Kaci loves me, endlessly.
And she loves my cock.
But she isn’t my wife anymore.
That label will be Iris Nakamura’s alone.
And somehow, that all matters when I am moving on and leaving the past to collect dust.
Grinning like a fool in love, I blow her a kiss. She catches my love in her hand and places it to her heart before she strides into the nightmare of my hell. “I’ll be around,” she reminds, popping her head out from behind the wall. “I’ve got a date with a Diamond, but before I go, dance for me, Sal. Just one more time.”
Rolling my eyes, I lower my head with a shake and know I cannot deny her request. I let loose and move like I haven’t in years. Feeling crazy and free, I dance alone in the middle of a dark forest as sweat and tears subside the pain away, and she disappears without notice. I must be crazy. Or insane. Or in love. In the reckless rhythm of my dance, I find the bravery to face my destiny…my fate…my future.
My Iris.
And we will dance.
“Come on, boys!” I shout, rallying my crew. “Time to bust this joint!”
Daisicle runs and jumps into my arms. Amidst her doggy kisses over my scruff, I chuckle as Deacon inquires, “What are we doing?”
“Saving the girl from the castle!”
He gives a marked side-eyed glance. “Have you been waiting your whole life to say that?”
Stretching my neck, I snarl, “Probably.”
Near the cemetery, Nico gathers as much candy as he can. He has a lollipop dangling out of his mouth as Dom smokes a cigarette near the flying monkeys.
“You can’t leave me here!” Amber begs, “Cas, do something!”
Wrestling with the ropes, she mumbles beneath the gag “… Like?”
“I don’t know!” Amber bellows as Deacon and I climb onto the gargoyle. “Stop them!”
“Come on, Nicky!” I warn, using the coercing dark determination I was born with—the voice of a leader, the voice to run the show, the voice of a Master, and a strategist. “Now!”
With his smock full of candy, he apologizes, “Sorry! I love candy!”
I raise my brows high as Deacon shoots a glare at me. “What the hell happened to you?”
“I’m going home,” I happily announce with a newfound determination. “And nothing is going to stop me.” Dom and Nico take off on their ride, and we follow. We’re just above the treetops when I remark, “Wait!”
“We need to go!” Deacon argues as I wave my hand over the forest. The lightning zigzags across the nefarious sky and dots the dark woods with little fires everywhere. “Fuck me, Nero…”
“I will when we get to the kingdom,” I snicker, setting my spirit free. “You’re not the only one with secrets.”
Blowing a light breeze, he brings the burning embers up to an inferno. The blaze roars in my eyes as he lays his hand on my thigh. “How’s that for a partnership?”
We fly higher as Amber’s malicious cry echoes throughout the lands. I hold onto Deacon a little tighter and love a whole lot more. “All of the evil will purge from this place. We are The Unholy… We bring about a peaceful, holy, and sacred ground. No matter what.”
“No matter what,” he agrees with a smirk. “Just remember how much I love you. To the castle?”
“Let’s go get our Queen,” I boast, watching the wicked flames consume the monsters. “It will all be ash and a bad memory soon enough.”
We glide over the sleeping lotus swamplands to the castle where I spot Iris, waving from the window. “Go there.”
“… Will we fit?”
“This isn’t the first time you’ve asked me this question,” I bait with a chuckle. “Of course, we will.”
We easily land in her room as Iris stares at the glowing horizon. “What have you done?”
“We’re eliminating evil,” I declare, picking her up in my arms. “Nightmares will never exist in these lands again.”
“Set me down,” she insists, smacking my guns. “We can do so much better than your mass destruction.”
At the window ledge, she raises her hands as the ravaging waters from the moat flood over the dark woods with force. “Water brings about life.”
“Look at all the water!” Deacon marvels at the growing wave. “That is insane!”
I blink the puddle of tears from my eyes as I realize Kaci will not make it. “I must trust.”
“She’ll be fine,” Iris assures, squeezing my hand. “She always has been. You just needed to trust in yourself.”
In awe, Deacon questions, “How far will the flood go?”
“The Kinky Kingdom could use a nice nude beach!” Iris smirks as we all hold hands. “Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome, beautiful,” I reply, inching closer. “Shall we go see what you’ve created?”
With a giddy squeal, she nods and lifts on her tiptoes to kiss me.
Deacon straddles onto the gargoyle as Iris asks, “Where did you learn to ride a gargoyle?”
“Some things,” he replies with a tilt of his head. “You just know.”
“Do I get to be in the middle?
In unison, Deacon and I remind, “You’re always in the middle!”
The ride across the water offers a gorgeous view as the resplendent sky clears and reflects the blue waters. I cast a glance over my shoulder, back to the Castle of Cum, and blink as the regal structure melts away like an ice sculpture in the sun.
In less than a hush of breath, it’s gone.
After spending all of that time trying to reach my destination, I attain the goal and move on. Just like the past, I am left with nothing but the pictures in my mind.
Time seizes for brief moments, but we are captured by memories everlasting. Those sometimes tragic memories steal the present away. It happens—an unavoidable facet of what it means to be human.
I long to be closer to a machine than a man, for this reason, saving my precious time. The cost is high for my psyche, and I don’t recommend it to anyone. I’d give it a single star based on the lack of emotional availability alone. I feel everything, but getting to the point of letting another human in…that is something I am trained to not allow.
Connecting goes against the programming despite the Pixie encouraging my loving, laughing, and living, but I am trying. Sometimes I fuck it up, but I try. And that counts double.
Humans hurt other humans.
And the risk best be worth the reward.
Sex is still sex. Love is always love.
If the two intercede, it’s a fucked-up mess.
And masturbation is always accessible.
I’m a frequent practitioner. You should be, too. I’m not touting the wonders of diddling while crouched in the bushes or rubbing one off in the chair at your desk at work. I know what you do. Believe me, I know. But it’s a solution for those who cannot deal with the inherent obstacles of sex and love in this day and age.
I’m going to screw my girl.
And my boy.
Cause I swing that way.
Grins.
Wanna swing with me?
Not like THAT, pervs.
And if I’m a lucky bastard, one or both will allow my Dominant out of the cage only to fly a whip onto their flesh. That’s the trick, though, right? And what so many get wrong.
They—the submissive—allow it.
Hear me here. I’ve got masochistic self-infliction issues, but don’t mistake these words.
The submissive allows, permits, consents, and/or begs for whatever she/he/them and the Dominant have previously, with your fucking clothes on and one-hundred percent sober, agreed to.
Get it right, girls and boys.
Submissive run the fucking world.
And if they’re not, then something isn’t right.
The Master should kneel before his submissive and welcomes his/her/they taking responsibility. Mutual respect and admiration should then occur.
I’m thinking about all of this
as we soar toward the Kinky Kingdom and pondering if I have taught Mr. Cruz these basic principles. Does he have them down well enough to rule my Queen if needed? Could he be a better me?
Probably. There is no doubt about that.
I’m an asshole; he’s a fucking Saint.
You should love Deacon, not me.
I’m the fucker to bring pain and laugh about it. I blaze in the sadistic. They know this, and yet, they’re still here. Damn, they must be as fucked up as I am.
Deacon lands the gargoyle like he was born to fly one—an unusual skill, albeit an admirable one. Good Bitch Anna rushes to greet us. “You did it, Salvatore! You really did it!”
Yes, I did.
Though for the life of me, I don’t really know what exactly I did. I’m still the same Boston Red Socks ball cap-wearing, gray sweat pants, and vegetarian pizza guy I always was. Maybe it all comes down to making a choice.
I chose.
I choose Iris and Deacon. To a lesser extent, I choose me, too. I choose to shun the labels. I choose to embrace the spectrum.
I choose love.
“I’m so happy to be here, Anna,” Iris says, grasping her hands. “It is an honor.”
“The honor is all mine, your High Monarch.”
“… Me?” Iris presses her hand to her heart. “I am not the High Monarch.”
Deacon and I exchange amorous innuendos as we sheepishly scuff our feet and make comparisons. Basically, we’re cutting up, as boys do. “I’d really like to see her on a spanking bench,” he mutters, nudging my shoulder. “All that ass.”
“Who?” I ask, catching the stare of her innocent sapphires. “Iris?”
“No,” Deacon answers, smirking like he’s guilty of everything sinister. “Anna, you twit.”
“Sal,” Iris whispers, kneeling and glancing up. Furrowing my brow, I have no clue why she lowered down. “Honey!” She snaps, urging my attention. “You are the High Monarch of the Kinky Kingdom.”
“… Uh,” I groan as Iris spastically nods with a smile. “Me?”
“Yes, Salvatore,” Anna informs with glee. “You are the High Monarch, the minister to rule the kinksters.”
“How will I ever make Deacon feel, Dom find his heart, and Nico be, well…not Nico?”
“You will find a way,” Anna implores with positivity. “You can because I believe in you.”
“But how will I ever get home?”
With a twinkle in her eye, Anna winks. “A little old magic gives you the perfect spell.”
On the balcony, I duck my chin and mutter to Deacon, “I am no wizard.”
“No, but I’ve seen you take many a wiz.” His brows shoot up high on his forehead as he pops my left shoulder. Ow. Fuck. “Don’t worry about it. Patience and time will provide blessings.”
I vacantly blink. “Gee, thanks. Oh, holy swamp lord…”
He nods with a crooked smirk. “You’re welcome, Master Nero, or should I say, High Monarch Nero?”
I don’t crack, even the slightest.
He thumps my bicep again. “I know, I know! How about Master Butterfly?”
“Oh, Jesus…”
“Only when you do that one thing,” he points out with a straight face as his hips demonstrate the move. With a shake of my head, I finally laugh and blush. He sticks his tongue out as far as it will go.
“You are such a fucker,” I mutter to Deacon as I reach for Iris.
“Yours, baby,” he insists, grinning. “All yours.”
“Come here, pretty!” I take Iris by the hand and pull her close before we lift her. “Look at what you did!”
“The Kinky Kingdom can once again come!” Iris yells to the masses. “You’re all free to orgasm thanks to High Monarch Salvatore!”
Lovely. Just lovely.
PART VI
Six
Golden Trails
The Kinky Kingdom rejoices with a party like no other. Giant golden dick balloons float high against a clear blue sky, and vases filled with multi-colored condoms wait for their turn in the sun. I’m lying on the beach watching Deacon and Iris splashing in the water.
We’ve spent the last twenty-four hours celebrating in our own special way. What can I say? I’ve come in Iris and Deacon, and I like it that way. Correction, I love it that way.
Still wearing my shimmering silver ball cap, Cat sits and asks, “How are you doing?”
“I’m good,” I reply, smiling. “How are you?”
“I wish I were in a better place.”
Memories fire in my mind of the reality—gunshots and blood and tubes and beeping…so much fucking beeping. I sit up quickly and pull my hair. My brain sizzles like it’s on fire. “Shit, it hurts!”
“Death isn’t easy.”
“Cat!” I panic, and my breath quickens. “No! No! No!”
“Not me,” she whispers, tilting her head as Deacon lifts Iris into the water. “You.”
I stand and feel the sand…or cold, hard floor….waves lap at my toes…or flashes of medical equipment. I spot Iris in a white gown and the man standing in the tux… He isn’t me. I step closer and see his blue eyes spilling with bloody tears. I shift my gaze to Iris. Black holes exist where her sapphires once were. Her lips are stitched tight, and the marks of rope burns enslave her neck. “No…no…this isn’t real…this isn’t happening…”
“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Cruz!”
“Fight, Raniero!” Kaci pounds inside of my heart. “Don’t stop!”
I take a gasp of air as the gurgle in my throat erupts into a violent spew on a gurney. “Where the fuck am I? Help! Me!”
At the end of my bed, a little boy drips in water as he holds a grayish-blue Rebecca close to his chest. She’s dead. My cousin is gone, and I’m to blame. I was supposed to watch her, but I let her drown. It’s all my fault.
In his other hand, the shine of the sharp blade glows under the drum lights as he imparts a dreadfully menacing grin. “We’re going to have a party!”
The blot of antiseptic runs over my forehead as the saw cranks to life. “It’s was a simple procedure,” Dr. Kerris informs, wrapping the gauze around my head. “A lobotomy.”
“Calm down,” Nico says, smiling beneath the mask and holding a bag of nuts. “You’re going to be just fine. We took your nuts, too.”
“Fuck you! Fuck this! I am not dying today!” I yank the tubing from my arms and scamper for the door as a rabid Daisicle nips at my heels.
In the hallway, I find the empty, dilapidated hospital. Glass jars and heavy equipment from yesteryear rest along the walls as I spot the water-marked line of a flood, only it is blood red. Panicking, I spin around and around, taking it all in. Without regard, the younger me drops the corpse with a thud as he stands in the hallway. “No!” I pivot fast and run into a red-lipped Amber in a nurse uniform. Her heaving breasts pour out from the top of the taunt shirt, and the skirt barely covers her bottom.
“Mr. Raniero, you need to get back to your bed,” she encourages, placing her hand gently on my sweaty arm. “You aren’t well. You haven’t been well. That’s why you are in the psychiatric ward of the sanatorium. You need to get back to your room for your shock therapy.”
My eyes widen as I howl, “Fuck you, too!”
“Not yet, I like to do that when you are sedated.”
“Fuck off!” I scurry past and sprint for the exit. The sirens wail as I bang against the door. It refuses to budge, so I grab an old metal chair nearby and smash it against the glass. The broken glass cuts my naked flesh as I step outside. The sun burns my bleeding skin as I spot the pristine white shoreline in the distance. The crystal clear waters invite and tempt as I crumble and cry. “Where the fuck am I now?”
In a wide brim hat and my Bollé sunglasses, Skeeter walks past, holding a cocktail glass with a blue drink. “Hi there, handsome! Nice package! You need to hurry. The storm is coming.”
I glance to the dark, rolling clouds and savage, capsizing waves. “… What?”
Her co
cktail glass crashes to the ground, shattering into a thousand tiny fragments, glittering like diamonds. The skin melts from her body, leaving nothing but bones. The hat brushes against my bicep as the skeleton tilts her head. “The hurricane…is coming…water and wind…” She points to the ominous storm with horrific eyes. “You should save your flames!”
“The hell…”
“Precisely!” She reanimates with a smile as her southern accent soothes. “You need to get out of the forest!”
I lean my head back, knowing I’ve gone too far before I peer around and spot the snake winding its way between my lace-up boots. “What the…” I jump away and back up into something. I spin into Cesario, dressed up as a scary clown. His red evil smile widen as his fang-like teeth drip…drip…drip with a thick, gooey-like substance. “Get away from me! All of you!”
I run through the dark woods until I spot a teenage girl. “… Rebecca?”
“Trust no one, Salvatore.”
She vanishes in an instant, and I crumple on my knees into the leaves. I toss my head and rock my body. “I need it to end. I need this to be over. Please, someone, help me!”
“It’s the crash, Boston.”
Hearing Dom’s words of wisdom, I hastily open my eyes to find I’m on the back of a flying monkey. I ride with nothing upon my body but glittering red sequin boots. “Make it stop!” The monkey disappears, and I fall, colliding into another world. “God! Help me! Make it stop!”
Tethered against the rack on the Juliet cabaret stage, I brace for the lash of the whip. “Those thigh-high boots and G-string on you, Sal, they make my dick hard. So fucking hard.”
“Cruz… Cruz … Help me…”
“Baby,” he mutters, laying on top of me. I blink around the dank cellar with uncertainty. “It’s okay… Hush, hush, I’m here and not going anywhere. The storm passed.”
“Oh, my fucking God…”
“You had a helluva trip,” Deacon whispers against my lip before softly kissing me. “Are you okay?”
“Candy-coated cock,” I mumble, feeling the heat of his pulse against my skin. My hands brush over his scruffy cheeks as his sad blue eyes peer down at me. “Sometimes, I make really bad decisions.”
The Red Shoes Page 8
