Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey

by Blanche, Neige

  14.

  After Ty left that evening, while Sunny was loading the dishwasher, I swallowed my fear and told Mr. Delacroix about the money I had stolen. I was sure he would react in anger.

  “Nezzie, you should’ve told me right away. This is serious. You’re lucky they haven’t found you. God knows I wasn’t ready for anything like that.” He ran his hand through his curls. “Give me the money.”

  “I’m truly sorry, my lord. Sunny told me I should tell you right away, but I got so sick and I was afraid of what you might think, how you would react. I was many things when I came here, but I’m not a thief.” I gave him my backpack. “It’s all in the liner.”

  “You haven’t spent any of it?”

  “Not a dime, sir. I promise you that.”

  “What’s his name? This drug pusher that got you hooked.”

  Mr. Delacroix was visibly angry, so I tried to downplay the role Steve played in my addiction. The last thing I wanted was for him and Steve to have a face-off. “Sir, I don’t think he did it intentionally.”

  Mr. Delacroix’s eyes shaded into that terrifying gunmetal color. “Nez, don’t you ever make excuses for a man who would ask a young girl like you to be his front. He fully intended on fucking you up one way or the other. You think that pile of shit gives a crap about you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Fuckin’ hell, clearly to him you aren’t even worth five fucking grand. He hasn’t even come looking for you!”

  “We were never in that kind of relationship, my lord. I was just a front.”

  He turned on me with those eyes and took my chin firmly between his thumb and fingers. “You’re never just anything. You’re precious and he almost destroyed you. I have half a mind to have him shot, the fucker!”

  “My lord?” I was terrified to think he was capable of murder. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

  He leaned back and thought a moment. “Aw, na-na, I won’t kill him, it’s not my style. He’s not worth my time.”

  He leaned forward and fingered the backpack, looking for the liner seam. “In a way, you were right to steal it. He doesn’t fuckin’ deserve a dime. For all intents and purposes, you earned this, not his sorry ass.” He ripped the lining and pulled out a thick wad of bills. He looked at the money thoughtfully. “What do you think we should do with this? Give it back to the fucker?”

  “I dunno, my lord. Going back there will just stir things up, and honestly, I’d rather my mother think I disappeared. I really don’t want her to know where I am. Not that she’d care.”

  “Your mother knows this man?” His eyes were getting angrier. “Yes, my lord.” I was scared to death of his expression. He began to shake.

  “Does she know what you were doing for him?”

  “Yes, my lord.” I looked away in shame and embarrassment. His angst gave me chills.

  “Aw, honey. No wonder you ran away.” He pulled me close. “No worries, my dear. It’s all okay now. I’ve got you. No one can hurt you now.” He threw the money in the fire and tossed my backpack aside. There was no turning back.

  * * *

  My days filled with the wonder of Monique’s journals. She shared her most intimate experiences of love, punishment, and sexual escapades. She helped me understand the value of humble servitude. She bent further and further and she never broke. Her love for Jean-Pierre kept her alive, and his devotion to her was the lifeblood of the family. I was looking forward to reading about their exchange of power. After days of training with Mr. Delacroix, I understood now the power she held; I began to understand my own.

  February 26, 1766: My belly swells and Philippe is very active by night. He keeps us awake with his acrobatics. Last night he kicked so hard, he woke Jean-Pierre, so we lay together with our hands following the baby's movements, so close and yet so far away. It won't be long now.

  Lately we have decided the best position for us is like the beasts in the field, I on my hands and knees as he enters from behind. This position allows him free access to either port of entry and for that, I am grateful. Jean-Pierre promises to bind me again after the baby comes; I miss the security and comfort of it. In the meantime, oral sex has been very satisfying. I am a goddess in his eyes.

  The birth of their first son, Philippe, changed Monique’s life in ways I found to be unimaginable. I never thought motherhood could propel a woman to such heights. She became the queen of her castle, and gained more power in her relationship with Jean-Pierre. It happened gradually, the exchange of power, as naturally as the changing of the seasons. I wished in my heart that my mother were like Monique, strong, reliable, and faithful to her children. If I ever became a mother, I’d be like Monique. My children would love me because I’d love them more than life itself. I hated my mother, but I missed her too, because she was the only mother I knew.

  My reflection on Monique’s life kept me strong during training for new sexual adventures, namely anal sex. Monique’s journals gave me perspective and helped me understand the bigger picture. I could very well see how this kind of lifestyle could lead to total self-indulgence. It was so hedonistic, but Monique saved me from this fate. Her reflections on her life—how she arrived at Twisted Oak with nothing, and her longing for a family—kept her focused even though her world was small. But outside of the master suite, she was diligent in the creation and administration of Twisted Oak. She had goals of her own, broader goals that included wealth, prestige, and power.

  I was beginning to understand that my Mr. Delacroix’s vision included a world well beyond the bedroom. His dreams centered on the resurrection of Twisted Oak, his place of birth that existed in historical purgatory. He shared Monique’s goals: wealth, power, and prestige through family. He understood in the center of his being that he could ultimately not achieve his goals alone. Allowing me to read her journals was his way of expressing this to me.

  “Nezzie, I wanna try something,” he said. “Are you ready for some fun?” He took my hand without waiting for an answer because he knew the answer was yes—always yes for his pleasure—and he took me to the bedroom.

  I immediately disrobed, as was expected. I was in my second week of training, and my body was already stronger and my mind was clear. “There’s my girl. Just stand there for a bit and let me look at you.”

  I stood and smiled. I loved it when he admired me. It made me feel strong.

  “Turn around and let me look at that cute ass of yours.”

  I did as he asked.

  “Remember those beads we saw at Lorraine’s?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Let’s play with them. I’ll start with the smaller ones.”

  He leaned over to the bedside table and took something out of the drawer. “I think you’re gonna like this, Nezzie. Hold still now. No wiggling. We have to get you to stop wiggling. I want you to shut your eyes and lift your ass in the air for me.”

  I closed my eyes, put my face into the bed, and lifted my backside up a bit until he used his leg to stop me.

  “Perfect. Fuckin’ hell, your ass is perfect.”

  The lubricant was cool as he filled my anus with it. “Okay, baby girl, relax now as best you can. Do you need a pillow under you to help hold you up?”

  “Yes, please, my lord.”

  He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under my tummy. “You can keep begging, too. Beg me to shove these beads up your ass.”

  I was beginning to get very nervous. “Please, my lord. Shove the beads up my ass. Please, I beg you to.”

  “Relax, Nezzie. When you aren’t relaxed, I think you don’t really mean it when you beg.” He began to massage and tickle my rear cheeks and drove his fingers into my exposed vagina. He brought his fingers down, one on either side, and massaged where my legs met my nether regions, then ran his finger around the rim of my anus.

  “Relax now, my love. Trust me. Breathe, my l
ove.”

  “Please, lord.” I breathed deep and let it out. “Please.”

  “There you go. Open up.”

  I felt one bead pass my sphincter and I automatically tensed up. “Breathe, my love, and relax. Trust me. You’re gonna absolutely love this. It’s me, Nez. You know that I know how much you’ll love this.”

  My breath deep, and again another bead.

  “Stay relaxed. There ya go.”

  Another bead entered me and I began to fully appreciate the sensation. Mr. Delacroix pushed gently to make room for the fourth, fifth, sixth . . . I lost count and relaxed, opened up.

  “How’s that feel? You okay, my love?”

  “Yes, my lord, but . . .”

  “Na, shhh, we aren’t finished yet. Come on up here and get on all fours.”

  I didn’t quite understand.

  “Nez, do it.” He gave me a spank and the beads bundled together, giving me the most exquisite sensation. I was nearly at climax.

  “Okay, girl, good. You’re gonna have to be strong and not collapse on me when the time comes. You need to be ready for a very intense orgasm. Are your arms and legs strong? I don’t have pulleys to hang you from, so you have to do it yourself.”

  “Yes, sir, I’m strong for you. Please begin. I beg you.”

  “Aw, Nez, for fuck’s sake, you’re a dream come true.”

  He plunged into me, moving the beads slightly, making everything feel so full. With each move he made, the beads adjusted. It felt so strange and good.

  “Please,” I begged.

  “Yes, my love, I’m here.” He began to pound. “You like it?”

  “Yes, my lord, it’s so good.” My center was starting to unravel. The anticipated orgasm merged my mind and body into a singular focus of desire. “It only gets better, my love.”

  His hands were on my hips. He created the rhythm hard and fast. I began to lose myself. My breasts swung freely as my nipples brushed against the bed, heightening my pleasure. I was swimming in the high, the quickening in my groin, that familiar windup to climax.

  “Are you getting ready to come, Nez? Are you coming for me now?”

  “Yes, my lord, oh god, yes! Please!”

  He shoved himself into me hard and simultaneously pulled the beads from my ass. I screamed in ecstasy and my whole body shuddered, but he held me up with his arm wrapped around me. He shoved into me again, almost lifting my knees from the bed, and I heard him grunt.

  My body was still shaking in ecstatic spasms of pure pleasure, and for as strong as I felt before, I was as weak as a twig. He tossed the beads to the floor, took me in both arms, and flipped us over on the bed so that I fell on him, my back to his chest. He crossed his arms over me, caressing each breast. I was still catching my breath.

  “Nez, babe, you okay?”

  “Never better, my lord, never better.”

  He held me for a while and then tucked me in and kissed me on the forehead. “Nezzie,” he whispered, “you really don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

  “No, my lord, I don’t, but I like it. Do you?”

  “Yes, my dearest, love of my life. I like it.”

  I reached up to touch his face and he responded by leaning into my hand like a feline. “Mr. Delacroix, what are you doing to me?”

  “Sleep now, cher. Sleep and dream of all the things we’re gonna do to each other. We’ve only just begun.”

  15.

  I found my solitary existence comforting, but relished Sunny and Ty’s friendships. Mr. Delacroix kept precise work hours every day. He left at nine in the morning and arrived home at exactly six every weekday. Sunny and I knew, down to the minute, the amount of free time we had during the day. He and I would take walks on nice days before Sunny took his afternoon nap. Ty came around periodically in the afternoon, but his nocturnal lifestyle was not in keeping with ours. Ty was like a satellite orbiting our world. I knew he was out there looking after me, but I did not see him as much as I would have liked.

  My world was small, simple, and easy to manage. Mr. Delacroix spent as much time with me as he could, considering the effort he was making toward a move to Twisted Oak, but as he said, it would take time. There was much to consider and I had grown accustomed to city living in the short four weeks I had been in the family. I was ambivalent about the move to Twisted Oak, but for the first time, I felt comfortable with myself. I had never looked forward to the future before. This was an epiphany for me.

  The days went by in a haze of sunlight and warmth. The magnolia trees were in full bloom and the crepe myrtle and oleander were budding, paving the way toward summer. There was stillness in the air. My body felt healthy for the first time in my life and I began to understand Monique’s clarity of mind. My spirit was soaring.

  One of Ty’s many aunties cleaned the apartment every Friday. I looked forward to her visits because she loved to talk about her family and their life in the city, not far from us but very different. She started working for a housekeeping company years ago, but soon left and went into business on her own. She had been working for Mr. Delacroix since he moved into the apartment, and before that, she worked for his father who only came to the city a few times a month.

  I was sitting on the balcony watching the tourists in the square while she dusted the living room. “Auntie,” I said, because that is what we all called her, “does everyone know the Delacroix history?”

  “No, baby, don’t everyone know, but those of us who work there know. My family been dere a long time, but nobody live dere no more. We lef awhile back and come to the city when I was a child, but I still work for the elder Mr. Delacroix when I got old enough after school keepin’ his apartment here. I been coming to dis place now every Friday since I be about twelve or thirteen.”

  “What was he like?”

  “The elder Mr. Delacroix? Oh, baby, he was a handsome man like his son, hear? He was quiet though, and didn’t do much partying, not like that Mr. Scott. I used to hate it when he come to town with Mr. Delacroix cuz dis place be a mess.”

  “Did they come together often?”

  “Oh yeah, I say at least once a month, if not more. After Mrs. Delacroix die, God rest her soul, they come together a lot. Some say they together too much, but I don’t pay no mind to that talk. Mr. Delacroix pay me well and I keep quiet about such things. When ya clean a man’s house, ya know things about him and that’s private business.”

  “Did you know Mrs. Delacroix well?”

  “Na, not really, cuz like I say, Momma lef Twisted Oak when I was a child and Mrs. Delacroix didn’t ever come here.”

  “I wonder why. I love it here.”

  “Baby girl, I think she rather not be in the city with Mr. Delacroix, especially when Mr. Scott here. Her family and his, well, they don’t get along so well.”

  “I know, Mr. Delacroix told me that the other day. He said her family didn’t think Mr. Delacroix was good for her.”

  “Mmmhmm, and truth be tole, they probly right, but he was a good man. Just not right for marryin’, I suppose. Like some mens, they better off being bachelors.”

  “Why do you say that about Mr. Delacroix’s father? Was he a womanizer?”

  She laughed as she picked up my pillow and stepped outside to shake it. “Naw, baby girl, everybody know it wasn’t the ladies he like.”

  “Oh, I see. So he and Mr. Scott were . . .”

  “Hey now, dis is gettin’ too personal, but yeah, you get my drift. Mostly when the two of ’em here, only one bed be messed up, but sometimes the whole place be tore up like they go crazy or somethin’. I never aks and dey never tell.”

  “And Mrs. Delacroix never knew?”

  “Now dat I can’t say cuz I don’t know her and like I say, I never aks, but Momma say Mrs. Delacroix go crazy like insane.”

  “So you were around when his son,
my Mr. Delacroix, was born. She wasn’t crazy then, was she?”

  “I recall when he was born. Mr. Delacroix was so proud. He come and show pictures. I think things were good then for him and his wife. I saw pictures of the three of them together and dat baby always so happy. He was a good little boy, but I suppose like some mommas, things got too hard for her. Not everyone be a good momma. Some womens, they don’t need to be mommas.”

  “I certainly know what you mean,” I said, reflecting on my own mother. That familiar stab of pain pierced my heart.

  Auntie went back inside and put my pillow back down on the floor where she found it, no questions asked. She went about dusting the coffee table and sang softly while she worked. “Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline . . . they tryin' to wash us away.”

  “Auntie, Mr. Delacroix was only about nine when his mother died, right?”

  “Yeah, about that old, but his daddy do his best. He got the best teachers for his boy and eventually he went to the best universities, thanks be to Mr. Scott. He grew up fine, but being raised by his daddy and then Mr. Scott wasn’t ideal, but dey do da best dey can by dat boy. Your Mr. Delacroix be a good man like his daddy. He reminds me so much of him.”

  I followed her into the kitchen and poured us glasses of iced tea.

  “You and Mr. Delacroix . . .” She paused and looked down at the rag in her hand.

  “Yes, Auntie, he and I are together.”

  Her look of relief was both puzzling and comical. “I’m so happy to hear it. I wasn’t sure if you was Sunny’s girl or Mr. Delacroix’s or what. Those two are about as confused as his daddy and Mr. Scott were, but I be glad to hear he doing something right. No offense to Sunny. He a good kid, but Mr. Delacroix need a woman in his life and lord knows, this place need a woman in it.” She lifted her glass in a toast to me. “You’re a good woman, Miss Nez. I’m glad you here.”

  “Me too, Auntie.” Our glasses gently kissed and the ice rattled in its tea bath. “Do you know why Mrs. Delacroix died, Auntie?”