by Aya DeAniege
‘I am beautiful,’ it’s a fact that few women believe about themselves. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so they say. Mr. Wrightworth and Nathaniel were the first ones to make such a comment. Even my fiance back in the slum had never called me beautiful or even pretty. Ours had been an engagement of debt and convenience, not about love and passion. While we had come to care about each other over the course of our engagement, it hadn’t been deeper than a puddle of piss left by a drunk on the road.
“Another trick of mine,” he grumbled, sliding me off his lap.
Is everything Nathaniel does, something that Mr. Wrightworth taught him?
“Next item on the list,” he said quickly, picking up the book again. “Play won’t start until you are comfortable being tied. You are not allowed to come until we play.”
“I haven’t since I got back anyhow.”
“No masturbation,” Mr. Wrightworth said sternly, even shaking a finger at me. “Your safe word is banana, though I don’t know why he’d choose that.”
“Banana,” I said, then laughed.
“Oh...” he said in response and suddenly focused on his book.
“What’s that mean?” I asked.
“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Mr. Wrightworth grumbled. “Plugs, let’s talk about plugs. Do you know what that is?”
“To plug a sink?”
“Think something like that, except for anal instead,” he responded, smiling slightly when I edged away from him. “I will place the first one, then after that, you will be responsible for putting them in. You will wear the plug during play, but we won’t start for a few weeks. It’s a part of anal training.
“Next vibrators, I’m trying to find you one. I may bring it into play, but in that instance, you will control it and use it on my command.”
“You’ve only really talked about sex stuff,” I said pointedly.
“Well, I’d rather ease into the other items. Most blanch when I bring up the pain portion.”
“Like a bandage, just rip it off.”
“Speaking of bandage, how is your finger?” Mr. Wrightworth asked.
“It’s fine, get on with it.”
“I use floggers, paddles, whips, hands, belts for smacking. I also use needles, deal in some knife and fire play, use tooth and nail.”
“Tooth and nail?” I asked.
“Give me your arm and I’ll show you.”
I held out my arm and Mr. Wrightworth took it gently, drawing it—and me—to him. He turned my arm towards him, which turned my wrist towards the ceiling. Ever so slowly he bent down and took the meaty part of my lower arm in his mouth.
And then he bit me.
Some Doms bite fast. It’s more like a nip, like they’re afraid of it. Doing it that way hurts and doesn’t feel right in the least. Biting down slowly, putting more pressure until it starts hurting is much more pleasant. Nipping fucking hurts and the Doms think they’re being all Domly, but they’re just dicks. Might as well stab me, for all the good it does, but they think they’ve done me some great favour.
It’s been years since, of course, I’ve played with others, though.
When Mr. Wrightworth released my arm, I shivered. I didn’t pull away. I stayed stuck in place as he straightened and watched me for my reaction. His hand flowed over the teeth marks on my arm, making me shiver in delight as the flesh tingled.
“As I said before, anything that isn’t covered can be used as I see fit.”
“My mouth isn’t covered,” I said, concerned about the idea.
“I face fuck, which is not what Nathaniel prefers.”
“How do you know what he prefers?” I asked.
Mr. Wrightworth seemed to struggle for a moment. I could see him debating whether or not he wanted to tell me, whether he should tell me. The information he had might have crossed the line of what should and should not be said about Nathaniel, to me.
“We’ve had a threesome,” he said finally. “I don’t think he liked the balance I brought in, but he did lose a bet, so I had to make certain it was worth it. Point being, I face fuck.”
“You keep saying fuck like it means something to me.”
In response, he turned and picked up his remote. It took several minutes for him to find the video he wanted, and then he played it for me. The video scared me, but mainly because I thought that kind of video was illegal. Once it ended, I turned to Mr. Wrightworth with wide eyes.
“You have the option,” he said. “But no, I’ve no interest, at this point, in doing that to you.”
“I thought that was illegal.”
“Very illegal, it would be counted as rape, even though you saw her give consent beforehand. She loves doing that, especially with strangers.”
“No, the video!”
“Oh, that’s a home movie. We have several floating around, all on encrypted drives.”
“Nathaniel said those didn’t exist.”
“Because Nathaniel doesn’t know they exist. Just like he doesn’t know that his old Master has hours of footage of him. On that note. I’d like to remind you that, yes, everything here is recorded, but only I have access to it. Everything everywhere is recorded, but like rich folk, I have control over who can view my footage.”
Nathaniel’s Master is rich.
I couldn’t help it, even three months out from having seen Nathaniel, he was the last thing I thought about and the first when I awoke. Everything was compared to him. I slipped him into the conversation whenever I thought that I wouldn’t be admonished for it. Still, no one talked to me about him, and it drove me absolutely batty.
The problem was that I still didn’t know what was going on. He had tried to make his father take “him,” whoever the unnamed man was instead of me. It still gave me hope that he might want me.
“Why doesn’t he know?”
“Sometime in the future, I might show you the videos, I do have access to those. You might even enjoy it, Nathaniel mentioned you might be part Domme, and you might enjoy tying up Doms yourself. That’s an interesting premise. Not many Doms would let you tie them up, though any strong man might do. Even Nathaniel, but we can discuss that later, once the review is complete.”
“It’s not done yet?”
“We can discuss that tomorrow at your three months sitting,” Mr. Wrightworth growled. “Now, we will use almost all the furniture in the room there. We will start off testing your limits. I know you can take a harder beating than Nathaniel was giving you because his father rarely holds back and you’re still standing. I won’t go that far, but I will hurt you, I take far too much enjoyment from it.”
“Aftercare,” I blurted out.
“Right, you drop, and you drop hard,” Mr. Wrightworth said, flipping to a clean page. “The expectation is that we are in a relationship, to those outside. Which means that you will end up spending nights here, we will sleep in my bed. Both clothed, of course. Baths can be a part of aftercare, and we will eat a little more. Massages help, I find, sex as well, which is part of why I want you to masturbate. If you spend the night, you will have the bed to yourself for about an hour as I clean the room and shower.
“Which means, of course, I will have to place toys in my room. You will have to use them and clean them yourself.”
I blushed at the prospect and looked away.
“Orgasm is not something to be hidden away. Doing as I command you will show you that, it will help you come in the future.”
“I have no problems coming,” I snapped back.
“For Nathaniel, perhaps me as well. Did any of the others at the church bring that reaction out in you?”
“No,” I said slowly.
“Which is why we are doing the training that we are doing. I don’t want there being a mental block because the other Doms are lacking some spark, or whatever it is that you see in Nathaniel and me.”
“You’re both very attractive, and command a room.”
“Maybe it’s the sadist thing,” Mr. Wrightworth said
quickly.
“I don’t think Nathaniel is a sadist,” I said.
“Not fully, just half on his mother’s side.”
“I’d say it was his father’s side,” I grumbled, then laughed despite myself.
“Let’s talk about your needs.”
“No sleep deprivation, I don’t like gags at all, they scare me. I like the feel of a man, so not touching me isn’t an option,” I paused and pulled my legs up, hugging my knees as I realized just how quickly those words had come from my mouth. I hadn’t even hesitated, and I suddenly felt self-conscious. “How do I explain the marks at checkup?”
“There’s a reason why Nicole does most of your checkup,” Mr. Wrightworth said quietly. “The plan wasn’t for me, but after last night, I think any other would be a bad idea. Nicole insists on sex with her subs, she would probably strap something on for you and you might enjoy it, but I think it’s important not to push sex after what happened. Letting it come out of you until you can take it no longer, that’s the best way.”
“Yeah, except if I come begging you for it, you won’t give it to me.”
Mr. Wrightworth hesitated. The man looked genuinely baffled.
“I’m going to have to come up with a solution for that,” he muttered. “When you come begging for it, I’ll have a solution. It’s months and months away, I suspect, that’s plenty of time.”
I adjusted in my seat, feeling such an urge, but only for a moment. “How do you plan on working on that?”
“Once you’re comfortable with me, I’m taking you back to church. You will wear yellow, and I will talk to some Doms. They will pin you in sexually suggestive positions, but you will trust that none of them will try anything, and if they do, I will crack their skulls.”
“That makes me uncomfortable.”
“In most cases, they aren’t going to be interested in you at all.”
“It’s also the skull cracking that makes me uncomfortable.”
“I’ve only had to do it once, everyone listens and obeys since then.”
I stared at Mr. Wrightworth. The man chuckled in response.
“The point of that is to get you comfortable with other men so that you know that even if you feel like you are in a sexual position, you are safe. By the time you’re ready to move on to another, you will trust me enough that, were they to hurt you and tell you not to speak of it to me, you still will. I will deal with them then and there.”
“I suppose...”
“Oh, and you are taking self-defence classes,” Mr. Wrightworth said, scribbling something on the page. “So we will have sessions where I fight you. If you win, I will reward you. If you don’t, I will discipline you. I want you to be able to get out of nearly every sort of hold a man might take on you. Once you can, we will work on you fighting while tied up. You’d be surprised how easy it is.”
“I suppose...” I said again. “How long until we play?”
“Why?” he asked.
I was suddenly thinking of my arm, of how the pressure under my skin had alleviated a little when he had bitten me. Until that point, I hadn’t realized just how tense I had been.
“Darling, tell me why,” he said when I didn’t immediately respond.
“There’s been a pressure in my flesh for a long time, and after you bit me, it doesn’t feel as bad, yet is worse all the same,” I said, rubbing at the spot.
“But last night when I spanked you, that didn’t help?” he asked.
“A lot happened just after and before,” I said in my defence.
“I was more of thinking, you had spoken your safe word just before that happened,” Mr. Wrightworth murmured. “I think that’s why it didn’t help. You had withdrawn consent. Technically I shouldn’t have spanked you at all, but when you disobey, you need to be disciplined.”
“But I’m very aware of it now.”
“Listen to that desperation,” he purred out. “Almost makes me want to tie you up and give you what you want.”
“This isn’t funny, Mr. Wrightworth!”
He slid across the couch, closing the distance between us. Draping an arm around my shoulders, he pressed me tight against him. His warmth only reminded me that, yet again, the pressure was building.
“I’ve already told you that we won’t play until you are willing.”
“I am willing,” I snarled.
“You need to be tied, shall we try that and see how you react to being tied?” he asked.
I snarled in response, no actual word, just an annoyed sound. Mr. Wrightworth took my chin in his hand and pulled my face towards him.
“Let us go to the play room. If you can stay tied for an hour without panicking, I will play with you tonight. If not, it will wait. You do not get to play with me, or be spanked, or have impact play unless you obey my rules. And if you continue to hurt yourself during the day, you will regret it. Do you understand me?”
“I do,” I said with a quiver.
Anger was roiling through me. The fact that he was forcing me to submit before he gave me what I needed was infuriating.
He led me to the room and tied me. I made it twenty minutes before I called the safe word. Mr. Wrightworth would repeat the process over the next two weeks and each day I’d make it just a little further. As much as it infuriated me, him making me wait gave me something to aim for. I wanted to make it through the hour to get what I felt I needed. He had dangled a carrot in front of me.
And it worked.
Chapter Six
The next day was a three-month review, which no on told me about beforehand. Mr. Wrightworth had mentioned it the night before, but he hadn’t gone into detail as to what the review encompassed.
Or where it was happening.
Or the time.
I suppose that he assumed I knew all those things because in real life people don’t just list the same thing over and over. He had only mentioned the review in passing because it happened to come up, not because he had wanted to talk about it.
The review started at ten in the morning, just as I was trying to decide which contract to audit. The boring one, or the long-winded one? They sent Kathy of all people to get me, and then she dared to admonish me for being late to my own review. I had to listen to her nattering all the way from the archives, across the Program building and to the room that my review was being held.
The Program building was not even close to small.
As I stepped into the room, I was furious. My hands clenched. I was angry about everything that was going on in the room—from the way most of the men gave me an exasperated look, to the twitch of Mr. Wrightworth’s lips. I made the leaping conclusion that he had sent Kathy to get me, thus it was his damned fault I had to deal with the woman’s impudence.
“Miss Martin, please, have a seat,” one of the other men said, motioning to the desk chair that sat in the middle of the room before them.
I marched to the chair and dropped into it. When I glowered at Mr. Wrightworth, he made a motion as if straightening a skirt. Instead of being furious, I was more annoyed as I snapped down my skirt to fix it. Then I glared at the other men at the table as they shuffled papers.
“I wasn’t told this was happening,” I said through gritted teeth, trying to remain polite.
“That doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”
It does matter.
I clenched my hands in my lap. Instead of glaring at the men at the long table, I glared at the wall behind them.
“Just to be clear, Miss Martin, this is not about the job you’ve taken on,” Mr. Wrightworth said. “If there were any problems with that area of your life, we would bring it to your attention right away.”
“Like this review was brought to my attention?” I asked sarcastically.
“...Uh...” one of the others made a sound, and my eyes darted over them, trying to pinpoint who it was. I didn’t figure it out until he spoke. “That was a one-time error, surely you don’t plan to hold a grudge against us?”
&nb
sp; “You forgot to tell the person being reviewed about their review,” I said back, trying to be as calm as possible. “And it’s not the first time. I was also not told about orientation, or what was expected of me once I left Medical. The ones in charge of my orientation didn’t even show up. So don’t you sit there and tell me that this was a one time, small error.”
“Recoveries are still few and far between,” Mr. Wrightworth said, a cold edge to his voice suddenly. “There are kinks in the system that we are still working out. Patience is required.”
“I was taken from my contractor, raped, tortured, and very nearly murdered. You don’t get to tell me to be patient. I already have to be patient about my recovery, about my emotions, about relearning things that should be simple tasks. You don’t get to tell me to be patient while you figure out why your people aren’t doing what they’re supposed to.”
“Obviously you are doing much better,” one of the other said quickly, scribbling something down on his paper.
“No, she’s not,” Mr. Wrightworth said, turning his attention to them. “When I realized our error, I sent Kathy to fetch Miss Martin. I thought if she were a little annoyed, she wouldn’t end up crying. Obviously, I misjudged her reaction to annoyance.”
“She’s standing up to authority.”
“She’s being a brat,” Mr. Wrightworth said sternly.
He kept slipping in words that meant one thing to the others in the room but had so many other connotations.
“I’m not a brat. A brat would tell you to suck it. You did something stupid, and I’m calling you on it. I’m tired of slipping through every single crack in your supposedly almost perfect system. You don’t get ignored and missed this often if the system is almost perfect.”
“Let’s just get to the review,” Mr. Wrightworth said through gritted teeth.
“Well, this is about how I’m doing. So. I was shown to a room and given absolutely no expectations or rules. I wasn’t told I was expected anywhere the next morning or how anything worked. I thought everything was run by a computer until this one over here informed me that it’s run by controllers, as in people. Who he wrote up because they had a fucking heart and gave me a stuffed animal when I was upset when no one else could be bothered!
