“The worst though, is when the subdrop hits a few days later. Sometimes I’m getting pissed off at traffic more than usual and crying and wanting to scream at someone. And I have to think through the last few days to see if we had any intense play. More often than not, we did and I realize that I need a little TLC. Now, here is where the aftercare becomes some of the sub’s responsibility. I have to call Michael and let him know, so he can help me. And then it’s my job to find a place and the materials to take care of myself.”
“You have to call him or what? You get punished?” It irritated me.
“No.” He voice hardened. “Can you imagine the mental acrobatics someone has to do to reconcile loving someone and wanting to hurt them? Can you imagine what that’s like when she’s then begging you to do it? And that you both get off on it? So, then consider what would happen to you if there was true mental, emotional fall-out from you intentionally hurting your most loved one, and she didn’t even tell you, didn’t give you the chance to take care of her. I have to call him because I love him and it’s how I take care of him. Not letting him take care of me afterward is locking him out and I won’t do it. We work because we are all access, twenty-four seven.”
I took a deep breath, absorbing that information. This was so much more than I expected and June had thought about all this, was living it. Thoughtfully. Intentionally. “Okay, but I have to ask—doesn’t it bug you sometimes? To constantly be less than? I don’t know how to say it…it’s like, don’t the bonds ever chafe? Are you subservient to him at all times? Is there ever a break?”
“Obviously, we live in the real world and go to parties and work functions and church, where this relationship would be misunderstood, at best. He’s my Michael, my husband, but at the core of both of us, he is my Master. And I belong to him, all the time, but he’s pretty lenient, I think.”
“What do you tell people about your relationship? I mean…when you do talk about it?”
“Oh, I have a few girlfriends who understand and are fine with it. Some of them are in the lifestyle, too. But mostly I don’t try to explain it to others because they don’t need to know and I don’t care what they think. I don’t need their permission or approval, you know?”
“Yeah, I get it.” I smiled. I wanted to be as calm and confident as June. She was amazing. “Okay, so go back a little. You said a pain slut is a type of sub. Are there other types?” Is there an entire taxonomy of kink?
“Oh, yeah! There are probably tons of types of subs, but another relatively common type I’ve seen is the brat.”
I raised an eyebrow, clearly not understanding.
She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “Okay, actually, let’s take another step back. There is a dynamic called Big/little. It is usually Daddy and little girl. But sometimes it is Mommy/little boy or any permutation of those.”
“Umm, what? That’s sick!” My stomach completely dropped into my ass as I thought of all the times Xander had called me little girl.
“No, it isn’t about actual fantasies of sleeping with one’s actual relative. It’s the dynamic. The Big—Daddy or Mommy—is usually this loving, benevolent, but stern force. They want their littles to be the best version of themselves and train them to this effect. But there is sex usually, too. The little usually thrives with that kind of attention and often has a cute, stereotypically childish thing going on, with an adult’s insight and ability to consent. Does that make sense?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. It freaks me out a little. Like, Xander calls me Little Girl, all the time. Is he…my Daddy?”
She shrugged. “Not if you don’t want him to be. Not if you two haven’t negotiated that.”
“Negotiated? That doesn’t sound sexy.”
“Come on, Leda. Consent is sexy. Like that dry mouth, sweaty palm, it can’t happen soon enough type of consent. That’s sexy as hell.” She smiled and took a sip of coffee. “Negotiation helps everyone lay out the boundaries, or limits, early on. But more than limits, it lays out desires, hopes—what you want. How many non-kink partners have ever asked about what you wanted in bed, before you got there?”
I’d never had a boyfriend ask me if I consented to something he did, never had someone try to find out what my limits were. It had always seemed like consent was assumed and it was my responsibility to let him know after he had crossed a line. It was a thunderclap of realization and insight into the absolute bullshit of that. And I thought about Xander pushing off sex in the beginning of our relationship. I thought he just wanted me strung out on him. And maybe it was that, but it was also about real and true consent. He wanted my wholehearted, panting at his feet, tears in my eyes, needy consent. The revelation spread through me and I smiled at June.
“I get it. I think I do anyway. Xander held off on sex with me for a long time. But, that chick last night—she acted so…aloof at first, but I saw her. She loved it and she really didn’t want it to stop, right?”
“She is a much more seasoned player than you are. My guess is that she has a degree of clarity that you might not, yet. And she and Seraphim have played together for a long time. Seraphim can read her well.” June shrugged and flagged the waiter down for refills of our coffee.
After the break of getting our drinks filled, I started back into the conversation. “This idea of a little, I don’t know. If they’re in a child’s mentality, can they truly consent?”
“Of course they can. They’re still adults who can still walk away any time they want. Who can still say this is not what I want. But you’re skirting around a really important issue.” She raised an eyebrow at me again and I shrugged. “For many subs, there’s a risk of wanting to please and submit to someone else, more than wanting to take care of oneself. I don’t know very many in the lifestyle who haven’t done something that they later wished they hadn’t because they were so into the scene that they didn’t think through whether they really wanted to do something. It’s Risky, with a capital R.”
I took a deep breath and weariness washed over me. What was I doing? Was I really exploring the possibility of letting someone else destroy me to build me back up or something like that? But I had regrets in previous relationships too. Was it really all that different? My thoughts were spiraling, so I latched on to the last thing that made real sense to me. “Okay…go back, what is a brat?”
“So, a brat usually has a Daddy type of figure and she acts out to draw his punishment. She’ll act bratty to force his hand, so to speak.” She smirked at her pun. I heard her words, but it didn’t really pull me away from my spiraling thoughts.
My voice got small and I looked down at the table when I asked, “How do you reconcile yourself to submitting to someone else so completely? I mean, not only as one human to another, but also as a woman to a man?”
She drew a deep breath and looked at me. “I wrestled with this for a long time at the beginning. How can I have worth if I let someone else use me? And what’s wrong with me that I want this? Am I just twisting the usual male-dominance/female-subservience that has permeated history? How is this not abusive, right? Are these the types of questions way deep inside that are bothering you?”
I looked up at her, shaken at how well she articulated so much of what I felt and nodded.
She continued, “Well, there are two issues. One, I can hopefully clear up for you, the other you have to deal with on your own. The first is that submission is the most extreme form of feminism there is.” She put up a hand to forestall me when I balked at that. “I know it sounds crazy. I’ll come back to it in a second, but it sort of hinges on the second thing, which is that you have to accept your own desires. If you want to have these things done to you, then you do. It’s fine.”
“Okay, but I don’t see how I can completely accept it without coming to terms with all the other stuff. So, go back to the feminism thing. No offense, but that’s kind of fucked up, right? Like almost Stockholm syndrome-y.”
“Hear me out. One of my favorite quotes about fe
minism is that it’s the radical notion that women are people. The whole feminist movement fought for women to be able to vote and work and earn the same pay as other people, i.e. men. To be treated as equals, right? The crux of it is that a woman can do and be anything she wants—a politician, a scientist, an athlete, a stay-at-home mom, a priest—whatever, without her value as a person being diminished—just like a man. She has an inherent value that should afford her the same opportunities as anyone else. So, who has the right to tell me I can’t be a sub, or shouldn’t be a sub, just because I’m a woman? No one. The idea that somehow being a female sub is playing right into the misogynists’ hands is a flawed argument that again takes the individual woman’s agency and power away. I think this is the most feminist thing I can do, for this exact reason—it really pushes up against the notion that a woman can be anything she wants. I refuse to let anyone place limits on me based on my gender.”
Her voice was fierce, but it softened and kindness crossed her features, as she said, “But the key is to accept that this is what you are—or at least what you want right now—that this is truly what you want—or this whole feminist argument kind of loses steam. I’m sure some of our feminist forebears may cringe at the idea, but if your heart’s desire is to submit to Xander, then do it. It doesn’t lessen you in any way. In fact, I think you become a more self-actualized person in the acceptance of yourself.”
I actually got chills and tears stung my eyes. I hadn’t thought this deeply about it before. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready to accept it yet.
“But what about the people who will say that you only want this because you have been programmed by a misogynistic society that sexualizes female subservience?” She gave me a surprised look and I responded, “I took some women’s studies courses in college.”
“That’s a good question, but I think it gets kind of dangerous to start to expect people to justify why they are attracted to who and what they’re attracted to. I mean, can you imagine someone asking someone why they’re sexually attracted to men or women? Or why blondes or why Asians, whatever? Maybe, someone will figure it out, but I guess I don’t think it really matters. For me, that argument just doesn’t ring true. We sexualize lots of things. Maybe it does sexualize female subservience, but it also kind of turns it on its head because of the insistence on consent and negotiation. It isn’t something I have no choice about. And, at the end of all the intellectual debate, I’m in love with Michael for more than his ability to dominate me, but I am fulfilled, sexually and otherwise, when he does.”
I took another deep breath. “Thank you, June. This was enlightening.”
“What do you think? What do you think you want with Xander? I don’t mean to pry, but I kind of love that boy a little. I really don’t want him to get close to complete happiness and then get his heart broken.” She gave me a pointed look, waiting for an answer.
Sub, my ass!
There was nothing to do but tell her the truth. “I think I’m falling in love with him, but it scares me. Last night scared me. I don’t think I could handle—no, I know I can’t handle getting destroyed the way A did last night. And I don’t want Xander to settle. I don’t want to feel like he’s always left wanting.”
“When I saw the two of you dancing, he looked relaxed and fulfilled and you looked happy and content. Nothing wrong with that. He doesn’t have to get everything from one person, does he? Maybe he trains subs or is just a disciplinarian, but he’s your Dom? Could you live with that? It wouldn’t be the first time a couple had a relationship like that.” She raised a questioning eyebrow.
My gut twisted at the thought. “My knee-jerk reaction is that I don’t want to share him.”
“Is that your reaction or is that what you think it should be?”
I opened my mouth to respond that it was all me, but before I spoke I caught myself. “Last night was actually a really great night. Don’t get me wrong—I wouldn’t want to do that every night. There were a few things I didn’t love but I have weirdly mixed feelings about it.”
“How so?”
“Well, in general, I didn’t mind. I really had no problem with him inflicting pain, but at one point he pinched her nipples and at another point he kind of ground his dick into her face. I kind of got jealous. Then, the other side was that, at one specific point, I could hear what he was saying to her, and it scared the shit out of me. But here’s the fucked up thing, June, I was so turned on watching him. It was like he was just so powerful and, and, and…magnificent.”
“Awe. That’s the feeling. You were in awe, and then you wanted him between your legs.” She said it so matter-of-factly that it felt like an accusation.
I laughed self-consciously. “Well, yes. There were layers, though.”
“Tell me—I’m kind of enjoying being the sub-whisperer.” She smiled and sipped her coffee.
“I feel like this a lot with him—like I’m flattened, like he is so….so….him that I almost can’t handle it. I guess its awe, but then there’s darkness to it. Like I want him to take me and not like some old school romance novel. Just take from me, take me to whatever level he wants to. I want him to smother my existence within him.” I knew I wasn’t making sense, but she was nodding along with me, eye glittering, like it made perfect sense to her.
“Like you want to get lost in him?”
I nodded my agreement.
“You’re his, in your heart. You’re his sub. He’s your Dom. You guys just have to work out the details.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
Xander
Nine Inch Nails Ringfinger (Twisted Remix)
I had been studying for about two hours when June called.
“Hey, June. How’d it go?”
“Perfect. She’s lovely, Xander. She’s smart and funny, but she has an independent streak in her too. She’s not going to just roll over and take everything you give her.”
“Good. I’ve had doormats. I don’t love it.”
“Do you love her?” Her tone was exacting.
“You don’t waste time.” I laughed, delaying an answer. She just waited in silence. “I think so. June, it’s just crazy. It’s like someone built her for me specifically. She responds like I’ve always wanted a girl to respond to me.”
“So, I think she’s yours in her heart, but she hasn’t accepted it yet. I don’t know if she will. Her brain may veto her heart. There are some objections that she hasn’t worked through. I hear how happy you are, but you still need to guard your heart.”
Her tone was sad, but I knew she was probably right. There was so much of me that Leda had yet to see.
“I know you’re right. I don’t want you to be.” I paused, that crushing feeling back in my chest. “How did you and Michael know?”
“There was a moment for me. He had me bound and blindfolded at a club. He was letting newbies take turns with a flogger, so he could refine their technique. And I was terrified at the public display, being offered up like that, but he talked me through it, right at my ear. And I knew I’d always be safe with him. It was a weird place to have it all click, I guess. There was a moment when the fear just went away. But it was more than that. I don’t know if there was one moment for Michael. You could call him. He’d love to hear from you, I’m sure.”
“Let’s get together for dinner over the holidays. I’ll be in DC for about a week and a half.”
“Absolutely. Why don’t you come to our house? We won’t have to keep our voices down while we talk about kinky shit.” She half-laughed.
“That’s sounds perfect. Let me know when, and I’ll be there.”
After I hung up with June, I turned back to my books, knowing that Leda needed to study and probably just unwind from last night and me and just all of it. I studied for a few hours before I had to move. I considered the gym, but wasn’t ready to deal with whatever had been bugging Jason the night before. I ended up going for a run, just ran till I was sweaty, then turned around and ran home. I made a snac
k and showered, considered calling Leda, decided against it, and eventually opened my books back up. An hour or so later, when I was just thinking of dinner plans, she texted me.
Hey Boss man—wanna come over?—L
Little girl, how has your day been? And yes. I’ll be there in an hour?—X
Good day! June is…smart. ☺ How do you feel about me making you dinner?—L
How do I feel about her making me dinner? Fucking great. Just about perfect. The only thing closer to perfect would be her making me dinner, in my—our—apartment, naked.
That sounds good, little girl. 1 hour. X
Despite my general feeling that she wouldn’t be inviting me over if she hated what happened last night, I was still anxious. It was her seeing me, passing judgment on a more naked part of me. But I wouldn’t let fear control me, change me.
I threw on some jeans and a T-shirt with my leather jacket over it. On the way to her house, I listened to some old school music to get myself steeled up. I couldn’t stop myself, I advanced the tracks to the remix of Ringfinger. Nine Inch Nails. The rest of the drive was spent smiling at the disjointed memories I associated with NIN.
I was on her street sooner that I wanted to be. I was thinking of the feel of her skin under my hands last night, the stickiness on her thighs, her voice as I compressed her throat. God, I am a fucking monster. And she is inviting me in for more. All the old dark longings opened in my chest. I wanted to be on top of her, grinding into her until she winced.
Wrecked (The Blackened Window) Page 22