventilate. I swallow hard and press my hands to my thighs, forcing myself to be still. He can't have walked out on me. He can't be that cruel. He knows that I need this. By clasping the chain around my neck, he more or less promised me that he would give me what I need. He can't walk out on me.



Then my world explodes around me as a forceful blow to my sacrum fills my entire being with such a white-hot pain that I stop breathing for a moment. It feels like my spine is being torn into little pieces and stars are dancing before my eyes.



A smile spreads across my face as the pain subsides. I gasp for breath and I am grateful that he allows me to recover from the shock. Not many Keepers would do that. Oh, this is going to be a long night!