by Alana Davis
“Leon, you don’t have to tell me about every relationship, per se, I’m more interested in significant relationships. I want to know what went right and what went wrong with them. What brought you together and what broke you apart. What elements of the relationships were satisfying and what left you wanting more. That way I can start establishing exactly what your troubles have been in the past and how we can rectify those problems moving forward.”
Leon took a sip of his coffee. His eyes were cast downward on the cup.
“Who said I have any problems?” he asked, his voice was cordial and polite, but I could sense a hint of annoyance in it.
“Well, we’ll try to establish if you have any problems then. Please, continue with your relationship history.”
“Alright. I graduated from the Tambor School and I broke off the relationship with Mrs. Robinson before I went to college. We had one last night together that was the epitome of everything that I would come to crave in a sexual relationship.
“The night started out with her cooking me dinner. She was dressed in a leather corset and high-heeled black boots that stopped just before her perfectly round, sculpted ass. She had often worked out in front of me, and she really was strong,” Leon paused. “It’s been quite a while since I’ve thought about her and relived these memories.”
“Does it bring up any residual feelings?” I asked, intrigued.
“No, not any romantic feelings. Not even nostalgia. It’s just interesting, that is all.” Leon looked at me, trying to probe into my inner thoughts. I gave him nothing.
I made a small note in my notebook. Purely sexual relationship, unemotional and unattached.
“She made me an exquisite meal. I ate while she watched. During dessert, she rubbed my feet and sucked on my toes. I tied her neck restraint tightly and I could see it was just on the brink of choking her. While I finished off the last of the wine, I let her go down on me for a few minutes. Of course, I made sure that she took me as deeply in her throat as was possible. She gagged a few times, but the spit that came out felt wonderful.”
Leon was looking me straight in the eyes now.
“I watched her as she used some toys on herself. I attached a chain to the neck restraint she had on and walked her up to her bedroom, she crawled on all fours, very slowly as she had a butt-plug in. Those can make walking a little uncomfortable.
“She begged me to whip her, and since it was our last night together, I obliged. I was eighteen, so you can imagine how hard it was for me not to come quickly, even I had a trigger that went off very quickly at that age. So to calm down the events and make things go a little slower, I had her jerk me off on her face. She really was an expert at it.”
Leon took a sip of his coffee as though he had just told me some benign fact about the weather today. His face was calm, composed. I listened to him, maintaining composure coolly.
“With my ejaculate still on her face, I began to whip her. Soft at first, then harder. She cleaned up her face as I hit her, but with her hand and tongue. I berated her. Berating is not always a factor in Dom-sub relationships, but Mrs. Robinson took a special pleasure when I talked down to her. I was indifferent about it so it didn’t always work; you have to really mean it in the moment when you say it. But that night I was locked into her so it went over quite well.
“I blindfolded her and gagged her. Her hands were chained behind her back and I penetrated her slowly. After a few minutes I saw her whole body shake when she came, but she was a good sub; she made no sound. We had sex for at least two hours. It was slow. I moved in and out of her in no rush. It was our last night together; I wanted to make it last.” Leon shrugged when he said this.
“Did you ever have contact with Mrs. Robinson after your final night together?” I asked quickly, catching him during a pause.
“No,” he said with a finality that didn’t leave any room for doubt that he meant it.
“We’ve established the first significant relationship, what was the last relationship you had?”
“When you say relationship, I assume you must mean a girlfriend and boyfriend situation, but that’s not exactly what my last relationship was. It was another dominant and submissive relationship. She became too attached and I had to break it off.”
“Can you describe the dynamics of the relationship to me? How did you feel towards her?”
“Do you want to know how I felt towards her when she was in chains and every inch of me was pushing inside of her, giving her multiple orgasms?”
I paused to study Leon. Then I decided that it was time to reveal some of the observations I was having.
“Leon, it’s clear to me that part of the problem you are having with your relationships is on display right now,” I said coolly.
“Oh, and what is that?” he asked amused.
“You have a very good defense mechanism. You are very removed from the women you involve yourself with. Even now, you are trying to alienate me from you by regaling me with graphic details of your sexual exploits, thinking I will be offended and close myself off to you. You are trying to push me as far as I will go before I end our relationship.
“College provided you an out with Mrs. Robinson. Your previous partner provided you an out with her emotional attachment, a sentiment you did not share. While you are completely comfortable with your sexuality, it serves as your armor. It blocks you from any closeness and shields you from others when you choose it to do so. With the previous partner who became too emotionally attached, this violated some type of rule regarding your sexual relationship, thus providing you with the justification to end it. Am I correct?”
Leon said nothing. His face gave him away, despite his attempts to remain stoic in the face of my assertions. He was clearly annoyed.
“The first step is to identify your triggers. A trigger is what sets in motion your defense mechanisms and draws you towards women that you can keep an emotional distance from. A woman sets off a trigger and you are attracted to her, but it never translates to an emotional connection.”
“Just because I’m not in love with these women doesn’t mean there isn’t an emotional bond there,” Leon countered.
“Perhaps, but it’s not a lasting emotional bond. You focus entirely on the sex in these relationships, and it is clear to me that this is the defense mechanism you are using against me, but I wonder how much of a defense mechanism it serves with these women as well. If we can identify your triggers, we can change them and fix your problem of emotional distance.”
Leon looked away from me and took a large drink of his coffee, finishing it.
“Alright,” he said, his voice a little softer than before. He was looking at me intensely now, as if there were something there that he was seeing for the first time.
“Leon, you can stop trying to offend me. We’re going to work together. Being honest and straightforward will only make both of our lives easier.”
“In the vein of honesty then, you should know that I do not believe in love,” Leon said. His voice was neutral and I could tell he was being genuine with me. I felt a certain warming of my feelings towards his outburst. This must be a step towards respect.
“Alright,” I said slowly. “We can identify why and how this has affected your relationships in the past at our next session. I’m going to do some more work on your case and when we meet again, we’ll have a course of action to discuss. Before you leave, you can make an appointment with April.”
Leon rose from his chair, placing the mug down on my desk. He extended his hand and I took it. I felt a tiny bolt of electricity when our hands met and a chill ran down the back of my spine. For one maddening moment I wanted him to pull me towards him and kiss me. We shook hands softly and when I let go of his hand, the vision of our embrace dissipated.
“Thank you, Miss Facet,” Leon said. He turned to walk out of my office.
“Leon,” I said. He turned back to look at me.
“Yes?”
“You can ca
ll me Julie,” I said politely. I motioned towards April. “And be a gentleman to her, no funny business.”
Leon laughed and raised two fingers. “I promise, scout’s honor.”
I watched him as he made his appointment with April, who seemed to grow clumsy in his presence, dropping papers and fumbling with her pen. After a minute, Leon left, waving to me as he exited.
I sat back in my chair. Leon’s presence lingered in the office, even though by now he was long gone. His mug, still half-full with black coffee, remained on my desk. I wrapped my hand on the mug and felt the coffee, still warm and drinkable. I drank the rest of my own coffee and my thoughts trailed off.
Leon’s eyes staring into me as he described his final night with his teacher. The woman who shaped Leon Christensen’s sexuality, Mrs. Robinson. But had she really shaped him sexually, or had she simply been a vessel? I considered this for a minute, wondering just how much she had led Leon towards the sexual acts that he described in vivid detail to me.
An ocean of blue in those sapphire eyes, penetrated my inner world.
Some of the things Leon said had sparked a reaction. His eyes had studied me for the slightest reverberation of reaction, and I had steadied myself so well that I had not even shown that my breathing rate had increased.
I thought of the blindfold. Darkness enveloping my vision as my body was enveloped in the stimuli that Leon would allow. Everything must be given, and everything must be approved by him.
I shook the thoughts away, turning to the notes I had scrawled down. I was supposed to research BDSM, but that could wait. With the way my mind was going over what Leon had said, it was much safer that it should wait. Focusing on work was going to be difficult in the wake of our meeting, but I was a professional. I would endure.
I called the hotel heir and spoke with him for a few minutes before I realized that I couldn’t remember anything that he said. Recovering, I listened intently for a minute and found my bearings in the conversation. He really was a sweet guy, and I was able to get my mind off the meeting with Leon while we chatted about possible connections.
At the gym, I had sparked up a conversation with a teacher who was relatively young, very pretty, and hopelessly looking for love. When the topic of our professional lives came up, her eyes lit up when she found out what I did. I offered her my services at a severely discounted rate, I knew what little money teachers made, and she practically jumped up and down in excitement. Despite my misgivings about love and relationships, they did serve their function to make some people happy.
And who knows, there were couples who stayed together for fifty or sixty years. Maybe I could claim to have been a part of one of those relationships in some small way.
“What does she teach?” the hotel heir asked excitedly when I told him about her.
I thought of a neck restraint attached to a chain. On all fours, looking up to a shirtless Leon with his smile of razor-sharp teeth, pleading with my eyes. The pupil was now the teacher. I was the new student. Following the strict words of my teacher.
I snapped back to the conversation. “Special needs,” I told him, stumbling over the words slightly.
I regained my composure and steeled myself against the thoughts that were a villain against my professionalism. The hotel heir and I talked for another ten minutes and I could hear the hope rising into his voice until it was almost explosive. I assured him that I would arrange something with him and her soon. He thanked me at least three times and hung up.
The hours crawled by at an agonizingly slow rate. April had already excused herself for lunch over an hour ago and I had barely registered that she had left.
Leon’s words were running in my head. His sheer confidence when he described his sexual proclivities, his unabashed acceptance of that which aroused him, had captivated me. I was vaguely aware of the more extreme sexual practices, but to hear them described with an air of romance to them illuminated them in a new light. I fought against admitting to myself that my interest was more than a simple curiosity sparked by the unknown.
At this point, I was merely a voyeur to Leon Christensen’s experience. At the club, his words had been deliberately vile and obscene, a verbal slap to the face so I would leave. During our meeting, his words had been a recitation of practices which he entered into without shame or restraint.
I wondered vaguely what Mrs. Robinson looked like. A shot of adrenaline dumped into my blood when I realized that throughout Leon’s story, I had seen myself as Mrs. Robinson.
I left the office as April was walking in. I told her that I was off to grab some lunch, but it sounded as though my voice were coming from somewhere far away. My thoughts were wrapped around the image of Leon on top of me, a blindfold blotting out all light as he pushed in me from behind. April said something that I didn’t hear and I hurried into my car.
Chapter 5
I ate a late lunch at an upscale restaurant, treating myself to an expensive meal of oysters and a Caesar salad. The temptation to drink a glass of wine, maybe even two, was great, but I restrained myself in favor of visiting the gym after my meal. The feeling that had lingered with me since my meeting with Leon would be pummeled out at the gym. Maybe there’d be someone there who would make me forget all about him.
At the gym, I pushed myself to the absolute limit on the treadmill, sweating profusely and breathing heavily. I still felt restless, so I walked over to the weight rack and started to do some strength training, not my normal routine at all. I waited in line for the squat rack and did squats until my legs wobbled when I walked away.
I saw Dominic walk into the gym as I finished my workout. His eyes grew wide when he saw me and I saw him start to walk over to me. In comparison to Leon, he paled. His cutoff shirt showed biceps that were toned and chiseled through hard work on weights. Short hair adorned his head that was stylish and maintained flawlessly. White teeth sparkled between his lips when he smiled. This was simply a beautiful man, yet I felt almost nothing when I looked at him.
I walked by him and headed into the women’s locker room. As we passed, he began to speak and I gave him a cordial hello and a small wave, but nothing more. I didn’t turn around to see if he looked disappointed or relieved; I didn’t care.
My muscles ached. When I walked back into my place, my legs wobbled with every step, worn out from the punishment of running for an hour on the treadmill and brutally heavy squats. Lifting my keys was an exercise in itself due to my exhausted arms. I needed a shower badly but when I got inside, I plopped myself down on the couch and laid my head back, breathing heavily.
Every fiber of my body was dancing, pulsating energy through me as though I were plugged into the wall. Tension racked my wasted muscles. My thoughts raced through the day and I knew that the images in my head were not going to disappear easily.
Fighting my every impulse to remain where I was, I rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen. I poured myself a large glass of wine; I had earned it. There was some takeout from the previous day, and I heated it up, knowing that I needed to refuel myself after such an intense workout. The numbers counted down on the microwave and the aroma of cooking food filled the kitchen. My mouth watered and I realized just how hungry I was.
Two minutes counted down slowly as I pulled my clothes off. I hadn’t bothered to shower off in the women’s locker room, feeling too eager to get home and cool off. I was left in my underwear and bra before I decided that I didn’t need the bra. It had been uncomfortable and all my windows were closed anyway, so I unhooked it and tossed it into the pile of clothes that lay in the doorway to my living room.
Steam rose from the food when I pulled it out of the microwave, but I didn’t wait for it to cool. The food instantly scorched my mouth and I cooled it down with a large gulp of wine. I stood in the kitchen, eating ravenously as I finished the first glass of wine. Another glass filled with wine in hand, I sat back down on the couch and turned on the television as I returned to savaging the final remnants of m
y dinner.
Thoughts kept popping in my head of sapphire eyes and wry smiles. When I looked down to my plate, it was empty. I had barely tasted the food, but my stomach was full and I was at least at ease in this respect. Yet even the second glass of wine was doing nothing to settle my nerves. Every inch of my being called out for something that my mind had already decided was forbidden.
Everything on television was boring, dull, far away. Twenty minutes passed as I flipped through all of the channels for the second time, no small feat considering there were about a thousand channels, most of which were completely unnecessary or complete trash. Towards the end of the second pass, a show caught my eye and I stopped, glass of wine half-lifted to my lips.
A shirtless man was on screen, beads of sweat falling around the curves of his chiseled muscles. Muscles bulged and moved as he threw punches and kicks in the air. His abs were without an ounce of fat. The man was shredded. I imagined the smell of his sweat as he continued to spar, practicing some moves for what I assumed was to be an upcoming battle of some sort. When he dropped to the ground to do pushups, I marveled at the contours of muscles that stretched over his entire body. With his head dropped down, the man now faceless, I knew that he looked how Leon would look shirtless.
