My head stays in one spot, and behind my shades, my eyes follow the people that I need to watch. They have no idea they’re under surveillance. The color of my eyes isn’t the only reason I wear dark glasses day and night. My friend’s movements seem more off than usual, and tell me he is hiding something. That peaks my interest a whole lot. This, I remind myself, is why the Prez let me trade up and join the Master Charter, instead of going nomad. I’m proud to know the art of stalking, and I do very well at it.

Alec watches me more than normal, too. He keeps peeking over his shoulder to see if I’m where I was when he last looked, but he doesn’t know I’m watching him as he does this. My back tenses when I get a sudden feeling of betrayal racing through my instincts.

What in the fuck did this fucker do? Does he know what we are planning to do?

All of this factors into how I handle telling him he has a meeting with my Prez tomorrow afternoon. I decide it’s time I make my rounds, find someone to fuck and hurt, and satisfy that craving before I blow him away with my sudden news. I can’t text my Prez to let him know something is off because I never take my phone out here. If I did, Alec would suspect me more. I do as the Prez says and just be myself.

I hunt down a little masochist with short brown hair that I’ve fucked in the past. It’ll be quick and to the point, without any of the usual spiel. When I seek her out, she is chatting with one of her friends, waiting to see if I choose her.

I bend down and murmur in her ear. “Feather.” I fucking hate that scene name, yet I respect her enough to use the weird fucker.

“Tavis,” she answers in greeting.

“Come,” I order.

I don’t give her an option. She has never denied me, and if she wanted to, she would not have greeted me back. Great thing about repeaters, no pleasantries are needed.

Once my room door shuts behind us, she strips. God, I fucking love when I use repeaters I actually enjoy being with. They already know what’s up, and I can get straight to the fucking and the pain.

“Color,” I ask. This will be the only question since we know each other’s scene limits. If she wants to inform me of something that has changed, she will, or she can safe word.

“Red as always,” she responds as the dress slides off her curvy body. This is what I enjoy most about fucking Feather. She has curves, eats well, exercises, and watches over herself. She is one example of a perfect scene mate.

“And…”

Her lips tilt up and her Monroe piercing smiles at me. “I’m ready.”

I toss my shades off, hang up my cut, and strip down before digging a condom out of my dresser and slipping it on. I don’t like messing with them when I’m heated, and I don’t like wasting time. I never pass up a quick scene with a repeater. It’s too damn simple to please my demons.

I get my single tail out, and because I never use the same cracker, I attach a new one. I don’t use it often, but it is not safe to use the same one on different scene mates because of the exchange of bodily fluids. When I crack it, the sound echoes the room and sings to me. The whoosh makes my balls tingle with the anticipation of splitting open her skin. Feather enjoys the pain. Hell, she begs for more. I only crack her on the back in one area, and never so hard that the lacerations won’t easily heal.

“Your demons can come play whenever you’re ready, Tavis,” she purrs as she turns around and latches her hands into the braided rope hanging from the hooks in the ceiling.

“I’ll strike you seven times, and no more,” I growl.

Once I’m confident she is comfortable enough to let me strike her, I flick my single tail a few times to warm up my wrist. Feather’s shoulder blades tense and loosen with each sound of the cracker. I line my eyesight up with the area we have agreed upon. I crack one more time, and then my wrists snaps, letting the leather whish through the air before the cracker swipes her skin. The sound of it slicing at her back makes my cock twitch and harden a little more. I flick again, and this time the skin tears enough to let out a trickle of blood. Her whimpers are of pleasurable pain, a sound I have come to love from her. By the time I’m on number six, blood trickles from all strikes and Feather now moans uncontrollably. The seventh one hits the hardest, and the sound of splitting skin is my undoing. I drop the whip to the floor and stalk towards Feather and as I wrap one arm around her body, I yank her towards me. Her back presses against my front as I put pressure against her wounds. With my free hand, I adjust the condom on my hard cock, and confident of its placing, I slip into her from behind and grip her tighter.

She cries out in pain, not pleasure, when her back scrubs against my front as I thrust into her repeatedly. My movements are strong and fierce, and the walls of her pussy clamp down and squeeze my cock.

When her hands release the ropes and her arms drop, I know my time with her is almost up and my release has to happen right now. I wet my thumb before I bring it to her ass and jam in it with enough force to make her bleed. Both holes being brutality pounded and her screams are all I need to free myself. I roar loudly as my cum spurts into the rubber.

I talk her down until she is comfortable enough for me to let go of her long enough to slip off my condom and get what I need to tend to her.

When the condom is tied, I drop it to the floor so that I can dispose of it later. I walk to the dresser, open my aftercare drawer, and grab the balm I will use on her wounds. I crave causing pain for sexual pleasure, but I always pay extra attention to the ones I harm, too.