by JJ Giles
“Yes, My Lord.” Brian’s head bowed.
The ride to the forty ninth floor seemed impossibly long. He moved quickly to the doors and entered his father’s office and without any further inhibition dropped to his hands and knees. Wantonly, he crawled to his father.
Jerry swelled to see Brian coming to him like this. Brian was ready to be loved again. More importantly, Brian was ready to be protected again if even from himself. Jerry felt the flush in his neck and cheeks as Brian cornered his desk and then raised to his knees before his Master with his head bowed and hands held willingly behind his back.
“Much better,” Jerry scowled. “Open your pants.”
It was no sooner uttered than it was done. His aching penis fell free to be disciplined however his Master desired.
Jerry pondered the situation for a moment. If Bryant was able to get Brian to this place then the lingering questions Brian had quite obviously vanished. What more could Jerry do to keep Brian’s attention? And then suddenly, it struck.
“Cradle the balls in one hand and take the penis in the other.”
Inside, Brian smiled. This was something Morgan would command of him. But this was his Master, whose rough edges had been softened and smoothed by his experiences with Morgan.
Minutes later, Brian spilled profusely onto the carpet by his Master’s feet. He held his aching dick a moment, squeezing the last of the semen out. His breath hadn’t yet returned when he heard, “Put it away.”
Shivering with the delight of this exposure, the fact that his Master stayed with him for this humiliation overpowered Brian. Tears began to drip down his cheeks. He opened his eyes to his Master’s extended arms inviting him closer. Quickly, he fell into them and wrapped tight.
Jerry locked around him with impossible strength. He listened to every sob of contrition, every ache of sorrow. He listened, having never heard anything so beautiful before and knew his son was home to stay now. That no matter what other relationships Brian engaged in, they’d always have each other. And Jerry could protect and defend his son as never he could in the past.
Chapter Thirty-One
“Alright, Honey,” Dan whispered. He nodded and Brian watched. “If you’re sure you don’t need me.”
Brian went outside to smoke a cigarette. He shouldn’t be here again, not at least until Caroline got home. But his attraction to her husband was overwhelming. It was certainly taking the edge off his misery to be without Morgan.
“Everything okay?” Brian asked.
A sneer contorted Dan’s features. “I’m sure my mother-in-law had a heart attack. I’m equally certain she’ll use this opportunity to keep her babies, five girls, fluttering around her as long as she can. My wife is reminding me how important my job is, practically begging me not to come she they can play their little ‘she’s my mommy,’ games with her sisters.”
“Sounds vicious.”
“I don’t understand it, but I don’t need to be involved. She calls her mommy every week, it doesn’t matter where we’re at or what we’re doing. I got a phone bill that if it were reduced to dollar bills would choke a horse. And then she gets off the phone and sits and fumes about what her sisters are doing with their kids for another hour. Caroline doesn’t have kids. Caroline has a career and her sisters don’t care to remind her that the only thing mommy ever wanted from them is grandchildren. And then I haul her off to bed and bring her back to reality.”
Easily, Brian laughed. “Whatever works.”
“So why don’t you go take a shower and hang out with me a few days?”
Deeply, Brian stared into him wondering why he stayed longer than his workers. It suddenly occurred to him that he was running again. Running, not away from his father, not away from Morgan, but away from his mother now. “I don’t know. I’ve got some problems...”
“I know.” He had put hours of thought into Brian’s emotional state. “Morgan being the least of them.”
“Maybe so.”
“I understand you’re not over Morgan and you probably never will get over Morgan. I’m not sitting here hoping you’ll fall in love with me. The truth is I’m gonna have to kick your ass out when my wife gets home because she thinks you’re cute.”
Brian flashed a devastating grin, quite flattered by that. “Alright. Just until your wife gets home.”
“Good. So go take a shower and put your clothes in the washer so you have something clean tomorrow and I’ll order a pizza...with pepperoni and shrimp.”
“Mama Mia’s?”
“Of course.” Dan advanced and grasped the snap on Brian’s jeans. The penis was an exquisite obelisk. The testicles squeezed into the ball harness seemed the curled forms of worshipers at the base of the monument. A slow smile spread over Dan’s lips and he peered into Brian. “For me? I’ll take it.”
Brian kissed him quickly and then shrank away toward the bathroom. Taking the steps two at a time, he shrugged. Delightedly, he laughed, feeling like a pinball of pleasure bouncing between the staid columns of Masters who demanded his service.
* * * *
Together they ate and drank beer on the concrete patio under an awning, naked, as the day’s evening light faded in the west. They talked about baseball stats, players on the injured reserve list. The antics of some of the players showing their ass and how Dan’s dad left them lying on the bench for an entire season, adamant about baseball retaining its respectability, unlike basketball.
Naked, laying over the table, swilling beer and talking with his mouth full, Brian reveled in the company. He hadn’t spent any time with men since he met Morgan. The night he spent with his father was the most pleasurable and satisfying of all. But that wasn’t Morgan’s fault, was it? Morgan never put any restrictions on his time. The fact was, he would be found to be an Abernathy, and that he couldn’t endure. That, Morgan wouldn’t endure.
Even as he lay in bed, an organ pumping into him, he could think of nothing but Morgan. He was going to have to make a choice soon. His family or Morgan. He couldn’t have them both. Morgan who could peer into his soul and caress his aching heart, or his family who drove him mad. And still, there was another world beyond Morgan’s love. And should Morgan know he was a switch and that men attracted him as often they do...it would change everything.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jerry awoke in Morgan’s arms to the sound of the doorbell, a chime that reminded him of organ music from a cathedral in his distant past. He stirred to feel her tighten around him. He didn’t desire to be disturbed, only to linger in this place with her and her Kitty. To escape his life and the horrors in it.
Yet he asked, “Is somebody coming this morning?”
“Yes.” She threw back the sheet. “You stay here until I have her ready.”
Her? Yet another woman when all he needed was right here? The thought of it made him ill.
* * * *
Cheryl had seen this room and had been paddled in it a few weeks ago. Morgan strapped her down and blindfolded her. Now Morgan patted her and told her to wait.
She returned to the bedchamber to find Jerry lingering in bed. “Your desire for feminine flesh,” she started, “what happened to it?”
“I don’t know. Gone, apparently.”
“Or perhaps merely satisfied, finally?”
“Maybe so.”
“Regardless, there’s a submissive in the next room that requires discipline. I suggest you get out of the bed now and go to that one who needs you so desperately.”
“Why me?”
“Because it’s your wife.”
He felt the color drain from his face at the thought of it. A sudden fear, a certain anxiety swelled up in him. But it mingled with desire, and that desire to turned to rage.
“Cheryl?” he hissed.
“How many wives do you have?”
He launched out of the bed and stood quivering, his facial muscles contorted at the very thought that she could invade his serenity, disturb the love he had for this women. He stormed away f
rom Morgan and stood in the threshold of the discipline room, studying his wife’s bony ass, her pencil-like legs, every rib in her body protruding through the skin like a starved baby.
Yes, a baby. That’s exactly what she was. A spoiled child. He crossed that expanse, his body pumping adrenaline and raised the ping-pong paddle high.
Every sarcastic smirk he’d ever witnessed on the bitch’s face seemed to rise around him in a bubble. He could hear her mocking him, her sarcasm dripping like venom. The expressions in those bubbles hissed at him, chided and reviled him. Yet, with every crack of the paddle another one burst and disappeared.
A lot of rage in that man. Morgan stood away and watched. It was infinitely more than the punishment of an errant child. It was the release of so much hostility, so much frustration. The voice pleading to make it stop only aggravated him further. The tears, the fists pounding on the horse only enlivened him more.
Yet he stood away and glared. This was the first time he’d truly had any control over her. The first time in thirty five years. Certainly, she knew it was him...ahh, but maybe not. Didn’t matter at the moment. He reveled in those sounds of discipline, the voice of his own torture suffered in their marriage. The image of JD Rockingham waddling up his staircase to his wife’s apartment.
Images of the men she’d taken as lovers through the years assaulted him. She never loved him, he always knew that, and lived only to torture him. She married him for the money, the child she was pregnant with and claimed to love so desperately.
You bitch, he snarled inside of himself. I’ve wasted my entire fucking life with you. And then drove his penis into her body to punish her with it.
Cheryl cried out with the feel of that unholy penetration, the anger, the sheer violence of it.
It only infuriated him more. How often she came home with bruises, cuts, or didn’t come home at all until there was nothing but scars left. The three times in that first nine years of their marriage that he actually beat her sent her to the hospital, yes. But he had the insurance claims to prove the rest of her hospital stays were in France.
He pulled out of her vagina and drove into her rectum with delta force. She screamed, a vicious ugly scream that spoke of nothing but refusal to accept him as always she had. He pounded her, first front and then back until Morgan grabbed him and pulled him away.
Only in Morgan’s vicious accusatory stare did he find himself again...his real self. Panting uncontrollably, he nodded, wholly dependant on her strength.
But how many times had he made advances on his wife and found her cold, downright closed for business when she so freely bestowed her gifts upon others? How many times did he take it out on his hookers in the secretarial pool at every hour of the day? Ridiculous was the word that came to mind now. Yet he drove into her again, thrust into her wildly, a place she never let him go before until he spilled with the sheer agitation of the desire he’d harbored until it turned to poison, an acidic mixture enough to dissolve away his heart.
As soon as it was done, he yanked out of her coldness and raised his hands before him as if he could create space between them. He realized then that they lived only to torture each other, the sound of her pitiful moaning to have to endure him, the feel of his rage to have to have her near him. It was sick...nothing but sick and he turned away from it now and went straight to the bathroom.
Morgan smiled. She laid her hand on Cheryl’s back and stroked her softly. But Cheryl’s sobs redoubled at the feel of her.
“Stop it,” Morgan shouted at her. She released only the back that Cheryl might rise and better breathe.
“I need a hospital.”
“You don’t need a hospital, you need to lay here and soak up your husband’s lingering fury and understand what he’s saying to you.” But Cheryl was one of those common kind who went to the hospital for the attention it got her. “What hurts?”
“Everything.” Cheryl sobbed. “How could you let him do that to me?”
Interesting, Morgan thought. Mrs. Cheryl Abernathy wasn’t everything she let on after all. “I thought you loved your husband.”
Heaving, Cheryl glared at her. “I don’t love that motherfucker!”
“No shit!” Morgan said rudely. “And honey, you’ve been playing with the wrong woman. Right now you’re stuck here for awhile, so I suggest you merely settle down and we’ll talk after he leaves.” Morgan forced her back to the horse and drew the band over her back. Quietly, she left the room.
The water in the bathroom still flowed and she went there now. Relieved, she slipped in behind him and wrapped her arms tightly to soothe him.
“Cathartic, no?” she whispered.
Heartily, he sniffed and drew in a deep breath. “Like you can’t imagine,” he gasped.
“And you’re not gonna let her play with your head ever again, right?”
“Right. Gettin’ fucked is a state of mind, isn’t it?”
Broadly, she smiled and backed away to peer up at him. “She’s playing games with you. But it takes two to play. If you’re not playing, she can’t win.”
How simple. How simply poetic. Morgan could wrap just about anything in ribbons and bows.
“I think you’re gonna be okay now,” she whispered.
He was genuinely filled with gratitude for Morgan. “I think you’re right, baby. I didn’t realize how screwed up I was.”
“I noticed a long time ago that you’re very frightened of her. Hopefully you feel empowered to endure whatever she has in mind for you.” She stretched to kiss him tenderly. “Take your time.”
He stood under the pulsing water to let it drain the last of the lingering rage out of his heart. Whatever had to be sacrificed to be rid of his wife wasn’t too much, he reminded himself. And he would get with Brian and explain...soon. Brian was starting to understand.
* * * *
Fully dressed, totally relaxed again having been tended by Kitty, he stood at the door of the discipline room a moment staring at his wife. He studied the scene before him, every detail carefully burned into his memory. The way she starved herself to appear fragile, the proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing. In his mind, he heard the deep growling and hissing out of her throat when others would be filled with fear.
For the first time since he’d met her, he felt nothing for her. There was no love or hatred. No pity or sorrow, no anger, no vengeance to be visited upon her. There was quite simply nothing. He was free.
Without hesitating a moment longer, he went to Morgan on the balcony with a cup of coffee. Quietly, he crouched beside her and took her hand. “You have a way of exposing people, don’t you?” he said with adoration.
A gentle smile stretched her lips. “It’s a gift.”
“I owe you more than I could ever repay.”
“Looks like you’ve come to a new understanding.”
“Yes.” He sighed. “I don’t look for the rest of my life to be easy...”
“What...as compared to what’s behind you? That was easy?”
“Right. That was anything but easy.”
“So I take it your going to file for divorce.”
“I actually filed awhile ago. Lawyers are still negotiating. I don’t want you to mention that to her. How long are you going to keep her with you?”
“Long enough to reward her for fucking with me. And then I’m going to dismiss her permanently. I have an eleven o’clock today anyway.”
He hesitated, holding the soft skin of her hand in his. “How many clients do you have?”
“Regulars...about ten? Probably forty total who call when they need me.”
Broadly, he smiled. “And you don’t actually do any of them, do you?”
Gently, she smiled. “Engage in intercourse with them? Very, very rarely. But another thing...” she said sternly. “The penis belongs to me and in your zeal to please me, which I appreciate very much, you’ve gone a little too far to discipline it. I like my little pets to be happy, not frightened. So when it needs punished, yo
u let me know and I’ll take care of it.”
Falling even more hopelessly in love with her he grinned wide. “Whatever you wish, Lady Morgan. I know I’m not supposed to ask...but...” He wanted more than anything to be with her.
“Tonight, because you’re gonna have a shitty day, aren’t you? No later than five and you may bring your journal so we can go over it in detail.”
Still he hesitated. “I need to talk to my son soon.” Even though Brian knew Jerry wasn’t his father, Jerry needed to explain to Brian his side, also. And then let Brian come to his own conclusions.
“If you need me to be there, I will.”
He raised her hand and held it to his lips. She pulled away from him only to pat his head. “Before you reorder your life make certain it’s what you really want. That is a dangerous woman.”
Quietly, he huffed. That was all the validation he needed. She validated his feelings, his suspicions, and the notion that he had lived his life so utterly wrong.
“By five,” he whispered. He rose and walked away.
* * * *
Morgan returned to the discipline room and jerked a very haughty bitch off the table. She threw her on the exam table and then strapped her there. The nipple nails were driven into the heaving breasts, a phallus both front and back.
“For someone who enjoys pain as much as you, you seem to fight it an awful lot,” Morgan commented.
“What makes you think I like pain?” Cheryl was barely able to breathe because of the strap over her breasts, the nails digging into her nipples made it impossible to draw air.
“It’s rather obvious to me how you seek it out, how you revel in it. But this kind of pain doesn’t get you the kind of sympathy you want, does it? This is pain for the sake of pain. Now we’re just gonna have a little chat.”
“This is kidnapping! You need to get the hell away from me or I’ll go to the police.”
Morgan sneered. Before that little comment they were merely going to chat. Now it was time for the serious stuff.
