Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  Other than a few cursory visits in between school terms, I never went back home. My meteoric rise at West Point left little time for farming. I was more concerned with learning how to rappel, jump out of planes, and shoot someone between the eyes from a hundred meters. Languages, complex mathematics, and deciphering codes became my obsession, and like my hero, Jack Ryan, I was determined to join an elite branch of the armed forces, where my special skills could be put to full use.

  Physical activity had always been my solution for working out intellectual knots. When I was younger and felt trapped between duty and personal ambition, I’d used the boars to help me get through the moment. Keeping the rutting, lustful males under control during mating season was a mental and physical challenge that couldn’t be equaled at the school gym. The upside was well-developed muscles and a better understanding of taming or bringing down an opponent who weighed at least 300 pounds more than I did.

  As I matured, and especially when I joined the armed forces, I discovered there was a need for men like me, the ones who weren’t sentimental and didn’t flinch when they walked the thin line between doing what was right and what had to be done. I’d risen up the ranks at a steady rate, and even though I loved my career in the military, hiding my orientation became a problem. I’d refused to put myself in a long-term situation where my choice of sexual partner could ruin my life. If the army was stupid enough to believe that fucking a guy made me any less a man, they could take their DADT policy and shove it up their bigoted rear ends.

  What I took away from that structured life was the certainty that I was a control freak, and I associated power with sexual desire. Commanding a situation always intensified the pleasure. Inflicting pain on my sexual partners was only a means to an end and used if the intended desired it. I was proficient with most any tool in the BDSM world, but I wasn’t a sadist. What made my cock surge and heightened each experience was guiding my submissive somewhere he’d never been before. Having them surrender to my will, turning over their innermost desires and fantasies, was the reason I was a Dominant and loved the scene.

  I picked up a bullwhip and put all thoughts of my past back into the mental drawer where they’d lain dormant for a while. Compartmentalization was another skill I’d perfected throughout the years, enabling me to function under extreme duress. The instrument in my hand required the precision of a marksman, an area of expertise in my glory days in the Special Forces. There wasn’t a target I couldn’t hit, moving or otherwise. The handle of this particular whip was covered in tooled leather, and I hefted it in my right hand, getting a feel for the weight and the size. I flicked my wrist and watched as the long tail whistled in the air, landing on the wooden dummy with a loud snap. Soon I got into a rhythm, striking with line after line of strategically placed grooves. A real submissive would have buckled under the heavy-handed lashing, but the wooden dummy could withstand anything, including my rage. The repetitive motion enabled me to get into my zone, exorcising my need to hurt someone before dealing with Sloan.

  I had no idea what I was going to do about him. Considering the amount of time and energy I’d invested in our relationship, and especially after asking for a more permanent arrangement, I was determined to find a solution. I thought Sloan understood the magnitude of my request this morning, but apparently not. His momentary lapse meant he wasn’t indifferent to Cole, and it was up to me to convince him that I was the better man who could satisfy all his needs.

  I’d been going at the dummy for about fifteen minutes, and my arm was starting to get tired. I could feel the sweat running down my back and decided to sit in the sauna for a few minutes before my shower. Just as I was getting ready to leave the room, Max strolled in wearing a business suit.

  “Rather fancy attire for a dungeon, eh?”

  “I just came from the funeral home.”

  The bullwhip flew out of my hand and landed against the wall with a loud thud. Frowning, I stalked over to the other side of the room, picked it up, and began to wipe it down with a rag.

  Max quickly surmised that all was not right in my world. “Is everything okay?”

  “Not really,” I said savagely, putting the bullwhip away. “My boy seems to have lost his way.”

  “Oh? Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “You can give me a little bit of insight on the powerful draw that Cole seems to exert over Sloan.”

  “They were friends as children and lovers for over five years. That’s pretty powerful right there.”

  “And yet, Cole had no qualms replacing Sloan with a woman?”

  “True.” Max shrugged. “What’s going on?”

  “Do you have the time?”

  “Sure.”

  “I was about to get into the sauna.”

  “I’ll join you,” Max said. “I need a few minutes to change.”

  I nodded and walked away. When he finally settled down beside me, I wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. Sloan was Max’s friend long before I ever came into the picture. I wondered if he could be objective. On the other hand, he was a Dom who knew Sloan better than anyone else and would be the only one I’d trust with this information.

  “So talk already.”

  “Sloan had sex with Cole.”

  “When?”

  “He went to the funeral home this morning, to pay his respects, which apparently included a fuck on the side.”

  “Ouch.”

  I stood and began pacing back and forth in the stuffy room. Fortunately, we were the only members present, so I felt at liberty to rant. “There’s a part of me that wants to walk away from this situation. The boy is unpredictable and a pain in my ass.”

  “Welcome to my world,” Max commiserated.

  “Seriously, Max. How do you put up with him?”

  “I love him,” Max said quietly. “It’s that simple.”

  “Goddamn it! Any other sub would have seen the last of me after that revelation this morning.”

  “I’m surprised you’re even discussing it.”

  “Son of a bitch….”

  I flopped down beside Max and leaned my head against the wall in resignation. “I guess I love him too.”

  “Does he know?”

  “How could he not?”

  “Have you said the words?”

  “I told him I wanted to collar him. Isn’t that clear enough?”

  “Did he realize the implications?”

  “I explained, but he turned the tables on me by saying I was closed off and mysterious. He said he didn’t even know if I loved him.”

  “Did you set him straight?”

  “I never said the words. Look, Max, I suppose it was premature on my part to ask for the collaring, but the phone call from Cole tripped my wires. In retrospect, I should have waited for a more appropriate time, but I’m not sorry that it happened.”

  “Cole never offered to make their union legal. So in essence, this is Sloan’s first proposal. I’m sure it would have had a more positive result if you’d accompanied it with something romantic.”

  “I know.”

  “Listen, Trent. I don’t know what you do for him, but whatever it is has worked for the last seven months. He must feel something for you.”

  “It’s nine months, but who’s counting, and yes, he does feel something. However, the blind one is a constant threat, and I’m not about to hand Sloan over without a fight.”

  “Is he thinking of going back?”

  “I don’t know what he’s thinking. I was too angry to stick around and listen to him babbling. Max, I almost lost it.”

  “But you kept your head, which is more than I could say if I were in your shoes. I admire your restraint, Trent, but you haven’t worked it out of your system yet, have you?”

  “Not yet, but I’m getting there.”

  “Go back and talk to him once your feelings have settled.”

  “I will, but I need to think of a suitable punishment in case I decide to pursue this―whatever this i
s.”

  “I have every faith in your ability to come up with something creative,” Max said, making it sound like an insult instead of a compliment.

  “What the hell? Has Sloan ever complained about me?”

  “Never, which is shocking in and of itself. I didn’t think you’d last more than a month.”

  “You couldn’t keep him in your bed, so I wouldn’t be too quick to criticize.”

  Max frowned and wagged his finger at me. “Don’t even go there.”

  “I apologize,” I said quickly. “That was uncalled for.”

  “Accepted.” Max stood and got ready to leave. “If I were you, I’d hunker down and treat this like a covert operation. Don’t underestimate Cole. He may be blind, but he’s a very intelligent man who knows Sloan better than either one of us. If he wants him back, he’ll use all his knowledge to pull at Sloan’s heartstrings. The kid is a sap when it comes to Cole.”

  “I didn’t realize how much until today. What an eye-opener.”

  “Honestly, I would rather he stay with you. Sloan has never been this happy; he positively glows when he’s around you.”

  “Wasn’t he happy with Cole?”

  “I’m not sure I can explain it, but I’ll try. Sloan loved Cole, but his life revolved around the parameters that were set in stone by Cole and his disability. With you, I feel that Sloan is more in touch with himself and satisfying his own needs, therefore, happier and less encumbered.”

  “Thank you. That makes me feel a lot better.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Oh, hell,” Max huffed, “we Dominants have got to stick together.”

  “I know,” I said, chuckling. “Can’t let the inmates run the asylum.”

  Max barked out a laugh. “Don’t ever let him hear you call him that.”

  “Do I look like a fool?”

  “Not at all.” Max smiled. “Good luck with your mission impossible.”

  Chapter 7

  I SAT with my father’s corpse long after the visitors had gone. Mom and the rest of the family went to get some lunch, but I insisted on keeping vigil until they returned. I didn’t want Dad to be alone in this strange place. It wasn’t rational to be worrying about his feelings anymore, but the last year had been all about Dad and his needs. The piped-in organ music, the smell of the flowers, and the muffled footsteps of people coming and going in the funeral home amplified his death somehow, and I was struggling with the loss.

  I uncrossed my legs and tried to get comfortable on the hard wooden bench, but the stinging sensation around my asshole didn’t allow me to forget I’d just had unprotected sex with a man I’d dumped nine months ago. It was glaringly apparent that I still loved him and wanted him back in my life. The very premeditated act of slipping lube into my pocket was proof. I wondered how long it would take Sloan to realize it wasn’t the accident I’d purported it to be.

  Would he be pissed? Is that why he took off without even saying goodbye? Knowing Sloan, he’d run home and confess, and truth be told, I hoped his current man would go nuts and walk out. Being torn between two lovers wasn’t a scenario I’d wish on anyone, but if it would move my name to the front of Sloan’s list, I was all for it. This was assuming Sloan still loved me. I was certain he did. After all, he’d called me shogun. Hearing him use that nickname was the catalyst I’d needed to reinsert myself into his life. It was a dream I’d been hoarding for months, and given the opportunity, I’d grabbed it.

  Did Sloan share these same feelings, or would he be wallowing in remorse and pushing back the obvious attraction? Our reunion had awoken my desire, which had lain dormant since our breakup. I’d been living like a priest and trying to ignore the craving for sex, but now that it had been uncapped, I was desperate for more. There was something about Sloan that I’d never been able to resist. When we first became roommates, another move orchestrated by my father, I fought the attraction. The sporadic sexual encounters I’d had with guys at boarding school had scared the gay out of me. I’d never acknowledged my orientation until the night Sloan and I got high and we shared a kiss. It not only opened a window to my secret desire, it completely changed my life. I’d broken up with my fiancé and hopped on board the gay wagon with gusto. My father had been appalled but eventually dealt with the disappointment. Or so I thought. His plotting to get Noriko in my life was a sad reminder that, despite his words to the contrary, he’d wanted a straight son. To him, being blind wasn’t half as bad as being gay.

  My brief experiment in Noriko’s bed had been a tragic mistake and one I’d always regret. “You’re not straight,” Sloan had tossed out during one of our many arguments. Deep in my heart I knew he was right, but I’d stubbornly believed I could compel my body to respond to Noriko on an intimate level. Life would be so much simpler if she could be my wife in every sense, a ridiculous assumption that blew up in my face as soon as I’d shot my load. Physically, I felt nothing for her, and I craved Sloan’s body to the point where he was all I envisioned whenever I’d take myself in hand to squeeze out a mediocre orgasm.

  Our five-year relationship wasn’t that easy to forget, no matter how hard I’d tried. Our last month together had been a series of bitter arguments, which culminated in our breakup because he didn’t understand the kind of pressure I’d been under. Familial expectations were concepts he’d rejected, claiming I should have put him first. And maybe he was right, but I couldn’t undo the past. All I could do was try and convince him we’d have a future, albeit different from what we’d planned long ago. My life was entangled with new people and much more responsibility, which he’d have to assume as my partner. And after everything I’d put Sloan through, did I have the right to hope he’d accept the challenge?

  What if he turned on me because of what happened in the back room? If that had jeopardized his current relationship, would he still want to have anything to do with me or the kids? Wasn’t it better to have Sloan as a friend instead? I needed his support if I was going to get sole custody of the twins. His testimony might or might not influence the judge if this ended up in court. Hopefully, Noriko would realize that financially it would be in her best interest to follow our contract to the letter. She would walk out of the marriage a rich woman, and I’d allow her visitation rights. What more could she possibly want? Proposing to take the boys to Japan was outrageous. I would never agree to that and would fight her to the bitter end. After legal fees, she’d be left with nothing if she decided to pursue that course of action.

  I was aware that I was being selfish, but I firmly believed that my needs matched Sloan’s. Nobody knew him as well as I did. I’d changed him from a self-destructive individual, who had shown up at my doorstep years ago, to a productive member of society. By giving him love and security, he’d been able to find a healthier mindset and had stopped cutting himself to ribbons. This new man in his life was strictly a sexual infatuation that would pass. I was confident that if I set my mind to the task and pushed for a reunion, I’d win the battle.

  A large part of my melancholy stemmed from sexual frustration and the basic need to be touched. I’d asked Noriko to forego any physical contact with me, however benign. She’d been giving me Shiatsu massages, and lately, her hands had been drifting to places they shouldn’t. I didn’t want to mislead her, but a life devoid of intimacy was unbearable. I was too young to entomb myself in a prison I’d created because I was afraid to stand up to my father and tell him I wanted Sloan above everything else. I’d been without for so many months, and holding Sloan, though briefly, was like coming home. Even Freddie had been a much happier animal when Sloan was around. There was no one to take him on long walks or play ball or run around in the park unfettered. These days, the golden retriever moped around and only perked up when he had to guide me to work and back. I blinked back my tears, determined to get through the next few days by pushing aside my emotional baggage. Self-pity and fear hovered around me like ghouls, waiting to po
unce at any given moment. I needed to be proactive to overcome this sense of failure, and the first order of business was to figure out how I was going to recognize my children.

  Remembering Dad’s suggestion, I called information and asked to be connected to Tiffany. After inquiring about infant jewelry and having a lengthy discussion with a helpful manager, I decided to go with the gold bracelets. The difference would be in the chains that held the tiny nameplates. One would be a curb chain and the other a marine link. Both had rounded edges and wouldn’t hurt the babies. Their names would be engraved in Braille, and I would be able to tell them apart by touching the metal. I felt a huge sense of accomplishment by overcoming this one obstacle and gave the manager my credit card number, which I’d memorized specifically for phone purchases. He assured me that the bracelets would be ready within thirty-six hours and delivered by special messenger.

  Deliberating my next call, I gave in to my yearning. I had to hear his voice and gauge his state of mind. Did our encounter do anything to advance my case, or did it only make Sloan more determined to stay away?

  “Hello,” Sloan’s voice was muted.

  “Hey, are you alright?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I just wondered.”

  “Everything’s fine,” Sloan said, reassuring me. “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I had to get home. How’s your ass doing?”

  “Much better than my brain, if you want to know the truth.”

  “Yeah, well that makes two of us.”

  “Sloan?”

  “Don’t even say it, Cole.”

  I forced myself to remain impassive, even though I wanted to break down and tell him the truth. I missed him and wanted him back. “Are you planning on coming to the service?”