Kink

by Nikki Sex

  In fact, it was incredible.

  My Master kisses me softly, while he continues to fuck me. He removes my collar and drops it to the floor. His hand shifts. It curls possessively around my throat. I moan. He doesn’t have to strangle me, for me to get off on the power he has over me. But I sure as fuck enjoy it when he collars me with his hand.

  He squeezes my neck, up high, so very lightly. “Em, are you able to come again for me?”

  There’s something different in his voice. He’s asking, not commanding. It confuses me, but it’s okay. His eyes have softened, he’s no longer so harsh.

  I’d wanted Paul to come to terms with the darker part of his nature. I’d hoped that if we faced the Beast together, he could learn to accept it and thereby accept himself.

  Did he conquer the Beast?

  “Yes, Master,” I say. “I think I can.”

  “Call me ‘Paul’ for now.”

  “Yes, Paul.”

  “I want to come with you,” he says quietly.

  I nod. It astonished me how throughout all of this, my vigorous lover has continued to thrust in and out. He surges inside of me harder now, his mouth over mine.

  Our bodies are so close, it’s like we’re one person. We breathe each other’s air. His palm, gently curled around my throat, feels more intimate than a collar. I love feeling the heat and pressure of it. That skin-on-skin contact that makes you so glad that you’re alive.

  The love of my life surrounds me: Paul’s breath, his heat, his scent and the delicious weight of his hard male body holding me down.

  I’m utterly intoxicated. I’m high on his pleasure. My pleasure. Our pleasure.

  We belong to each other.

  Our gazes lock. That soul-sharing connection binds us closer, far closer than the mere physical joining of two bodies.

  “Ready?” he murmurs thickly.

  “God, yes,” I breathe.

  His command is a low growl, a request, an entreaty. “Come now,” he says, surging hard and deep inside me. “I need to go with you. Come with me, sweetheart.”

  “Oh yes,” I cry out, with love in my heart.

  We melt together then, fused into one person. We fall into rapture, sharing our passion, our triumph and joy.

  Chapter 43.

  “Power Exchange can create deep emotional bonds.”

  – André Chevalier

  ~~~

  PAUL

  It’s Sunday morning. Emily and I have the day off. I’m in bed when my phone rings. My Caller ID says it’s my half-brother, Colton. I answer with a cheerful, “My brother. How are you doing?”

  Colton chuckles. “My brother, I am very well, thank you for asking.”

  “Always so formal. What’s up?”

  “Well, the DNA results are back.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Before Colton left he swabbed inside my cheek, just like they do on CSI. Poor bastard. He flew all the way across the country just to get my DNA.

  “I’m sure you’ll be shocked to know that my father is definitely your father.”

  “Is that right? What a surprise. Christ, warn me next time. I should’ve been sitting down for that one,” I reply.

  “That’s not the only reason that I’ve phoned,” Colton says, in a somewhat ominous tone. “I’ve also called to tell you to watch your back.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “My mother is on the warpath. I suspect that she’s hired a P.I. to dig up dirt on you and yours for a start. She also has the family lawyer working overtime. While she hasn’t confided her strategies to me, I know how her mind works. Somehow, she intends to make sure that you don’t get a penny from my dad’s estate.”

  The idea of a P.I. looking into my life is a disturbing revelation. There are a number of skeletons in the Jarman and Malone closets. Even the fact that Emily and I are into Kink could be exposed and blown out of proportion. The fact I put a man in hospital is the tip of that iceberg.

  I’m like a rabid Pit Bull when it comes to Emily. I’ll protect her at any cost. After the billboard incident I know just how much she values her privacy.

  “What does your father say?” I ask.

  “Our dad has a team of lawyers working the other direction. Look, Paul.” Colton sighs heavily. “Learn from my mistakes. I’ve run into shit like this before. In the past, anytime that I’ve ignored my mother’s tirades, I’ve paid for it.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Is there anything in particular that you recommend?”

  “I think you should speak with your lawyer.”

  “Okay, I will. On another subject, was next week okay for us to visit your dad? I mean our dad?”

  “Oh yes, none of those plans have changed. I’ve sent you an email for confirmation.”

  “Will you be there?”

  “Do you want me to be?”

  There’s something in the tone of Colton’s voice. It sounds… hopeful. The poor bastard is getting a raw deal. His father, who he loves, is dying. His mother, a demanding woman who drives him crazy, isn’t. I figure the least he can do is have a halfway decent brother. Me. I’d like that. It’s a win-win for both of us.

  “Absolutely, bro. We’re family now,” I say. “I may have found out a bit late in life, but I’d like to take full advantage of my newly acquired younger brother.”

  “Well… thank you.”

  “Send me your home address, will you? You’re getting an invite to our wedding.”

  “What about your father? Or your mother? Wouldn’t they object? My presence will invite unpleasant scrutiny.”

  “No. The bottom line is, it’s our wedding and Emily and I both like you and want you there.”

  For a moment, I recall the dinner that the three of us had together. Colton’s upbringing and life is completely different from ours. Spending time with him was refreshing and fun. Whether a person shares genes or not, sometimes you meet people and just click. Emily and I both like my half-brother.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. We’d like to have you out here to meet my dad sometime. I’d rather your introduction not take place at the wedding. He has no bone to pick with you, you know. He’s a little surly, but that’s the same for everyone. His bark is worse than his bite. Not one person at Jarman’s has asked him about you, by the way. I’ve heard the rumors though. It seems that you’re definitely a bastard.”

  Colton laughs. With nothing more to say we hang up the phone.

  Emily comes in carrying a tray of pancakes covered in butter, syrup and whip cream. I laugh. “Seriously? We’re going to eat sticky, yucky pancakes in bed?”

  “My pancakes are not yucky.” She sits down beside me, with her back to the headboard and hands me a plate.

  “Mmm smells great.” I take a big bite and grin at her. “Tastes great, too.”

  “Thank you. Who called?”

  I fill her in on the chat I had with Colton. I eat fast and get through the pancakes quickly. Then I get to sit and just watch Emily eat.

  Who would’ve thought that watching my little rabbit put things in her mouth and chew would give me such pleasure? For once my mind isn’t thinking about sex either. She takes small, tidy bites. I like to see her enjoy her food. I like her happy.

  “What are you looking at?” she asks.

  “The most amazing woman in the world,” I reply.

  “Oh, now that’s just corny,” she says, but there’s a slight tinge in her cheeks. I think I’ve both pleased and embarrassed her. I compliment Emily because I like to. Also because she’s beautiful, courageous and smart. It’s funny though. She’s not used to such praise. Yet.

  My brave little rabbit. André once told me that I’d have to spend my life trying to be worthy of her. He was right. If only she knew this, really knew this as we do.

  For years I’ve been afraid of the Beast. Fear is a funny thing. The less you face the thing that scares you, the bigger and more formidable it becomes. In not confronting my fears, they grew to alarming proportions.

&
nbsp; That would’ve been fine if I could’ve kept away.

  I couldn’t keep away.

  I kept beating around the edges, trying to find where the Beast began and I ended. Or where the Beast ended and I began.

  Terror had gripped me at the thought of what might happen to Emily if my darker nature took over. I remember the raw, primal pleasure that I’d gotten from beating the shit out of that male sub with my fists. The blood, his shrill screams, his cries for more. The man was a true masochist. Not once did that massive erection of his soften.

  I never want to go there again. But, deep down inside, I know there is a part of me that wanted it. That needed it.

  I’ve always hidden my darkest fantasies. I’ve kept them secret, buried deep inside. My love convinced me to confide in her. She discovered my fears and helped me to face them.

  That one scene with Em changed my life. I let the Beast torment her for hours, denying her subspace and release. In all that time I never went too far. I never went further than she could take.

  Now, while I’ll always be vigilant, I’m no longer afraid. All that needless suffering, guilt and hiding. In the end it was so much easier to face my fears.

  My sweet submissive is so strong. I couldn’t have faced the Beast and conquered it without her.

  I’m older now and more experienced. I’ve lost that hate and anger I always had inside me. Em says that I’m in love and that love has changed me. Because of Emily, I’ve finally found balance.

  My little rabbit knows me and believes in me. She’s made me able to believe in myself.

  I don’t need to push dangerous limits to genuinely meet my needs. That’s one thing I realized by completely letting the Beast off its leash.

  My strangling fantasy has haunted me for so long, but now I’ve embraced it.

  Emily and I both get turned on by the thought of breath play – she experiences the ultimate in submission, and I feel the ultimate in power and domination. Yet, just tightening her collar, or having my fingers curled firmly around her throat is more than enough. Breathing in her air when we’re face-to-face while making love is another high.

  I have no need or desire to risk her life.

  I used to scoff at the thought of ‘making love,’ but now I’m a believer. I still like pain, but I use it only for my beautiful slave’s pleasure. It doesn’t have to overwhelm. The fact that Emily’s willing to suffer and sacrifice for me is the thrill. This is how she proves her submission and her love.

  Put it that way and it sounds perverse and kinky.

  But we do love each other. Our kinks are just one way that we demonstrate our love. Not to mention the fact that our sex life is smoking hot.

  If only I could help Em with her unreasonable fear of me cheating on her. Tonight we’re going to the Basement to play and to watch a demonstration. Kelly and John Flynn will be there, and so will André Chevalier.

  I hope that André will be able to advise me. What will he say about Emily’s irrational and insurmountable fears?

  Emily gets out of bed and takes our plates to the kitchen. She rushes in for a shower and dresses to go. This morning, a well-known photographer is coming to discuss his craft with her local photography group. Emily’s been looking forward to it all week.

  I kiss her goodbye and she runs out the door. I’m unloading the dishwasher when she returns five minutes later.

  “What’s up?”

  “My battery is dead,” she says. “I must’ve left the door open, because it’s dead as a doornail.”

  I hand her my car keys. “You take good care of my baby,” I say.

  “Really?”

  “Unless you want me to drive you?”

  “No,” she says. “I’m just surprised that you’d let me drive your true love.”

  I pull her into my arms, spin her, and dip her down so her head is low. Then I kiss her. This is the kind of passionate embrace that I’ve seen in the movies. It’s difficult though, because my little rabbit can’t stop laughing.

  I let her stand up. “Emily, I’ve got this whole romantic thing going on. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Paul,” she says with a giggle. “You are such an idiot.”

  I cross my arms and frown at her menacingly after this pronouncement.

  Emily grins and adds quickly, “But you’re my idiot and I love you.” She gives me a brisk kiss before she races out the door. “Got to run. Bye.”

  I finish tidying the kitchen and call for roadside service. Emily has a Civic Si Coupe. It’s zippy, practical and mechanically bulletproof. The car suits her to a T. The serviceman arrives and I buy a new battery.

  After they leave, I get a phone call from Emily.

  “Paul?”

  “What’s up, sweetheart?” I say.

  “Um. Well… Don’t freak out. I’m okay. Um. I’ve had a car accident and I’m in Samaritan North Hospital. You can find me in the Emergency Department. I’m about to go for an X-ray.”

  My heart does an instant, terror-filled somersault in my chest. “Okay.” I say, forcing my voice to sound calm. “I’ll meet you at the hospital. Do you think you’ll be able to come home?”

  She exhales loudly with relief. “I think so.”

  “I love you, rabbit. I don’t care about the car. There’s lots of cars in the world. There’s only one Emily.”

  We say our goodbyes and hang up. When I get to the hospital, I find out Emily’s in the emergency department. They were concerned that she had a fractured sternum and a possible concussion, but her x-rays are okay. She’s got some major bruising.

  My beautiful car has recently been serviced, including a wheel alignment. Although it seems unbelievable the driver’s side front wheel actually fell off while she was driving. She hit another car. Luckily that driver is alright. The police are involved.

  I take Emily home, give her Tylenol and put her to bed. She’s really been knocked around. I call Kelly Flynn, Emily’s best friend, who drops everything and immediately comes over. This frees me up so I can go have a look at my car.

  Right now, it seems like a freak accident.

  But I can’t help but wonder, what if it isn’t an accident at all?

  Chapter 44.

  Paul Jarman: “I wish I were a teenager again with what I know now.”

  André Chevalier: “Oh? What do you think you know now?”

  ~~~

  My car has been impounded. The police are close-mouthed. They only thing they tell me is that my mechanic is assisting them with their inquiries, poor bastard. I’d hoped to have words with him myself.

  I can’t understand how the front wheel on my baby just fell off. Emily could have been killed. Again.

  But she was driving my car. Should I be paranoid?

  This appears to be the second car-related murder attempt in a short time. What the hell is going on? Is Colton’s greedy, snobby mom trying to get us killed? Or is this payback from someone else? Is some gang getting even for us hiring Reggie? Pretty implausible as they would be after him not us.

  I can’t think of anyone Em or I have pissed off, so my suspicious nature seems unreasonable.

  Even though my girl is sore, we still visit the Basement. We enjoy the ‘Violet Wand,’ demonstration, which is a low current, erotic stimulation toy.

  Despite everything, it turns out to be a pretty good night. We sit at the bar, just catching up. Our attention shifts between a fully clothed woman getting a flogging, a number of folks still trying out the Violet Wand, and watching people dance.

  When Kelly and Emily go off to the bathroom together, as girls often do, I talk to John. We get along great. He’s not a big talker unless he has something he really wants to say. Neither am I, but we’ve had our share of conversing freely.

  John Flynn, aka ‘Father John,’ is movie-star good looking. I figure that women must proposition him all the time, just like they hit on me. I wonder how he handles it?

  “So, John,” I say. “Do you have a problem with women hittin
g on you all the time?”

  In response to my question, John just stares at me for a moment. “No,” he says succinctly in his deep voice.

  And that’s it.

  That’s all he has to say on that subject.

  The girls return, but I’m still thinking. Ha! What an ambiguous response. Does that mean that John doesn’t have a problem with women hitting on him? Or that women don’t hit on him?

  I grin and suppress the impulse to laugh. Father John has a scary persona. Everyone at the Basement knows he has a following. Women drool over him, they fantasize over him, but now that I think about it, I can’t see anyone hitting on him. What woman would have the nerve?

  Being scary and unapproachable as a defense to the fairer sex? I don’t think that would work for me, not with my job. I need to be friendly and welcoming. Being moody attracts the opposite sex anyway, as far as I can tell.

  Emily returns and sits back on my lap, when I see André Chevalier in an alcove area. How did I miss him? Broad shoulders, flat stomach, dark hair, cut short around his neck and ears. André has pock marks on his cheeks probably from having chicken pox as a child, yet they don’t detract from his good looks.

  Both men and women find the Frenchman fascinating.

  André has extensive experience working as a sexual and couples counsellor. He radiates that indefinable aura of confidence and self-assurance that comes with success. But he’s talking to someone already. Is he working? Does he have time to talk to me?

  “Hey,” I say, as I stand up, carefully holding my poor bruised girl. “I want to go see André for a moment. Are you sure you’ll be alright, Emily? John and Kelly will look after you.”

  “I’m good,” she says.

  No one has a problem with it, so I make my way over to the Frenchman.

  André is not only intelligent and super perceptive; the gentleman Dom also has such an incredibly clear way of looking at things. I really need his guidance concerning this problem with Emily.

  Tonight he dresses as a Riding Master, complete with jodhpurs, riding crop and jacket. He sits in a darkened alcove in an area behind the bar, speaking to another Dom. The other Dom has a female sub, kneeling gracefully at his feet.