Plaything

by Cole Denton

  I pulled a rolled-up towel from the warming rack and draped it over the massage table. After I pushed my boxer briefs down and off, I put some lotion on a few fingertips and tried to carefully apply it to some of the welts. When it felt like I had the welts covered with the medicated lotion, I got on the massage table, balled up another towel for my head, and laid face down. I turned my head to the side and put the side of my face without the mark on the pillow that I made out of the towel.

  “Ah, this is nice,” I said under my breath.

  The ceiling fan overhead moved slowly and gave the damp lotion on my ass a cooling effect. The locker room was quiet and peaceful, and this padded massage table was so comfortable. Since I had been sleeping on a rough, wooden pallet for a while now, even the things that were slightly soft seemed luxurious to me. Though I had earned a throw from Mistress Elise for the pallet, it hadn’t made it very soft.

  I closed my eyes, relaxed, and let my head run wild with everything that had been on my mind. As I laid there under the calm draft of the ceiling fan, I thought about my current state. Many things that have happened recently would be considered red flags to most people in this club. Even though I knew there were a lot of things that were red flags, I decided to dissect them down. Besides, I was in no hurry to move off this padded surface.

  I was banged up, had to call out sick to work, and lying alone in the locker room of Club Oxygen. My ass might have permanent marks from Elise paddling me multiple days in a row without giving the wounds a chance to heal and the skin to recover.

  That sucked.

  I frowned at the thought of my ass being possibly permanently marred, and in doing so, I winced at the slight throb on my face. Her ring had cut me when she slapped me. That was an accident, though. I thought back to our mutually signed contract. In the comments section, I specifically put that I didn’t want any marks on my face.

  She ignored that.

  Hadn’t she?

  Hmm.

  The more I thought about this, I wasn’t so sure if I could categorize my face wound from her ring as Elise blatantly ignoring something from the contract. We had determined that slapping my face was okay and acceptable. I liked it, actually. The ring part had been an accident.

  As I thought about it, I realized that I couldn’t say the cut on my cheek was from her being reckless.

  However, she ignored my safe word. She had been relentless with paddling me. Multiple times she had hit my tailbone, which had caused my body to jerk and move. Each time my body jerked out of the direct path of being hit on the tailbone, she’d get angry and hit my lower back. After the fourth or fifth strike to my lower back and kidneys, I had to put an end to it. No longer was it safe play.

  I reminded myself that she had stopped. Eventually. She stopped once she realized that I had been saying my safe word, so that wasn’t all bad. She did stop. It just took her longer than I would have ever imagined.

  In all my years as a member of this club, I had never ever said my safe word. All of the Tops, Doms, Mistresses, and Domme’s that I had played with had always asked me what my limits were and what my safe word was. I never had a doubt in my mind that they’d ignore my safe word if the situation arose where I needed to say it.

  I thought back to this afternoon. Maybe I hadn’t said it loud enough for her to hear. Maybe she had top-space going on and was trapped in a tunnel vision type of state. I could come up with lots of excuses, but I knew that she had been in the wrong.

  “Damn,” a familiar voice said. “Dude, are you okay?”

  I opened my eyes and saw Brandon walking closer to me. His eyes kept flicking from mine to my ass. I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked over my shoulder to watch him as he looked at my injured ass. His stylishly, messy light brown hair concealed his raised eyebrows. I knew how this probably looked.

  “What happened, man?”

  “A lengthy paddling,” I said with a smirk.

  I had hoped that my light tone bordered on humorous would relax him. When it appeared that it hadn’t relaxed him at all, I pushed myself off the padded table and wrapped the towel around my waist. Brandon followed me as I walked back to my locker to get dressed.

  “Dude, those welts look really bad.”

  “I put some medication cream on them. They’ll heal.”

  “Andrew, you have layers of days’ worth of bruises. That means you’re enduring the same kind of impact over and over,” Brandon explained, even though I knew damn well what had happened.

  “It’s all good, Brandon,” I reassured him as I playfully slapped his upper arm. I tried to downplay it some, but I knew that my ass looked really battered.

  “No, it’s not,” Brandon insisted.

  “Remember, though, I’m a masochist,” I reminded him.

  “So am I.”

  This was a fine line to walk with him because I knew James had been working with him and trying to teach him the difference between healthy play and unhealthy play. Whatever I said would be counterproductive to whatever James has been teaching him.

  “Sometimes, I would look like that for months, Andrew. It’s not good, man.”

  Brandon sat across from me, basically calling me on my bullshit without really saying it. He knew that the bruising and welts on my ass weren’t from a single day. All I could do was dance around the subject with him as I got dressed. I needed to catch James.

  “Is it from her…Mistress Elise?”

  I nodded while all the warning bells about Elise’s behavior had been going off in my head again.

  “I like pain, Brandon.”

  “I do too. But Master James says there’s a difference between good play and bad play. What you have going on looks like the kind of shit I left behind.”

  I seriously doubted that. I have heard those underground kink houses are dangerous and it’s almost impossible to get out of one alive.

  “It was good that you left that behind, Brandon. And yes, Master James is right.”

  “You learned from him, didn’t you?” Brandon asked and stood up when I closed my locker door.

  “Yes, I did. He’s very wise and patient.” I carefully leaned over and picked up Elise’s crop from the bench and turned to face Brandon. “Is Master James still here?”

  “He should be.”

  I nodded and headed towards the locker room door, with Brandon on my heels.

  “Are you going to tell Master James?”

  “No, I need to see if he knows anyone who can repair this crop.”

  I held the locker room door open since he was following me. All the way to the main room, he was inquisitive.

  “Andrew, Master James would be supportive.”

  “I know. He’s always been supportive,” I agreed with him.

  “He’d help you.”

  “I don’t need help, Brandon. There’s nothing wrong.”

  Not really anyhow. But I had a feeling that even Brandon saw through my mask, which made me more concerned about seeing James. If Brandon saw through it, James would see it too.

  I spotted James as he walked away from the bar with a glass in his hand. He sat down at a wingback chair and took a sip from his glass before setting it down. I headed right over to him, and when I got close enough, I could see his eyes glance in the direction of the crop.

  “Hey James,” I said and smiled. “Do you have a minute?”

  “I always have a minute for you, Andrew. Have a seat,” James offered and reached for his glass.

  James took another sip and had set his glass back down by the time I gingerly sat down in the chair to the right of him. Brandon sat down across from me and to James’ left. Brandon sat there with a determined look on his face, and suddenly I was a little nervous that maybe he’d say something to James that he shouldn’t. Or at least something that I thought he shouldn’t.

  “That’s an old crop you have there.” James reached his hand out and gestured to the crop. “May I?” he asked.

  “Yes, of course.” I gen
tly handed it over to him. “It’s what I came to talk with you about, actually.”

  James turned it over in his hands a few times and examined it from the leather tipped tongue all the way to the handle and leather wrist strap.

  “Clearly, this has seen its fair share of fun.” He touched the leather tongue and smiled. “It’s kissed lots of flesh. In fact, I believe this has touched the flesh of four of my own.”

  “Four?” I asked.

  “Yes. Joshua, Allison, Brandon, and you.”

  “Me?”

  I realized that somehow James knew that it was Elise’s crop; thus, he knew I was having sessions with her. All of the buttons would pop off his perfectly pressed shirt if he knew I was sleeping on a pallet…and had signed a contract with her…and had sustained multiple days’ worth of beatings in the same location…and that she had ignored my safe word.

  I wasn’t sure what to say to him. I felt embarrassed because I knew that he knew I was playing with Elise, and that I had failed him by playing in an unsafe atmosphere. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. James was always difficult to read.

  I looked up nervously and met Brandon’s glare. I think James picked up on my unease.

  “Brandon, would you give us a few minutes to talk, please?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Brandon said as he stood. He gave me another hard look and walked toward the bar.

  “You may have flown my coop and stepped outside my wings, but you will always be one of mine,” James informed me as he rubbed the neck of the crop. Then he looked up at me and clarified, “That is, until you are collared.”

  “Maybe someday that will happen, but I’m not looking for that right now.”

  “I know.”

  “How did you know that was Elise’s crop?” I asked.

  “I observe things very closely. When someone new wants to top any one of those under my care, I pay very close attention to everything. She may have used other impact toys on them during their sessions, but this crop was present for all of them as well.”

  “Oh,” I said and nodded. I knew he catches everything, which made me worry that maybe he was already seeing through me.

  “Tell me how you came to have a session with her?” James asked me.

  “I was here one night and was talking to Brandon. Elise approached us, and Brandon thought she was there for him or hoped she’d negotiate with him. He had his red necklace on, so I knew he couldn’t play. But he kind of got mad when Elise negotiated a session with me.”

  “I see.” James leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “What did you want to see me about regarding this crop?”

  “Well, as you know, this is Elise’s crop. It’s special to her but has seen better days. I wanted to do something nice for her and get it conditioned and repaired.”

  “I know someone who can take care of this and do up a really nice job. This shouldn’t be an issue.”

  “Great! Thank you.”

  Just as I started to stand, he told me to stay seated. Shit.

  “Andrew, I have been very proud of you, and you have made clear, sound decisions.” He paused and then set the crop on his lap and leaned back in his chair. I could tell that he was looking at the mark on my cheek. “I want you to be very cautious and listen to your gut. Do not listen to that heart of yours right now.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  “Andrew, your face,” James began. “You’ve always had your face as a hard limit from anything that could cause markings.”

  “I know, James,” I agreed and looked down.

  James slid forward to the edge of his seat, reached out and tapped a few of his fingers under my chin. I looked up at him.

  “Do not look down in shame because of someone else’s error, Andrew. That will put you on a slippery slope.”

  “I know.” I nodded and took a deep breath. “It was an accident,” I explained.

  James stared at me for a few moments and considered what I was saying.

  “I encourage you to be careful with making excuses as well.” James stood and told me that he should have the crop ready in about a week. Before he walked away, he pressed his hand down on my shoulder. “And Andrew, you know where to find me if you need to talk. I am always here for you.”

  On my way back to Elise’s, I stopped at the drive-thru of the coffee house that was close to the house. I ordered her a regular house coffee, and just in case her taste buds were up to it, I ordered her original go-to beverage; a peppermint mocha with extra whip. I timed pulling in around the same time I would have if I had gone to work.

  When I went inside, I found her sitting at the kitchen table, going through the mail with a glass of wine. Elise looked up when I set the coffee carrier down on the table.

  “What’s that?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “I thought maybe you’d like some coffee.”

  Elise reached for the open bottle of wine that was within reach, and she shook it. Not much sloshed around in the bottle.

  “I’ve had plenty to drink right here. But I’ll take the coffee. In case you haven’t noticed, I stopped drinking the peppermint mocha.”

  “I noticed. But I thought maybe your taste buds might be craving it if you saw it,” I said lightly and with a smile.

  I glanced down at the messy kitchen table. It looked like she hadn’t gone through her mail in over a week. She looked stressed and as though she might have been crying.

  “Is everything okay, Mistress Elise?”

  “It’s all just great.”

  Elise picked up a rectangular card and flicked it across the table at me. I caught it and read it. It looked like it was an invitation to a dinner and auction for the Riverside Fire Departments.

  “This looks like a great event,” I said out loud and pulled a chair out.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  What the fuck was I doing?

  Being a friend that she clearly didn’t want.

  I pushed the chair in and knelt on the floor to her left. I bit down on the inside of my mouth to prevent me from wincing as I sat back on my heels. I could feel the welts and flesh being pulled at.

  “I used to always go to the annual dinner and auction with Jacob.”

  Elise laughed along as she recalled things they would bid on. It didn’t escape my notice that the more she spoke, the more her speech slurred in places. Now I was glad that I stopped to get her coffee.

  As I listened, I could hear the sadness in her tone. She missed Jacob very much, and the invitation to an event the two of them always took part in scraped open the wound of loss.

  “In my book, it says that it’s okay—”

  Elise reached down and slapped my mouth, causing me to bite the inside of my lip.

  “I don’t think I asked you what your goddamned ‘woe is me’ book said.”

  When she picked up her invitation card again, I ran my tongue along the inside of my mouth and could taste a bit of blood. Words from James were ringing out clearly. Trust your gut.

  “I will go with you to the dinner and auction, if you would like, Mistress Elise,” I offered as I pushed James’ advice away.

  Her response was prefaced by another face slap.

  “How the fuck would that look if I showed up with some twenty-something?”

  When she reached out to slap me again, I held my arm up to block her hand from making contact with my face. I stared at her and her stunned expression.

  “Mistress Elise, I will accept slaps during play, and during your time of need. I have agreed to that. But I am not your punching bag.” She blinked rapidly, almost as if it was dawning on her. “My offer still stands to accompany you to the dinner, if you would like.”

  Elise said nothing more and went back to her coffee and mail sorting. She was quiet the duration of the rest of the evening. I knew she was thinking about Jacob and their shared memories, and I knew her heart ached.

  As she handcuffed me to my wooden pallet, she rubbed her thum
b over my cut from her ring and then over my swollen lip.

  “I suppose I need to be careful with your handsome face since I’ll be showing you off next weekend. We will need to find you a tux.”

  “Thank you, Mistress Elise.”

  When Elise turned the light off, I couldn’t help but smile. She was coming around, just like I knew that she would. Soon she would see me more than a plaything.

  12

  Elise

  Our appointment in the department store wasn’t until the late afternoon, and my stomach growled in protest. After this, I’d see if Andrew was interested in stopping for dinner on the way home. While I waited for Andrew to appear in the first tuxedo, I sent some texts back and forth with Liz and told her how even in jeans and a t-shirt that Andrew was the hottest man here.

  I glanced around at the young women that were here with their boyfriends or husbands. Each of the women sized up the other women and checked out their competition. Most of the men just looked like they wanted to be out of the suits department as fast as possible.

  A few men went into the changing rooms and then would return with suits crumpled over their arms. One man went in and resurfaced less than two minutes later. He told the woman with him that it fit perfectly. Mmhmm. Boy, won’t they be surprised when they discover he hadn’t actually tried it on.

  I’d beat Andrew’s ass if he pulled that. I specifically scheduled a fitting appointment for us so Andrew didn’t end up with something off the rack that didn’t fit him. After decades of accompanying Jacob to the dinners, I wasn’t going to show up with some pound puppy.

  “Darling, I don’t know how to tie one of these,” another man said to his wife.

  Darling.

  Jacob called me ‘darling.’ It was his term of endearment for me. I sat on the velvet couch, annoyed to hear another woman be called ‘darling.’

  I watched as both of them fumbled with a bow tie for several minutes before the man said they’d figure it out at home. He said they’d watch a video on how to tie them.

  “They have clip-on bow ties. We should get one of those just in case,” the woman suggested as they walked to the counter.