Own Me Wholly!

by Reese Gabriel

  Erin is still clingy. Such a funny age—desperate for independence, but ready to bolt back to the womb, mom's or anyone else's at the least provocation. “When is Daddy going to wake up, Caroline?"

  I feel a little tug at my heartstrings hearing her call him Daddy.

  Brian's got me thinking ... is something wrong with what we have?

  "Caroline doesn't know that,” Kasey says to her little sister. “Why are you asking?"

  "You don't know either, Kas."

  "I didn't say I did."

  "Yes you did. You act like you know everything."

  "No I don't."

  "Yes, you do."

  I'm tempted to cut them off, but this might be just the stimulation Thomas needs to wake up. If for no other reason than to tell them both to give it a rest.

  "Caroline, will you talk to dad with me?” Erin wants to know.

  "Sure, Er."

  Kasey floors me with her next statement. “We should give Caroline a chance to be alone with Dad; you can talk to him any time."

  I try not to look too stunned. Just how mature is Kasey and how much is she capable of figuring out on her own? And isn't she a chip off the old block, thinking so deeply and creatively of someone else's needs?

  Just goes to show you how little biology means. Kasey is the apple off the tree while Brian isn't even from the same orchard.

  "Why does she need to talk alone?” Erin asks reasonably enough.

  "They're friends. When you aren't a kid anymore you'll understand."

  "I'm not a kid now."

  Kasey shepherds her out. “Yes, you are."

  "Am not."

  "You are and that's why you're arguing with me."

  "You're a kid,” her mini-Monica voice parrots down the hall. “And that's why you're arguing with me."

  "Women,” I smile at Thomas. “Right, Boss?"

  He can't answer back to one of our running jokes.

  "He's supposed to say, ‘Can't live with ‘em, can't live with ‘em."

  Swallowing hard ... shit, don't let me fall apart.

  Got to keep talking.

  "I just want to know you're okay. I'd take the pain, anything you're feeling. Oh, god, I don't know what to pray for. I hate god, anyway, he does all this shit to us and expects us to know what to ask for. Fuck it Thomas, do I want you to pull out of this? Do I want to be that selfish?"

  I try and touch his hand. I can't. I'm ... afraid.

  "You're hanging on for everyone else, aren't you? Anyone else would have taken the hand he was dealt. Don't stay for me. I'm okay."

  The words catch, the words choke.

  "Oh, hell,” I laugh through tears, nice and fresh. “You always could see through me. I'm a fucking wreck. I've never been less okay. Why did you have to be so nice to me? Why couldn't you have been a prick, thrown up in my car the first night and been done with it?

  "You're too stubborn. I wasn't worth it. You should have kept more of yourself. Damn it, Thomas, did we cheat Monica and the kids? Were they supposed to have all that energy you put into me? I know it bothered you; we talked about it. You lost sleep too; I saw it in your eyes.

  "You never told me. Was I the first? Why didn't I ask? Sometimes I see how other women look at you. I wish I could get jealous, but I am just too star struck by you or something. It's okay; you were born to love women. I hope you had as many as you could sink that beautiful cock into.

  "Oh ... shit ... you're not going to make it are you? I don't know if I'll have another chance. Is this it?"

  I sniffle, trying to be Daddy's big girl.

  "There is one thing. You know what it is, you great big smart ass, you're already watching over me, I bet you're laughing, too.

  "Your son's a chip off the old block. He wants something from me—not just the sex. Though, fuck, it's good. Shit, stop laughing; I'm not that much of a slut. Am I? Okay, but I'm your slut. He's a good looking young man. He can take care of business. No refinement, though. And don't tell me I like it. I'm not that kind of girl."

  I can hear his answer. Wanna bet?

  "Bite me,” I tell him. Then I kiss his forehead, fast as I can. “Love you, Daddy."

  I look up. She's in the doorway watching.

  My world gives way from underneath me. How long has she been there? My worst fear, all the pain I've tried not to cause, released in a single bombshell, one careless gesture on my part.

  "Monica..."

  Her face creases, trying to process, put things together. Puzzle pieces she's had a long time. Oh, thank you, cosmic dwarves, for making her so very blonde...

  The sad thing is I don't think she's cheated on him ... ever.

  "I have to go, Monica. Bye.” I curse myself as I brush past her, trying not to look up, trying not to see anyone.

  Nice recovery, Caroline. Talk about acting like the kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Even a blonde could see through that...

  "Caroline."

  I turn back around, blood pounding in my ears. “Yes?"

  "Thank you—for being my husband's friend."

  Has she been talking to Kasey? I swallow a ball of guilt the size and weight of a cannonball. “It's nothing, Monica, you'd do the same."

  If I had a husband you could fuck behind my back.

  I nearly run into a male orderly on my way down the hall. I punch the button on the wall. Come on, stupid elevator, open up ... I don't even care if it's just an open shaft; I'll jump in it, anything to get me out of here.

  The elevator door opens. Brian's in it.

  God damn fucking worst timing in the world as always, thank you, Brian.

  "Caroline, what is it?” As usual I am transparent to him.

  "Not now.” I back up and head for the stairs.

  He catches me in the stairwell, twisting metal banisters, concrete walls. “Caroline, what the fuck is going on?"

  He melts me, that mix of concern and gruffness...

  I collapse against his chest. I really should have my head examined. “Monica knows,” I exhale.

  He holds me. “What did she say?"

  "Nothing."

  "Then how do you know what she knows?"

  "How could she not? And the way I'm walking around like a basket case, I might as well take out an ad in the fucking Sentinel."

  "Relax, baby. It's not that bad."

  He's comforting me, but that's not what I want.

  I rub against him. It's like he's a conduit for all my fucked up, misplaced sexual energy. I can't believe Thomas was ever able to handle me. “I'm a slut, Brian. Treat me like one."

  "Here?"

  "My sluttiness is surprisingly portable. It works anywhere."

  He grabs my ass. “I thought you hated me."

  "I do, you're obnoxious and you practically raped me,” I quipped. “But I want you anyway. That's what makes me a slut."

  "What you need,” he growls in my ear, “is a spanking."

  "What I want is a fuck..."

  "But you'll take what I give."

  My panties are wetting all over again. “If you think you can resist me.” I try and unzip him. He's too fast. He bends me over the railing. Smacks me hard.

  "Ouch!"

  He smacks me a second time.

  "Mother fucker, your father doesn't hit that hard."

  "He's too nice."

  "If somebody comes through here,” I wince, “and you'll end up in jail, like I have been telling you all along."

  "Makes it more exciting, don't you think? Telling the establishment to go fuck itself, playing them right under their noses?"

  He whacks me at will; I can't do anything but take the heat. Thank god it's through my jeans.

  "You sound like a lost hippie. Hasn't anybody told you to act your age?"

  "What about you ... Daddy's little girl?"

  "It's baby girl, and you may not call me that."

  "Don't want to. Not my thing. I'll call you what I want to.” He reaches around and pinches me nipple. “Isn't that right?
"

  "Owww ... yes ... you mother fucker."

  He takes my arm. “Let's go."

  We head down. “What about the elevator?"

  "You need the exercise."

  "Like hell. I run three miles a day. I'm in better shape than you."

  "You need the humility, then. In fact, I think I'll take the elevator. Meet you at the bottom."

  "I'll beat you."

  "You can try."

  I meet him in the lobby, biggest shit eating grin on my face. “Nice you could join us."

  Not sure why I'm flying like this. I am this close to Monica finding me out, which means losing my job not to mention any hope of seeing the man I love ever again.

  Whoa ... do I love Thomas?

  It's not the first time I've said it—we say it a lot, he's a firm believer in owning your feelings, not worrying about how it all adds up. But up to now it's been compartmentalized. A few minutes ago it all got blown wide open.

  "You're a smart ass,” he takes my waist. “You know that?"

  "I'm told it's my best quality."

  "So where do you wanna play—your place or mine?"

  "You have a place?"

  "A motel room. Decent enough."

  "Perfect. You can ravish me in it all afternoon."

  "We'll need to make a couple of stops first."

  "I can't imagine what you have in mind."

  First stop is the adult toy store. Brian wants restraints. We get a basic set that fits under the mattress, with Velcro cuffs for ankles and wrists. A blindfold is also a must. He puts it on me from behind while I'm looking at vibrators.

  Thomas loves to play with my senses. Once he led me naked through the backyard of his condominium, my eyes tightly sealed from the world. My hand was in his, the sun kissed my golden skin, and I felt the tickle of the grass on my bare feet. “I just want to see you in your element. You put nature to shame."

  Hardly! I was always telling Thomas to get his eyes checked. But he was a very stubborn man. He insisted I was beautiful and that was that. Round and round the yard we went. He picked wild flowers for me to smell, he rubbed the petals on my lips, and he touched a twig to my nipple. A cord pulled in my body so tight I thought it would snap like a piano wire. I had visions of him taking a switch and whipping me. I never did dare to tell him that.

  Wonder why?

  "What are you thinking?” Brian is at my back, caressing my cheek.

  "You'll use it against me."

  "Only if you let me."

  "That's what I'm worried about."

  He laughs and takes the blindfold off. I readjust to the light. As we continue to walk I hold his hand. I'm a little excited, a little scared. Is it all happening too fast? It would be if it weren't for the connection through Thomas.

  Or is that an excuse for me falling back into my old impetuous self?

  We continue to explore the store. He picks up a crop, taps my thigh lightly.

  "I don't think so,” I raise an eyebrow.

  He smiles, a private joke. With mixed emotions I watch as he puts it back, keeping the restraints. And he wants a collar, too. My heart beats more quickly.

  "Definitely not,” I tell him.

  "Look at me.” He holds one up against me.

  "Stop it,” I brush it away.

  "Arms down."

  "No."

  "Yes."

  My eyes flash, his flash back.

  Something zaps in the air. Suddenly we don't feel like talking anymore.

  "Let's go,” we say to each other, simultaneously. We buy the collar and the rest of the items. Brian hasn't got enough cash so we put it all on my credit card, which is damned close to the max as it is. Who knows what I'll need to be putting on it in weeks to come. Groceries. Gas. The power bill.

  I have maybe three months saved up to cover the rent once Monica pulls the plug on my salary. After that, I'll have to find a real job.

  "Caroline,” he checks on the way to the motel, getting all Dom like. “Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?"

  "After the money I just spent? You got to be kidding me?"

  "I'll pay you back out of my first hit album. Seriously, though, you and me are pretty volatile together. We could get into it hot and heavy and there won't be any turning back."

  "Turning back from what? What are you talking about and why are you trying to think ahead?"

  "Someone has to."

  "No they don't.” I move my hand to his crotch. “We are passing time. Minute to minute."

  He snatches it away. “Not without permission."

  "Like hell.” I try again; he holds my wrist in a vise-like grip.

  "Do that again, and I'll make you take your shirt off."

  "Fat chance."

  He lets go of my hand and pulls up the hem of my shirt.

  "Cut it out."

  "Will you behave?"

  "Not bloody likely."

  He gets quiet. Not sure what that means.

  We get to the motel, park the car. The place is non-smoking. We light up together. Midway through he says. “Here's the deal. I want to play Master and slave. And I want to play hard. You can have a safe word, but otherwise I want to just ... dominate."

  "The word will be dirt,” I tell him. “And you sure as shit better honor it."

  He grins. “You got it."

  "Fine,” I sigh, covering my nervous excitement under a veneer of indifference. “What do I do ... Master?"

  "Wait for me on your knees, facing the door,” he orders. “Bra and panties only."

  I raise a brow. “Wow. That's original."

  "I'd call it classic, slave. I'd get a move on,” he warns, “or I'll strip you right here."

  I roll my eyes as he opens the door for me.

  "I'll be out here, smoking,” he tells me, shutting me in.

  Son of a bitch. Cocky little pup. I'm tempted to turn the double bolt, lock him out. I'll be damned if I'll roll over and play dead. I flop down on the bed, flipping through the TV channels.

  He walks in, observes me and quietly takes off his worn leather boots.

  My pulse is racing. I'm so ready for a little fun fight, but when I don't get one right I'm a little disappointed.

  Brian goes in the bathroom and takes a shower. I turn the lights off on him and race back to bed.

  He finishes up in the dark.

  I swoon at the sight of him, walking out, stark naked, his body dripping and proud, young and strong. How is a woman supposed to maintain the upper hand with that in the same room?

  "I hadn't figured you for a brat, Caroline. I guess I was wrong."

  Finally he speaks!

  "I'm not a brat."

  He takes my purse.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Relieving you of your license."

  "You can't do that.” I scramble over. He holds me at bay with one hand.

  "I just did.” He puts it in his pocket. “You'll get it if and when I decide you're acting like a big girl again."

  I stomp on his bare foot with my sneaker. “This isn't part of the game."

  "It is, as long as you don't use the safe word.” He takes hold of my nipple and brings me to my knees.

  "Ow...” I squirm sounding exactly like the brat he's accusing me of being. I'm sure not giving in, though.

  Brian doesn't let go. He keeps me like that, eye level with his cock, humiliated. “What does my father do with you when you misbehave? Just out of curiosity."

  "That's none of your business.” I try and take a bite out of his left ball.

  He rolls the nipple, until I see stars. “He spanks me,” I wince, “but it's in play, just a game, mostly we laugh. He'd never hurt me, he's not that kind of man."

  "But you dream of being hurt ... just a little pain, right?"

  "No I don't!"

  "Lie to me, Caroline, and things only get worse."

  He takes the other nipple, too. The more he tortures me, the harder his cock gets. This is not a good
sign.

  "All right,” I grimace. “Sometimes I have ... fantasies."

  "Like what?"

  "Of being ... whipped."

  "My father doesn't whip you?"

  "I told you—he's not that kind of a dominant."

  "But I am."

  "I've changed my mind,” I announce. “I want to leave."

  "Say the word,” he goads.

  I will not do it. “I just want out. Let me the fuck out."

  "Show me your dry pussy and you can go."

  I glower, clenching my thighs. I'm sopping wet and he obviously knows it. By scent if nothing else.

  "The thing is, Caroline, my father is afraid to punish you, because he feels guilty himself."

  "For what?"

  "You two are committing adultery. You're cheating on Monica, on his daughters and you're cheating on me."

  "What the fuck are you talking about?!” I try and show the contempt he deserves given my current limitations. “I'm not married to you!"

  "You steal my father's time,” he increases the pressure. “The two of you are stealing."

  "It's not like that,” I protest through the wall of pain. “I make him stronger, I help him get by. He says I'm like an oasis..."

  "A man will say anything to keep getting laid."

  "You're a fucking asshole!” I spit at him. It lands on his stomach.

  He wasn't kidding about it getting hot and heavy. I am in a very strange place. The only thing keeps me going is that I am somehow comforting Thomas’ son. I'm serving Thomas. The only way I can.

  "Lick it off,” he commands.

  "Yes, Master,” I hear myself say as I lean in; I touch my tongue to his hard belly.

  "It's going to be a long night for you, Caroline.” He makes me clean him for a long time; long after the saliva is gone.

  I am so fucking horny.

  Then he takes my chin in his hand. “Thank you,” he whispers with a wink.

  I swallow. He's stepped out of character, being nice. I can't take the change, though. “Does this mean I don't have to kneel in my underwear, because it is really a stupid thing to do."

  "Actually, it's hot as hell and we both know it. I'm going back outside for another cigarette,” he grabs his jeans and pulls them up over his lean, manly thighs. “When I come back I expect you to have obeyed."