Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey

by Blanche, Neige

  “I’ve learned a lot already. You’re a good teacher.”

  “Tell me, what have I taught you?”

  “Mostly, that if I trust you, I’ll come to a fuller understanding naturally.”

  “Brilliant, my lady. I want to fuck your brains,” he laughed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

  I wanted to keep things serious because I had questions, so I let that one go, but my insides were aflutter and it was difficult to concentrate.

  “Sunny told me this morning that he’ll be my confidant; that you said he could be.”

  “Yes, I told him that in the event you sign on, I want him to be there for you to talk to and to answer questions that may come up. He may very well be the only one who can answer them; after all, he’s been my sub for years now. He probably understands my peculiarities, moods, and needs more than anyone else does. As it goes, I suppose, with anyone, sometimes I don’t understand myself from others’ perspectives very well.” He scooped another oyster into his sexy mouth. I wanted his mouth all over me.

  He swallowed the oyster. “Did he talk to you about being collared?”

  “No, I don’t know what that means.”

  “Maybe tomorrow he will. You should ask him.” Another oyster. “By the way, tomorrow is the family roast at Twisted Oak, so I’ll be there for most of the day. I’m leaving you in Sunny’s care.”

  “I’m not invited?”

  “Not this time. You’re too new. Give it time. There’ll be one next month and by then you should be ready. As I said, I wanna take it slow with you. Trust me on this one, babe.” His slight Southern drawl made me melt inside.

  “Sunny doesn’t have to miss it on my account,” I said, hoping not to appear selfish.

  “It’s okay. I think these days, he’d prefer a break.”

  “Is Sunny still your sub?”

  “Yes, but we broke the collar awhile back.” A twinge of pride and sadness was evident in his eyes.

  “I’m not sure what that means, but I’m sorry.”

  “Ask him about it tomorrow. It’ll give you some perspective.”

  “Do you and Sunny have sex?”

  “He’s my sub, so what do you think?”

  “One more question?”

  “Sure, Nez, this is good, honest communication, which to my way of thinking leads to trust. Your questions give me an idea of what you know, where you are with all this.” He was enjoying his last oyster.

  “You said you wouldn’t ever ask me to do something you haven’t done or wouldn’t do. I don’t understand. Am I correct to assume you’ve been a sub before?”

  “Nez, I am a sub.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “We can go over the details later when we discuss the contract. For now, I’ll give you the Reader's Digest version. I’ve been Mr. Scott’s sub since high school.”

  “God, you were young!”

  “Yeah, about the same age as Sunny was when I took him. I didn’t collar Sunny till he was eighteen, though.”

  “Did Mr. Scott collar you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “Is your collar broken?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it okay if I talk to Sunny about it? Does he know?”

  “He knows, but I don’t know how much he knows about Mr. Scott and me. This evening we’ll talk about this in more detail, as my being his sub has some bearing on our contract, but don’t worry. You’re my world.”

  “Mr. Delacroix?”

  “Yes, my dream?”

  “This is a good thing, right?”

  He was so young when he was with Mr. Scott and I wondered how this affected him going forward. I appreciated his honesty and his attempts at being traditional, but I felt this was overcompensation for his unnatural upbringing. I could not help but think deep down inside of him, he had regrets. He had so much more to lose than I did, but I did not want to have any more regrets in my life and I did not want to add to his.

  “Better than anything. Trust me on that one, babe.” He poured the last of the champagne. “That’s it. No more bubbly for us.” He lifted his glass toward the window and I followed suit. “Cheers, Mother. She’s finally come to me.”

  I was puzzled, but I drank without asking what he meant.

  “We’ll have water with the rest of our lunch because we have one more stop after this before we head to Sunny’s. Let’s have gumbo and eggs Sardou. After all, we’re celebrating.”

  “Mr. Delacroix?”

  “Yes, my dear?” he smiled.

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  He looked puzzled for a moment and then mystified. “My dearest Nez,” he said as he shook his head and looked me in the eye, “I haven’t a clue what love is.”

  I wondered how a person could have so much and still not know love. I felt his shame and loneliness. I wanted to make it go away.

  “Can I show you love?”

  His sad smile reminded me of the Mardi Gras clown.

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  9.

  After lunch, we walked around the Garden District, and Mr. Delacroix showed me the stately Victorian house his mother’s family gave his father for dowry, another old-fashioned notion that I did not think existed anymore. The pale yellow home with white scalloped trim was nestled among magnolias and live oaks. The shady understory teemed with magenta blooming azalea and lavender hydrangea. The tall wrought-iron fence topped with sharp points surrounded the compound, which included a pool house, gazebo, and a carriage house.

  “Thank god, Father had the sense to sell it. I can’t imagine growing up here,” he said. “Could you see me going to those preppy Uptown schools with all those preppy Uptown kids? This place would have smothered me.”

  “Did it smother your father? Is that why he left?”

  “Oh, no doubt about that, and it doesn’t help that Mother’s family lives all over this neighborhood.”

  We walked a few more blocks and he showed me his grandparents’ home, one of the largest in the neighborhood.

  “Mother had a brother who was killed in the war. She had aunts and uncles who still live around here, but I don’t know them very well.”

  “Does everyone have big families around here, Mr. Delacroix?”

  “This is a very Catholic place, so yes, but not so much anymore. However, back in the day, it was normal for a family to have six or eight kids. Monique had thirteen.”

  “Unreal.”

  “I know. Of course, back in her day, not all of them made it. Only ten survived. Keep reading her journals.”

  We came upon a busy business district called Magazine Street. It was charming, with antique shops, restaurants, galleries, and boutiques. “This is where I do my shopping for you.”

  “You shop for me?”

  “When we get home, you can check out your new wardrobe. Your dress code is detailed in the contract. It says that I’ll dress you. I’ll purchase all your clothes and you’ll wear what I lay out for you in the morning. You’ll have certain things that you’ll wear when we’re home and when we go out.”

  “Okay,” I said, feeling a little apprehensive.

  “Don’t overthink it. Just know that I’ve got you covered. The only thing you’ll need to concern yourself with is pleasing me and the rest will fall into place; a little lagniappe, as they say around here. All your cares will disappear when your signature is on that document.”

  “I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

  “I have no doubt you will. You’re a smart woman. Just let it flow.”

  “Thank you,” I said demurely.

  Our shadows lengthened as we walked. “Mr. Delacroix, I’m curious about your business. What do you do?”

 
“We’ve had the same basic business since Jean-Pierre came here. He was a merchant, bought and sold commodities and owned a few merchant ships. His wealth stemmed from old family money in France. Those days, the new merchant class was really coming into being. He was a real bourgeois, our Jean-Pierre.”

  He picked an azalea flower as we passed by a garden overflowing with them. He spun the flower between his fingers as he spoke.

  “Anyway, the modern business, Delacroix Global Enterprises, started back in the early 1800s and really took off with rail construction. This is when the family starting purchasing sugar and coffee plantations in Central America.” He placed the flower in my hair. “Isn’t this boring to you?”

  “Not at all, sir. Delacroix Global Enterprises, is that the same as DGE?”

  I had seen the insignia numerous times on trucks and trains, but had never known what it was. I recalled Mr. Clementon having an account with them.

  “Yep, that’s me. Mr. DGE. And, of course, Twisted Oak is its own enterprise as well. It all keeps me pretty busy. Right now, we’re expanding in the Pacific Rim and we’re looking into investing in some research and development in pharmaceuticals. Did you know that the rainforest offers medicines and cures that so far we have only been able to dream of?”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” I said, appreciating his enthusiasm.

  “God, there’s so much out there for people. I guess I’d like to see DGE on the forefront of getting people the goods they need for better lives. I mean, so many people in underserved regions just don’t have access to life-saving food and medicine, and that goes the other way too; people like us who are privileged don’t have access to the goods produced in some of these poorer regions. I mean, if the little guy over there, the small farmer or artisan, could sell his goods in the global marketplace, he could do really well.”

  He glanced in my direction to make sure I was still listening. His walking pace picked up when he realized I was interested.

  “We’re in the process of expanding our aircraft fleet too, but even with more aircraft, it’s a logistical nightmare. Yeah, trains, planes, trucks, and boats, but still the logistics of getting raw material to the producers is a big job. But, this is what I do. I’ve got big plans about how to expand, to bring the small producers in. I think it’s important for everyone who is willing to work hard to at least have the chance to achieve their fullest potential.”

  “So, your personal philosophy about tapping our greatest human potential carries over into your business as well. I really like that about you, Mr. Delacroix. No wonder you’re so successful.”

  “I’m only as successful as the people around me.” He slowed down and pulled a bunch of jasmine from a vine overhanging a wall. “If the people I surround myself with aren’t successful, then it affects me. It’s good for everyone to promote success. Nezzie, ya get what ya give in this world. It’s getting late. We better grab a cab. I wanna show you something before we go to Sunny’s.”

  I was relieved to be in a cab. We headed back toward the French Quarter. I was happy to be back in familiar territory, so familiar that it reminded me of where Ty had found me. Mr. Delacroix paid the driver and we got out on a narrow street lined with houses and familiar jasmine-lined walls. As we headed toward the heart of the quarter, the music and revelry grew louder.

  “Is this the area where Ty found me?”

  “Yes, but you were way back there,” he pointed behind us, “and you were headed up there,” he pointed to our right.

  “And up there is not good?”

  “That’s right. Had you gotten up there, you’d most likely have been gang-raped, robbed, or worse.”

  I needed to give Ty another big hug.

  “Is that what happened to Sunny, do you think?”

  “Probably. There are areas of this town where normal folks shouldn’t go, but you don’t have to worry about that now.”

  “Why, because I’m no longer normal?” I asked.

  “God, I love that sense of humor,” he laughed. “That’s part of it, but what I really meant is that you won’t be going out alone anymore.”

  “Part of the contract?” I asked.

  “Yes. I told you we have a lot to go over before you sign.”

  “I should say.”

  “Here we are.” A sign for Lorraine's hung in swirly hand-painted letters on a sign above the door.

  “Hi, Lorraine! How’s my girl?” Mr. Delacroix said as we entered the store.

  The tallest, most beautiful woman I had ever seen came to him and gave him a dramatic kiss on his mouth. Her long, flowing arms and dark hair enveloped Mr. Delacroix.

  “I have a new friend I’d like you to meet.” He turned to me and said, “Nez, this is Lorraine.”

  “Nez, what a lovely name.” She took my hand in hers and shook it. Her voice was odd, kind of a half whisper, and she wore a ton of makeup. Her hand was bigger than Mr. Delacroix’s.

  “Thank you, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said.

  Lorraine’s painted eyebrows arched in Mr. Delacroix’s direction and he nodded.

  “Is there something I can show you?” she asked.

  I looked around the shop. It was filled with sex toys, costumes, wigs, and makeup; another section almost looked like a hardware store. I looked to Mr. Delacroix for guidance.

  “Darlin’, how about Nez and I just browse for a bit.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Delacroix, take your sweet time.”

  “Thank you, sugah,” he said.

  I held up what appeared to be a necklace made of silver chain, but there were fasteners on each end that resembled small rubber-coated clothespins.

  “What’s this?”

  “That, my sweet, is a nipple clamp.” He took it from my hands and pretended to attach each fastener to each one of his nipples. “And if you look here, the clamps can be tightened so you can reach your perfect limit; not too much, but just enough. And then the chain, see?” He lifted the chain. “It has a hook so it can be fastened to a collar or to some other clamp.”

  “Some other clamp?”

  “Yes, they have them for your clit, too.”

  The idea made me shiver. “Do you have one of these?”

  “Yes, but mine is much prettier—eighteen karat gold. Only the best for you.”

  My pebbles were now standing at attention and I had a tingle below.

  “What are these?”

  Displayed on the wall were various-sized strands of beads, some made of metal, some of plastic, and others of brightly colored rubber.

  “Beads.”

  “But what are they used for?”

  “To enhance your orgasm.”

  My imagination was running wild.

  “They’re good for anal training, too.”

  “How do they work?”

  “I’ll show you soon enough. I have a nice pair at home, pink rubber. I think you’ll enjoy them.” He was clearly enjoying watching me. “You’re like a kid in a candy store who’s never seen candy before.”

  “This is so cool. What are these?” I pointed to a wall covered in what appeared to be very short, fat dildos with handles on the end.

  “Which one do you like? I’ll buy one for you.”

  “What are they?”

  “Just what the package says; they’re good for anal training as well.”

  I picked up a package marked butt plug.

  “Choose one, but be mindful of where it’ll be placed,” he warned with a grin.

  I chose a smallish one.

  “One more item we need before we go to Sunny’s.” He took my hand and led me to the hardware-looking section. It gave me a fright, this mix of hardware and sex.

  “Here you go, love,” he said, handing me a package. “This will help with training that gag reflex.”

  The pack
age was marked medium ball gag. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I was not sure if I could handle this type of thing.

  “Who the hell makes this shit?” I asked, hoping to add some levity to the situation.

  “I’m quite sure the Chinese do, my love,” he laughed as we headed over to the checkout, where Lorraine was reading a magazine.

  “Find everything, Mr. Delacroix?”

  “For the time being, but we’ll be back, I’m sure.”

  “Take care, Nez, you lucky little bitch,” she smiled.

  “You too, Lorraine,” I said, not knowing what to say as she handed me the small black shopping bag.

  Mr. Delacroix took my hand as we headed back toward the center of the action on Bourbon Street. The street and bars were filling up, and jazz, blues, and rock and roll came from every direction. There were other shops similar to Lorraine’s all along the street, but they were smaller and the window displays looked old, dim, and dingy. Some of the windows were plastered with posters of centerfold girls. These shops appeared seedy in comparison to Lorraine’s brightly lit, clean shop. Young scantily clad painted women stood at the doorways of some shops, enticing passersby to come in. Mr. Delacroix explained to me that those shops used live models.

  People were buying alcohol from stalls set into the sides of buildings. Mardi Gras beads fell from balconies and women were lifting their shirts below.

  “Mr. Delacroix, this place is wild!” I had to yell because of the noise.

  “I know, and it is pretty tame right now. You’re lucky you showed up when you did. If you came here a couple weeks ago, you’d never have been found in the Mardi Gras madness. Now is a nice time to be here, probably the best time.”

  A man was selling roses and Mr. Delacroix bought a white one for me. “I think in a few days, I’ll take you here to eat. It’s kind of touristy, but it’s a New Orleans landmark and the food’s pretty good.” The elegant, golden letters on the building read Galatoire's.

  “Are you spoiling me?”

  “In every way,” he said, but he was not smiling. He took his role seriously, and even though I had trepidation, the thought of being spoiled was attractive to me. I was being pampered for the first time in my life and I liked it.