"Oh my God!" I said. "What happened?"
"I escaped."
"Did they go to jail?"
"No."
"Are they still out there?"
"No."
"They died?"
"Yes," he said coldly as he turned his head. "I killed them."
There was a long pause.
"Enough!" he said. "Get out. I can't go on. I'm going to hurt you and I don't want to do that. And when I say hurt you, I don't just mean mentally. You can't help me, Meghan. I can't help myself. And I can't help you anymore. Go! Get out!"
"But---"
"Get out!"
I got out. He peeled away down the street toward Mass Ave.
I turned to see the three guys shoveling snow staring at me. They quickly returned to their work.
I went upstairs and cried.
Chapter 6
"What does the trauma of abuse do to people?" I said.
Meredith Zycroft squinted, tilting her head to the right. Today she was wearing a black skirt and patterned pantyhose. Big shiny black shoes. Black jacket. Black blouse. Black hair. Still with the bright red lips.
"Why do you want to know?" she said.
God, can't you therapists ever just answer a fucking question?
"The relationship with Mr. X is over." I had been calling Tristan Mr. X to Meredith. "He told me he couldn't... um... orgasm, like a normal person. He said he gets very violent. He said he doesn't want to hurt me physically. It has to do with some childhood trauma where he was violently abused. So I just thought to try to understand him..."
"Are you here to try to understand him, Meghan? Or are you here to try to understand yourself?"
"Well, naturally, myself. But I was just wondering... hoping, really... that you might be able to tell me how trauma could have done this to him."
"Well, that's a very broad question. We are all individuals and we all react to trauma differently. Some deal with it quite well and are able to go on with life like nothing happened. Others carry mental scars that manifest themselves in many different ways. It all depends on the person. It all depends on the severity of the trauma. There is no way I could tell you what any trauma did to him without sitting down and talking extensively with him. But all this begs the question... why did he tell you this?"
"Because we were in the middle of... um... having sex... and he couldn't."
Her eyebrows raised.
"Having sex?" she said. "I thought he told you previously that there was no relationship, that it was only a form of... what was the phrase?"
"Submission training," I said. "Yes, this was outside the class. I was at his house. I drove there in the snowstorm last week. It's a long story but suffice it to say we ended up having sex. And it was almost... well not quite, but almost... normal."
"There's that word normal again, Meghan."
"Yes."
She just tilted her head again, indicating that there's a path she wants me to go down.
"Almost normal in that we were just having sex. It wasn't part of submission or anything. He wanted to. I wanted to."
"So would you say that sex in a dominant-submissive relationship is not normal?"
"Well, I'm sure it is for the people who get off on that stuff."
"I thought you wanted to be one of those people who... get off... on that stuff."
My words sounded strange coming from her. I hadn't realized I was using that terminology.
"I don't know," I said. "The thought intrigued me at first. But now I just don't know. Some of it is pretty out there."
"Out there," she said. "Not normal, that stuff, and out there. Do these phrases sound like they're from someone who is a happy submissive?"
"No, I guess not. Yes, I feel great when I'm under his control. I love doing what he says and it really does turn me on."
"But..."
"But, there's a part of me that longs to be fulfilled by what they would call 'vanilla sex.'"
"Which is the kind of sex you had with your boyfriend Jake."
"Yes."
"And which you found ultimately unfulfilling."
"No. Yes. No. I don't know. Maybe."
"Or maybe it was just Jake that was unfulfilling."
"Jake is a great man. He's going to do great things. He's like an angel."
"Ah, an angel. Do you feel angelic, Meghan?"
I thought about that for a second.
"No," I said. "I don't. I feel closer to the other thing."
"The other thing?"
"A demon. The opposite of an angel."
"Why?"
"Because I'm into bad shit. That's what Jake called it. My mother would have said 'unclean things.'"
"So is anyone who is in a dominant-submissive relationship a demon?"
"According to my mother, yes."
"What about according to you, Meghan?"
"I just... I see myself with a husband and kids. A boy and a girl, naturally. How can I bring up kids in a house with a white-picket fence, grow tomatoes, and be a good mom... if I like getting locked in a stockade and whipped?"
"Do you believe that there are good mothers out there who enjoy such things?"
"I don't know. It seems so... different."
"Then that may be something you need to look at more closely. We are all sexual beings. We all have manifestly different attractions, desires, and even fetishes. What we do in one area of our lives shouldn't adversely affect another."
"Yes, I suppose you're right. It's just that... when I started this relationship it felt 'dirty.' And that's what I liked about it. Standing there naked in front of people masturbating with a dildo gave me a sense of true liberation."
"Liberation from what?"
"From the rules. From society. And yes, I guess from my mother. God, that's just such a stock answer."
"Do all answers need to be complicated?"
"No, I guess not."
She nodded, as if to say continue.
"Part of the turn-on was doing something that was not traditional and... oh, approved by my mother's church. But maybe what I'm afraid of is that I'm going to lose the strong me... the strong Meghan who goes after what she wants, calls the shots, and is a highly-respected successful woman."
"Meghan," said Meredith. "Are you aware of how many powerful women... including CEOs and politicians... are part of the dominant-submissive lifestyle?"
"I know, I know. But what about those who wear the collars and have to do what their Master says all the time twenty-four seven? What if I was about to go on the air with a weather forecast and my Master texts me to finger my pussy?"
"That's why each individual needs to personalize their relationship to suit their respective needs. I know a very powerful woman who runs a Fortune 500 company. She has to fly all around the world at a moment's notice. And yet she finds a way to be a submissive... without missing a meeting."
"I guess," I said.
"It seems like you have a lot of questions to answer for yourself, Meghan."
"Yes, I do."
She turned to her MacBook. Shit, was that really fifty minutes? I need more time!
"But I want you to know that I believe you're making progress. It's becoming clearer to your own self what you want. You may not be able to fully define it yet but soon you will. Now, how is next Wednesday?"
"Fine," I said.
I walked down Mass Ave and turned in at my street. When I reached my apartment, there was a well-dressed kid outside. He was probably a year or so younger than me, leaning on a shiny gray car. He held a manila envelope in his hand.
"Meghan Delaney?" he said as I got closer.
"Can I help you?" I said.
"Yes, I'm here for Mr. Tristan Slade." I held my breath at the name. "He wanted me to give you something. Are you Meghan Delaney?"
"Yes."
He held out the manila envelope. I took it and opened it. Inside was a set of car keys and a title. Apparently I was the proud owner of a brand new Ford Fusion
for which I hadn't paid.
"Have a great day," the kid said as he pointed at the gray car with a big smile and headed toward Davis Square.
"Wait!" I said. "I can't take this!"
"I'm just the delivery person," he said. "Take it up with Mr. Slade."
I rummaged around in the manila envelope and found a handwritten note on a yellow-lined paper. It read:
Sorry, Meghan. It's all my fault. This is to make up for your Sentra. It's pocket change for me, trust me. No need to thank me. Don't contact me. It's for the best.
Chapter 7
"So it's over?" Dan said.
"Apparently," I said. "Even though he bought me a frickin' brand new car."
We were on the tiny balcony at the back of my apartment, looking out at the glorious view of the tiny balcony of the apartment of the building behind me. Dan smoked a joint. I sipped Grey Goose and tonic. I was on my second and feeling it.
"How do you feel about that?"
"Don't ask that fucking question. You sound like my therapist when you do."
"Okayyyy, so what are you going to do?"
"Forget about him, I guess. I keep calling but the line is dead."
"Meghan, I've known you for a long time. You're going to do something."
I laughed.
"You know me too well, muscle boy," I said then giggled. "Muscle boy who likes it up the butt." I giggled again.
"Hey!" he said. "Shut up!" He took a drag.
I leaned toward him.
"Hey, can I tell you a secret?" I said in a whisper.
"What?" he said.
"I like it too. In fact, it makes me squirt. I've never squirted before."
"No fucking way."
"Way! I even masturbate that way now. I never thought I would enjoy it before Tristan."
"Yeah, I never thought I would enjoy it either. Until Nikki. It feels so... dirty. Maybe that's the appeal of it, though."
"My parents never did it, that's for sure."
"Where the fuck did that come from? And ewwwwww."
"I've just been trying to figure out why I was so okay with Jake then suddenly I was so not okay with Jake. Something tells me... no, my fucking therapist is telling me without actually saying it... that it has something to do with my parents. But they were no role model for a perfect marriage. My dad loved my mom to death but she loved God more than him. It used to piss me off."
"If you had married Jake, were you afraid you would not be able to love him in the way you thought your mom should love your dad?"
"God," I said, "yes. I had never looked at it that way before. But yes."
"Are you your mother, Meghan?"
"No."
"Then why would you be afraid that you would do something that she did? I certainly don't see you going to any Bible study meetings."
"I don't know. All I know is that his heart broke for her and she did nothing but put him down. Jake's love was like my dad's. Perfect. One-hundred percent rock solid. I don't know if..."
"If what?"
"If I could have ever lived up to the expectation that comes with that."
I finished my drink. I resisted the urge to go make another.
"So, change of subject," I said. "How's it going with you and the boy wonder?"
"That's not funny. One more crack like that and I'm out of here!" said Dan. "She... and I... I just don't know."
"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise. What, are you a size queen now? Do you need more than eight inches?"
"Fuck you, Meghan. That was a real douche comment!" Shit, I made him mad. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Sorry."
"No, I'm not sure if you are. Ever since this whole thing with Nikki began you've been making little noises and eyes and smirks and it's not fucking funny."
Hmm, he's right, isn't he? I touched his arm.
"You know what, Dan? You're right. It's just that I'm not used to hearing about this type of relationship, and old... ways of thinking... die hard. Not to mention I can be a real bitch sometimes."
We both just looked at each other. He laughed and shook his head. I took a sip of nothing, pretending it was still vodka. He took a drag.
"Old ways of thinking are part of the problem," he said. "I'm considering breaking up with her."
"Oh Dan, why?"
"It's going to sound awful," he said. "I don't know if I can say it."
I tilted my head to the left and nodded like Meredith with that go ahead and continue thing she does.
"Nikki is fantastic. Beyond fantastic. We communicate. Deep. And the sex... mind-blowing! It's just that... I always pictured myself with kids... my own kids. And with Nikki that's impossible."
"You could adopt."
"Yeah, but it's not the same. Hell, maybe I can't even have kids. Maybe my sperm are no good, who knows? But one thing is for sure. Nikki won't be their natural mother."
"And that's important to you?"
He looked out at the night sky. The temperature was falling. I wrapped my jacket tighter around me.
"I'm almost ashamed to say it but yeah, I guess it is," he said. "In my culture, family is everything. Generations live together and stay under the same roof. My great-grandfather lives with my grandparents and parents. He's one-hundred and one years old. Taking care of each other. Since I've been away at college, I have to admit I kind of miss that."
"Would they disapprove of Nikki?"
"You know, the odd thing is, I really don't think so. It's kind of different where my family comes from. Back home Nikki would be called a kathoey. There's no word in English for it that isn't derogatory. Perfectly normal there. But again we come back to the fact that she isn't going to be having any babies of her own."
"And again, that's important to you."
"Yes, it is. I want to be a dad. With my own kids. And I want a wife who holds her own baby in her arms after giving birth in the hospital. Is that bad, Meghan?"
"No, it's just something that you want."
He put his head down.
"Yes," he said. "And it's awful because I love Nikki but I just wish she were..."
"A biological woman."
"God, that sounds so fucking clinical. Because for her, for the wonderful being that is Nikki, she is a woman."
"Maybe that's my problem too," I said.
"What?" he said.
"Maybe I want tradition. Family. Husband. Kids. Maybe I do want a vanilla life. Or maybe I just... want to want... vanilla."
"Meghan, can I be honest with you?"
"You have to ask?"
"This whole Fifty Shades thing you're into isn't you. You like it because you like pushing limits. You like being in charge. You like telling people off. You like writing your own rules. You are not submissive in the real world. You are dominant."
"Go on," I said, sitting up.
"With you, you're always going to be seeking the next thrill. Remember when we went parasailing? It wasn't enough for you, was it? You had to go skydiving, didn't you?"
"Yeah." I laughed.
"If tickets to space were cheap, you'd buy one, wouldn't you?"
"Ha," I said. "Yes. I'm jealous of those first space tourists. I want to be first."
"Remember that day in Chinatown? You had to try everything they were selling there."
I laughed out loud.
"You know you ate pig brain, don't you?"
"No I didn't!"
He just nodded, taking another drag. He snuffed out his roach.
"It's the same thing with sex, Meghan. You push things in life. You need to do it with sex too."
"Yes," I said, "that was my original intention. But now it's become all about Tristan. I want to get to know him. I want to free him from his demons. I want to... to love him."
"In a normal way?"
"Yes, in a normal way."
"He tried bringing you into the BDSM world and now you're trying to drag him into the vanilla world. If you turned him into Jake, you'd hate him."
"Ca
n't we just meet in the middle?"
"That's a great question," said Dan.
Controlled by His Voice 5
Chapter 1
1:55. Saturday. Submission training time.
Well, at least it used to be.
I sat in my brand spanking new Ford Fusion in the same spot I used to park my poor old Sentra. Yes, back again in front of Tristan's Manchester-by-the-Sea mansion.
His SUV was there. I wondered if he was there.
Part of me can't believe I'm back here acting like a stalker. But a deeper stronger part of me knows that I'm here on a mission.
I'm going to free Tristan from his demons. I'm doing this for him, not for me.
Ha, that's a laugh. I'm fooling myself if I think that. I'm doing it for me too.
For us.
I just hope he hasn't replaced me. Last thing I need is to see some other girl going in there at my time.
1:56. That's it, I'm going in.
I got out of my car and walked to the door. I rang the bell. The second my finger touched it, my heart started its pound-pound-pound rhythm. Fucking Ativan is still useless.
Nothing. No motion. No movement. Nobody peeking out through any window. Maybe he's in the stockade room or whatever he calls it.
I just stood there.
2:05. I rang the bell again. Again with the pounding heart. I undid my coat, even though it was only thirty degrees.
I can wait. I'm not going to let this relationship die. He needs me... and dare I say it?... I need him. We can help each other. He needs to heal his trauma, whatever it was, with someone who can bring him back to the world of real genuine loving. And I need freshness and excitement, which he can provide in bundles. We're a perfect match.
2:15. I rang the bell again.
This time the door swung open. There he stood in a black shirt and dark gray trousers. His expensive shoes glistened. Even on a Saturday at home he looks like he just walked off an Esquire photo shoot.
"Meghan," he said. "Go home."
"I'm here for submission training," I said.
"Training is over for us," he said. "I already told you. Now go."
"You need me."
"No, Meghan, I don't. Go."
Controlled by His Voice Box Set (Erotic Romance) Page 15