“So tell me about your family, your childhood, et cetera,” he said.
“There isn’t much to tell really. I grew up in a middle-class family. We weren’t rich, but we had a nice house, two cars, and a vacation every year. Both my parents work. My father is an executive. He’s in management mainly, and my mom is a florist.” She took another sip from her cup, thankful that her tongue had settled down. “I have a brother who’s currently in the Navy, so I don’t see much of him, but we are reasonably close.” She smiled at the memory of Jake. “We have different opinions on life. He’s very black and white, and I am all about the gray.” She laughed. “You know he’s never read one of my books, and I don’t think he ever will. But I’m okay with that. I’m actually thinking of dedicating my next one to him just to mess with his head.” She chuckled. “We can’t help ourselves. Whenever we’re together we raze each other endlessly.” She really needed to send an e-mail to Jake and catch up on what he’d been up to. She made a mental note to send one off as soon as she was back at her computer.
“Do you see your parents often?”
He seemed to be searching for something. “Yes, they’re Catholic, so Christmas mass is a must and Thanksgiving and so on. To sum it up for you, I had a good childhood, a happy, loving family, and I had many opportunities in life. I chose to write. I love my family and they love me.”
“So how did you get into the lifestyle?” Was that what he was looking for? Was he trying to find out about the man who corrupted her? Maybe he’d thought she had daddy issues or something, but she’d squashed that. Now it was the perverted boyfriend angle. So sadly she’d have to squash that one, too.
“Well, I started experimenting with boyfriends in college and I just kept going deeper from there. I didn’t have some boyfriend manipulate me into it. In reality I think I manipulated a few of them into it.” She thought back to Harrison, her second boyfriend in college. Looking back now, she’d really pushed him into it. She had slowly convinced him of how much fun they’d have. If he tied her hands. Then getting him to spank her, but as soon as she talked to him about using a hairbrush to spank her he ran. He just wasn’t into it. She looked over at Kyle and saw he was troubled. Whatever picture he’d had of her in his head now didn’t fit. Panic set in. What if he no longer wanted her? What if she was no longer good enough? Shut the fuck up, girl, you’re sexy, beautiful, and he should be begging you to date him. Yeah, right. If only she truly believed that and not that he would pass her over for some younger newbie. After what felt like a century of silence, finally Kyle spoke.
“I can’t believe you’re actually sane and normal and in the lifestyle.”
Petra felt a jolt at his words on behalf of all the women in the lifestyle. She was offended, and in a strange way she was offended for herself as well, even though he did say she was sane. But what the hell did he think of her fellow subs?
“So let me get this straight. You think a woman who chooses to live a BDSM lifestyle must have mental problems?” She seethed with anger. He couldn’t seriously believe that. He was a Dom for God’s sake.
“No, no, you’ve taken my words and twisted them, well, not exactly twisted, I suppose I did say them that way, but fuck. Let me start again.” He was flustered.
She was annoyed with him. There was no way she was going to help him extract his foot from his mouth. She needed to understand how he really saw women in the lifestyle.
“By all means, explain away,” she said, crossing her arms and nearly spilling her coffee as she began tapping her foot. She couldn’t hold in her frustration.
“It’s just that, okay. It may seem as if I look at subs as people who have issues. But I don’t, well, I do. But I don’t want to be seen as being racist if you could apply the term racist to this situation. It’s just that I haven’t met many subs who are sane and normal. But then again, I can’t say I’ve met that many, and well, maybe the ones I have met aren’t normal. Maybe I attract them.”
God, he was only making it worse and part of her enjoyed his flustering and fuck ups. Her heart wanted to settle him down, comfort him, care for him, and let him explain it better.
“Kyle, take a breath and tell me your history. Tell me about the women you’ve dated that messed you up so much?” Fucked him up, more likely. She asked it in calm, caring voice to soothe his tension and show him she was okay with him. But he’d better fucking explain, or she’d show him a psychotic bitch all right. How dare he question the sanity of women living in the lifestyle when he was also living it. Hell, they had to deal with many in the vanilla world treating them as sick and perverted. But for a Dom to think it, that was sacrilege.
“Look, I’ve made a real dick of myself so let me explain. Like you, I was drawn to the lifestyle in college and in a way I was the boyfriend that tried corrupting his girlfriends. My first serious girlfriend, who was my high school sweetheart, thought I was a pervert and dumped me when I wanted to tie her up and spank her. God, I can still see her look of disgust when I asked her for anal sex. I thought she was going to throw up.”
They stopped walking and sat on a bench that overlooked the gardens. “I dated quite a bit, always looking for girls who’d let me do more, or anything, to them. Years went by, and then I met Kelly.”
He’d finally gotten membership to the Locks and Chains club after completing his Dom training workshops. He was still a green Dom, but the world of submissives was finally opened up to him. Not that he had a lot of time to play, being a medical intern. But when he did have a tiny window in his schedule, he was at the club. Kelly had been a member for a year. She was a beautiful blonde with a trim figure, small pert breasts, and long legs that would wrap around a man and strangle him. He was in awe of her. She was a goddess. At first he’d thought it was a joke that she’d consider him for more than just play. But when she asked him for his collar, he realized he could have her forever. He collared her and asked her to marry him within a year of meeting her.
He’d seen signs then that all wasn’t right with her, the rages and tantrums and then the chaos that followed. She then suffered bouts of such deep depression that he had to order her to eat and to get out of bed. But he’d thought she had character and it wasn’t that bad. It was like someone once told him, the best way to cook a frog is to place it in warm water then slowly bring it to a boil so the frog doesn’t realize what’s happening before it is too late. That was what his marriage became, a slow heat of crazy until too late he realized she had a serious problem. He thought having a child would settle her down, and she’d have someone else to focus on. He believed part of her suffering was caused by his long hours at the hospital, and he thought a baby would give her love and the company she so desperately needed.
He remembered the first time she tried to kill herself. He’d come home early from work because he couldn’t wait to see his son and beautiful wife. Also, in hindsight he recognized that he came home early partly because he’d become frightened of leaving Joel with Kelly for too long. She didn’t respond to Joel the way he thought a mother should. But he just pushed that down, focusing on his work and being home as much as possible. When he walked through the door, he knew something was wrong. He could hear Joel screaming from his crib, but other than that the house was eerily quiet. He hurried into the nursery and picked Joel up. He was filthy. He didn’t seem to have been changed since Kyle left for the hospital ten hours before. He also seemed very hot, and his skin felt dry. What on earth had happened?
He stomped into the master bedroom and saw Kelly asleep on the bed. He wanted to rage and scream at her to get her fucking ass out of bed. Then he noticed the pill bottles on the floor next to the bed. He felt her pulse and checked her eyes and next he called the ambulance. Joel was also admitted for dehydration, and Kelly was diagnosed with postpartum depression. He put Joel in day care at the hospital and was always home with him as Kelly began her treatment. Things weren’t good, but he managed. Sleep was a pipe dream, and he was constantly stressed and
fatigued.
But finally, as Joel’s second birthday came around, things were getting better. He’d finished his internship a year earlier and was well into his residency, and with that his hours were more manageable. It was the fact that he was working less which allowed him to notice the affairs Kelly was having. He was so stupid in his blind trust of her that he didn’t see she’d been having affairs since day one. Having to go to the day care and get a swab from his own son to confirm paternity was one of the lowest points in his life. He had promised himself even if it came back negative he was still Joel’s father and always would be, but he needed to know if there was anyone else out there with a claim to his son. Two days later when the test came back positive, he was more excited and proud than the day Joel was born. It was the one gift he had been given in the hell that was his life. He hated her and wanted her gone.
So many nights he lay awake beside her and despised her. But he was caught completely emasculated, and he didn’t know how to proceed. They continued with their marriage with everyone believing he’d forgiven her for the affairs. How the hell anyone thought he could forgive her he didn’t know. He just tried to forget and move forward. His only saving grace was the club, where he could feel like a man and not some pussy. He didn’t allow them to play at home. He was too worried about beating the shit out of her. And if he’d learnt anything from living the lifestyle, it was to never play when you were angry. Just before Joel’s third birthday, his world came tumbling down.
He walked into the house, not knowing whether he would find a man in the house or his wife stoned. Hell, he didn’t even know whether there’d be anything in the house. Joel held his hand as they talked about his day. The house felt empty. It felt as though it was an empty void. He didn’t want to call out because he didn’t want to find her and deal with whatever mood she’d be in. And to this day that caused him guilt but not as much as the guilt he felt for being thankful she’d done it and she had left them. He could hear music playing from the bedroom, the Boyz II Men song “It’s So Hard to Say Good-bye to Yesterday.” She always played that when she went into her depressive stages. He settled Joel in his room to play and told him he was just going to change and then they’d make a late night snack. He could see candles flickering from the bathroom doorway as he entered their bedroom. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for the confrontation, for the crying, and for the screaming fits. When he walked into the room, he could taste copper in the air, a smell he knew too well. He ran to the bathtub and there lay the love of his life. The woman he loved and hated in equal proportions lay in a tub filled with her blood. He immediately checked for a pulse. She was cold to the touch. She’d been dead for hours. He looked at her face and remembered her beauty, her laugh, and all the times they had loved. He pulled her to him and wept, holding her against him. He had dreamed of leaving her, but his love for her kept him there. He was miserable, but he hadn’t been able to imagine life without her. He kissed her forehead and thanked her for leaving him and for leaving Joel and giving their son a chance to be happy.
“After going through all that, I’ve been frightened to date anyone in the lifestyle.” He finally looked over at Petra and saw that she was wiping tears from her face.
“No shit.”
He laughed at her comment, and it helped to lift their dreary mood.
“I’m so sorry, Kyle, I really am. You should be proud of yourself for what you have been through and how you’ve raised your son.”
He would always wonder if there was something more he could have done. He did know she would have killed herself eventually because she just wouldn’t stay on her bipolar medication.
“You know you shouldn’t think we are all like Kelly. There are many subs just like myself who are normal people who just like some kink in our lives.”
“I’m starting to see that.” He felt like a heavy weight had been lifted off his chest. He’d confessed his sin and the horror of his life, and Petra had told him to be proud of himself. She didn’t blame him. She didn’t judge him. She just accepted him.
“Come away with me. Let’s you, me, and Caleb go away for a long weekend, just the three of us.”
“Is this a vanilla weekend?” she enquired with a smirk on her face.
“No, a wicked weekend.”
“Oh! I like that. A wicked weekend.” She snuggled against him. “You know you did the best you could, Kyle. You took care of your son when many would have just walked away.”
“Yeah.”
“Good, now let’s talk about this wicked weekend.” She kissed him, a simple peck, and then winked at him, and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing. She was perfect, just perfect.
Chapter Fourteen
“Dr. Gordon, I think the patient in bed four is right up your alley,” Nurse Daniels said as he was writing up the latest chart at the nurses’ station. He looked up and saw the wry look on her face. She assisted him in the club clinic one day every two weeks, and if she was telling him a patient was right up his alley, then it referred to one that was injured during sexual play or a sexual act. “Is it a club member?”
“Nope, looks like newbies.”
Damn, this was going to be awkward. He walked over to the bed in question and pulled the chart from the emergency room intern’s hand.
“Sir, I think we need to call the police and get hospital security to remove the husband.”
Double damn, the intern was planning on reporting it. If it truly was abuse, he was the first one to call in the police and get the victim help. But he also knew that to an untrained eye some BDSM injuries could look like abuse.
“Wait until I’ve examined the patient, Marcus.” He then dismissed the intern and entered the closed-curtained emergency bay.
“I’m Doctor Caleb Gordon. And you are Mrs. Wilson, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
The woman on the bed looked to be in her late forties and extremely embarrassed. He’d only ever seen that shade of red on his fair-skinned, redheaded sister.
“Okay, Mrs. Wilson, would you like to tell me about your injuries?”
“Well, umm, you see, it’s not, well, what you think. My husband doesn’t abuse me. We just wanted to spice things up a bit.” She struggled and stuttered. If possible, her face went even redder. Yep, this was right up his alley.
“Doctor, it’s my fault entirely. You see I, umm, well, we read some books, and I must have gotten carried away.” Her husband butted in. The man took full responsibility, and he stood next to his wife, holding her hand, comforting and protecting her. He looked to be in his early fifties, fit and healthy. A man used to being in charge. He would make a good Dom, of course, once he was properly trained. So many people didn’t look for the resources available to them before they unfortunately ended up in this predicament.
“Let’s see what we have here.” Mrs. Wilson carefully stood from the bed and removed the gown from her shoulders with her back facing him. As the fabric moved down her saw the welts all over her back. The length and depth of the marks screamed crop damage to him.
“I’m guessing this was done with a crop?” He directed his question to Mr. Wilson.
“How did you know?”
“One of the admitting nurses noticed your case and brought it to my attention. I have some knowledge of the lifestyle.”
“Lifestyle?”
Hold on a second, this guy took a crop to his wife’s back and didn’t understand the lifestyle, or in fact didn’t even understand the name. Didn’t he know about the Internet? Maybe he hadn’t bothered to research? Hell, he wanted to take a crop to this man’s back. He understood and accepted even untrained people cropping the ass and thighs. These areas could take even an untrained hand and not suffer serious, life-altering damage. But, to take a crop to a partner’s back with no understanding of kidney or other organ placement and especially no knowledge of the necessity of avoiding the spine was just pure madness. Fuck, he took a deep breath. It was not that this man
wanted to hurt his wife, he just needed additional information on how to play safely.
“Mr. Wilson, is this the first time you have experimented with a crop?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, first off you should never attempt anything on your wife’s back until you are trained and have a full understanding of the anatomy of the human body. Next time, place the marks on the fleshiest part of her ass. I also want you to hit the side of your own thigh first to understand the strength of each swing and how much damage or pain it will cause her.”
“We’re not going to try this again. Look at what I’ve done to her. I’m so ashamed of myself. I mean, we read these books and it sounded so easy and, well, so exciting. And then we try it and here we are in the goddamn hospital.”
“I have to say I thought it sounded like a great idea, erotic pain and all, but it hurt really badly,” Mrs. Wilson added.
“I understand, and let me say unfortunately it’s not uncommon when couples experiment for it to go bad. Having to be admitted to hospital is a touch worse than usual, but if you want to start in the lifestyle, which is the BDSM lifestyle by the way, please educate yourselves. Start gently and work your way up. There are clubs, groups, and munches, which is a meeting in a vanilla setting for likeminded people to meet. The club that I attend, the Locks and Chains, has a training program and workshops for beginners and up. For dominants and submissives, you can learn safe techniques and even understand the emotional and psychological side as well. There are couples’ workshops also. Don’t let one bad experience put you off. Obviously you’re both interested or you wouldn’t have tried it.” He patted Mrs. Wilson on the shoulder. “Now I’m going to get you to CT to ensure you have no internal damage, and then I’ll dress your back.”
Punishing Petra [Locks and Chains 3] Page 10
