by JR King
The blade in her hand began to shake again.
“There’s this saying; all hat, no cattle.”
She met my gaze with far more confidence than I would have accredited her. “I will do it.”
“Here’s another one; a watched pot never boils. I’m waiting.”
“I don’t want to hurt you. Promise you won’t lock me up.”
“Give it your best shot. I’m a bad man, sweetheart, and if you think you can end me, you should go for it. Come what may, promise you’ll hold my hand as I take my last breaths. I don’t want to die alone. I’d also like to be cremated. No mess, no worms and insects eating me. Yuck.” I took a step forward, waited.
“I will stab you! Don’t act all charming and smart with me.” Her pupils looked like the blue core of a flame outlined with orange-red.
“Then fucking do it!” I howled, stepping decidedly toward her.
“S-s-stay back. I will do it, I swear.”
Threats never cut ice with me. I kept moving forward to corner her. “You can’t do this.” My voice was calm and controlled, I’ll go as far as saying I sounded too sure of myself. “Give me the knife. You’re not a killer.”
“Everyone can kill under the right circumstance. When circumstances put you in harm’s way…you made my list.”
“Like a bucket list? Or like Sheldon’s list? That’s such an honor, babe.”
“My shit list, Alex!” She lunged at me, and her actions and words caught me completely off guard. I didn’t strike out. The knife bit into my chest, causing the tip to pierce my pectoral. Yes, the slight pain felt good.
Elena froze. When the knife was about to slip through her fingers, I caught it and placed it on the kitchen island. “You can’t do it. Why don’t you ever listen to me?”
Eyes wide open, she watched the blood bloom on my skin and form a small bead that dripped to the floor.
“Oh my God!” She flinched away and covered her mouth with both hands and shook her head frantically, trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened. “What…why…what have I done?”
“Look at me, Elena.” Our eyes met and she looked traumatized and vulnerable, so I smiled. “It’s nothing, just a tiny nick.” The calm lasted mere seconds before my expression turned to stone. “It’s Sunday, Elena. S-U-N-D-A-Y. The only day in the week when I don’t have to go to work. Let me enjoy my day, okay? Butchering a Sunday is unforgivable.” She watched on in horror as I grabbed a kitchen towel and dabbed at my chest.
“I’m s-sorry, Alexander.”
I glowered. “You’ll be sorry when I’m done with you.”
I was blocking the main entrance. One hand placed protectively over her head, she bolted toward the breakfast room, as if rocket fuel propelled her every step. I wanted to let the cutting slide because I knew how much I’d enjoyed her effort, but this kind of behavior was inacceptable. She had to learn and accept that she was mine.
It was time for just deserts.
Before she could reach another room, my arm closed over her waist, tugging her so her backside landed against the length of my body. She lashed out with a heel, aiming for my shin, while jerking her head backward in the hopes of hitting it against my nose. Kicking back at me with her right heel, she managed to land a few of them against my calves. Fetchingly adorable and cute, she tried kicking me further, feeding my fantasy. Unspeaking, I let her have her tantrum.
When she tried to put more hot scratches on my forearms, I ended it. “Enough.” Several seconds passed as I searched her eyes for an emotion, any emotion other than fear. Ultimately, reddishness started spilling from her cheeks and ran down neck. “All done?”
Her fingers went limp. “I don’t want—,”
I let go of her. “I won’t lock the door again.”
A familiar twist grazed her lips, the smile she always wore in contentment. “I’m sorry I stabbed you two times.” She enunciated this shyly, doe-eyed, biting her nails down to the quick.
“No, you’re not.”
A playful pucker appeared around her lips, her cheeks increasing in color. “Does it hurt?”
“Do you want me to say yes?”
“Only if it hurts.”
I gave her my sexiest grin. “I enjoy the pain.” I gripped her hips and pulled her right up against me. My hands reached for her behind, cupping her cheeks roughly. I kept one hand on her butt cheek and brought the other one to the side of her face. “How’s stabbing working out for you?”
“Don’t like it.”
I pressed my lips to hers, hearing a fast, shuddered exhale right before the heat of her mouth hit mine. The kiss was hard and commanding, more painful than I’d kissed her before. Gravity-defying. My tongue circled around hers rapidly, exploring her mouth, lapping until I felt a tugging rush. Loss of agency bloomed inside me and, I stole all her breaths and was so active I could choke her.
I broke off the kiss. “Mine. Stop fighting me.”
“Must you be at such ease to breeze around naked?” I could tell she was trying not to roll her eyes.
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about.” I pinioned her wrists behind her back. “There’s nothing like cock, Elena. Right here, right now, I know you want me. Your body gives you away. You’re practically panting, you’re blushing, you’re even pressing your thighs together. You want me, and you will have me, as long as you play by my rules.”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise and formed a perfect O.
“You’re so easy with me. The perfect pleasure slut.”
She stammered. “I’m n-not a…s-slut.”
“Don’t think of it as a dirty word. It’s just a four-letter word, secondary to your actions.” One hand was pressed against her lower back, splayed against the silk covered skin, my other hand sliding under the edge of her kimono. “Kiss me, Elena.”
Her arms tightened around me, her lips pressing into the hollow of my neck. The grip around me increased as she tiptoed and tried to reach my lips. Had I looked straight ahead she wouldn’t have been able to kiss my neck. I did nothing of the sort and instead observed just how long she could stay tiptoed, laving the curve of my neck with kisses, getting frustrated.
“Please…just a little,” she whispered. “It’ll go easier on me if you cooperate.”
“Just a little what, angel?”
Before, she’d taken on a blubbing, combative stance, but now she was acquiescent in my arms, exhaling and drinking in my pulse. “Help me.”
I moved an arm up her back until her heavy hair puddled over my forearm, and pulled her up so she could wrap her legs around me. “Better?”
She made a low, purring noise in my neck that I imagined was a cocktail of dirty words, and it made me smile. “Say the word, Elena.”
“Yours.”
“Mine.”
“But…slow.”
“Very slow. Kiss me.”
She followed her order, pausing to say, “I haven’t kissed like this in a while.”
With a short laugh, I asked, “How long is a while?”
“Weeks.”
“Want me to download a Youtube sex ed class?”
“The mechanics I’ll always remember, basics tend to stick. I might be a little rusty on, I don’t know, nuances and refinement? Why don’t you lead, Alexander?”
She must have seen the victory in my eyes. As my lips found hers, the sound she made stirred the sadistic monster in me. Perhaps it was the cold winter air that smelled richly of pinewood and cinnamon. Perhaps it was the large amount of Christmas decorations the house boasted, whispering at me to show the pretty girl around so she could admire them. Or maybe I just wanted to make Elena feel safe. In conclusion, I resolved to put off sex for the day.
Alexander Turner
The Monogamy Alternative
A quarter past noon, I arrived at the trattoria for lunch. Everyone around the table had full plates and full glasses, waiting for me. Cognizant that I was the last one to sit down, I forced a smile and off
ered some lame excuse. I poked at my aubergine parmigiana and finished my wine and water just to have an excuse to use the men’s room.
Nolan was toying with us. Demented prig. Staring at myself in the mirror, I raked my upper teeth across my lower lip back and forth, and cleansed my thoughts.
Back at the table, I had a few bites of pasta and made a huge effort to stay engaged in the conversation with Tony and Aidan. It was difficult to pay attention, I was dying to get back home. I just sat there, picking at my food, trying to redirect my thoughts. A heavenly rich egg yolk oozed out at the first crack of the lobster ravioli. I tasted, noting that the truffle butter sauce had trace amounts of white wine in it.
Aidan asked me, “What now? Will you clarify? Tell her why you chased her? Formulate your intent?”
“If I do, she’ll clam back up and I’m fucked. If I don’t, Sophia will tell her.”
“Fucked both ways,” chuckled Tony. “When do we get to meet her?”
“Give me time to at least consummate. She wants to go slow.” Inspecting my reflection in flatware, I noted a devil’s grin sliding from ear to ear. “So, what does Nolan want?”
“Called my office and told me the three of us should meet him here. Something about pride comes before a fall,” Aidan explained.
Maybe it’s just me, but when Nolan arrived he sat down with a hunched coccyx, and he’d absolutely lost his fashion sense. The middle button of his three-buttoned jacket was below his navel, pants tapered largely to his ankles. His feet within over-the-top grey shoes clashed with his cerulean shirt, and he looked completely washed out in the dark grey color of his suit.
Aidan sat at the head of the table and played the generous host. Lounging backward, he flung one arm carelessly over the back of his chair, and in his other hand he held a just-got-topped-off glass of Chardonnay. With Tony and I seated on his sides, he kicked the ball in Nolan’s court. “Writing an article about the three of us? Our duplicitous tactics, sexploits, or the sizes of our dicks?”
Nolan’s smile effaced and he folded his hands. “Turner, Elliot, and Carrington. Big names.” A slimy film of coldness set in his eyes. “If only your two buddies were blood-sucking lawyers like yourself, you could have opened the biggest practice.”
I ruminated pummeling Nolan’s wimpy chest. Two quick blows below the heart to watch him jerk in pain would have a calming effect on me. “We don’t give a hoot about your insults,” I picked up with a querulous tone, taking another bite of my stracciatella semifreddo. “Why are we here? Is it to applaud your resourcefulness?”
He rapped his fists on the table, words ripping out of him. “Boston’s very own three stooges. Wouldn’t be hard to dig and put together an exposé. When I say dig, I mean digging in ex-girlfriends’ backyards, not your own.” His ugliness grated on my nerves, he wasn’t a fine figure of a man. I highly doubted that any type of petroleum jelly could improve the conditions of his chapped lips and flaky, fissured skin.
With a one-shouldered shrug, Tony tried again, “Why. Are. We. Here.” His countenance was stoic. “Clock is ticking, Nolan.”
“Turner needs to end his friendship with Carina. Or else I’ll start digging. I’ll fucking ruin your reputations.”
We all chuckled in unison. Well played, boys. I had half a mind to beat him to pulp in front of bystanders, but I forbore on my impulse. “Say that again at your own peril,” I asserted with menace.
My skin crawled, anger gnawing at my mind. The bastard looked so happy that I contemplated to hang him out to dry by breaking his legs, or his neck.
My turn. “Do you know what concupiscence is, Nolan?”
He squinted in the direction of my voice. “Funny, Turner. Very funny. Ha-ha funny.”
I looked at him directly, my gaze unwavering. “Do you know what a subbie is?”
Clutching the arm of his chair, a vague sigh of disbelief left his lips. “Carina isn’t sick!” The expression on his face alternated, rainbow-like. I detected surprise, panic, and bellyaching fear.
“Another clueless person,” Tony said. “Someone should write a book about this. BDSM for beginners.”
“You disappoint me, Nolan.” Aidan put his glass back on the table, and uncufflinked his sleeves so he could roll them up.
Though I could afford to suffer fools gladly, Nolan went a bridge too far with that daft comment about Carina. With menace, I asserted, “I never said Carina was sick, you moronic, spineless prick. Say that again at your own peril.” I sat back in my chair and waited.
Aidan threw the contents of his glass on Nolan, who let out a protesting, girly squeal. The cool, acidic liquid soaked the front of his dress shirt, outlining his undershirt.
Wiping the moisture off his face, Nolan lifted his spiky lashes and smoothed back his hair. “Carina means the world…no articles. None,” he sighed.
For a brief moment, I doubted he were smart enough to understand that the absence of abundant vocal appreciation by us only heightened the appreciation of his endeavor. He ordered a bottle of champagne and had dessert with us, as if we were the oldest of friends.
*
Nice Monday, before I realized it, the crop was slicing through the air as if it had a mind of its own. I decided to flog Carina as she wanted to, or as I wanted to. I’m not sure which was more relevant.
“One, sir.”
When she spoke, a moment of ecstatic joy lanced through me, and my hand moved again, marking her bodacious ass.
“Two, sir.”
Darkness burrowed its way into my chest, into my blood, into my muscles, and while laying the third stripe, I heard myself groan.
“Three,” she whispered.
That stopped me. I steadied hear head and allowed myself to smile for a fraction of a second before the flat of my palm landed against her temple. I moved to look into her eyes, admiring the wetness shimmering within them. My next words came out in a slow, silken rasp that I expected to acquire quick results with. “How many did we agree on, pet?”
“Twenty, sir,” she articulated clearly.
Anger flashed in my eyes, the muscle in my clenched jaw pulsing harder. “In for a penny, in for a pound. Count politely or else I’ll double your punishment. I have a cane I’m dying to raise.” You should know that I disliked canes, and paddles were a close second. Evil things really, but I liked what they birthed.
“Yes, sir.” Carina kept on with her count, and above the cuffs, her hands balled into little pink fists.
After number five, the crying began, which came in ragged gulps. The welts on her ass didn’t form a neat series of lines, they overlay each other and where they intersected, the flesh was messier and ruddier.
The crop lashes got her to the point of climax. As she shouted the last count, I dropped my arm. Despite the lack of real effort the cropping took, my skin prickled with sweat. “Good girl,” I panted out my praise, and caressed an unmarked part of her hip. “Well done.”
The flurry of strokes had left us both out of breath. I’m not proud to admit it, but I’d taken my lousy frustrations and anger out on her body, and it felt fantastic. I hadn’t just capitalized, I made sure she enjoyed it too, and at the end of the day, there’s no denying that hurting and controlling her brought me peace. Wind down, after the cropping, Carina and I were done with each other.
She rested while I showered and put on my Savile Row’s H. Huntman suit. Pretty adequate for the occasion of a traditional cropping session.
“Alexander?” Not one to stray from her unconventional color palate, Carina wore an orange Diane von Furstenberg dress.
“Alex, sweetheart. Call me Alex. It’s over, no more playdates, you’re getting married in a few months.”
“I want to keep seeing you. It isn’t a farce or a sham, I love Nolan, but I need this. He doesn’t understand.”
“What did he say?”
“Told me I needed help. Told him I started seeing a therapist.” She giggled. “Dominic Master.”
“Carina, I need this t
oo, but I’ve got to figure things out with Elena.”
She looked up, pursing her lips. Her face was taut with disappointment and her large, elliptical eyes shimmered with a hint of moisture. When she spoke, it was so soft that I had to crane my neck toward her. “She’s so lucky.”
“Will you tell her for me?”
She toyed with the nacre belt of her dress. “I’d like to have dinner with you every so often. Please, please, please?” she insisted, slavishly staring at me.
I placed my fingers under her chin and tilted her head upward, forcing her to look me closer in the eyes. “Firstly, I must see how it goes with Elena. Secondly, be a good girl and don’t disappoint your daddy or me, promise? I want you to mean it.”
Squeezing her twinkling eyes like a child, she stuck out her tongue and thoroughly licked her lips. “Pinkie promise. Rule of the thumb, no seamy scandals.”
“Aren’t you tired of wearing a hair shirt? Why marry a lousy prick who can’t get you off? Why not seek a man with whom you’re on the same page?”
“Problem is, humans must always be in conflict; unhappy, striving, unsatisfied. Not in accord.”
Winding a hand around her ponytail, I brought her closer, and my free hand cupped her chin. “Is that an angle you’re exploring in your latest book?”
Her warmth collided with the thickness of my vest. “You really like me, don’t you?” she husked, her eyes glowing like the rays of dawn.
The tip of my tongue traced the edges of her ear, teeth nipping at the earlobe. “Two-way street, baby. Of course I like you or else I wouldn’t be here.”
“Alexander, I want you to…,” she flushed, a delightful gaze of lust flickering in her eyes, “to take me to that room of yours and chain me to the cross and fuck me hard until I can’t breathe.”
Ever felt like been there, done that? This was one of these moments. As a reward for her plea, I slid my arms around her shoulders and down to her lower back, hugging her intimately. She was in a state of tizzy, unable to stay quiet in my arms. “Shh, it’ll pass.” I put my chin on her head and cuddled her like that, and we entered a space continuum where time appeared to have stopped, except that it hadn’t. It felt like minutes or an hour before my pressing bladder caulked the time distortion.
