by Aya DeAniege
After a long moment, I slid into the other conclusion in a startling realization.
“Please, Sir, fuck me.”
Nathaniel sighed out with a chuckle.
“There it is. Such a fast learner. And what is the point of my fucking you?”
“For Sir’s pleasure.”
One of Nathaniel’s hands roved down my back roughly. I felt him shift above me as if he were looking across the room. Then he pulled away entirely. I was left, devoid of sight and touch, not knowing where he was.
I didn’t like it.
“Easy,” Nathaniel said, setting a hand on me as I twitched. “Easy, I’m right here. Just needed something.”
I felt cold steel slide against my hip and heard the snip, then the second snip a moment later. My underwear fell away.
That’s the way underwear should be removed. I’ve also had it yanked upon, apparently expecting it just to rip. It doesn’t do that, it’s made of fabric and meant to survive the washing and the drying, and the randy bouts of sex.
I heard the scissors be set on the floor.
I felt Nathaniel’s hands moving up my back.
The heat of him was oh so familiar and welcoming, even over my already bruising flesh. Nathaniel leaned down against my back, his hot chest against my aching muscles. Even the weight of him was a comfort.
And then he shifted and thrust into me.
I moaned, my voice higher and just a little louder than I meant it to be. To be filled by the man after months of fantasizing about that very moment?
What Nathaniel proceeded to do was definitely fucking. Hard and fast and...oh, just what I need at least once a week, or I’m just not satisfied.
Bent over the way I was, the spanking bench put pressure on my front while Nathaniel’s chest put pressure against my back. Pressure in the right places during sex is delightful. Nathaniel held me down as he pounded into me and I loved every minute of it.
“Come for me,” he said.
I shuddered at the sound of his voice in my ear. He slammed into me and hesitated, his body trembling against mine.
“Come for me, Darling,” Nathaniel begged.
And I did.
It was not like the times at his estate, where he teased it out of me and my world melted away entirely. It was good, yes, it was marvellous, but we didn’t have the time to play the way we both liked. I was used to longer sessions, and Nathaniel had been working each session longer.
It was good, but it wasn’t really what either of us wanted.
Nathaniel moaned as he pulled away from me. I was left in darkness a moment and then the blindfold was removed and tossed to the side. He knelt before me, and I finally saw the warmth in his green eyes as he smiled.
“Tell me that you’re all right,” Nathaniel whispered.
“I’m all right,” I responded.
He released first one, then the other of my wrists. With Nathaniel’s help, I stood. He plucked me off the floor was if I weighed nothing at all and carried me out of the play room. Nathaniel took me into Mr. Wrightworth’s bedroom and set me on the bed gently.
He climbed in beside me, almost atop me.
His lips met mine, tongue thrusting into my mouth. We were tangled together in a moment. I rolled and pinned him to the bed, huffing out my triumph.
“You’ve been working out,” he managed to get out before I kissed him again.
Nathaniel’s hands roved up me and back down, feeling every bit of me. The playroom and bedroom were always kept in a kind of twilight, never the full light that the overhead fixtures offered. There was something sharp and even medical about full light that Mr. Wrightworth seemed to avoid. In the twilight of the playroom my scars were faded, in the darker dusk of the bedroom, the shadows would have hidden most, if not all of the damage.
So while Nathaniel’s hands seemed to search for the damage, to inspect my body, all he would have felt were muscles under whole skin.
As his hands moved over me, I writhed against him with need. The only thing that stopped me was his manhood, hard and at the ready once more, poking me when I lifted slightly and moved back down.
With a squeak, I lifted off of him.
“Take me,” Nathaniel said.
“How?” I asked.
Nathaniel went still, gripping me tight as he frowned at me.
“Seriously?” he asked. “How many positions do you know?”
“No, I mean... I meant...” I dropped my head glumly.
“I just meant take control,” Nathaniel said, his hands drawing me upwards. “To have me,” he drew me down, spearing me upon his rigid flesh. “As you please. That’s it. Enjoy me.”
I shuddered at every word he spoke. I writhed against him and moved this way and that until I found just the way I liked it. As I found that position, my fingers dug into his flesh. I went taut as I brought myself down again.
“There you go,” Nathaniel said, his hands moving over my stomach and down my legs. “Mm, Darling.”
I slapped at his chest gently. It was an idle motion of someone who wasn’t entirely paying attention. I was focused on the pleasure and that building, frustrating feeling just out of reach.
The name Darling startled me out of the delightful cloud that I had been building. It wasn’t right. Darling would never do this to her Sir.
Suddenly his hands hardened.
He turned us, pushing me into the bed as he slammed into me.
With hot breath against my ear, he said, “Sorry, Izzy.”
My hands locked onto his shoulders, legs wrapping around his hips. Nathaniel thrust into me with what little space I granted him. With each thrust, I was brought a little closer to the precipice. I moaned under him, hardly believing what was happening.
“Come for me, Izzy,” Nathaniel said, thrusting a little faster. “Please, Izzy, come for me.”
Again, I came.
I swear I saw stars.
Not the ones painted on the ceiling, but the real thing, falling from the sky. The whole world seemed to fade away to nothingness as Nathaniel stilled over top of me. With a small sound, Nathaniel slid down on the bed, head settling on my stomach.
Sex the second time seemed to make everything heavy. I was weary in a pleasant sort of way, but as I was about to fall asleep, I remembered the contract. Sleepily I pulled on Nathaniel’s shoulder. The man made a small sound and lifted his head, his eyes meeting my own.
“Mr. Wrightworth was your master,” I said to him, though I meant to phrase it as a question.
“Yes,” Nathaniel said, setting his head back on my stomach. His fingers traced circles on my still hot flesh. “Yes, I’m the sub that he refers to often.”
“You said you were auctioned off,” I said. “That was how you came to your master.”
“I was, it was also how we found out that my father has nearly everyone in their pockets. We thought it’d be a way around the contract. Technically it was, but they didn’t bid, so Mr. Wrightworth had to. I went for a whole fifty cents because that was all he had in his pockets at the time.”
“Mr. Wrightworth is the one who owns purple,” I grumbled.
Nathaniel almost laughed.
“Yes, yes he is. He takes it very seriously. Lit someone on fire who dared to wear it. Though she was standing by a fountain, and once the fire took he pushed her in. But still, the warning got out quick enough.”
“Then...” I struggled to come up with what I wanted to ask.
Nathaniel pushed off of the bed and then moved upward, adjusting so that he could wrap around me. The man sighed out slowly.
“The ring?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Wrightworth was supposed to use me as my father saw fit, not to claim me as a sub. When it came time for me to be collared, we had to come up with something random. Something no one in the outside world would think that a man like him would give another man. Then one day we found the ring. Still utterly in servitude to him, I took it. I was his slave, not a sub.
He made every decision for me while he was my master.”
“If it’s a mark of that, why do you still wear it?”
“I rarely do, but when I do it’s because I want him back. We didn’t want to do it at the time, but we both came away from that changed men. It’s so freeing to have someone else making the decisions for me.”
“Fair enough,” I grumbled because I knew the feeling. “Why is Mayfair wearing it then?”
“I had to give her something,” Nathaniel said. “I held out long enough for her to think she had broken me. Then I whimpered and cried some and told her where it is, that I wanted her to wear it. She thinks I’m completely subservient to her. Thankfully she doesn’t know my trigger words, so I don’t have to fake anything awkward.”
“You weren’t exactly good in the church,” I said.
This time, Nathaniel did laugh.
“That’s a sign, to Mr. Wrightworth. If he ignores me then I’m on my own, if he doesn’t and points out my misbehaviour, then we’re ready to go.”
“And you’ll swap subs?”
“Not... no. Mr. Wrightworth doesn’t lend his subs. There’s too much trust that has to go into it. For discipline? Yes, he would, but you’ve done nothing wrong. It shouldn’t even be happening and you should back out. I’m not broken, but I do go into subspace.”
“What’s subspace?”
“The mind basically shuts off, and you’ll do whatever you’re told. A proper Dom cultivates that so that whatever you do brings you pleasure. Pleasing him is your only goal.”
“So you’ll do whatever she tells you to.”
“At all. I like being there, but I don’t trust Mayfair not to take advantage of that.”
The fact that my gorgeous Dom wanted to be in subspace scared me. He wanted to serve someone else, and that terrified me. I had no experience being a domme and didn’t know if I could pull it off, let alone if I would like it.
If we’re both subs, can we even have a relationship together?
The answer is yes, but neither of us was subs. We were switches, myself a natural and Nathaniel trained.
“Don’t do it, Izzy, don’t go to Mayfair.”
“You serve her. I serve him,” I said.
Nathaniel sighed and nodded once.
He kissed my cheek and laid down, pressing himself as close to me as possible. With his warm body pressed tightly against mine, I was asleep in moments.
Chapter Twenty
“You serve her. I serve him.”
I had said those words to protect myself from the pain. I still didn’t know where I stood with Nathaniel. With the community, it can be difficult to tell.
Each scene is different. Each interaction could be like love at first sight.
When I woke in the morning, I was confused. Very, very confused. Not about my own feelings, but about my sexuality. I fell asleep beside Nathaniel and woke to a cold bed as Mr. Wrightworth closed the door. The man tiptoed towards the bed and slid in beside me, wrapping an arm around my middle.
He kissed my cheek, then my neck, then my shoulder, causing me to sigh out a breath as I bent my head to give him better access to the delicate flesh of my neck.
Mr. Wrightworth pressed himself close to me, his hand sliding down my belly. His warm fingers slid between my legs as I shuddered against him. It wasn’t until they caressed my folds that I stiffened, eyes going wide.
I had had dreams that began just like that...
He made a questioning sound, his lips still against my throat. I knew that not answering quickly enough, or not giving a full answer, would result in being bitten.
“Your hand’s position suggests something we have not done,” I said, my voice quivering.
The anticipation stoked a fire in my belly that I thought had long been put out.
Mr. Wrightworth wasn’t just taboo. He had no interested in women. What little interest he did have was in passing, and only involved the playroom. He was not one to chase after or fantasize about. He would beat any woman who made a comment of more than jealousy for the men he paid attention to.
Even making such a comment was dangerous.
“It was brought to my attention that it is believed I want something,” Mr. Wrightworth said, lifting his face from the crook of my neck. “It was also suggested that I should simply take what I want, that perhaps getting it out of my system is the only course of action.”
“You aren’t afraid that it’s a trap?” I asked.
“The door was open last night, the two of you were not plotting against me,” Mr. Wrightworth said. “Not that he is capable of plotting against me.”
“I meant,” I struggled to turn in his arms, surprised when his hand followed me, “you aren’t afraid that my vagina is a trap, and you’ll never want a man again?”
Mr. Wrightworth laughed as if it were a joke.
I couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t taking me seriously.
Nicole’s words were ringing in my ears. There was something odd about how Nathaniel and Mr. Wrightworth treated me, and I didn’t know why. I had been with Nathaniel for a whole of two weeks and yet he had visited the night before as if we had been together the past four months. He had behaved as if we had shared secrets and I would understand what his hints were.
“There’s no way that what’s between your legs is going to turn me off men forever,” Mr. Wrightworth said. “Not unless you remain mine. Forever. The moment you are gone, I’m going to find myself a lithe little thing that enjoys consensual non-consent, I’m going to pretend to rape them, and then I’m going to find myself another lithe little thing, this time, blond with blue eyes. A vanilla creature from one of the slums, or perhaps a rich younger son who has never known anything but mummy’s love, and I’m going to seduce him slowly to the lifestyle until he begs me to give him pain.”
“And while I’m yours?” I asked.
“Right now, you aren’t,” he responded quietly. “You are Izzy, and I am—well, you know who I am.”
Him.
Mr. Wrightworth wasn’t my master, was what he was saying. He was a man who had been born in the slums and had risen to a high position.
Dear Lord, it was my ritualized fantasy come to life.
He bent to kiss me, tongue darting into my mouth briefly.
It wasn’t the world-altering kiss of Nathaniel, but it also was not Mr. Wrightworth’s usual fair. The kiss was gentle, kind, even hesitant. We kissed like the man and woman we were, connected by the past, yes, but neither of us in control of the other.
His hands caressed down my sides, leaving trails of cold in their wake. I shivered and moved with every motion of his fingers.
On our sides, we explored each others’ bodies. I dared to touch first his arm, then his side. His flesh was so much warmer than mine and rough to the touch.
Here was a slum boy, grown to a man with thick skin.
Nearly everywhere I touched, I felt the raised lines and marks of scars years old. Lines that hadn’t been tended to as mine had. There were some that were more prominent than others. My doctors had told me to watch for that sort of scar tissue, that it meant the new tissue was infected and needed to be seen to.
That was just the kind of scar tissue I was used to seeing in the slums. Raised, prominent, rarely seen to by a medical professional. Mr. Wrightworth had apparently received many scars in the slum before he was raised up.
It was no wonder Nathaniel thought he could sum up my damages with his hands in the dim light.
The only time Mr. Wrightworth took off his shirt was for play and during play, I wasn’t exactly paying attention to the condition of his skin. With it under my touch, I came to understand a little more about the man I was in bed with. It wasn’t just the past eight years that had been rough on him. Surely, if someone else had been deliberately destroying him every six months, the scars would have been more visible.
I rolled onto my back, pulling him with me.
I wanted the feel of a man over me,
the push of the bed behind me. He followed obligingly, sliding a knee between my legs. Holding himself off of me with an arm, he reached past me to the nightstand and picked up a little package.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A condom,” he said.
“What’s a condom?” I asked.
He stiffened, frowned slightly, then muttered something under his breath. What he muttered, I discovered later, was the name of the slum that I had been born into. We didn’t know the names unless we travelled between the slums for work.
“A condom is a type of birth control—”
“I still have that thing in me,” I said.
His tongue stuck out slightly. Biting it to keep from saying something, from slipping into the Dom that he was so used to, the man looked down at me.
“I have the male version of that,” he said. “Condoms also help with transmitted diseases.”
“It’s been in my mouth before.”
“It’s also been in someone’s ass since then. I’d rather be safe.”
“Ohhhhh,” I said.
“You’re so adorably naive,” he grumbled in response, capturing my lips with his own. “You probably have no idea what I’m talking about, just nodding and going along.”
“Anything so you’ll kiss me again,” I said with a grin as I bit my bottom lip.
“I don’t want to risk your health.”
“If you want to use it, and it’s not going to hurt me, I’m not going to say no, I was just wondering what it is,” I said with a shrug. “Do those come flavoured?”
“They do,” he said, setting the package on the pillow and just to the side. “But to me, the flavour has always been... powdery or chalky. It’s not right. There are even some that glow in the dark.”
“So... the whole room would light up?” I asked.
“No, it just glows.”
“I know, but the larger the glow stick, the more light it gives off.”
“I don’t...” Mr. Wrightworth frowned and pulled away from me slightly. “I’m not using a glow stick on you.”
“Anyone who calls that a glow stick obviously has never seen one before,” I said. “That’s not even a flare. That’s like a flashlight.”
