Blissfully Hers: Bliss Series, Book Seven

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Blissfully Hers: Bliss Series, Book Seven Page 9

by Hall, Deanndra

“That’s the last one we’ve got and I don’t know when we’ll get more. They move slowly because, you know, male submissives,” the girl says with a sigh.

  “I’ll take it. And I want this too,” Danielle says and hands the young woman the thong thing. “I’ve got a little more shopping to do. Come on,” she says and takes me by the hand. We step into another little alcove in the store and I swallow hard.

  Butt plugs. All sizes, all colors, all shapes. Long, short, vibrating, with tails attached, spinning mechanisms, inflatable ones―can’t imagine how that must feel―and there’s a rainbow of them. “Let’s see …” she murmurs as she goes through them. “Ah. This is what I was looking for.”

  With a wide grin, she hands it to me and I look at it carefully. “I’m not sure―”

  “This part goes around the base of your cock. This part massages your perineum. And this part goes up your ass and vibrates against your prostate.” That last part is pretty damn big, and that doesn’t go unnoticed by me. “This could be a lot of fun.” Now I’m a little worried.

  On the way back to the counter, she picks up a soft suede flogger and something in a tiny bottle, along with a bottle of toy cleaner. How that’s different from soap I’m not sure, but apparently she knows. The total isn’t huge, but I do notice they charge a lot for this stuff. Whaddya gonna do? You want it, you have to pay their price.

  I help her into the car, put the package in the back seat, then slide in behind the wheel. “Where now?”

  “Want to play for a little while?”

  “I thought you didn’t want me to meet Caleb just yet.”

  “Can we go to your place?”

  I shrug. “Don’t see why not.”

  Twenty minutes later, I unlock the door and hold it as she steps inside. “This is cozy.”

  That gets a snicker from me. “Thank you for being so generous, Mistress.”

  “Yeah, it is a little small and you’re not a small guy. What made you choose this? I know Boone pays you well.”

  “Would you like something to drink? Soft drink? I’ve got ginger ale.” I ask before I answer.

  “Yes, please. Ginger ale. That would be great.”

  As I go about pouring, I explain. “Everything else I found was too far from the store. I don’t want an hour commute.”

  “You’re how far here, maybe thirty minutes?”

  I nod. “About twenty-five.” And that makes me think of something. “Oh, I should tell you, I’ve got to be at Boone and Melina’s at six thirty. He wanted me to bring you.”

  “He knows about me?”

  “No. He knows there’s somebody. He just doesn’t know who.”

  She gets this funny look on her face. “How’s that?”

  “Because he called me once and I answered, ‘Hey, beautiful.’ He’s been teasing me ever since,” I say and chuckle.

  “Ah! I see.” A smile stretches all the way across her face. “Want me to go?”

  I shrug. “That’s up to you, but you’d have to come just as a friend.”

  “Then I’ll pass. But thanks for letting me know I was invited in a roundabout way. What’s going on?”

  “They haven’t told the family that Melina’s pregnant.”

  “Oh! Didn’t know about that! Well, congratulations to them!”

  “Yeah. They’re excited.”

  “But that might be awkward with someone outside the family there, so it would be better if I didn’t go anyway.” She takes another sip of her ginger ale and gives me a gentle smile. “Now go strip and put on the thong I bought for you.”

  I’m a little surprised. “Right now?”

  “Yes. Right now.” I guess I stand there longer than she’d like because she screws up her face and adds, “You said you’ve got somewhere you’ve got to be. If we’re going to do this, it has to be now.”

  “Uh, okay.” I rummage through the bag until I find it. I can’t believe she paid twenty-two dollars for this thing. There’s less than ten cents-worth of fabric in it. Just holding it in my hand makes me blush, but I head for the bedroom and start pulling off clothes. When I’m down to nothing, I step into the straps and pull it up. It takes a little work for me to get everything I was born with into that little pouch, and when I manage, I step in front of the mirror and take a peek.

  To my surprise, I look pretty damn good. I’m thinner than I used to be, so every muscle is obvious. My mother’s American Indian heritage shows in the color of my skin, and the black leather suits me, especially since there’s no hair escaping around the sides of the pouch. Since I didn’t ask if I could wear some kind of jewelry, I suppose I probably shouldn’t, so I take off everything, even my watch. My next thought is, Hope I don’t lose track of time, but I have a feeling she won’t let that happen.

  As soon as I make my way back to the living room, she looks up and smiles. “My oh my. That looks incredible on you. Or maybe I should say you look incredible in it!” Instead of speaking again, she just points to the floor beside her feet and I kneel there. Her hand reaches out and lifts my chin, and the kiss she sweeps against my lips is heaven. Then she pats the sofa. “Come up here with me. On your side. Head in my lap.”

  Okay, this is weird, I think to myself as I assume the position. As soon as I’m there and still, her fingers rake through my hair and an incredible sense of peace comes over me. No one, not my mother, not my ex-wife, no one has ever made me feel so cherished. It’s as though she knows exactly what to do to get to me, and I like it. “Is there anything I can do for you, Mistress?” I ask. I want to please her. That’s all I need―to please her.

  “No. Let me do for you. Let’s talk, okay?” I nod against her thigh. “You were married for how long?”

  “Almost twenty years, Mistress.”

  “And what happened?”

  My cheeks begin to burn again. “I asked her for, um, something, and she threw all my clothes and stuff out onto the lawn.”

  “What did you ask her for?”

  I’m so embarrassed and ashamed. “I, um …” No. I can’t. But she just waits. “Um … I asked her to, um, to tie me to the bed and, um, slap my, uh, my junk.”

  I can hear the incredulity in her voice when she asks, “And for that she threw your clothes on the lawn?”

  “Yes, Mistress. She said I was a weird pervert and that God wouldn’t approve at all. I tried to talk to her, but she didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. She went to the deacons in the church and told them I was asking her to do perverted things. But when she told them she was going to ask me for a divorce, they called a meeting and asked me to leave.”

  “So you lost your wife and your vocation.”

  I nod against her thigh again. “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Well, that was ever so much bullshit. You’re better off without all of them.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” Funny how it still doesn’t feel that way. If Mona asked me to come back, would I? No. I couldn’t, not after everything that happened. I can’t even say I love her anymore, but I don’t hate her. It’s just painful to think about all the years we spent together and how they meant so little to her. Then I think of something. “Mistress, may I ask you questions?”

  Her hand strokes through my hair again. “Yes, Panther. Ask me anything you like.”

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  That hand never stops moving when she says, “I never said I was divorced.”

  “But you said Caleb’s dad left you and Caleb when he was four.”

  “He did.” Without any hesitation, she adds, “He died.”

  My heart sinks. “Oh, Mistress! I’m so sorry! I had no idea. Do you mind if I ask what happened?”

  “Not at all. He was a pipefitter. There was a building downtown that was being renovated, and he was on the renovation crew. A huge steam line broke. It burned him and two other guys badly, and he and one of them died. The third man lived, but he’s been in terrible shape ever since. Jeremy was burned so badly that I was glad he died. The t
reatment that would’ve come after that … It would’ve been incredibly painful. I didn’t want to lose him, but I didn’t want him to suffer that way. But it was a horrible time for me.”

  “It had to be. You had nobody to help you with Caleb?” I look up to see her shake her head.

  “No. Nobody. Oh, there were a couple of people at school who came every once in a while and watched him so I could at least go get coffee by myself, but that was about it. Finding childcare for him while I was working was difficult. When he finally reached school age, it was great. I took him to school with me and back home in the evenings. No struggling to get him on a bus. No being late for work and having to leave early. It was perfect. That’s the only thing that kept me sane, the convenience of it. God knows the rest of my life was hard enough.”

  “I’m sure.” Then something else passes through my mind. “But I don’t understand. Your life has been hard enough, and you’ve sure got enough responsibility. Why would you want a submissive to have to take care of?”

  “Because that’s who I am. I wouldn’t be comfortable in a vanilla relationship. I need the control to make sure things are done in such a way that they won’t cause me even more work and frustration. I wake up every morning wondering if I can get through the day, and every evening I wonder if I’ve got the strength to keep going. The idea of being with someone who would only make my life harder … I can’t do that. I’ve got to be able to call the shots.”

  “But so much in our lives is out of control, Mistress.”

  “It is. And I don’t need more. With a submissive, I get to make the decisions. Do we eat out? Eat at home? Do laundry tonight or watch a movie? Or do I get to watch a movie while the submissive does laundry? Sex? Tonight? Tomorrow night? Or not at all because I’m exhausted? So I get to make those decisions, not somebody else, and it keeps my life more manageable. Does that make sense?”

  “But it would seem to me …” That’s not the way to start that sentence. “Mistress, doesn’t that relegate the submissive to just being along for the ride? I mean, you say you need to take care of a submissive, but it seems to me that it’s just more work for you, and that the submissive isn’t really part of the relationship. I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just trying to understand.”

  “Okay, let me see if I can explain it.” She sits in silence for a little while, and I can almost see the gears turning. “Let’s say I’ve had a horrible day. A kid calls me a bitch in second period. We do an experiment that goes awry and breaks out a window in the chemistry lab. I’m trying to clean up the mess and cut my hand.”

  I chuckle. “That’s a pretty bad day for sure.”

  “Yeah. Right now, I’d gather up my stuff, head home, maybe stop on the way and pick something up. Caleb and I would eat in front of the TV. I’d do two loads of laundry, grade papers, help Caleb with his studies―”

  “Studies?”

  “Master’s program. He’s only got nine more hours.”

  “Really? In what?”

  “Believe it or not, Japanese. When he finishes the degree, he’ll get a promotion at work. They do a lot of work with Japanese firms, and they need someone who speaks the language well to attend meetings, take notes, make phone calls, things like that. They tried to hire someone to do it, but they didn’t speak English well enough to do the job, and they need to be able to understand the technical aspects of the business, enough so to communicate with everyone involved.”

  “Wait―who does he work for?”

  “Imagine Aeronautics. He’s been working in their lab for several years now. When they found out he could speak Japanese, they jumped on the chance to send him to school.”

  “How did he learn to speak Japanese?”

  “He spent time with his grandparents when he was younger. They taught him.”

  “Oh! Was his father Japanese?”

  “Yes. His last name is Hasegawa.”

  “Then I take it O’Leary is your family name?”

  She laughs, and I love that sound. “Yeah! Never met a Japanese person named O’Leary. That would be kinda weird.”

  “Yes, it would!”

  “So, back to your question,” she says, settling us both down. “If I have a bad day like that, I’d like to be able to call my submissive and say, ‘It’s been a bitch of a day. Take care of dinner. Don’t care what it is as long as I don’t have to cook it and clean it up. We need two loads of laundry done, and I need to be free at eight to help Caleb.’ The response is, ‘Yes, Mistress.’ And my day is made easier with one phone call.”

  “I see. But what if the submissive has a terrible day?”

  “He should say so. If we’ve both had a terrible day … I suppose we could sit down and cry or bitch together!” she says and starts to laugh again.

  I’m laughing again too. “Sometimes I wouldn’t be opposed to that!”

  “But does that answer your questions? Does it all make sense?”

  “I think so. It would be easier to see it all in action, I guess.”

  “Maybe we’ll get to do that. But you’ll have to do something about your family first,” she says, and I feel that same clutching sensation in my chest. No way can she understand what will happen if I tell them who and what I am. They’ll never accept that―never.

  And then we both fall quiet. Oddly, it’s not the least bit uncomfortable. Stroking my hair, she hums quietly, and I feel like a little child whose mother is singing them into naptime. This is new, feeling this comfortable with a woman, and I don’t want it to end. For as long as we knew each other, Mona and I could never just be with each other. One of us was talking or doing something all the time. Sitting quietly like this, no TV or stereo, just the two of us, is refreshing. It makes me feel as though we’re the only two people in the whole world, and I like that idea. We sit there for at least forty-five minutes in total silence and I’m starting to get drowsy when she says, “You can’t fall asleep, Panther. You’ve got somewhere to go, remember?”

  “Yeah. I mean, yes, Mistress. I’m trying to stay awake but it’s hard.” I wouldn’t call it the fetal position, but I’m curled up on the sofa and her bare feet are on the coffee table. It’s like we matter, like we fit.

  Like we belong together. I see that clearly. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t except for my family, and I don’t know how to fix that, but I know now that I want to be with her. I have no idea how she feels about that, but I hope in time she’ll come to want the same. She interrupts my thoughts with, “You’re probably putting on clothes to go over there, right?”

  “Oh!” That makes me look up at the clock. Five ten. I’ve got to be out of here by five forty-five to get her home and get back across town to Boone’s. “I suppose I should go do that.”

  “I suppose you should.” As soon as I sit up, that soft voice says, “Hey.”

  My head has no more than barely turned when her lips fall on mine, and I give as good as I get. When she breaks it, I whistle long and low before I say, “Wow. I wish I didn’t have to go.”

  Stroking my jaw, she smiles. “I wish you didn’t too, but I think missing this is out of the question.”

  “Yeah, all my brothers and sisters-in-law and their kids will be there. My parents are coming in too.”

  “I suppose this is a big deal.”

  “Yeah. She didn’t think she could have kids.”

  “No other kids?”

  “Boone has Baker. He’s seven. A few months ago, Melina gave―”

  Her eyes widened. “I heard about that! She gave him a kidney!”

  “Yeah. She’s a special person. We all love her. She’s made Boone happier than I’ve ever seen him.”

  “Do you want to have kids of your own some day?” she asks.

  “There are a lot of ways to have a family. Giving birth to a baby isn’t the only one. I mean, look at Lucien and his girlfriend. She’s got a little girl. I don’t know if they’ll ever have kids, but they’ve got Carly, and Lucien’s crazy about her. They�
�re a cute little family.”

  “That’s true. But wouldn’t you like to have a baby that’s yours biologically?”

  I know what she’s up to, and I’m not going to lie to her. “That would be okay if it happened, but it’s not something I’m just straining at the bit for. Foster kids, adult kids, grandkids, adopted kids―doesn’t make any difference. Family is family.”

  The reddening of her eyes is something I wasn’t expecting. “You know, your church did themselves a grave disservice when they let you go. I bet you were a good pastor and a good friend.”

  My own eyes start to sting. “Thanks. I tried―I really did. It wasn’t fair, but then life seldom is.”

  “Brandt?” Her hands cradle my face and she smiles. “You’re a precious person, a true gentleman, and a gentle soul. An old soul too. I don’t know how far this will go between us, but my life will be better just because I met you.” I feel a tear trickle from the inside corner of my eye, and she wipes it away with the pad of her thumb. “Now get in there and get dressed. Don’t want you to be late!” Before she gets a chance to move away, I give her a little peck on the lips, then head to the bedroom.

  I start pulling clothes out of the closet and I can feel her presence in the doorway, watching me. That makes me chuckle. “Why don’t you just sit down on the bed, Mistress, instead of standing there?”

  “Don’t mind if I do!” she says with a laugh. “Although I have to say, I like you a lot better in that.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, I’m fairly certain we’re going to have plenty more opportunities for you to see me in it.” I’ve tossed a pair of boxer briefs on the bed and I hook my fingers in the top of the thong to pull it off.

  “I actually like you a lot better like that,” she murmurs as the thong comes down, and I grin. “Wish we had time for me to show you.”

  Instead of replying, I just give her a naughty wink, or at least my version of it. Flirting isn’t one of my strongest skills. Guess I should work on that. I’m not sure I did it right because she giggles. Then I try to dress as slowly as I can, which almost makes me giggle. It’s kind of like a reverse strip tease, and when I catch a glimpse of her barely-parted lips, her tongue wetting them coyly, I know I’m doing it right. By the time I pull on my belt, the sexual tension in the room is almost a solid, living thing, but I have to go. “There. How do I look?” I ask as I turn to face her.

 

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