“Jay, that’s far enough. She isn’t as flexible as some of the others yet,” said my master’s voice. The pulleys stopped. He was there. I could hear my master’s voice. I could let my mind go. He knew what I liked. He was there. I could let go.
Mr. Labelle entered my anus hard and deep. His grip on my hips propelled him in and out deeper than anyone had gone before as I swung from the pulleys, but it was not painful because of his shape. I could feel every inch of him go deeper and deeper. Hands on my ankles helped me swing in glorious rapture. Ty and Mr. Meadows curled up next to Brandie and Mr. LeGeneret, taking joy in swinging me as Mr. Labelle’s sacred sword drove into me repeatedly, deep and real. I felt the familiar awakening in me, but I did not want it to end. I was at that point of no return, of having to go over the edge and fall into the abyss, but I loved the teetering, the tease. I heard Gregory give way to his orgasm in deep moans and gasps.
A faint hum entered my senses until finally I could feel it in my core. There was no teetering, no teasing, I would go over the edge, fall endlessly into my pleasure. The hum escaped through my vocal cords and out of my mouth. I was the hum. I was out of myself. All that remained was my body, floating and filling up. Hands laying me gently down, soft sex sounds and sweet caresses.
When I came to my senses, Mr. Starr had Ms. Lang from behind while she gave Ty a blow job. Greg was on all fours. Mr. Ladnier and Mr. Ainslie were fucking him, Ladnier from behind and Ainslie in front. Sunny was lying next to me absent-mindedly caressing my breast, while Mr. Meadows lay next to him with Sunny’s dick in his hand. Air rested her head between my legs while her master, Mr. Algrant, sat in a chair kissing Eric. Candie tied Danny up to the chains on the wall and was giving him head.
“Nezzie, come.” Gregory’s voice was breathy, similar to when he’d come home from his run. Mr. Ladnier was keeping his slow, solid pace in and out of Gregory. “Come over here and let Mr. Ainslie have a go at you.” Air moved her head and Sunny helped me crawl to Gregory. “Yeah, stay on your hands and knees next to me. Let’s you and I get fucked from behind together.” He smiled as I aligned my shoulder with his. “Good girl.”
Mr. Ainslie came around behind me and ran his hand down the center of my back, slow and soft. His hand traveled down the center of my ass, sending chills of anticipation to all the right places. His hands caressed my hips and then he threaded his fingers through hoops on each side of my strap. “Ready, little lady?” he asked as he lined my vagina up with his manhood.
“Yes, Mr. Ainslie.”
“That’s good. I like to get me some pussy every now and again,” he said, his Southern drawl pronounced. “You’re so soft, honey.”
“Thank you, sir,” I murmured. He jammed into me hard and fast. My breath caught as he slammed into my cervix. The pain was alarming at first.
“Am I knockin’ at your door, little girl?” Mr. Ainslie asked.
“Yes, sir.”
He jammed himself in again, lifting my knees from the mattress. I whimpered and Gregory put his hand on mine. I could hear him breathing, enjoying Mr. Ladnier. I put my head on his shoulder and tried to breathe in tempo with him, but Mr. Ainslie was fucking me hard. With each thrust, my head would slip off Greg’s shoulder. He whispered, “Just take him all the way in. Nezzie, let your body take over. You’re doing so well. I knew you’d like it.”
“My lord, yes, I do. Thank you, sir.” I closed my eyes and let my head fall to the mattress. Mr. Ainslie pushed harder. I concentrated on Gregory’s breath. I loved his pleasure more than mine. Mr. Ainslie ground into me, moving my hips in a circular motion. The pain he gave me was exquisite. He was strong and held me off the mattress. The strap, having dug into my tummy the whole time I was with Mr. Labelle, was surely making a new mark as it pressed into me again. Dots of pain punctuated the scene, small islands that reminded me that I swam in a sea of pleasure.
Mr. Ladnier let out a low, slow moan and Greg grabbed my hair and pulled. Mr. Ainslie pushed deep, and as if on cue from Mr. Ladnier, filled me to the brim. I continued to swim.
I felt Gregory attach my leash to my strap. I hated the idea of getting up.
“Come on, Nez. You need a drink of water. You need to wake up out of this dream. I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry it can’t last forever,” he whispered in my ear.
42.
The weeks passed by and before we knew it, the weather had turned hot. I understood what Gregory meant about the heat in the city, but the evenings on the balcony were glorious because we could feel the river breeze. The oleander and crepe myrtle were in full bloom.
Every day Ty showed me a new neighborhood within the city while Gregory worked and Sunny slept. Ty knew every nook and cranny of the place and had family everywhere who took us in and fed us and listened as Ty told news of his legit life—all except for the fact that he was a gay man who was sexually enslaved by a white man. I suppose we all had our secrets, but at least he was speaking to his family.
In the afternoons, Ty would read to me from Kahlil Gibran’s book The Prophet, about a man who waited twelve years for his ship to come and take him back to the place of his birth. Ty liked the book because it was easy to read, but he also liked the lessons. He told me it helped him come to terms with his life. I likened Gregory to the prophet because he was finally going back to the place of his birth.
As Ty’s reading improved, we spent time at the library where I researched the city’s history. It helped him improve his grammar before our trip back to Twisted Oak. He seemed like a new person the morning we all piled into Gregory’s convertible. He was more confident and carried himself with more dignity. Going legit agreed with Ty. Sunny coddled him all morning, choosing clothes and deciding what to bring and what to leave behind. They were both excited to have rooms at the farm, as Gregory called it.
When the urban sprawl turned to cypress wetlands, I could feel Gregory’s demeanor relax; the prophet going back to the place of his birth. I knew that soon we would never go back to the city for any length of time.
“You’re so quiet. What are you thinking about?” I asked my lord.
He turned down the radio. “If you must know, I was thinking of the master suite, whether or not they’re finished painting it. I’m hoping the color we chose looks good.”
“I researched those colors, my lord. I tried hard to figure out what color they may have been when Monique lived there.”
Gregory shrugged. “I figured everything was whitewashed back then, but then again, who knows how they made that stuff.”
“Old paint from back then was made from milk, my lord; milk, lime, and clay that they tinted with earth pigments.”
“How the hell do you know that?” he asked me.
“I went to the library one day with Ty and looked it up, sir. Monique’s paint was probably tinted with iron oxide, umber, or ochre, maybe a little of all three, which would give the room a golden salmon color. It’ll look good. I also found out that you can still get natural earth pigments and milk paint to use. I guess it’s a lot safer than the new stuff.”
“Safer?” he asked.
“Yeah, no toxic stuff, my lord.”
“Brainiac,” he said. “You even overthink paint, for god’s sake.”
He shook his head with a smile as we turned into the long, tree-lined driveway.
* * *
The manicured lawns were lush this time of year. The oaks were fuller now that their leaves had come all the way out. I had not noticed before the crepe myrtles that lined the drive in the understory of the oaks. They barely had leaves when we were there last. The bright pink was stunning against the green backdrop.
The master suite was nearly finished in its new coat of ochre. It was bright and airy, so unlike when we left. The French doors opened wide onto the newly washed deck. The bayou breeze Monique loved flowed through the rooms. New outdoor furniture made up a sitting area, dining area,
and a bar. Potted plants, ferns, azaleas, and sweet olive accented the corners and walls.
“I told you, sir, that it would look good,” I said as I hung a few dresses in the armoire. “Honestly, if all they have to paint is the one wall in the sitting room, we can move in right now and let Ty and Sunny have their own space.”
Gregory stood motionless in the middle of the sitting room as if in a daydream.
“What is the matter with you today, Greg?” I asked. “You’re on planet zero.”
“Pinch me,” he said.
“What, sir?”
“I’m sure I’m dreaming. Pinch me and wake me up.”
“Are you sure you want me to, sir?”
“Yes, Nezzie, pinch the fuck out of me.”
“Okay, you asked for it, sir.” I walked over to him and pinched him hard on his thigh.
“Ouch! Goddamn.” He put his finger around my collar and pulled me in close. “Thank god, I’m not dreaming.”
Sunny and Ty were ecstatic when I told them the rooms were theirs.
“Sir, we even get our own little kitchen,” Ty said as he opened the fridge. “Hell, sir, our bedroom is bigger than our entire apartment back home. It’s almost as big as my house. They got wine in here and cheese and stuff. Look at the fruit bowl. Is all this for us, for you and me, sir?”
Sunny patiently went to Ty’s side. “Yes, love, it’s for you and me, and ya know what?”
“No, sir,” Ty said, looking up at Sunny with those wide amber eyes.
“You deserve it because you’ve done so well. Now it really sounds like you belong in these rooms and not out in the village.”
Sunny’s matter-of-fact statement shook me a little, but Ty took it in stride. I suppose the reality of it was what it was.
“Thank you, sir, but you should thank Miss Nez, too. She helped me a lot,” Ty beamed.
“Thank you, miss,” Sunny said apologetically. “I’m usually pretty patient, but I guess language skills aren’t my thing.”
“Sunny, you’re the most patient man I know, and I say that from personal experience. Working with Ty turned out very well for me and for him. Ty showed me the city and then we read about it. I learned a lot and I had fun, didn’t you, Ty?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up an apple. “Can I have this?”
“Yeah, my love, it’s yours,” Sunny said.
I went to the bedroom and emptied the armoire so Ty and Sunny could move their things in. Gregory was standing on the deck when I returned to the master suite.
“Come see,” he said. I lay our clothes on the bed and looked at the backyard where the croquet green was. A large white tent covered the green. Chairs and tables were set about on the veranda and around the tent. Marie and Girl were flitting about giving orders and rearranging chairs. Men were pounding nails into what looked like a makeshift stage; a few more were laying out wooden flooring under the tent, and Samuel was on a ladder stringing lights. Thomas was frantically trying to count the chairs that Marie kept moving. He finally gave up and looked up at us with an exasperated expression.
“Happy birthday, my love, you have no idea how happy I am that you were born.”
“Thank you, sir, for finally giving me a reason to be happy about that as well,” I said, leaning against him.
“Look way out yonder,” he said, pointing toward the bayou. My gaze followed tiki torches that lined a pathway to the bayou. Beyond it was a vast landscape of wetlands, trees, knolls, and green lowlands filled with crops. “For almost as far as you can see, it’s ours.”
“Sir, thank you for sharing your life with me. I’m not sure what I did to deserve this, but thank you.”
“Remember what I said when I collared you, about pain and suffering?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s why you deserve it, why you and I deserve this, and not just our suffering, either. Others suffered before us to make this happen. We’ve got a responsibility to take care of it, to cherish it, and I believe you feel this way too.”
“Yes, sir, I do, very much,” I said and looked out across the expanse. I said a silent prayer that I was capable of carrying out this responsibility. The thought of disappointing him was staggering.
The afternoon pressed on with joyful hellos from Marie and Girl and sandwiches on the veranda as we helped the staff prepare for the party. I was surprised at how well Marie was doing, considering she was going through a divorce. Mr. Ladnier’s attorney friend was finding Jackson amicable at every juncture and, according to Girl, the divorce would be finalized in short order, “probably before the Fourth of July.” She went on to say, “I think Marie’s ready to be rid of him, but she worries about when he comes back.”
“Is he coming back?” I asked as I helped Girl straighten out a white tablecloth on one of the many round tables in the yard.
“No one speaks to him directly, but of course the attorney does, and as far as we can tell, he’s planning on coming back. But who knows?” She shrugged. “It’ll be what it’ll be. In the meantime, Marie’s doing really well.”
“How about you, how are you doing? Are you ready to go back home?”
“Well, that’s the thing. I’m not sure I’ll be going back to Baton Rouge,” she said quietly. “Don’t say anything to anybody this weekend—I wanna have a good time and it’s not a big deal, really. I haven’t made up my mind yet, but my dad’s not doing very well back in Cali. I may just head in that direction after I’m through here.”
“I hope it’s not too serious.”
“He was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago, so I don’t know. Maybe it’s time for me to go back. We’ll see.” She straightened her end of the tablecloth. “I talk to my mom a lot and she’s holding up well, but he’s starting to be a handful. I’m really not sure what I’ll do and Mr. Ladnier is getting more wrapped up in his work and his family. I just feel like the universe is telling me to go back home.”
“His family?”
“Yeah, he’s married and has three kids. Up till recently I felt okay about our situation, but his kids are getting older and they need him. His wife needs him, and as it goes, my family needs me back in Cali. The planets are aligning for me to head back west.”
“I see,” I said, not fully seeing anything. I would ask Greg about it later. “Family is important.”
“Indeed,” she smiled. “Can I tell you something in confidence?” She sat down on a chair not waiting for my response, and I leaned in closer to listen. “I think I’m in love with Marie. I want her to come live with me in Cali. She’s so smart and fun and talented. I think there’s opportunity out there for her and she values the simple stuff just like I do.”
“Oh my, Girl, I don’t know what to say. I sure didn’t see this coming,” I said.
“You probably think I’m nuts.”
“No, I don’t. Love is like that. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. I know that’s how it happened with Greg and me,” I smiled. I toyed with the edge of the tablecloth and looked at her seriously. “I just wonder if Marie would be brave enough to leave.”
“We’ve talked about it and she said she’d come to Baton Rouge with me, but I’m not sure she understands the permanence of it.”
“Give it some more time. Jackson won’t be back for another four months or so. Maybe by then things will be clearer. Can your parents wait that long?”
“I guess there’s a lot to consider,” she said, moving toward the next table and grabbing the tablecloth.
“Does Marie love you?” I asked.
“She says she does, but I also know she likes to fuck men.”
I giggled. “Girl, you know there are ways around that. One thing Greg has taught me is that we really can have our cake and eat it too.”
“Does he still fuck guys?” she asked.
“He hasn’t since the last
roast, but I can’t imagine him never fucking a guy again. It’s who he is.” My thoughts went back to the roast. “For that matter, I can’t imagine me not ever fucking other guys either, or you,” I laughed, “or Marie.”
After we finished with the tablecloths, I found Greg talking with Thomas about the party. Samuel was setting up special tables just for eating boiled crawfish. A man was setting up a generator near the service entrance under a small tent. Greg said that was power for the band and the lights. I had no idea he would make such a production out of my birthday. No one ever had given me a birthday party before and I felt sheepish approaching him with my request.
“What is it?” he asked.
I leaned close to him and whispered, “I was talking to Girl and, well, we got to talking about how Marie likes to fuck men and I do too.” I stammered because this was the first time I had initiated any kind of escapade. I honestly did not know how to proceed.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked aloud. Thomas stood expressionless.
“No, sir,” I began. Thomas’s eyebrows went up.
“No?” Greg was incredulous. “Did you say no?”
“No, I mean, yes, sir.” Now I was confusing myself.
“Thomas, if you’ll excuse us for a few minutes, please.” Thomas turned tail and left.
“Nezzie, I think we need to have a word.” Greg grabbed my arm and dragged me in silence behind him around the front of the house, through the foyer and into the library. My groin was on fire. I was anticipating a punishment fuck. He gently pushed me to the floor in front of the sofa and sat behind his desk.
Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey Page 48
