In Helen’s Hands

by Nanisi Barrett D'Arnuk

  “Little Butch,” she whispered. “Why don’t you dance with Sweet One. She looks so lonely dancing by herself.”

  I got to my feet and let the music flow through me. Soon, I was dancing close to Neisy, our bodies touching, veering away, touching again. Neisy put a hand on my hip and guided my pelvis to hers. We rubbed and crushed, our eyes locked, and the music melted us together. Our breasts mashed against each other. Our eyes were only for each other and for Helen. We danced closer and closer, each move becoming more seductive. Each look to Helen became more suggestive. The rhythm was like a drug, and soon we were both in it.

  Then the music stopped.

  Helen stood at the radio, her eyes half-lidded. “Let’s take this upstairs.”

  Neisy had a satisfied smile spread across her face. “Come on, boy,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me up.

  We barely made it into the dungeon before Neisy was stripping. Neither of us was allowed to wear underwear. Naked, she grabbed me, pulling my shirt over my head.

  Before we could get on our knees, Helen was in the room. “Continue.”

  I didn’t know what had gotten into us, but within seconds, I was rolling on the floor with her, my cunt wet and throbbing. I pushed Neisy onto her back and covered her with my body, kneading into her flesh, gulping her.

  The sex was, hot and hard. Neisy’s wetness covered my face and hands. We couldn’t get enough of each other. I explored every inch of her with tongue and fingers. Her fingers dove into me.

  She moved to accept my entire hand. As my fist balled within her, her writhing became frenzied, her hips bucking against me. Moans of “Yes! Oh yes!” escaped her lips. She reached to bring me closer and without thinking, I moved over her. If my arm could have bent the other way, I would have placed my cunt directly over her face. As it was, we sixty-nined each other with her hand on my ass and her fingers delving within me.

  Helen encouraged us as we moved. Her voice was as hot and breathless as mine would have been if I wasn’t so busy biting, sucking, and lapping. I pushed back against Neisy’s hand, which felt smaller than Helen’s. I was hot, and I wanted it. Her fist slipped neatly into me.

  I flexed and turned my fist in her, mirroring the movements. It felt as if I was fisting myself. If I twisted a little to the right, the hand in me twisted to the right. I’d push in deeply and be pushed into deeply. Both of us breathed in gasps.

  “Please, Mistress,” Neisy said. “Please, I have to come.”

  “Just a minute,” “Helen whispered. “Boy, are you ready to come?”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am. Right away. Please!”

  “No, not yet.”

  Helen’s command drove me crazy. It felt as if we were going to swallow each other. After a few minutes, she said, “Together. Come to me.”

  Both of us pushed into each other, our bodies covered with sweat and sex. I felt as if I’d never stop coming. When we withdrew, we both collapsed, gasping for air and sated.

  Helen stood over us, a strange look on her face. “Beautiful,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen that before. You two are very creative. And very hot.” Then she turned and left. As Neisy moved to curl up in my arms, the door closed.

  Chapter Eleven

  More days went by. The pile of tapes diminished as the pile of music grew. The opera was almost transcribed. Now I just had to orchestrate it. I went blithely from day to day, waiting for Helen’s commands and working on the music. I couldn’t have been happier.

  Neisy, however, became very sullen. I found myself being careful around her, as it was easier to step out of her way than risk a slap on the rear or a snide remark. She had me confused. There were times when she went out of her way to be nice. Other times, I felt like dirt scraped off her shoes. She assigned me the most menial jobs around the apartment. She seemed above all that now.

  Helen left on Tuesday for Atlanta: some rehearsals, a concert, some partying. She’d be back Monday night. We’d been told to behave ourselves while she was gone and not to annoy the neighbors. As she left, she gave each of us a warm embrace and a kiss on the forehead. When Saturday came, Neisy seemed even more disagreeable, sending me to the corner store four different times. She could have given me a list to begin with.

  I was arranging parts for the brass ensemble that would accompany the opera. Before she’d left, Helen and I had sat for several days, going over her ideas for the orchestration. I could hear in my mind exactly what she wanted. It would be a piece of cake I wanted to have done when she returned.

  Neisy leaned against the door of the piano room, watching me. “You really are the ultimate bottom, aren’t you?”

  I looked at her, surprised by her tone. “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. ‘Oh, Mistress, this is wonderful. Oh, Mistress, that would sound great. Oh, Mistress, your ideas are spectacular.’ Little brownnose, worming your way into her ego. Don’t think I don’t notice.”

  I sat still, surprised by her tirade.

  “It gets tiresome, you know. All she ever says is ‘Little Butch did this,’ and ‘my boy said that.’ She hardly ever speaks to me except to sing your praises.” A hateful look crossed her face. “You’re trying to get me out of here. I can see through your sham.”

  “Don’t be silly, Neisy. She’d never get rid of you. You’re the number one bottom here. That hasn’t changed. She gives you more in the dungeon than she gives me.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t want to harm her precious little boy.” Her ire could have filled the room.

  I shook my head, wanting this to be over. She walked over and grabbed the music.

  “Neisy!” Before I could get it back, she ripped it in pieces, crumpling them into a tight wad. The ink, still wet, smeared across the paper. I stared. “Are you crazy?” I stood there shaking. Two days of work lay in a ball on the floor. Maybe I could piece them back together and copy them, but it would take time.

  Neisy grabbed me by the shirt collar. “Get upstairs.” She sneered, giving me a shove.

  “Upstairs?” I was shocked.

  “You do remember where the dungeon is, don’t you, little boy?”

  Anger raged through me. “Helen said we’re not supposed to go in there without her.”

  “She also said you sub to me. Or have you forgotten that part? You say I’m number one? Well, prove it. Get upstairs.” She took a step closer, and I could smell alcohol on her breath.

  “You’ve been drinking.”

  Before I could react, Neisy backhanded me across the face. Her slap held quite a bit of power. I stumbled, stunned. I touched my face to soften the pain and felt the warm wetness of blood. Her ring had cut my cheek.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” I yelled. “Are you crazy?”

  “Not anymore.” Her voice was low with anger. “I was crazy to let Helen bring you in here.”

  I put up my hands to ward off the new blows she leveled at me. I didn’t want to hit back. She was stronger than me, but I had to stop her. I took several steps backward to get out of her reach.

  She sneered again. “You can’t get away. I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

  “Wait. Just wait,” I said, trying to think of something to calm her. “Let’s talk about this, okay?”

  “I’m tired of talking.” She took another step.

  I sprang and pushed back with all my strength. As she fell, I raced for the door and flew out of the apartment. I heard the door slam behind me as I took the stairs three at a time, down four floors to the street.

  * * *

  I walked around the Upper West Side for hours and sat in the park overlooking the river until the light started to fade. Then I got up and walked again. It was dark before I got back to the apartment building. Will, the evening doorman, was on duty, so it had to be after eight.

  “Nice night for a walk.” He smiled as I came in, but then his face turned shocked. “My God, what happened to you? Were you mugged? Are you all right?” He put his arms out to comf
ort me and sat me down in the chair behind his post.

  I hadn’t realized how disheveled I must have looked. As he took out his handkerchief to daub my cheek, I realized there was still blood from Neisy’s attack.

  “Let me call the police,” he said, reaching for his phone. “Where did this happen?”

  “No. Don’t call the police. Please.” All I could think was the mess we’d be in if Helen found out what had happened or if the police got involved. “It was an accident. I’m okay. I just tripped.”

  He frowned, clearly not believing a word I said.

  “No, really,” I assured him, trying to keep my voice calm. “It was just a stupid accident.” I took a deep breath. “Do you know if Neisy’s home?”

  “She went out about a half hour ago.”

  At least I could go upstairs and clean up without facing her.

  “I don’t know where she went, but I could call someone else in the building if you need help.” His voice showed real concern.

  “No.” I sighed. “I’m all right. I just need to lie down.”

  “Are you sure there’s not something I can do?”

  “No. Thank you, Will. I’ll call if there’s anything I need.”

  “I’m here till two. Then Robert comes on duty,” Will said after me. “Call if you need me.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  At the apartment door, I had a panic attack. Did I have my keys, or had I rushed out without them? I dug into my pockets and finally extracted the key to the door. I sighed in relief. At least I wouldn’t have to wait in the hall for Neisy to return.

  As I walked to my room, I caught a glance at myself in the hall mirror. No wonder Will had been so concerned. Both sides of my face were bruised a light but noticeable black and blue. The cut to the right of my upper lip was oozing. I looked as if I’d been run over by a truck.

  With a sigh, I went into the bathroom and started the water for a warm bath. As an afterthought, I added several spoons of Epsom salts. I figured if they soothed my body after an evening in the dungeon, they might help now. As I stripped and lowered myself into the tub, a thought struck me. How could I explain the bruises to Helen? I didn’t want to get Neisy in trouble but, hell, she’d started it. Anger filled me as the water rose around me. But then, so did concern.

  * * *

  Neisy didn’t come back to the apartment until late the next morning. I heard the door open and close and her footsteps in the hall. I was in the kitchen making coffee when she walked in. She stopped but lowered her eyes and walked by without a word.

  For the rest of the day, we both tried to stay away from each other, it seemed. Neither of us spoke, and I could taste the tension in the apartment. Neisy stayed in her room most of the day, the door closed. She only came out to use the bathroom or refill her coffee cup.

  Around seven, I filled a second bowl with the black bean soup I’d made and walked to Neisy’s door. I knocked.

  “What?”

  I opened the door. She was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. “I thought you might be hungry,” I said, placing the bowl on the table next to her bed.

  “Hmph.”

  I waited a minute, then turned to go.

  “What are you going to tell Helen?”

  I stopped. I hadn’t expected her to talk to me. “I don’t know.”

  She looked away. “Me, either.”

  I waited, but she showed no other sign of talking, so I closed the door behind me.

  * * *

  I watched Helen get out of the cab from the music room window. The doorman took her bags from the driver and paid as Helen rushed into the building, looking happy to be home.

  “She’s here,” I stated as I turned toward the living room where Neisy lounged on the couch. We hadn’t talked since I’d brought her the soup. I didn’t know what to say, and I was afraid of saying something that might make her angry again. I wasn’t sure why she hadn’t spoken, but I hadn’t asked.

  Neisy rose at the sound of Helen’s key in the lock and went to take the suitcases from the doorman. She kissed Helen on the cheek as she threw her coat on the couch.

  Helen patted Neisy’s cheek and started to say something but stopped when she saw the gloomy look on Neisy’s face. “What’s wrong, Sweet One? Aren’t you glad to see me?”

  Neisy glanced at me as I stood in the music room door. Helen followed her gaze and stopped. “My God. What happened to you?” She rushed over and hugged me.

  I’d tried to mask the bruises on my face with makeup, but I knew she’d see through it. At least the swelling in my cheek had gone down.

  She held me at arm’s length and examined my face. I averted my eyes, not wanting to see her when I lied to her. “It’s nothing. I fell.”

  I prayed she’d believe me, but of course, she didn’t. I glanced at Neisy, and Helen turned to her. “All right,” she said, her teeth clenched, her voice in that low tone that meant she was not pleased. “Which one of you is going to tell me what happened?”

  “It’s nothing,” I started to say as Neisy began speaking. We stopped and looked away from each other, embarrassed.

  Helen studied us both, then turned to Neisy. “Upstairs. Now.”

  Neisy ran up the stairs, not looking at Helen or me.

  Helen took my face in her hand. I winced as she touched a bruise on my cheek. “I’ll talk to you later. Wait here.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I murmured as Helen followed Neisy upstairs.

  I paced the living room for a full hour before I heard my name. I hurried upstairs, knowing Helen was angry and that every minute she had to wait would make her even more so.

  As I entered the dungeon, I spotted Neisy sitting, fully clothed, in the center of the floor. I’d half expected to find her bound and whipped, but the look on her face told me it was far more serious than that.

  “Now give me your side,” Helen said. “And no bullshit about falling. I want the truth.”

  I shrugged and stared at the floor.

  Helen waited, her fingers tapping impatiently against her thigh.

  “We fought.”

  “Who started it?”

  Please, don’t make me say this. I stared at the floor in silence and shrugged.

  Helen turned to Neisy. “Do you have something to say to her?” That stopped me. Helen had referred to me in the feminine. Was I no longer her boy? That was the worst blow of all. It seemed everything was falling apart.

  Neisy still wouldn’t look at me. “I’m sorry I hit you,” she said in a soft voice.

  “I can’t hear you,” Helen roared. “How the hell can you expect her to?”

  Neisy finally looked up. “I’m sorry I hit you. I was drunk. I took out my frustrations on you. I apologize.”

  Helen turned for my reaction.

  I shrugged again. “Okay,” was all I could say.

  “Okay? Okay? She tries to beat the shit out of you, and all you can say is okay? What is wrong with both of you?” Helen stomped to the other end of the room, then turned and slowly paced back. “I must have trained you too well,” she said, looking at me and shaking her head. She sat on her stool and held her head in her hands. “I go away for not even a week, and I have to come home to this?” She sighed, then looked us both squarely in the eyes. “Clear this up between you, and I don’t want to see either of you outside this room until it’s settled. Either kiss and make up or kill each other. The choice is yours.” She strode out.

  I shifted back and forth for several minutes. Neisy picked imaginary lint from the rug. The tension grew. Finally, Neisy exploded. “All right,” she yelled. “I’m sorry! What else do you want me to say?”

  I sank onto the floor. “I don’t want you to say anything,” I cried in frustration. “I just want this to be over. I want it the way it used to be.”

  Neisy shook her head.

  “What did I do? What made you so angry at me?”

  She looked at me for the first time. “You didn’t do anything. Yo
u were perfect.” I started to object, but she stopped me. “No, it’s true. You do everything she asks. You never fail. You never make a mistake. You can do her music, and you make her happy in here. You’re perfect. What’s left for me to do?”

  “Oh, Neisy, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. This was coming on for a long time…long before you got here. It was just a matter of time. I can’t give her what she needs. She feeds off you; she gets her musical ideas from you; she gets her thrills from you. Whether you know it or not, you challenge her. She has to be creative to top you. That’s what excites her. I’m old meat.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve asked her to release me.”

  “Neisy, no—”

  “She needs you. She’s never needed me. I was just a nice diversion, and I’m a good cook. I never challenged her the way you do, no matter how hard I tried.”

  “But you love her.” There had to be something I could do to stop this.

  “That isn’t enough. Not for Helen Robins. She thrives off someone who makes her be creative. That’s you, not me. It never was me.” There was a sadness dripping from her voice.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.”

  I hugged her, and her arms encircled me at last. We rocked back and forth, trying to comfort each other. It felt so final.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was lonely not having Neisy around. Although she called now and then from her new home with her new master, it wasn’t the same as having a friend to share things with. Helen hired a woman, Rachel, to come in during the afternoons to vacuum the downstairs, change the bedding in her room, and cook dinner. I still ran all the errands and purchased the food from the list. And I kept the dungeon spotless. I also continued working on the music.

  In the extra time, I started working on my own music. Copying for Helen had ignited my own creative spark, and I was starting to compose music of which I was proud. In fact, working through Helen’s music was making my own playing better. Helen had even commented that I sounded smoother and more relaxed in my delivery. I glowed in her praise. And I grew in her light.