The Mistress and the Mouse

by JJ Giles

  “Unobtainable ideal.”

  “She’s beautiful, Alex. A fucking knockout. Her hair...the color of that bronze statue the old man adored, her eyes the color of those emeralds in that ring. The tits...Jesus, the tits..” He would sell out the kingdom for another night at those breasts.

  “I spoke to Brian the other day. He asked how you and your therapist were getting along.”

  Answering the unasked question, he said, “Ahh, so that’s how you know she’s a therapist.” His son’s generosity in sending Morgan to him was overwhelming. “How is Brian?”

  “Having some problems right now, Jerry. He and his girlfriend are on the outs and he’s pretty broken up about it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m very sorry to hear that.”

  “He wants desperately to be married to her and can’t understand why she’s refusing.”

  “Probably because she doesn’t want the press shoved up her ass twenty-four seven.”

  Alex shrugged.

  “How’s his business doing?”

  “Flourishing,” Alex said. “Said he’s got twenty guys on the payroll now. That he’s going to have to expand or collapse soon.”

  “Very good,” Jerry mused. “Excellent.” The fact that Brian could start his own business and take it to the place that it would tank from it’s own weight so soon pleased Jerry immensely. “Landscape architect, huh?”

  “Does some beautiful work. Why don’t you call him, Jerry? I think he could use the advice from his father right now.”

  Jerry winced. “He hasn’t wanted my advice for ten years.”

  “That was a long time ago. He’s thirty-five years old now. All grown up. And don’t sit there and tell me you didn’t have anything to do with his leaving you. He told you he didn’t want to be an accountant. And still, he went to Harvard to please you. For you, Jerry, even though he told you his interests laid elsewhere.”

  “Who am I going to leave this fucking rotten business to if not him, Alex? He’s Jerome Bryant Alexander Abernathy VI!”

  Alex shook his head understanding Jerry’s argument and error. “Listen to me.” It was the most ingratiating thing Jerry ever heard. “There were eight of us boys and one girl. Dad kept getting Mom knocked up so there would be plenty of Abernathys around in case something went wrong. Well, something went very wrong at the very beginning. But goddamnit, you’re Jerome Bryant Alexander Abernathy V, right? And Dad placed you in a position I don’t believe you wanted to be in, forced the life you have upon you now, a life I don’t believe you’ve enjoyed.”

  Jerry rose to get away from that. Yet he only fell to the granite slab of the hearth and curled from this assault.

  “You are to be commended because you didn’t force Brian into the same kind of life you’ve lived.”

  “No, I nearly ruined him. Getting away from me was the only thing that saved him. ”

  “Not even nearly, Jerry. He’s young, he’s beautiful, and he’s rich. He’s been very happy for a while now. He’s having a hard time right now, but that too, will pass. I really think he wouldn’t mind hearing from you. Surely, you understand he doesn’t know how to approach you.”

  “You really think that’s all it is?” Jerry gasped.

  Alex smiled. And then he reached out for the phone, hit the speaker function and dialed.

  “Brian Alexander.”

  “Precious,” Alex mewed. “Where are you?”

  “Alex,” Brian breathed with a heavy sigh. “I just drove through the last checkpoint on the way to Hell.” The Mansion.

  “Brian, I have something to tell you. I’m in the Tower penthouse right now...with your father.”

  The hesitation drew out, only to end in amused laughter. “That’s a good one, Alex. You had me going for a minute. You and the old man...in the penthouse together. That’s a good one.”

  Sadly, Alex peered at Jerry only to see Jerry cringe with the implication. That Jerry was an asshole extraordinaire.

  “Brian, it’s true. I walked out on Charles a little while ago and happened to run into Jerry. He offered me the penthouse until I can get situated.”

  “Alex, you have to be joking. The old man doesn’t offer anyone anything.”

  “Shut up. He’s your father. He’s sitting here with me now listening to everything you’re saying. I’ve explained to him about how you and your fiancée are estranged, how fucked up you are about it and he’s very concerned.”

  Once again, the silence was lengthy. A horrified screech through the speaker struck Jerry hard. “Dad?”

  “Yes, Brian.” As if his life depended on it he moved rapidly from the hearth to the chair, the better to be close to his son. “I’m very sorry about your girlfriend and you. I would like to know you’re okay. Have you eaten? Why don’t you come have dinner with me and Alex?”

  Through the speaker, Jerry heard the squeal of tires and it caused his heart to palpitate. “Brian!” he screamed.

  “Yeah. Yeah...yeah, I’m okay. I’m not exactly dressed.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jerry said softly. “Just come to the penthouse for awhile.”

  “I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.” The connection broke, leaving a dial tone to resound into the room.

  Jerry shut it down. And then he went for a drink. “What the hell am I going to say to him, Alex?”

  “Maybe you ought to start by telling him you love him. From there, everything else can work its way out.”

  * * * *

  The elevator doors opened and Brian stepped into the room, his body held tightly as he stared over the expanse at Jerry. He definitely looked older to Brian, tired, almost anemic. But his hair hadn’t yet faded. It was only the deepening creases, the weight of his eyelids as if to look upon the world any longer was a burden.

  For a moment, Jerry stared back. Quite a man his son had become. Beautifully tanned from working in the sun, laboring, a concept Jerry was unfamiliar with. Slightly tousled hair, a little longer, looking very much like an archangel rather than the cherub Jerry remembered.

  Slowly, Jerry rose. But his hesitation was quickly dispelled seeing his precious son before him, a little dusty from the day’s work. He rushed up the two steps and grabbed Brian into his arms.

  To hold this body in his arms again, his son, his beautiful baby boy, was a joy deeper than any Jerry had known for decades. Tears streamed down his face, refusing to take voice as they wet his son’s filthy shirt. And his son held him in return. Within it Jerry felt the same kind of desperation he was suffering at the moment. “I’ve missed you so much,” Jerry whispered.

  Brian parted from him to see his father’s cheeks moist as were his. “I’ve missed you,” he uttered quite stoically.

  Jerry’s hearty hand crushed in on his son’s shoulder. “Let me fix you a drink.” He quickly turned to the bar gathering his tears in his hand.

  “Alex.” Brian smiled to see his uncle’s shining countenance at this long overdue reunion.

  “Precious,” Alex mewed. As an invitation, he patted the sofa cushion beside him. To Jerry who handed him a glass of wine, he said, “Thank you. Your father and I were sitting here commiserating over the lack of love in our lives and we thought you should join us.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about you and Charles. But it’s only temporary.”

  “Not this time,” Alex hissed.

  “I’m sorry,” Brian said softly. He turned to Jerry. “I spoke to Cherry. Mom thinks you’re getting divorced, too.”

  “I think it will be better that way, Brian. I think it will be better for everyone, including her. She’s in France now with her lover, somewhere she’d obviously rather be. I don’t blame her for that.”

  Brian nodded. Thinking of Morgan’s influence, he asked, “So after thirty five years, what made you come to this conclusion?”

  “I think age is just creeping up on me. I don’t have the fight in me I used to have. I don’t feel like it anymore.”

  “You don’t have th
e will for it?”

  Playfully, Jerry threw up his hands and grinned. “I’m fifty-five years old, kid.” He chuckled. “I’m probably gonna move into the penthouse here permanently and let your Uncle Bryant have the Mansion. I don’t fucking want it anymore.”

  Suspiciously, Brian stared. “What’s happened to you?”

  Easily, Jerry laughed. “I just don’t give a shit any more, Brian. I’m tired of fighting.”

  “Does this have anything to do with your new therapist?”

  “Yeah, it probably does. And I want to thank you for that. Your intervention. God knows where the hell I’d be if you hadn’t have forced me into that situation. I’m grateful you did. She’s made me think about how things used to be. Believe it or not, I saw Renee about a month ago.”

  Brian knew that but played it off. “Renee?”

  “Yeah...” Obviously, Brian was groping for Jerry’s side of the situation. “Came to the penthouse to see me.”

  Brian studied his father’s broad muscular shoulders, the layers of muscle on his chest. “Tell me.”

  “Later.” Jerry didn’t care to offend Alex. “So Alex tells me your business is ready for Wall Street.”

  Brian choked with laughter as he glanced at Alex. “Not quite...”

  * * * *

  Alex listened to the easy banter between father and son as if the last ten years and ‘that day’ simply evaporated into the ethereal mist. That they truly loved each other as any father and son could was evident. Alex was certain he made the right move by calling Brian. To give them someone they could both rely upon in their precarious individual circumstances: each other.

  When the conversation would return to Morgan, Alex wasn’t certain. Brian knew Jerry had been seeing Morgan. But Jerry didn’t know Brian was engaged to her. What kind of explosion would erupt when he found out?

  Rather than dwell on the thing that would rip them completely apart forever, he preferred to pray that the connection they could make tonight would hold them together as they moved to the dining room table.

  * * * *

  Filled with gratitude for a fine meal, Alex declared, “That was delicious. But I’m going to excuse myself now. It’s been a rather unpleasant day.”

  “Of course,” Jerry said softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Alex smiled. The man his brother had once been was slowly rising to the surface to break the bonds of the cage he lived within. “Brian.” He nodded and moved away.

  Openly, Jerry stared into his son, the soft effervescent glow of the chandelier above lighting only this one area of the room. “Tell me about your girlfriend.”

  “No,” Brian said quickly.

  “Hurts that bad?”

  “Worse than any blade she could hack me open with.”

  Broadly, Jerry smiled. “One of them kind, huh?”

  Unable to say Morgan’s name, Brian assured him by saying, “The finest kind, Dad. But she doesn’t know who I am. An Abernathy. She just thinks I’m me...her little Mouse.”

  Jerry bowed his head to think that his son would ever be disciplined by anyone but him. His eyes opened wide to study Brian’s seemingly defeated posture.

  “You’re trying to tell me something,” Jerry gently urged.

  “She doesn’t know I’m a switch.”

  “You’ve never been the most aggressive disciplinarian.”

  Brian peered into those dark animalian slits of his father’s eyes. “I’ll never be as good as you, though.”

  Jerry shrugged. “There’s no shame in that, Brian. I gave you the benefit of my experience and what you do with it is up to you. But there’s more to it. You’ve been laying on the floor a long time now and you’re ready to get up?”

  Sheepishly, Brian shrugged. “I don’t think she’s gonna go there with me, though. She, uhh...exhibits a lot of fear of aggressive men.”

  “Some serious trust issues.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “That’s too bad. But that’s her thing, Brian. You can’t make people trust you.”

  “I can’t imagine what more I can do to earn her trust.”

  “Brian, you can’t make people trust you. It’s her that’s having a problem, not you.”

  Unfortunately there was no comfort in that. “So, ummm...your new sex therapist...?”

  Delightedly, Jerry laughed. “A hell of a woman. She has a way of making you want it real bad, doesn’t she? She’s an excellent dominatrix. The finest kind, as you say. But she never actually let’s anyone have her, does she?”

  With that, Brian relaxed a little. Only on very rare occasions did Morgan take any of her submissives, although she could create such pleasure and pain she was undeniable. “No, she doesn’t,” Brian said with a smile. It was obvious that Morgan hadn’t had Jerry...yet.

  “Where did you meet her?” Jerry asked.

  “Club.” It was almost true. Outside of the club would have been more accurate.

  “She...has reminded me of the more pleasant days of my life.”

  “I have to admit...I was kinda hoping she would.”

  Jerry shivered to hear that. To know that Brian still cared...to think that perhaps Brian had come home.

  “Renee?” Brian asked curiously. “How is Renee?”

  “Shocked to hear from me, that I know for a fact. But she was only too anxious to get her sweet little ass over here for a little...romp.”

  “No doubt.”

  Jerry’s expression darkened. “What about you, Brian?”

  Brian froze. The gaze of a predator blurred his vision. He needed this. Needed it bad and his father was the best. Better than any other he’d ever experienced. An internal trembling shook his organs and bubbled to the surface. “Yes,” he breathed.

  Jerry nodded. He threw his head toward the hallway. Brian ran.

  * * * *

  The feel of his Master’s hands ripping the cloth from his body left him with the same trembling fear as if the earth under his feet ruptured to devour him into a chasm. His Master’s breath fell over his back like the viscous wind of a sand storm obliterating sights and sounds. None but the scraping wind. His throat was crushed in the crook of his Master’s arm and he went limp from the power in it, was dragged to the wheel, thrown upon it, lashed down, blindfolded and gagged before he could draw another breath.

  The wheel was spun, the clicking of his Master’s like that of a roulette wheel in any self-respecting casino. The blood rushed to his head, the pressure inside of it ringing in his ears only to drain completely with the next revolution. Over and over again, the Wheel of Misfortune rotated, the clicking like the sound of rattlesnake about to strike, the various punishments or pleasures noted on gold plaques around the circumference. Wherever his head came to a stop was what he would endure.

  Slower, slowing still, Brian realized he was going to stop, not completely inverted, praise the Saints, but on his side. If the plaques hadn’t been moved that could mean only one dastardly thing. He choked down a little air to prepare himself.

  He felt his Master’s breath on his chest, heating the length of his body. “Lucky you.” Brian made a concerted effort to relax, to surrender as never he had before.

  He heard the hum of the wand as it neared his body. It sounded alive, was definitely electric, the color purple in his vision obliterating everything else. The sound grew more shrill, the revolutions within it increasing and then it touched a nipple; the static electricity within it grounded out and caused him to scream.

  Intense. That stabbing sharpness barely dulled when another struck. His earlobes, a toe. His testicles, an armpit. His Master could inflict such agony as no one else ever could, agony enough to rend those smaller pains null. To dull the distress of a lost lover and drive that distress into a void.

  Brian shook so violently with every kiss of the wand, Jerry kept it toned down a little. Brian hadn’t experienced the wand since he left Jerry, quite obviously. Only the whip, the pernicious little tool, that all too common thi
ng that nearly anyone could wield. The use of electricity required a heart of stone. The use of chemicals, no heart at all.

  Affectionately, he remembered the day he caught Brian and Renee playing in his Lair. How stunned and ashamed they were to be found out, Brian going after her with a riding crop. How stunned and delighted Brian was to find himself in a hell of constriction bondage, a ball on the floor, gagged, allowed only to watch his father take his girlfriend while his girlfriend wagged her penis at Brian. How eager they were to learn everything Jerry had to teach them.

  He stepped back a bit now to let Brian breathe. He could go for the deep cycle battery and some serious voltage, but the wand alone was enough to have Brian baying to make it stop. Already, Brian was ready to swallow his tongue. Brian had apparently been hanging out with sissies, although the faded stripes of bruises on the backs of his legs indicated a cane. But he had seen no cane in Morgan’s parlor.

  The sound of the wand drawing near was enough to make him scream, gagged as he was. Jerry put it away.

  Brian’s mouth, no longer salivating or drooling was a like a desert inside. He had to breathe through it, await the next shot of voltage to course through him. So removed from himself was he, he heard the sound of a chain as if muffled by a wall. And then he felt his Master’s ‘router bit’ divide his cheeks.

  You belong to me, Jerry wanted to scream at him. Ah, but he couldn’t. He could only fill Brian with his love, the piercing heated reminder that he loved his son desperately. Ah, but this wasn’t his son, was it? Another man’s son. But Jerry had raised him, lived eternally knowing that Brian wasn’t his, although Jerry couldn’t have loved him more if he was.

  The router bit, a narrow stick of solidified chemicals would slowly melt with Brian’s body heat. As each layer wore away, new and sometimes confusing sensations would rise. What else could Brian need to take his mind off some stupid bitch that wouldn’t marry him?

  Nipple nails. Simple enough. They were easily inserted as Brian began to writhe with the sensation of ice in his rectum, draining into his intestines and climbing toward his throat. Ah, but perhaps Jerry’s version of the Iron Maiden would do the trick. He grabbed the deflated penis and slid the cuff filled with pinpoints over it, wrapped the ties around the testicles.