Hurt for Me

by Heather Levy

because there was no point. It was always easier to do what he said. Less painful that way.

She looked down at her abdomen. “What do you think?” When you want something bad enough, you need to pay the consequence.

She thought about how Clint kept his gym clothes in the bag, and she hated the thought of his sweaty residue getting onto her food and the few clothes she had taken with her.

Echo quickly calculated thirty-two dollars times maybe seven months, and the knot in her chest grew heavier. “You’d think if the government really cared about babies, they’d make this shit cheaper, huh?”

Not about what he might do to her. She trusted him as much as she trusted any of her clients. Without mutual trust, she wouldn’t have a business. No, this worry was different.

like something was preventing him from relaxing into the pain and allowing her to help him break through his mental barriers.

Thomas was thirty-three, a couple of years younger than her, and he was exactly her type—tall with dark, unruly hair and soft brown eyes that made him appear innocent when she knew he was anything but.

Rae gave him no indication she cared either way, although she was used to hearing all about boring stuff. Some of her clients, especially the older guys, seemed to forget they paid her to beat them, not drone on for hours about their business dealings.

She knew he wanted to reach subspace, the blissful state of mind most masochists hope to achieve.

There were no happy endings, no sex at all. Her clients could get fully undressed, if she allowed

it, but there was no touching beyond placing them in various forms of bondage and during aftercare.

There was nothing wrong with it or any other kind of sex work, in her view, as long as it was between consenting adults. In many ways, her work saved her life.

She thought of how Thomas had looked at her, not with his normal respect but with covetous eyes as if he could own her, and her hands curled into tight fists.

The girl was rich and liked to throw her privilege around, talking down to adults and her friends like she owned the world.

especially after popular books and films like the laughable Fifty Shades series increased interest in BDSM. In truth, there were as many women under the delusion that they could be a submissive to a billionaire as there were asshole men who preyed on the vulnerable women obsessed with the fantasy.

She knew all too well how easy it was to slip through the cracks of society, never to be heard from again.

Whatever happens, she thought as she rubbed her abdomen, I will never leave you.

not as many of them enjoyed receiving the kind of pain she loved to inflict.

Whatever kept them coming back to her, other than sex, of course, she was usually willing to do. She never judged what they enjoyed because she got as much pleasure out of inflicting what they desired.

Plus, Oklahoma law stated that no person can consent to serious bodily injury or death, and cutting someone carried too much possibility of either for her comfort.

“Maybe he found a hot girlfriend who’s a sadist.” Rae snorted. “Or maybe he’s the biggest pain slut and wants to see how far I’ll go next time I see him.” “His funeral.”

An elderly homeless man sat down next to Echo, and his entire body was shaking so much it felt like an earthquake rumbling under her thighs. She tried not to move away from him because she didn’t want to be rude, but his body odor was overwhelming.

She had never done drugs willingly, but she knew the painful need of them, the horrible twisting in her stomach and being drenched in sweat for nights on end until Clint would give her another hit.

And she’d welcomed it, the one thing that offered comfort, a way to drift off into oblivion and escape her body for a time.

She paused, listening for some internal warning to go off. People don’t simply help others without wanting something in return. But then she knew that wasn’t exactly true since she’d tried to help

“No, Detective, I don’t, not that there’s anything wrong with it. If cops stopped focusing on arresting sex workers and went after rapists, I’d feel a lot better about how my tax dollars are spent.”

“I can’t say I disagree, but $300 is an awful lot for one massage. Then again, I’m a government employee who can barely afford health insurance, so what do I know.”

For one, he would have assumed the baby was someone else’s, even though he refused to use condoms with her. He used to demand the others wear one when they came to her room. But Clint didn’t seem to know or care how the men would often remove them.

It was better to buoy her with lies than drown her in a truth that would crush her.

one person’s pleasure is another person’s power. And that’s what he gave me—power. I was lost for so long, and he showed me how dominating someone was more than using a crop or tying someone up. It was about respect and honoring boundaries, things I didn’t have much experience with until him.

She had never been spanked before, never by her parents, but she had been hit more times than she could count when she was with Clint. And the other men . . . everything they did.

She couldn’t speak. It felt good but scary as well, like she would collapse if she allowed herself to relax too much into the pain.

But when she tried to explain why she was in California and everything that had happened with Clint and the bad men, it felt like she was conjuring evil to come find her. Yet, she told Viv everything. Well, almost everything.

It was less a house and more a prison, and she began shaking when she recalled the first time Clint had woken her from a dead sleep, his body heavy on hers as he forced himself into her. They’d had sex many times before then, but this was different.

That’s when he held her down to inject her with a drug of some kind. She never knew what it was, but it made the world go fuzzy and dreamlike. It made her not care as much what her body did so long as her mind could wander. Eventually, she stopped fighting Clint on it and welcomed the drug hitting her system, washing away all the pain.

“Why is she here, then?” Rae had asked, but she knew. “No, they can’t. Not with her. She’s only a little kid.” Clint shrugged. “Not up to me. I don’t create the menu. I just pick up the ingredients.”

When Beth was in one of her rages, Rae imagined the girl rolling around on the living room floor, biting through her thin forearm like a trapped wild dog.

“What did you give her?” she said to Clint, who was back to sitting on the couch. “Same thing you all get. It’s called shut-the-fuck-up juice.” He laughed, and some of the other men joined in.

Remembering Beth—it was like cutting her arm off with a knife, like the climber trapped in the canyon—but she could never escape all she should’ve done.

Rae had never formally reported it because reporting it meant an investigation into Clint, Bobby, and the other men, and she knew it was a rabbit hole that would never lead to

justice because there never was justice for rape survivors like her. Only pity. Or worse—blame.

“Hey, asshole, thanks for leaking us to the press and probably destroying the business we took over a decade to build.” “Yeah, thanks a lot for running a woman-owned and person of color–owned business into the ground since there are so many in this godforsaken state,” Angel added.

“Don’t pull that patronizing shit with us,” Rae said. “We’ll be as loud as we want.

Eleven weeks along. Dread speared through her at the thought of something taking over her body again. For so long, she hadn’t had a say in what she did or did not do with her body, and now that she had the choice, she was suddenly torn.

BDSM is what’s commonly referred to as SSC—safe, sane, and consensual,” Viv said. “It’s the cornerstone of what we do. Everything must be done in the safest way possible, all who participate must be of sound mind to consent, and all involved must consent before you do anything.

“This is not only a stinging sensation. It can easily harm a person if you’re not careful. And we never want to harm a person.” “But isn’t that the whole point? To hurt them?”

“Hurt is temporary, but harm is long term. And harm can also go much deeper than physical pain. It can damage the psyche. Do you understand?”

As for what I do for my online clients, most of dominating someone is all in the mind.”

She was urinating as much as her body was rapidly changing. Like everything in her life now, shifting to make room for another life to exist. For her own life to exist.

To some, it would always be considered deviant and disgusting, which meant many people had to keep their kinks private, lest their employer find a way to fire them. A lot of ultraconservatives even went so far as to suggest all members of the LGBTQ community were into BDSM and were actively grooming children.