Cutting Cords

by Mickie B. Ashling

  He ignored me, as I knew he would. The next thing I felt was the dull edge of his knife scraping along my shoulders, a prelude to the cutting. I envisioned the lines he’d created with his blade and the slow seepage of blood from each gash, along with the intense pain, and it pushed me over the edge. I came when I felt the fourth slice, crossing over to subspace immediately. I was floating on a cloud of pleasure so profound I stopped thinking. Trent pulled out the earplugs and whispered, “I love you,” adding to the overall feeling of euphoria. “You’re mine, Sloan.”

  “Yours,” I sobbed, moved to tears by my love for this man. It soared through every part of me, and I felt like I was being lifted off the ground and spinning in ever-widening arcs over the bed. I was probably still high from the beer I’d ingested earlier and the different levels of emotion that had toyed with my nerves all afternoon.

  “You’ll always be mine,” he growled, pushing through the tight ring of muscle with a forceful thrust. Trent’s cock, in comparison to the slivers of ice, felt like an enormous hot poker jabbing at my prostate. I screamed this time, and the exquisite joy of submitting to my master’s every desire was superseded by the unexpected rush of warm semen as Trent climaxed deep inside me with no protection.

  I was shocked into silence. He’d forgotten the condom, or this was deliberate, but whatever the case, it rocked my world. I started to cry softly, and my heart was thudding against my chest as the enormity of his decision pierced through my fogged up brain. “Master?”

  “It’s okay, babe… I’m negative.”

  “I know, but you said—”

  “Forget about what I said. Angry words don’t mean a damn thing.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too. Let me clean you up.”

  “Okay.”

  Before he left to get the washcloth, he removed the eye mask and the leather cuffs. Rubbing my wrists, he kissed each one and then turned me over to kiss me on the mouth. “That was fucking intense.”

  “Amazing,” I concurred, still floating high above the clouds.

  “Hold that thought.”

  I smiled, deeply satisfied with the outcome of the scene. My current outlook on life had shifted drastically from the afternoon’s gloomy depths. I kept thinking of Bryce and the Gaelic words which meant soul friend. I couldn’t recall them to save my life. It was cara something. I resolved to go back to the bar in the next day or so, with Trent this time. Bryce could explain this theory to both of us while I was sober.

  Trent came back with a washcloth and a bowl of warm water. I braced for the pain that inevitably came with the cleanup.

  “How many gashes are there?”

  “Several,” Trent replied. He dabbed an alcohol saturated cotton ball on my shoulder, and I hissed. “I know it stings,” he mumbled, “but we have to make sure they’re disinfected.”

  “It’s funny how it hurts so much more after the scene.”

  “I know. It’s impossible to explain.”

  “I’ve given up trying to figure it out. I’d much prefer to enjoy the moment.”

  “And you do that so well,” Trent said softly, kissing me behind my ear. “Your submission was beautiful tonight.”

  “I’m only as good as my master.”

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “Physically?”

  “And mentally.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good… do you want to tell me why you decided to get tanked?”

  “It was a better alternative to beating up Cole.”

  “Would you like to share?” Trent asked as he calmly peeled off the spots of wax scattered over my thighs. The massaging oil he’d applied before the waxing made the cleanup effortless.

  “Apparently, Noriko has given him the green light to have a boy toy on the side if he stays married to her. He thought I’d jump at the offer.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “I kid you not.”

  “What an asshole.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You did tell him to stop bothering you.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Do I have your permission to read him the riot act if he calls or shows up again?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “On your back, Sloan.”

  I flipped over again and watched him take the washcloth and rinse it out in the warm water. He was such a methodical man, and his attention to detail tonight was particularly endearing. He carefully wiped up the residual semen that dribbled out of my asshole, passing the soft cloth gently across my scrotum and penis to make sure I was squeaky clean.

  “Master, may I ask you a question?”

  “Ask me as many as you want.”

  “First of all, I want you to know that Cole is clean, so you have nothing to worry about on that account.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “What made you change your mind about doing it raw?”

  He paused and stared at me with eyes that glittered. “When you used your safe word I thought I would die. The realization that you might actually walk away from this scared the spit out of me.”

  “Come here,” I said, opening my arms to him. “I was fucking livid when you doubted me earlier. It was another reason I got so drunk.”

  “I know! Doing it raw was the only way I could show you that I have no more trust issues.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Can we go to sleep now?”

  “One more thing.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, spooning up to me and pulling me close.

  “Bryce mentioned a Gaelic term that sort of struck a chord. I’d like to learn more about it.”

  “He seemed like a nice guy, when you can make out what he’s saying.”

  “Isn’t that the truth? I felt like I was back in the UK.”

  “We’ll tell him to speak verra slowly.”

  I laughed. “That’s Scottish, you dork, not Irish.”

  “Hush up! Come and keep me warm, my wee laddie.”

  He kissed away my laughter, and I scooted closer, snuggling in for the night.

  Chapter 19

  SOMETIME IN the middle of the night I got up to use the bathroom. The mild pain on my shoulder reminded me of what had transpired earlier, and the memory of Trent saying he loved me acted like a balm over the cuts that had been inflicted yesterday, real and imagined. Now I was certain our relationship was more than a contest of wills, and I was satisfied that we could work out a system where we’d both get what we needed without going to extremes.

  Trent’s dominant personality was an intrinsic part of his makeup that I’d never be able to change, and I really didn’t want to, anyway. It was one of the reasons I was attracted to him in the first place. His supreme confidence was more alluring than his toned body, and knowing that he was willing to bend the rules for me was the main reason I would give this lifestyle another shot. I didn’t think I’d ever be the poster boy for BDSM, and I was pretty sure that, deep down inside, Trent knew it as well. However, there were certain aspects I could live with and needed, almost as much as he did.

  I glanced at my shoulder before going back to bed. He’d done a number on me last night, and there were about ten slashes I wouldn’t be able to hide with makeup. Thankfully, it was Saturday, and I’d have forty-eight hours to heal before I needed to show my naked torso to anyone other than Trent. Max would go insane if he knew that cutting was still a large part of my life, but the difference between self-mutilation and knife play was like night and day. One was controlled, and the other was a pathetic plea for help. There was no way I’d ever fall back into that black hole with Trent by my side. Even our scenes were few and far between. It wasn’t something I craved on a daily basis, but when I needed it, Trent was masterful in guiding me through the slippery slopes of my strange psyche.

  In the morning he put me through my paces. Meditation was one part of our routine that was essential to my stability. Reminding me how far I’d come up i
n the world due to my hard work was an exercise that kept me grounded and focused on the positive rather than the negative. This morning we’d both been floating on the high of last night’s reunion. Instead of letting me give him a blowjob, like I normally would, he hauled me up to his chest and planted kisses all over my neck, stopping momentarily to check out the shallow gashes he’d drawn on my shoulder with his six-inch bowie knife. The blade was honed to perfection and could split hairs―it was that sharp.

  “Does it hurt?” he asked, frowning with concern.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “I’m glad we’ve got the weekend off. I wouldn’t want anyone to get a glimpse of this.”

  “Believe me, you’re the only one who’s going to be seeing me in the next couple of days.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want to see or talk to anyone until Monday―especially Cole. You can rest assured that he’s as dead to me as his father. I’m so done with him.”

  “Are you a 100 percent sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come,” he said, taking me by the hand and leading me back to bed.

  We started out gently, but our chemistry simmered constantly, and it didn’t take long for the desire to perk up to a rolling boil. He cried out when I sucked him down my throat, yanking on my hair and rutting against me as I did my very best to make this one of my more memorable blowjobs. I caressed his perineum and teased the puckered skin around his anus with fingers slicked by the lube I’d found tucked underneath a pillow. We bought the travel size tubes by the gross and had them scattered in strategic spots around the apartment. Never let it be said that my master was not a true boy scout. He was always prepared, and I reaped the benefits.

  I stuck in a finger, pushing past the ring of muscle gently, but Trent seized up and attempted to shove me away.

  “Let me,” I persisted, “I promise it will be good.”

  “No,” he said, squirming away.

  “Alright, just relax,” I said, disappointed once again while resuming my efforts on his cock. I fondled his balls and began sucking, moving up and down his rigid organ until his momentary panic departed. He grew pliant under my touch, spreading his legs apart as he gave in to the pleasure. Soon after, I felt the salty spunk filling my mouth, and I swallowed repeatedly, loving the guttural sounds that were coming out of his throat.

  When his cock grew soft in my mouth, I let go and lay on top of him, pressing my boner up against his thigh. “I was hoping you’d let me fuck you.”

  “Good things come to he who waits.”

  “Spare me the platitudes. I want to top.”

  “Not this time… let me have you instead.”

  “Like you’ve done every other time?”

  “Are you going to ruin the day by being petulant?”

  “No, but at least tell me why this is such a monumental hurdle for you.”

  “Not now… let’s fuck.”

  “I think you’re done for the moment.”

  “Give me a sec,” he said, scooting away and heading toward the bureau. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a huge dildo, twirling it around like a baton. “This will work until I’ve revived.”

  Glancing at his cock, I could tell it wouldn’t take that long. It was already starting to perk up. I gave in, too high from our reunion to let anything spoil the moment. I smiled invitingly and spread my legs. “Have at it, Master.”

  “Roll over,” he commanded, “on your hands and knees.”

  I stopped thinking as soon as I felt the dildo stretching my hole and tapping my sweet spot. All thoughts of fucking Trent were obliterated by the sensation swirling through me as he shoved in that rubber monster, pegging my organ over and over.

  When I spurted over his sheets and was thoroughly drained, I tried one more time. “Tell me you aren’t holding back because of the funeral fuck.”

  “Please… that incident has been written off, deleted, and forgotten. Cole has nothing to do with my problem.”

  “Ah… so you admit there’s a problem.”

  “Yes and I’ll tell you about it in good time.”

  “I don’t mean to be a dick about this, sir, but you know the worst there is to know about me. How bad could your story be? Do you honestly think I, of all people, would judge?”

  “No.”

  “Master, I love you, and I want to give you the kind of pleasure you give me routinely. Have you never been penetrated? Has anyone ever milked your prostate?”

  He pushed me away abruptly and headed for the bathroom. I wanted to smack myself upside the head, knowing I’d crossed the line again. My verbal filter was absolutely defective, and if it were possible, I would have ordered a new part. Just as I heard Trent turn on the shower, the doorbell rang. The only person who could possibly be visiting at this hour would be Max.

  I wrapped a sheet around my waist and headed for the front door. When I yanked it open, fully prepared to give Max a verbal thrashing for disturbing us on a day off, I almost swallowed my tongue instead. Noriko was standing there.

  “What are you doing here?” I blurted out rudely.

  “I need to speak with you.”

  “You and I have nothing to say to each other.”

  “I must speak with you, Sloan.”

  “Couldn’t you have called?”

  “I’ve tried your phone several times, but it goes to voice mail.”

  “Oh… I guess my phone is off.”

  “Must be.”

  “How the heck did you find me?”

  “Max gave me Trent’s address.”

  Remind me to kill him the next time I see him. “Well, you’re here, so what’s so important?”

  “Sloan-san, your shoulder is bleeding,” Noriko said, stepping closer to take a better look. “Did you cut yourself?”

  “What? No,” I said, immediately wrapping the sheet around me like a toga.

  “Your shoulder looks like it’s been cut several times.”

  “Mind you own business, okay? Why are you here?”

  “I want you to hear it from me.”

  “Hear what?”

  “You must reconsider Cole’s offer.”

  “Why?”

  “Having you in his life will make mine that much better.”

  “Wow, this is another first, in a month of firsts. Having a wife pimp for her husband has got to be a new low for Cole.”

  “I thought that you and I could work out an arrangement, but it seems you are still angry with me.”

  “It doesn’t matter whether I’m angry or who came up with this warped idea. What matters is that I’m not interested and would really like it if you and Cole would stop stalking me.”

  “Who’s stalking who?”

  Ah… shit. Trent came out of the bedroom with a towel around his waist and a puzzled look. “Who the hell are you talking to?”

  He pushed me aside gently and frowned at Noriko. “You have no business coming here.”

  “I wanted to speak with Sloan, but he did not pick up his phone.”

  “Didn’t it occur to you that he was incommunicado for a reason?”

  “What are you hiding?” Noriko asked, reaching for the bed sheet and ignoring Trent. “Did he beat you for meeting Cole yesterday?”

  “What part of mind-your-own-business don’t you understand?” Trent hissed. He looked like he wanted to lift her bodily and drag her down the stairs.

  “Why is he bleeding?” Noriko asked again, refusing to back down. I had to admit she was like a small pit bull with extra-large balls.

  “He’s done nothing but love me,” I interjected. “Something your darling husband forgot to do years ago.”

  “He still loves you.”

  “Bullshit! You guys want me to be a part of your cozy ménage, and I’m not in the least bit interested. Now, take your meddling, designer-clad, geisha body and get the fuck out!” I knew I’d completely lost my cool, and I was sure everyone in the building could hear me screaming, b
ut I didn’t give a rat’s ass.

  She pursed her lips, spun around, and headed for the elevator.

  “Good fucking riddance,” I called out, slamming the door. “I bet you she’ll go straight home and tell Cole about my shoulder.”

  “Why do you think she’ll do that?”

  “Noriko will do or say anything to stay married, and to her way of thinking, breaking up our relationship is a sure way of getting me back with Cole.”

  “Fuck that. Let her try.”

  A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, and I yanked it open, prepared to do battle with Noriko again, but Cole was there with Freddie by his side.

  “What the… how did you get here so fast?”

  “I was downstairs waiting for Noriko. Has Trent hurt you?”

  “No!”

  “Then what’s with the blood? Noriko said you’re bleeding. Are you up to your old tricks again? I thought that part of your life was over, Sloan?”

  “Oh my God, Cole, you’re fucking unbelievable! You have no right to question anything I do, especially when it involves Trent. Now turn around and go!”

  “You haven’t heard the last of me, Sloan.”

  “I wish you would just disappear, Cole.”

  “Not likely.”

  “Asshole!”

  Chapter 20

  THE MORNING got progressively worse. Hearing Sloan ranting angrily and remembering the look on Noriko’s face when she accused me of hurting Sloan were only surpassed by the phone call I got from Joe Driscoll about an hour later.

  “What have you been doing to my son?”

  “Say that again.”

  “I just got off the phone with Cole. He said you’re torturing Sloan for seeing him behind your back.”

  “Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

  “Get Sloan on the phone, will you?”

  I handed the phone to Sloan, who had barely recovered from his outburst with Cole. He admitted that he’d been more upset about having our privacy invaded than anything else. For Cole to think I was taking out my anger on him bothered Sloan more than hearing Cole and Noriko’s preposterous offer.

  “Who is it?”

  “Your dad.”