Cabin of Axes - Bea Paige Page 0,47

depositing its little body on the table beside the mirror and taking stock of my reflection. My feet hurt, but they’re not as painful as they should be. My cheeks and lips are flushed a rosy pink just like my nipples and areola. My arms are covered in scratches that should feel sore, but don’t. I lift my right arm and press my finger against a deep looking gash that’s covered in a viscous liquid. Poking the tip of my tongue out of my mouth, I lick, tasting honey. The same honey that brought me to the Torben brothers’ doorstep four months ago, the same honey that we became addicted to, that had heightened our sexual pleasure, that had healed us and soothed us, that, in the end, had almost destroyed us. Rushing over to the chest-of-drawers I grab a t-shirt, a pair of joggers and socks, pulling them on quickly before rushing downstairs.

“Berrin! Franklin! Matt!” I call, frantic now. If I was stung by the bees, so too were they. I need to know they’re okay. The venom is dangerous, life-threatening to some, but incredibly hallucinogenic to others. It can also cause paranoia. I’m unaffected by the poison, somehow having a natural immunity, but Berrin, Franklin and Matt… they’re not.

They react badly to the bee venom. In the time I’ve known them they’ve been stung on a few occasions and each time they’ve regressed. The bee venom makes them relive their past traumas. It makes them remember.

Remember…

Oh my God, that’s how I’ve remembered. The bee venom is an antidote to the honey, just like the honey is an antidote to the venom.

When I first met the Torben brothers I’d been sneaking around their hive having heard about the healing properties of the honey from Stephen, my co-worker at Charing Cross Hospital in London who’d heard about it from his wife, Lynette, who’d been told about the honey by her sister-in-law Janet who was married to Jason, the manager of the hardware store in Butterford Village. The same store that the Torben brothers brought their equipment from and who’d given Jason a bottle of their honey after he’d ordered in a whittling tool for them as a favour. That trail of breadcrumbs, or honey, had led me to the hive and to the aloof, caustic, brusque and frankly scary Torben brothers.

I hadn’t been welcome.

Back then I’d not had any forewarning about who they were as men. Maybe if I had, I might never have come here. I’m glad I did though.

I remember those early days. I remember being locked in the basement. These men had scared me in those first few weeks. I’d been their prisoner at first. Their trust in people broken by trauma and pain from their past. But over time they’d come to know me and understood I meant them no harm. Our relationship had evolved from captive and captor, to friends and then lovers.

Lovers…

They’d shown me a side of them that other women might have feared. Possessive, demanding, controlling, dominant.

Yet, I didn’t fear them. I longed for their dominance, their touch. I’d fallen hopelessly in love with these men whose sexual preferences were darker than anything I’d ever experienced before. Chains had held me captive, ropes had grazed my sensitive skin, nipple clamps had squeezed, whips had lashed, paddles had bruised, hands had stung, fingers had tightened, and cocks had fucked me raw, but all of it had brought me intense pleasure that I hungered for time and time again.

But they’d also been gentle, warm, loving, kind, protective. We’d laughed together, we’d loved one another, and our relationship had evolved into something unbreakable, until that fateful day when our happiness came to an abrupt halt and everything changed…

“I’m heading out to the hive, I just want to grab another sample of honey for testing,” I say to Franklin who’s standing outside the Cabin of Axes, chopping up some wood.

He looks up at me, sweat sliding over his naked chest and I get the familiar butterflies in my stomach every time I’m near him. “Wait a moment and I’ll come with you. Berrin and Matt are in the studio working on a commission.”

“No, it’s fine,” I wave him off. “I won’t be long.”

He swings his axe hard enough to split the wood and embed the head in the stump beneath it, then jogs over to me, pulling me into his arms. “Sweetheart, I’ll come.”

“No, I’ll come if you keep rubbing yourself against me like that,” I say,