Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  “Are you nice and toasty?”

  “Yes… that was great. You saved my life.”

  “Why don’t you take off the coat?”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize it was still on.” I shrugged off the heavy coat, and he gaped at my summer attire.

  “Have you lost your way to the beach, lad?”

  I laughed at his perplexed look. “I’m a model, and we were doing a photo shoot for cruise wear.”

  “In the snow? That’s daft!”

  “The fashion industry is two seasons ahead.”

  “So it is. ’Tis hard modeling?”

  “It can be.”

  “Where are the rest of your crew?”

  “Fuck if I know. I had a terrible fight with my current boyfriend, and then I had an argument with my former lover. I didn’t really plan on strolling around in the elements today. Things just happened.”

  “Jaysus!”

  “It all boils down to sex, you know?”

  “Aye,” he nodded in sympathy. “Was your man playin’ away then?”

  “What?” I tried to interpret his words, but I was struggling. I remembered feeling like an alien in Scotland and parts of the UK. Their English was nowhere close to mine, and the heavy brogue made it almost impossible to understand. Trent and I would double over with laughter when we invariably got things wrong.

  “You know, with another?”

  “Cheating? Are you kidding? It’s me who’s entangled in this tug of war between two men.” I had no idea why I was telling this guy anything, but he seemed like a good listener, and there was no one else in the bar. It was three thirty in the afternoon, not a really popular time to be hanging out, so I took advantage of his good nature and poured out my woes.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, after he topped off my drink.

  “Bryce Fletcher, at your service.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” I replied, “Sloan Driscoll here.”

  “So what’s got you in a tick?”

  “You sound like ad for Irish Spring.”

  “Damn, and here I thought I was a right proper New Yorker.” Bryce smiled.

  “Good luck with that,” I joked.

  “So why are you drownin’ your sorrows in my good beer?”

  “It seems that all I’m good for is sex.”

  “Is that right?”

  “What I thought was a romance has turned out to be nothing but a power struggle with my cock as the prize.”

  “You must be hung.”

  “Like a fucking bull, but that’s not the point.”

  Bryce burst out laughing. “That’s always the point, Sloan, especially if you’re gay.”

  “Listen,” I slurred, feeling the effects of the beer in a big way. “I’m way more than nine inches of meat. I have a brain and a heart that are being neglected.”

  “Aye, so you do.”

  I slumped down and rested my head on my forearm. I was so disgusted by the recent confrontation with Trent. The last thing I wanted was to jump right back into that scene. Being his slave had been worthwhile when I thought he loved and respected me, but that didn’t seem to be the case. No matter what had transpired between Cole and me, I wasn’t going to allow Trent to punish me for worrying, even if the person I worried about was a delusional piece of shit. If my master couldn’t trust me enough to allow a conversation with a former lover, there was no hope for any kind of future between us. Just using the word “allow” grated on my last nerve. I’d turned into a subservient shadow of myself, and look where it got me. Not one bit closer to finding my happy ending.

  “Are you in love with either one of these contenders?”

  “I love Trent,” I replied with certainty. Of that, I had no doubt, but I needed more than sex and domination. He had to realize that I wanted a partner who could not only fulfill my needs, but one who was willing to trust me with his heart as well. So far, all I’d seen was the alpha male who’d taken over my life in a big way. Granted, he was sensitive to my every nuance, something Cole had sorely lacked, but I needed to see the other side of Trent, the man who’d be willing to share his deepest fears just as I had shared mine. Not for the first time, I wondered what had made him so afraid of that level of intimacy. Was he imprisoned and tortured? Was he raped? What the fuck happened that made him balk whenever I initiated anal sex?

  “Tell me about him,” Bryce said, shaking me out of my dreamy state. I lifted my head off my arm and gave him what I could only assume was a sloppy grin. I was feeling no pain, and my words just tumbled out. “He’s gorgeous and so damn smart he can almost read my mind. And the cherry on the delightful Trent sundae is the fact that he fucks like a god.”

  “You connect?”

  “In a very big way.”

  “You can tell him your innermost thoughts?”

  I nodded. “He knows everything and doesn’t judge me, until recently that is.”

  “Why’s that?”

  I ended up telling him the whole sordid story, starting with Cole’s decision to have children and ending up with the funeral fuck. I don’t know why I needed a stranger’s take on the whole thing, but he was impartial and might offer some insight.

  “This Cole is a right cute hoor.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s clever and wantin’ it all. I don’t much like him.”

  “Neither does Trent.”

  “Did you have to go and shag him then?”

  “I didn’t plan it!”

  “And confessin’ to top it all.”

  “I had to, Bryce.”

  “And what did himself do?”

  “Punish the hell out of me.”

  “With a beatin’?”

  “No… he’s not like that. Never lays a hand on me unless I ask for it.”

  “He forgave you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Aye, he would. It sounds like you’ve met your Anam Cara.”

  “My what?”

  “Your soul friend.”

  “What did you call it?”

  “Anam Cara.”

  “Is that English?”

  “Gaelic.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “No need to be explainin’ when you’re pissed as fart. Perhaps another time.”

  “You’re a very wise leprechaun.”

  “And you, my wee friend, are ready for bed.”

  I grinned at the kind face that was looking at me indulgently. “Bryce, there’s nothing ‘wee’ about me.”

  “So you’ve said. I’ll be callin’ your Trent to come and get you.”

  Chapter 17

  FOUR HOURS had passed since Sloan had stormed out of Max’s studio. I kept hoping he’d call or come back, but I knew I’d blown it by acting like a jealous husband. Smoking and pacing like a caged tiger wasn’t doing me any good, nor was my ignoring Max’s request to get my head back into the photo shoot. When his assistant told him I refused to cooperate, he charged right into the staff room and got in my face.

  “What’s your fucking problem, Trent? I have a business to run, and I’m on a deadline. I can’t be holding up this project because you and Sloan are having a lover’s quarrel. And where the hell is he, anyway?”

  I couldn’t stand the uncertainty and told Max what had happened. When he found out that Sloan had used his safe word, he went nuts. I sat there and listened to his tirade over my mishandling of the whole incident.

  “You fucking idiot! Didn’t I tell you that Cole was a wizard at manipulating Sloan? You should have listened to your boy instead of acting like The Terminator.”

  “I didn’t want him to go.”

  “I get that, but you could have used more finesse. I’m disappointed in you, Trent. I gave you much more credit than you deserve.”

  “Stop meddling. I’ll go after him and resolve this once and for all.”

  “And how do you plan to resolve this when you have no idea where he is?”

  “I’ll call him.”

  “I’ve a
lready tried that, and it goes straight to voice mail.”

  “Maybe he’ll pick up my call?”

  “Go ahead,” Max snarled, “give it your best shot.”

  I reached for my phone and punched in the numbers. Voice mail came on instantly which meant Sloan had turned off the phone. “Fuck.”

  “What did I tell you? He doesn’t want to be found. What the hell, Trent? I thought you had a better handle on this.”

  “I thought so too.” I was miserable over my failure. I’d jumped to conclusions instead of listening to what Sloan had to say. The worst part of this was everything had been going so well. Sloan’s progress as my slave had been nothing short of miraculous. He’d stopped questioning my orders and had thrown himself into the role with a determination that eased my mind and had won him a lot of brownie points to boot. Admittedly, I’d been tougher with him in this short time than I’d been in nine months, but it was necessary to prove a point. If he had any doubts about the lifestyle or our relationship, this would have pushed him out the door. For all his feistiness, Sloan under control was a beautiful sight, and I had decided to reward him with a trip down to Nassau. The warm waters of the Caribbean would be the perfect setting to renegotiate our contract, and Sloan’s reward for his perfect behavior would be forty-eight hours of unrestrained sex and my collar around his neck.

  There was a small part of me that hated to end this intense bond that had developed during his time as my slave. Being aware of his whereabouts was reassuring, but I knew this wasn’t the kind of relationship he wanted. I had to set him free, or he would continue to rebel. And I’d done the complete opposite by questioning his motives and assuming the worst.

  My phone rang suddenly. I didn’t recognize the number but picked up in case it was Sloan. “Hello.”

  “Trent?”

  “This is.”

  “Bryce Fletcher here, from The Tavern down in the West Village.”

  You could have sliced his accent with a knife. “What can I do for you, Mr. Fletcher?”

  “I have one Sloan Driscoll passed out on my sofa.”

  “Is he hurt?”

  “No, just hammered.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “He ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  I disconnected and reassured Max. “I’ve got him.”

  “Then go and bring him home. Fix this, Trent, and will you tell the kid you love him already? Stop playing games with him.”

  “I’m not playing games. He’s the one who didn’t know if he was coming or going.”

  “He’s in love with you and has been for a long time. Don’t ruin this because of one mistake.”

  “I’ve already forgiven him for that.”

  “But you haven’t forgotten, have you? If you had your way, Sloan would be shackled to your bed.”

  “Stop! Let me deal with my sub without your interference.”

  “You came to me for advice.”

  “I know, and now that you’ve given me your two cents’ worth, butt out.”

  “Hurt him and you can forget we ever met.”

  I wanted to put a ball gag on him, but I knew there was a lot of love behind the threat. Max was interested in Sloan’s well-being above anything else. In that, we found our common ground, and it made up for his scathing remarks. “I’ll fix this, Max.”

  “I hope so.”

  WHEN I got to The Tavern, Bryce led me to the small office where Sloan had fallen asleep. He’d thrown a blanket over him, and my boy was snoring softly.

  “Thank you for calling me.”

  “He’s talked about you all afternoon, he did.”

  “I can only imagine what he had to say.”

  “He was in a wee bit of a snit over something, but he did say he loved you.”

  “Did he?” I was dumbfounded. How could Sloan still love me after I treated him with such disrespect?

  “Don’t be an eejit. You know damn well he does.”

  Nodding, I picked Sloan up easily and carried him to the waiting cab. Having him back in my arms was a huge relief. I had the cab driver take us to my apartment, which was closer than Sloan’s place. He didn’t even wake up when I stripped off his clothes and tucked him into bed. The adrenalin that had been driving me all afternoon melted away, leaving me mentally and physically exhausted. I took off my clothes and crawled into bed beside him.

  The noise coming from the bathroom woke me from my nap. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, I saw it was almost midnight. I’d been asleep for a while, and from what I could hear, Sloan was paying for his afternoon at the bar in a big way. The sound of heaving was audible over the running water, and I decided to get up and see if he needed help.

  When I pushed the bathroom door open I saw him standing over the sink and brushing his teeth. “You okay?”

  His head snapped up, and he stared into my eyes through the mirror while he continued to brush. He spat out the toothpaste, rinsed both his mouth and the toothbrush, and turned around. “Sorry I woke you.”

  “I’m sorry I was an ass.”

  “Trent―”

  We gravitated forward and fell into each other’s arms. Sloan wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned against me. He was naked and shaking from his bout with the porcelain goddess. “I didn’t mean to disobey you,” he mumbled quietly.

  “I should have listened before barking out orders like some fucking drill sergeant. Sometimes I forget I’m not in the army anymore.”

  “I know.”

  I lifted his face and kissed each eyelid gently. His lashes were spiked with tears, and it killed me to know I’d put them there. “Say you forgive me?”

  “How could I not when I love you so much?”

  His statement was humbling and forced me to bare my soul for the first time in my adult life. “I love you too….”

  “Do you?” The tears poured down his face.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t said it sooner, Sloan. I’ve been so caught up in punishing you for fucking Cole I’ve neglected the one thing that trumps it all.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Us. What we have goes way deeper than one accidental detour.”

  “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.”

  “Max and that Bryce person reminded me in no uncertain terms that I’m to blame for tripping your safe word. ‘Eejit’ is what Bryce called me.”

  “He’s something else, isn’t he?”

  “I wasn’t with him long enough to tell, but he seemed very concerned about you.”

  “Dude, I talked his ear off all afternoon. He sat there and listened, plying me with one beer after another.”

  “Nothing will loosen your tongue more than alcohol.”

  “I’m done talking for now. Take me to bed, Master. I need.”

  “What do you need, babe?”

  “Babe?”

  “It’s better than boy, isn’t it?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Tell me what you need.”

  “You know.”

  “Okay… go and get ready while I take care of things on my end.”

  Chapter 18

  I’D LIT several candles and turned on the music to create the right atmosphere for what we were about to do. I was craving this. As much as I wanted the reunion sex, I needed the knife play even more. One would lead to the other, but the high would be far more intense. Hearing him say he loved me closed every gaping wound that had been left in the wake of our argument, and I needed the release of subspace to complete the healing process.

  I selected my favorite leather cuffs and wrapped them around each wrist. Trent insisted that I be completely immobile whenever he cut me. His preferred knife was wicked sharp, and one wrong move could cause serious damage. It was hard to imagine it happening, because he was as proficient with a blade as he was with everything else. My legs were free, but my arms would be spread-eagle and attached to the chains that dangled from his bedpost.

  By the time he walked into the bed
room, I was face down on the bed and eager to proceed.

  “I thought we’d do something different tonight.”

  “What?”

  “Blindfold and ear plugs.”

  “Really?”

  “It’ll amp up the sensation.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I’m happy with your candle choice.”

  “I know you prefer the paraffin, sir.”

  “It’s not a question of what I prefer. It’s what’s safe.”

  “You’re waxing me as well?”

  “No talking, babe. Concentrate on feeling.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Trent covered my eyes with a mask similar to the ones they used to hand out on a plane to keep out the light, only this one was leather and custom fit. The earplugs were made of foam and purchased at the local pharmacy. They were throwaways and adequate to block out noises. Instead of panicking at the sudden loss of sound and sight and my inability to move, I focused on each sensation as my master began the scene.

  He started out by pouring warm oil all over my back and legs and proceeded to give me a deep muscle massage. Trent had incredible hands, and the pleasurable sensation was putting me to sleep. Just as I was dozing off, I felt the first dribble of hot wax on my right thigh, and I gasped in shock. The temperature of the liquid was extreme, and I struggled to catch my breath as the pain began morphing into pleasure. I’d never understood how this phenomenon worked, but it never failed. Pain equaled pleasure, and my erection pressed into the mattress. More wax fell on my other leg, just as Trent shoved a sliver of ice up my asshole. “God!” The opposing sensations of hot and cold blew my mind. I began to hump the pillow that Trent had shoved under me to lift my ass into a better position.

  My master began dripping the hot wax closer and closer to my balls. The heat, counteracted by the ice, molded into one fireball of pleasure. I began begging for release.

  “Fuck me, please….”