Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “That’s it,” Trent said, rubbing a warm hand on my hot cheek. “We’re done for the night.”

  Chapter 13

  I’D FALLEN into a deep sleep last night, after straightening up the mess I’d made in the kitchen. Trent had inhaled the chicken fried steak I’d prepared, praising me for my culinary skills. Who knew that watching my mom all those years ago would actually pay off? I’d never had a chance to explore the dishes I’d learned at her elbow when I lived with Cole. He had insisted on preparing food the Japanese way, taking great pains to show me the importance of making a dish as visually appealing as possible. He stressed that presentation was almost as critical as taste and nutritional value. It was ironic that a blind man had been so concerned about appearances, but Cole was enthralled by all things Japanese, and part of their culture emphasized beauty and taking the extra steps to please the eye. Trent didn’t give a shit what the food looked like so long as it filled the void. To hear him mumble “this is really good” was deeply satisfying, even though I felt like a Stepford wife at the moment.

  “What type of food did you have at home?” I asked nonchalantly, hoping to gain some insight on my mysterious master.

  “Meat and potatoes.”

  “Care to elaborate on that, sir?”

  “I’m from the heartland, Sloan. I never heard of sushi until I enlisted.”

  “Didn’t your family worry about cholesterol?”

  Trent snorted. “Are you serious? We raised animals for food. No one in our immediate vicinity was a vegan.”

  “You were raised on a farm?”

  “Pig farm,” he said, shoveling in another forkful of meat.

  “No kidding? What was that like?”

  “Dirty and labor-intensive. I hated it.”

  “Pigs are cute.”

  “No they’re not.”

  “What do you mean? The ones I’ve seen at the Sacramento State Fair were sweet.”

  “Pigs are destructive and only live to eat. If they don’t get their food on time they turn into wild animals. No way do they resemble sweet Wilbur from Charlotte’s Web.”

  “Aw, did ya have to go and burst my bubble?”

  Trent shook his head and laughed. “They’d chew your leg off if you let them. The few boars we kept around for breeding purposes went nuts whenever there was a sow in heat. Any and all methods were used to restrain them to keep them away from the ladies.”

  “Like what?”

  “We couldn’t afford the stun guns they used at other places, so we used brute force instead. That and barbed wire usually worked to keep them under control.”

  “Sounds terrifying.”

  “I was scared of them when I was little, but I got over it very quickly. I had no choice, Sloan. They were my family’s only means of support.”

  “What else did you do?”

  “As soon as I got older and stronger, I learned the more delicate job of castrating.”

  “Jesus,” I gasped. “No wonder you’re so good with a blade. How does that work?”

  “It usually involves two people. Initially, I’d hold the piglet while my father did the cutting, but soon the roles were reversed, and I did all the castrations until I left the farm.”

  “It sounds barbaric.”

  “It’s a necessary part of animal husbandry, and I became as proficient as a surgeon. Learning how to sterilize, position, and cut with an extremely sharp blade was as important as learning how to drive. It also taught me that I had an ironclad stomach. I felt no remorse when I loaded the animals into the truck to take them to the butcher. They served a purpose, and it was my obligation to do my job well and bring it to a satisfactory conclusion, from birthing the little bastards to frying them up for breakfast.”

  “That’s cold.”

  “That’s pig farming. If I had cried over every animal, I’d never have survived.”

  “I like hearing about your childhood.”

  “There wasn’t much to it, Sloan. I worked my tail off until I left for West Point, where I worked even harder.”

  “When did the fun start?”

  “Fun? Just getting away from the pigs was fun enough for me.”

  “I’m surprised you took so well to the military life. I would think a person like you would have trouble taking orders, sir.”

  “Not when it’s part of a structured society like that. Everyone has a place and a purpose in the military. I had no trouble fitting in as soon as I learned the hierarchy. That’s not to say I didn’t prefer giving the orders instead of taking them. I worked damn hard to become the person in charge.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “Almost ten years.”

  “Wow. What countries have you been to?”

  “Afghanistan, Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan―most of the Middle East.”

  “What was it like?”

  “Hot.”

  “Did you ever get hurt?”

  Trent looked up sharply with his fork suspended halfway to his mouth. There was a look in his eyes I’d never seen before. For one second I caught a glimpse of something he quickly shoved away with the wave of a hand. It was a split second, but the little I saw was clearly not a memory he wished to share. He stood and tossed his napkin on the table. “We can play twenty questions another day. I’m going to go downstairs and have a cigarette. When I get back, I expect you to be done in here. Take a shower and wait for me in our bedroom. And Sloan?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t bother with pajamas.”

  I watched him walk out, and I was more curious than ever. The little glimpse I’d had of a childhood I would never understand was enlightening and made me realize what an extraordinary man he was. Rising from such a humble background couldn’t have been easy. On the surface Trent was pretty straightforward, but I knew there were layers I’d barely uncovered. Finding out more would be as challenging as learning how to be the perfect submissive. That being said, I was a little reluctant to turn over my heart to a virtual stranger until he was willing to share himself completely. What if it all blew up in my face? How did I know he would stick with me through thick and thin? I wasn’t exactly a sure bet either. If I were a horse the odds would be off the charts.

  Part of my role as Trent’s slave was to make sure all his physical needs were met. This included feeding him when he was hungry and being his sex toy when he was horny. I was his to use and do with as he wanted, within the parameters of our original agreement. It had been over forty-eight hours since we’d embarked on this new arrangement, and so far, my suffering had centered around the dreaded cock cage, which had been washed and put away after my earth-shattering orgasm. Since Trent had taken the edge off, my attitude toward servitude was much improved.

  He’d decided that while I was his slave, I’d stay here in his apartment and only go home to change clothes and check my mail. The problem was that I lived much closer to Max’s studio in Tribeca, and the hike to work would be a pain coming from the Village, where Trent lived.

  Just before bed, Trent placed a leather cuff around my right ankle and attached it to a chain that hooked to the iron ring embedded in the bedpost. He said it was more symbolic than anything else, and then he went on to explain what was in store for me in the next few days. I was going to go to work as usual, but I’d have a battery-powered butt plug up my ass. The upside for him was being around to watch me. Trent would be able to monitor my discomfort, turning the switch off and on at different times throughout the day, teasing me with unexpected ripples of sensation. The downside was that I would be wearing a cock ring and forbidden to come. The word “forbidden” had snuck into the conversation again, and I was starting to despise it. If I survived the next few days, and that was a big if, my life as a slave would end. Did that mean our relationship would revert back to its previous state? I doubted it. I had dug myself into a very deep hole, and seeking to find that same level of trust was unrealistic so soon after the betrayal. The best I could hope for was seeing
that look in his eyes again―the one that made me feel safe.

  Yet, despite everything that had happened, I was optimistic. Even at his worst, Trent wasn’t that bad. He’d done an admirable job of controlling his temper and never once raised a hand in anger, which would have sent me out the door without a backward glance. Notwithstanding his warnings about holding back my orgasm, he’d caved and let me come. Clearly, he felt something for me, even if he used a gift as an excuse. And that was the weirdest part of all. I felt loved without hearing the words, and because he’d never said them, I didn’t dare. Being in a D/s relationship was like learning how to walk. I was in the crawling stage and hanging on to different objects to prevent myself from falling. I had no idea if Dominants ever said the L-word to their subs. One of these days I’d have to pin him down and get some answers to the many questions bouncing around in my head.

  Before falling asleep, Trent rolled over and kissed me good night like he’d done so many times in the past. It was the first time since the infamous funeral fuck, and it reduced my feelings of worthlessness. The clinking chain at my feet was a constant reminder of my current position, but the small show of tenderness put everything in perspective. I was still a key player in this partnership, and I consoled myself with the thought that I was as important to Trent as he was to me. Although harsh, I was paying for my slip up in a way we both understood. There was nothing passive-aggressive about this. No hidden agenda behind sullen silences. That was Cole’s style whenever I’d screwed up in the past. Trent was straightforward and left no room for speculation.

  THE NEXT day, when I was standing in front of the spotlights and holding an arduous pose for Max, I felt the first tickle deep within my body. It was subtle, but it made me suck in a breath and frown, which pissed Max off because he’d just taken a shot.

  “Hey! Cool it with the faces.”

  “Sorry,” I said, looking over at Trent who was standing off to the side, grinning.

  I stuck my tongue out at him, and Max yelled again. “Sloan!”

  “Sorry!”

  I put on my best game face, but the buzzing in my asshole was very distracting, and to make matters worse, I was getting a boner, which completely ruined the fall of my designer pants.

  “I need a cigarette break,” I announced, walking away from the group and heading out to the sounds of Max cussing up a blue streak. I headed toward the staff/coffee/break room and lit up as soon as I walked through the door. This was the only place in the studio where we were allowed to smoke, and it was like walking into an opium den. One could get high just by breathing. Apparently, the cigarette of choice today was a good Jamaican blend.

  I felt a warm breath against my neck, and all of a sudden I was so horny I wanted to tear off the Armani suit, get down on my hands and knees, and throw myself at Trent’s mercy. I turned around and was face to face with my master’s shit-eating grin. “Are you having issues, Sloan?”

  “You know damn well I am.”

  “What seems to be the problem?” he asked, while he stuck his hand in his pocket and pressed a button that sent a signal to the butt plug. It vibrated forcefully, and I would have come except the leather cock ring was strangling my rapidly expanding cock.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” I asked, frowning at him.

  “Get over here,” he said, grabbing my hand and dragging me into the bathroom. As soon as the door closed, he locked it and began to unbutton his pants. He shoved them down his well-developed thighs and released his fat cock, which was already dotted with precome.

  “Suck me off, boy.”

  “You are evil, Master.”

  “On your knees, Sloan.”

  I whimpered and adjusted myself, praying this would go well. “What happens if the cock ring cuts off all the blood supply to my dick?”

  “I guess it’ll just rot and fall off,” Trent replied casually.

  “You’re awful.”

  “The trick is developing mind control, Sloan. Force your cock into submission rather than be ruled by it.”

  “Easy for you to say when I’m about to deep throat yours.”

  “Consider this another life lesson.”

  I rolled my eyes and began to sing “Bohemian Rhapsody” in my head just as Trent shoved his cock down my throat.

  Chapter 14

  IT HAD been almost a month since the twins were born, and each day brought revelations on parenting I’d never anticipated. A week after their birth, my mother and sisters had gone back to their respective lives, leaving Noriko and me to fend for ourselves. I’d taken a leave of absence for a semester, but I think I was more a liability than an asset. Daily, I was reminded of Sloan and his sarcastic comments a year ago. I knew nothing about caring for infants, and I admitted begrudgingly that without Noriko we’d be lost. She was an excellent mother and a kind and patient teacher. Changing diapers was out of the question for me as I couldn’t see to clean up their mess. All I could do was hold one baby while Noriko wrestled with the other. I never realized how much babies cried. It bothered me more than I cared to admit, and there were days when I wished I was deaf as well as blind. The sleepless nights were taking their toll, and oftentimes I wanted to throw up my hands and give up. Lack of space was an ongoing problem, and I routinely tripped or walked into unexpected objects. Noriko was effusive with her apologies and did her best to straighten up the mess, but she could only do so much.

  Niki had rapidly caught up to Keni in weight, so I would have been flummoxed without the gold bracelets. Noriko called the boys Niki-chan and Keni-chan, attaching the affectionate Japanese honorific to their English names with the modified spelling. I had no objections. In fact, I was thrilled that they would grow up bilingual. My father had forgotten a lot of the Nihongo he’d learned from his father, and consequently, neither my sisters nor I were fluent. The little I knew had been gained as an adult because I’d shown an interest. Noriko was more than happy to further my knowledge of Japanese by speaking it almost exclusively here at home. She only reverted to English when there was no choice.

  “Cole,” she said, “I think it would be nice to have a party after the miyamairi.”

  “The what?”

  “It’s the Shinto version of baptism.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t really thought about religion in terms of the boys.”

  “Don’t you think it’s important?”

  “My parents were sort of lax in that area. However, if it means that much to you, then I have no objection to raising them in the Shinto faith.”

  “I think it’s important to give them a good foundation. What they choose to do as adults is none of my business.”

  “I agree. What’s involved in the miyamairi?”

  “It marks the first stage of a child’s life. At thirty-one days, our twins are presented to a priest and a ten-minute prayer is read. Their names and date of birth are called out. Afterward, we give our own thanks to the Shinto deities for blessing us with children. The next life stage is when they are three years old.”

  “What about the party?”

  “It’s our chance to introduce the babies to our friends.”

  “Who were you planning to invite?”

  “Your family, of course, and anyone else you like. Do you think Sloan would like to come?”

  “Sloan wants nothing to do with me or the kids.”

  “I find that very surprising.”

  “Noriko, you know how we parted.”

  “I have no hard feelings for him. Why can’t he move on?”

  “He has moved on―with another man. The last thing he needs is to be reminded of all the reasons we broke up.”

  “Seeing the twins might change his mind.”

  “Why are you pushing for this, Noriko?”

  “I want you to be happy, Cole-sama,” she said softly, attaching the highly respectful honorific to my name. “I had hoped I could bring you satisfaction, in and out of the bedroom, but I have accepted the truth. My body does not entice you, despite m
y best effort.”

  I felt the heat rising to my cheeks as I recalled her attempts to seduce me again. In the last couple of weeks, she’d come to my bedroom three times and had offered her body, coaxing me to have anal sex with her. Her hope that I could imagine she were a man by taking her from the rear was futile, and the pleasure I’d received for a few minutes left a bitter aftertaste I had no desire to repeat.

  “Noriko, I wish you’d drop this idea that you have to be the perfect wife in every sense. My position was very clear from the beginning. Surely you didn’t expect me to fall in love with you and turn a business arrangement into a real marriage.”

  “Not love, Cole-sama, but perhaps we could develop affection toward each other.”

  I could tell by her voice that she was on the verge of tears, and I felt like a jerk. After everything she’d done for me, the least I could do was be her friend. “Come here,” I urged, spreading my arms apart. She stepped into my embrace and began to cry. I remained silent because I had no solution.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sniffling against my chest. “I am the first one in my line to have children within a marriage. I had hoped to break the curse that seems to be hanging over the women in my family. My grandmother and mother were both single parents. I didn’t want that for myself. I don’t want to go back to being a geisha.”

  “You won’t need to work, Noriko. Ever. You’ll have a huge settlement you could live off if you invest the money wisely.”

  “But I’ll still be your ex-wife. People will pity me and treat me like a failure.”

  “Don’t you think it’s your perception rather than reality?”

  “Oh, no, Cole-sama… I will be considered a loser as a wife and even a geisha. My only hope to attain a different level in society is to be married.”

  “I see.”

  “You need someone to help you raise the children. Why hire a stranger when you can have their mother for free. Am I so repugnant?”