by Myles, Eden
Then he changed things up, grunting as he pounded me harder, taking me right up to the edge of pain. I felt the familiar throbbing of my mounting orgasm once more and shouted, “Fuck, yes. Fuck me, sir. Fuck me hard and let me come.” I was shocked and appalled by the words coming out of my country mouse mouth. I’d never said such carnal things in my life. It didn’t even sound like me.
Mr. Karenina wrapped an arm around my torso and pulled me upright on the seat so I was pressed flush against the front of his body and he was pounding me at a slightly different angle but with the additional aid of gravity. He fucked me hard and fast, his balls slamming into my ass. The depth and sharpness of his thrusts made me shudder and nearly scream as the sensation increased. Then he thrust deep into my ass one last time and came with a growl. He shuddered and twitched inside me as he came, then came again, and I thought about his statement that orgasms were better and stronger if you “saved it up”. If that was true, then it had been a very long time since Mr. Karenina had gotten laid.
He hugged me tight against him, buried his face in the side of my neck, and said in a rough but strangely tender voice, “You may come now, Daniel.”
I came hard with a lunge, spurting uncontrollably against the seat and the inside of the car and over his hand, coming harder than I’d ever come in my life, almost blacking out with it. Mr. Karenina chuckled at my enthusiasm, sounding pleased with me and with himself. He kissed the side of my neck and pulled out. He licked shamelessly at the spunk on his hand, savoring it like he’d savored the liquor of the oysters earlier, then carefully redressed me, touching me frequently and lovingly as he did so, like I was some big living doll for him to cuddle and play with.
We were perfectly respectable again when the car pulled up alongside the campus parking lot. He ran his fingers over his Braille watch and said, “I’m afraid I’ve detained you a bit longer than I’d expected to, Daniel.”
“I don’t mind,” I told him. I sat with my arms around his waist, looking up at him shyly.
He palmed the back of my head and brushed a tender goodbye kiss against my lips, his tongue teasing into my mouth briefly. “I’m going to enjoy training you, Daniel,” he announced as he opened the door of the car for me. “I’m going to enjoy that very much.”
* * *
I couldn’t sleep that night, of course. I kept thinking about him, about the almost painful girth of him thrusting and filling me, making me come so hard. I’d never experienced anything like that in my life. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer and I found myself reaching for the catalog in my nightstand. Would he really notice? I mean…really? I was seeing him again this Saturday. Seven days was a long fucking time to go without sex of any kind, especially now that I’d had a taste of heaven. But what if I disappointed him? What if it wasn’t as good next time as it had been today?
I debated it back and forth before giving into good reason and snatching up my cell phone. He picked up on the fifth ring, like he had all the time in the world.
“Look, I really, really need to rub one out, Mr. Karenina. You can’t expect me to go seven days.”
The sound of his voice, that harsh, rolling accent, made my cock immediately stiffen in my shorts. “No, my courtier, you may not,” he said, and hung up on me.
Bastard.
* * *
Book II: Touch
“So you bagged him,” Sheri said as we sat together in the middle of the student café, listening to various morning announcements over the PA system.
I nearly choked on my coffee and sticky bun. After I finished clearing my throat and realizing I wasn’t going to need the Heimlich maneuver, I wiped my mouth on a paper napkin and said, “What?” I kept my voice low. I didn’t want any of the other students passing with their trays of coffees and pastries to hear this conversation and make it campus gossip that I’d gotten laid. The fact that I’d gotten laid by a man richer than God and old enough to be my father just made it worse.
Sheri leaned forward across the table. “Simon. You nailed his ass the other night, didn’t you?”
“Did not!”
“Yes, you did. No more virginity for you, Daniel Collins. I can tell.”
I stared at her, stricken. “You can tell that?”
“Not really,” she grinned. “I just wanted to hear you confess.”
“I didn’t nail Simon.”
“You nailed someone.” Then she looked at me, carefully, because Sheri knows about these things. “Oh Jesus…don’t tell me it was that creepy employer of yours. Hannibal Lecter?”
“He’s not creepy like that,” I insisted.
She sat back, looking horrorstruck. “Jesus, Daniel. I mean…Jesus.” Then she leaned forward and said. “Details. Now.”
I picked raisins out of my sticky bun as I explained what it was like to fuck another man for the first time in my life. I couldn’t believe I was actually sharing the details with Sheri, filling her in about the night Mr. Karenina propositioned me to become his courtier, his professional sexual companion, or our encounter afterwards in his Lincoln Town Car. Yet, the more she listened, the more I wanted to tell her. I swear Sheri could pull an admission of guilt from a terrorist.
“Was it intense?” she asked, sounding genuinely interested.
“Oh yeah,” I said, trying not to think about it too hard. The last thing I needed was a bad case of blue balls in the center of the student café. “He’s um…really experienced.” Which was putting it mildly.
“He didn’t hurt you?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
Sheri shook her head. “It’s just that the way you describe him makes him sound a little like a dom. One of my exes was a painfreak. He used to put safety pins through his nipples.”
I shuddered at the visual. “He’s not into that. He’s a gentleman…at least, that’s how he explained himself to me.” I explained a little about the exclusive—and rather mysterious—Dollhouse Society he was a part of, what I knew of it, and again Sheri shook her head.
“So you’re like a kept man…a rent boy?”
I grimaced at her choice of words. “He calls it being a courtier. Look, I thought you liked the idea of me getting laid. I don’t know why you’re acting like this.” I had ripped my sticky bun to shreds on my plate.
Sheri reached out and touched my hand. “I think it’s great that you’ve found someone to love, Daniel, maybe someone who loves you too. You deserve that, especially after all the shit you’ve been through. I just think of you like a little brother and I can’t help but worry.” She patted my hand in a sisterly way. “I don’t want you to get in over your head, especially the first time. Funny thing is, I really thought Simon would be your first.”
“So did I.”
“Are you still going to get with him—with Simon?”
“I don’t know. I’m not supposed to.”
“You mean you’re not allowed to see anyone else while you’re working for him?”
Of course, Sheri really wasn’t into monogamy. Me, on the other hand…well, I liked the idea of finding someone one day, settling down, maybe having two-point-five kids, a dog, the house in the country.
But then I thought about Mr. Karenina—my blind, solemn, middle-aged gentleman lover. He wasn’t really the two-point-five-kids-a dog-and-a-house-in-the-country kind of guy…was he?
* * *
On Saturday, I woke to my cell ringing. I crawled sleepily out from under the covers and picked up on the fifth ring, checking the number. “Hi, Mom, what’s up?”
“Did I get you up?”
I sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. I checked my bedside clock and saw it was a little after ten. Shit, I’d overslept, and now I only had an hour to get dressed and get to Mr. Karenina’s house. “No, it’s good that you called. I’ve overslept.”
“You sound tired.”
“I’ve been doing a lot of editing of late,” I said, and then regretted it. Would that make her think I was worried about her and
Dad and their money problems? Shit.
“Well, I hope it’s not all work,” Mom said and laughed nervously. I knew what she was implying. Like my dad, she was desperately hoping to catch me in bed with a girlfriend. It was almost a mania with them of late.
I started unwedging a fresh pair of jeans from my too-small dresser, then thought better of it. If I went to Mr. Karenina’s house in my usual economic garb of blue jeans and a button-down shirt, I was going to look like some backwoods hick. So instead, I started going through my closet, which was filled with uniform clothes, hoping to find something that was slightly more sophisticated.
“I’m sorry to have awakened you, Danny, but I wanted to share the good news. Jason finally proposed to Chloe last night.”
“Oh wow,” I said, and dropped the pair of trousers I’d been examining. My sister Chloe had announced her pregnancy three months ago. At the time, she and Jason had still been trying to decide whether or not to tie the knot. But I guess they’d finally made their decision. “How’s dad taking it?”
“He’s okay with it. I mean, Jason wasn’t his first pick, of course, but he’s happy he’s doing the right thing by Chloe.”
“Mom, that’s so old fashioned,” I complained, sitting down on the foot of my bed.
“You know your dad.” She paused a moment, and then said, “How are things with you, Danny?”
“I’m good. Busy. I’ve got a weekend job.”
“Another one?”
“I want to get you guys a little extra cash. And now that Chloe’s getting married…well, I’ll need to come up with something.”
“You’ve already sent way too much…”
“I want to send it along. It makes me happy, okay?” I let my breath out. “You still looking for a job?”
“Oh, I got part time work down in the Sunshine Donut shop, didn’t I tell you?”
I winced at the news. My mom’s arthritis was so bad it would be a miracle if she lasted a month, but before I could say anything, she changed the subject. “Your dad’s been asking after you. He wants to know if you’ll make it down for the wedding. Chloe doesn’t want to wait until she can’t fit in her gown, so its next month. Can you make it?”
“I’ll make it. Just send me an email with the details and I’ll figure something out.”
“Any chance you might bring someone with you? It would be exciting to have a New York girl among the clan.”
“I’ll think about it. I have a friend, Sheri. She might like to go.”
“Good friend?”
“Mom!”
“Just asking. I have to tell your dad something.”
I checked the clock again and bit my bottom lip. “I gotta run, Mom. That job won’t wait.”
“What kind of job?” she asked. “Not that awful bistro you served at last summer…?”
“No, I’m taking care of a disabled guy.” And that’s all I said. We said our goodbyes and I hung up. I hastily assembled a halfway decent outfit with pieces from my school uniforms, brushed my teeth, ran my electric razor around my chin, and was out the door in ten minutes flat.
On the bus trip over to the West Village, I kept thinking about my mom and her insistence that I bring a girl with me to Chloe’s wedding. Sheri would do it if I asked, and it would take care of all my parents’ worries. A simple, easy solution.
And one that was going to make me feel like the biggest liar ever.
* * *
I was late getting to Mr. Karenina’s house, and Maria was sure to make mention of it. I knew Mr. Karenina was out back on the pavilion, having his morning tea, so he didn’t see. I hoped Maria wouldn’t tell him, though she probably would.
“I move nothing!” she insisted before stomping off toward the kitchen.
I rolled my eyes but dutifully started walking the rooms. Maria was convinced I was trying to get her fired, but it was Mr. Karenina who’d insisted I check to make certain there were no tripping hazards in his house. I thought it was a reasonable request.
After I’d scoured the bottom floor, I went upstairs and did the same. I found a few items that looked like potential hazards, so I marked them down in a notebook. Otherwise, the house seemed pretty secure. I was starting to get a feel for the layout of the rooms, and now I saw what Mr. Karenina had been complaining about last week. Sometimes Maria didn’t put an item back in its proper place after dusting or polishing it. That was fine for a person who could see, but in Mr. Karenina’s case, he relied on there being no alterations in his rooms or living patterns. I moved the items into what I thought were their proper places, then I took a few minutes to sit on his bed in the master bedroom and run my hand over the satiny wine-red bedspread, wondering what it would feel like against my bare skin.
“Daniel!”
I realized Mr. Karenina was waiting for me in the front hall and rushed downstairs. I looked my gentleman over, starting with the trim, dark suit that clung to his wide shoulders and slim hips, then the dark hair swept away from his faintly cruel, aristocratic face, and finally, those nearly black, exotic eyes, and felt my entire insides unravel and turn to jelly. I hated that all he had to do was say my name, and all I could do was tremble wordlessly like a doofus.
“We’re going now,” he said, his voice clipped and formal, his heavy leather valise at his side.
“Yes, sir,” I managed.
He smirked faintly then. “I’m happy you’re remembering your etiquette, Daniel. That’s good.”
During the week, he had sent me a number of emails. At first, I wondered how a blind man could send email, but then I looked it up online and found out there were special computers that utilized Braille just for the seeing impaired. I did not know that. Anyway, his emails had been brief and detached, yet extremely detailed. He had provided me with instructions on how I should address him, how I should dress and conduct myself in public, even little personal things, like how I should groom, what scents I could wear in his presence, which is to say almost nothing. That was a big thing with him. No colognes or aftershave lotions, and only unscented soaps, lotions and deodorants. I thought he was probably very sensitive to strong, manufactured aromas.
He took my arm and I, as his human seeing-eye dog, led him toward the waiting car. On the way over to the NorthStar offices, I detailed some of the hazards I’d found in the house.
“It’s good of you to have written those down,” he said. “I’ll show them to Maria.” He angled his body toward me and said, “We’ll be making a brief stop before we go to the offices this morning.”
“Okay,” I said, putting the notebook away. I sat beside him, almost but not quite touching him. He didn’t like me being too forward, but so far, he hadn’t done anything. That worried me a little. It was almost like last week hadn’t happened.
We stopped at a very exclusive men’s boutique in SoHo. Mr. Karenina unfolded his cane and I walked him inside. The desk concierge became excited to see him and offered to show him to the wet bar. Wow, a boutique with a wet bar.
“Thank you,” Mr. Karenina said in his typical stiff, remote manner. “I’d like you to take care of my young friend here, if you would.”
“Yes, of course,” the concierge said.
“I want a full run,” Mr. Karenina said. “Formal and informal.”
The concierge stood up a little straighter, as if Mr. Karenina had demanded he drop and give him twenty. “Very good, sir.”
The concierge handed me over to Mr. Cummings, an older man in a perfect suit who was also Mr. Karenina’s personal tailor. He took me into a private fitting room and started doing all kinds of measurements. Then he put me in an unseamed dummy suit and started pinning it so it was almost, but not quite, too tight. Happily, he didn’t ask too many questions, and those few he did ask I was able to answer with monosyllables.
Finally, Mr. Cummings brought out a dark, finished suit in plastic and said, “The suits will take at least three weeks, but Mr. Karenina requested that I outfit you for today. Is this acceptable, si
r?”
I looked the suit over. It was fine and dark, with a very dark, almost invisible, pinstripe running through the fabric. When I saw the price tag, I felt about five strands of my hair turn grey. I almost said no, then just nodded dumbly. I was afraid Mr. Karenina would take insult if I turned it down. Mr. Cummings put it on me and made some small adjustments at the sleeves and cuffs with a kind of handheld sewing machine device that looked like a giant stapler. Mr. Karenina appeared in the fitting room and Mr. Cummings looked up and said, “Did you want to approve of the fitting, sir?”
Mr. Karenina navigated to the kneeler and knelt down to run his hands over my new suit. He shamelessly tugged on the uber-expensive material to see how it fitted me. His hand brushed my cock as he tested the fit of the trousers, whether intentionally or not. “It’s a bit loose in the hips and chest,” he complained. That surprised me because it felt all right to me. I wondered how fitted the finished suits would be, if I’d be able to walk in them.
“I could make further adjustments,” Mr. Cummings offered.
“It’ll be fine for now,” Mr. Karenina declared. We didn’t talk money, but people like Mr. Karenina probably had running accounts, which was good because I didn’t really want to know just how much money he’d dropped on those suits this morning.
Back in the car, it bothered me more than I liked. “You didn’t have to do that,” I finally blurted out.
“Do what?” Mr. Karenina asked. He sat, staring blindly ahead, without touching me again.
“That was a lot of money.”
“It won’t come out of your salary, Daniel, I assure you.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“It’s my money to spend.” He turned to look at me through his dark glasses, his gaze falling to a spot somewhere nearer my lap than my face. “Are you going to resist me each time I try to spoil you a little?”
“No, sir…I just…I guess I’m not used to this.”
“You’re proud,” he said. “That’s not a bad thing.”