How to Love a Blind yet Faithful Submissive

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Let me tell you something. Being bloody and sweaty is no fucking fun at all.

Ever since I was kidnapped (and during the ride over to the musty and dusty warehouse), I’ve been beaten up and spat on by Caylee Amerson’s goons who were as big as oil takers, brainless as Valley Girls, and as nasty as a mixture of week-old dirty laundry and moldy bread.

And currently, I was being tied down to a chair with my arms bound from behind and my legs shackled while the girls (and Ryan, who was kidnapped before the girls and myself) in a separate room that smelled of my blood and had way too much nicotine in the air. Little wonder I never smoked a day in my life, and for good reason since I knew that Mama would haunt me from the afterlife if I did.

But that point alone was moot as I was gagged and unable to cry for help while two more of the diva’s goons were likely glaring down at me as I awaited for her to come in here.

“You sure that Amerson wants to keep this kid alive?” I heard one of them say in a Midwestern accent, no doubt glaring down at my behind. “He’s not much to look at since can’t see a damn thang.”

“Caylee wants him alive so she can be the one to kill him,” I heard his partner grunt back in a lighter accent. “He’s kind of cute, I’ll give Saint Croix that for dating this fucker.”

I heard a chair scrape back as large footsteps approach me, my nose being welcomed the rotting smell of tobacco and seafood. “Maybe we’ll do her a favor killing him ourselves,” the first guy grunted, sending me a slap on the face that knocked me and the chair backwards and falling onto the cold pavement. “Do this fuckup a solid by ridding this rat-“

I heard a gunshot cock as his partner shot him twice in the head before his footsteps came to where I was. “Sorry about that, doll face,” his partner said in a cool tone. “Anthony doesn’t know when to restrain himself and Caylee is pissed off at us for laying hands on you when she wants to kill you herself. You’re kind of hot in a twink kind of way, but her words are law, man. She really wants you gone and so here you are. You better hope that your fiancé gets the billions by sunset or else you and your crew will die and so will the rest of LA. But knowing her psychotic ass, she’ll kill you regardless.” I felt his foot stomp on my stomach, knocking the wind out of me before I was helped back up and he left without another word.

I felt like crying.

I felt like screaming.

I felt like wanting to break free and hunting down the bitch to take her out myself.

But…I was all emotionally drained at the moment. Nothing else left to say or do other wait for the bimbo to arrive and await my fate.

“Don’t let anyone make you feel worthless,” Mama said firmly as she stood in front of the doorway of her home, arms crossed as her sundress billowed in the summer wind that was giving way to a thunderstorm. “That whore may be prettier than every beauty queen, but she’s too dark in her heart. You’re more stronger than she is in the mind. Don’t let her tell you that you are a cripple. You’re a Van Blackwell by blood and you are a warrior. And if she kills you, then you know that we’ll meet again in heaven. But help is coming, baby. Calvary is on their way.”

And as she said those words, I took a few deep breaths to calm my rushing mind just as I smelled the familiar Circus perfume. Caylee Amerson had arrived.

“So, Isaiah Van Blackwell,” the reality-star whore drawled as I heard her giant stiletto heels circle around me. “How does it feel to know that you’re finally facing my wrath and your fate in my hands?”

I didn’t answer her.


“That’s for having me kicked out at Vibe!” She screeched in anger.


“That’s for having me banned FOR LIFE at the House of Suez!”


“That’s for being a freak with no eyesight!”

She continued to go slap-happy while screaming and ranting on and on how I screwed up her life in more ways than one. All the while, I just remained silent while thinking of my mom.



I took a deep breath, ready to end this mess. “I hear you,” I said in a calm yet firm tone. “And as much as I’d love to entertain you, I really don’t care anymore.”

“What did you say?”

“Did I stutter?”

She chucked lowly. “Do I look like a female dog?” she said in a condescending tone.

“If you mean that you look and sound like a total bitch from hell, than yeah you are.” I replied, keeping my tone even. “And yeah, I said that you, Caylee Amerson, are an ungrateful, pompous, loud-mouth, extremist-minded, homegrown, organic, bona fide, and unfiltered bitch from hell who wears too much fucking perfume; spends her family’s money on too much clothes and not enough time in school; causes men to turn gay or bisexual- mainly the former; and harasses a lot of good people when they’ve done nothing wrong to you. I can see why your grandfather wanted to ship you to military school, you spoiled bitch from hell!”

“How dare you!” She snarled.

I shrugged. “Hey, if the bone fits the dog, don’t blame me. You played your hand, now let the chips fall where they may.”

I heard her chuckle lowly, snapping her fingers. In an instant, I heard giant footsteps mingle in with the protesting voices of Ryan, Jocelyn, Cassie, Catalina, and Clarissa as they were hauled in, their feet bound by shackles. “I can easily kill all of you right here and now,” she intoned. “Then I’ll take my rage to all of LA and kill all those who are against me.”

“Believe me, you slut, everyone in LA and the whole USA hates you,” I heard Jocelyn spat at her half-sister.

“Obviously,” I heard Ryan pipe up. To me, “Isaiah, you okay?”

I sighed. “Other than the fact that I’m in and out of consciousness and feeling woozy from the blood, I’m just ginger peachy,” I replied.

“Oh, I can easily fix all of that,” Caylee purred as another gun cocked in the atmosphere. “You, Isaiah Van Blackwell are not meant to live, just like your mother and father. Your father died in a car crash and your mommy died giving birth to you so you could live. And still, despite others telling you that you’d be better off homeless or being a janitor, you still got your eyes set on independence. You’re a fucking cripple, you fuckwad, and you need to remember your place. But I’ll let you and your gaggle of trash friends go if you just say that you’re a cripple; that you’ll break up with Salim; and that you’ll kill yourself, just to make it all easier on me.”

“Oh, hell no!” Natasha screeched angrily as I heard her struggle in the guards’ grasps. “Isaiah, you are not a fucking cripple! Don’t let her get to you!”

“Shut up, Allman trash,” Caylee barked before turning to me. “What’s it going to be, loser? Say what I want you to say…or die by my hand?”

Readers, I bet that you’re thinking that I should say what she wants and off my life, just to make it all better. But that would break everything that I was taught by my mother’s soul that lingers in my head. So, I raised my head up high…took a deep breath…and said, “Bite me, you trampy cat-lady slut!”

And just like that, I heard the same gun she held in her hand being cocked. “Then consider this a final farewell,” she said in a pleased tone. “Goodbye, trash.”

Salim, my love, I said softly in my head, thank you for entering into my life.

I closed my eyes and embraced for the worst.

And the…BANG!



“Then consider this a final farewell,” Caylee Amerson gloated as she aimed the gun at the silent blind young man. “Goodbye, trash.”

The girls and Ryan helplessly looked on, Natasha and Catalina shedding a few tears as she watched the reality star aimed her gun with a smile on her face.

Then, two gunshots rang from nowhere, both of them hitting Caylee right in the head. She felt her eyes go wide as she dropped the gun. And then, a final bang rang in the air as she dropped to the ground in cold blood.

“Isaiah?!” Clarissa exclaimed, wrenching her grasp from the guard as she untied his knots and unlocked his ankle restraints. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice a mix of confusion and shock. “Is she-“

“As a doornail,” Catalina replied stiffly just as the sound of footsteps echoed from the outside. “Who shot her, I’d like to know?”

And then, the door on the right swung open as Jarvis Frazier- Saint Croix- dressed in a red-and-black biker outfit…and holding a rifle in hand. “Somebody call in the rescue team?” he drawled as he entered the room with Salim and two more cops inside. He turned his attention to Isaiah, who was bleeding lightly yet slightly swaying back in forth.”

“JARVIS?! Clarissa, Cassie, and Catalina exclaimed in shock.

“You killed those people?!” Ryan asked.

He gave them a teasing smirk. “You’re welcome,” he said. “Now, let’s et y’all to the hospital to check for injuries and then my family and friends at Mama Sophie’s and Mariah’s will get y’all fed- more so for my future brother in law because he’s going to collapse in three, two, one.”

And just like that, Isaiah collapsed into the waiting arms of his fiancé, who was shedding tears of joy. “Thank you,” he said before closing his eyes.

“My pleasure,” Jarvis said as more policemen came into the room to arrest the other goons who were quickly surrendering.


Finally, Caylee Amerson- the queen diva an the most-hated woman of the reality-show industry- died as the royal diva she wanted to be. And as she laid there, her final thought was that her idol, the late Bernice Frazier- had betrayed her by ratting her out. Oh, well, was her final though as she closed her eyes for the final time. At least I’ll still die pretty.

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