Blissfully Hers: Bliss Series, Book Seven

by Hall, Deanndra

  “No. That’s okay. Just stay here. But thank you for offering. Talk to you in the morning?”

  “You can bet on it.” I lean toward her and she meets me halfway, her lips landing on mine softly. “But it’ll be late morning. You should rest.”

  “I’m going to try. Goodnight. Thanks again.”

  “You’re very welcome. Goodnight, Mistress.”

  I won’t leave until I know she’s inside, so I sit and wait. When I’m pretty sure she’s gotten in and locked the door, I start the car, and then I see it―the porch light flashes twice. That’s a very Dani-esque kind of signal. She knew I was waiting, and she wanted me to know she was inside and locked in. The woman is considerate in everything she does.

  The apartment is quiet when I open the door, so I turn on the TV, start the dryer, and come back to watch the late news. Bombing at a foreign embassy, tsunami killing a bunch of people, and yet another country wanting to drop a nuclear warhead on somebody. Oh, and a fluffy kitten somebody found in a storm drain. Somehow that fluffy kitten story is supposed to make all the rest palatable. Doesn’t work for me.

  Sliding under the sheets, I try to snuggle down, but I can’t. I miss her. Taking my phone from the night stand, I punch in a short text: Just wanted to say goodnight again. I miss your smile.

  Almost immediately, I get one back. And I miss your touch and your kisses. Goodnight. Talk to you tomorrow.

  I send back an emoticon that looks like a smiley blowing a little heart kiss, but she doesn’t respond. Oh, well.

  Tomorrow’s another day.

  * * *

  “Well, isn’t this a surprise!” I cross my little office and give my other baby brother a hug.

  “Yeah, we decided to come out for this festival Kara’s always wanted to go to. I mean, we’ve got a free place to stay, so why not?” Brock says with a laugh.

  “Exactly! Does Boone know you’re here?”

  “Not yet, but we’re staying with him and Melina so he’ll know soon enough!” he laughs again.

  “Guess so. Hey, it’s lunchtime. Want to go grab a bite?”

  He swings an arm toward the door. “Sure! Lead the way!”

  As I drive, we talk about this festival. “What the hell is the ‘Tubers & Roots Festival’?” I ask.

  “I know, I know. The girl is obsessed with tubers and root vegetables. This year our entire garden was potatoes, onions, carrots, turnips, rutabagas, beets, ginger, daikon … I mean, it was ridiculous. I ate so much of that shit that I thought I was going to die. I asked her, ‘Hey, where are the green beans, or cucumbers, or squash?’ She said, ‘We can buy those at the store, but these are easier to grow.’”

  “Not one head of cabbage?” I ask, trying hard not to laugh.

  Brock shakes his head―hard. “Nope. Not a single one. I love that girl, but she’s got some funny ideas.”

  “Well, at least you won’t starve.”

  “That’s true.”

  I’ve been thinking about something and I think it’s time to ask. “So could I maybe start the process with the girls by taking Kara out tonight?”

  Brock’s eyebrows shoot up. “Um, you’ll have to talk to her, but sure. That would be fine with me, as long as she and Boone haven’t already cooked up something. I’m taking Melina to a movie Boone doesn’t want to see.”

  “Okay. I’ll ask her, and I’ll tell her I’ve already talked to you.” This could work out well.

  After lunch, I call Dani. “Hello?”

  “Hey, beautiful. How ya feelin’?”

  She sounds kind of groggy. “I was asleep. The soreness has set in and I feel like shit.”

  “I’m sorry, honey. Maybe it won’t last long.”

  “I hope not. I’m miserable.”

  “So the main reason I called was to ask you something.” I outline everything I’ve planned for the evening, then ask, “What do you think?”

  “You sure this is safe?”

  “I think so. We have a rule―our relationships with the girls are completely independent. They don’t concern another brother or the husband. It’s one on one time.”

  “But does she keep secrets from Brock?”

  “It’s not a secret. It’s just something that’s part of our relationship, not theirs, so she’s bound by our agreement to not tell him.”

  “Ah. I see. Well, try it. See if it works. Can’t really do any harm, I don’t suppose.”

  “Okay. I’m forging ahead. You go back to bed and see if you can sleep off some of the soreness, okay?”

  “Okay. Brandt?”

  “Yes, Mistress?”

  “I miss you. Wish you were here to hold me.”

  “I wish I were there holding you too. Don’t worry. Things will get back to normal soon.”

  “I hope so. Have fun with Kara tonight and call me when you get home, please.”

  “Will do. Bye.”

  “Bye, babe.”

  Now to set this up. Scouring the internet, I find a nice little restaurant that I think Kara would like. Reservations made, I call to ask her.

  I hope I’m not about to screw everything up.

  Chapter Eight

  “This is a nice place, Brandt. And it smells fabulous too.” The hostess leads us to our seats and I look around. Rustic but clean. I like it.

  We each pick out a salad and an entrée, decide on an appetizer to share, and get our drinks ordered, a merlot for me and a soft drink for her. She reaches across the table, takes my hand, and pats the two clasped together with her other one. “I’m glad you decided to take this step. I’ve always wanted to get to know you better.”

  “Thanks. Same here. But you know that when I was with Mona―”

  “Oh, I know. It’s okay. She was a little … different.” She says that with a breadstick in her mouth and I understand why Brock’s so crazy about her. Kara’s sweet and cute, but she’s also very relaxed. There’s not an uptight bone in the woman’s body. “At least you’re out of that.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Boone says you have somebody.”

  Ah. Did I mention she’s also very straightforward? Because she is. Painfully so. “He caught me talking to somebody on the phone one day and I called her ‘beautiful.’ He hasn’t stopped asking since.”

  “Yeah, he’s a big kid that way. He says you’ve got a friend too, a Dominatrix from the club.”

  “About that … Can we eat first? And then I need to talk to you about something.”

  She lets out a nervous little laugh. “Sure! Sounds serious!”

  “Not really. Just a bit, and I don’t want either of us getting indigestion.”

  Dinner is fantastic. It’s American food but with a French flair, and it’s delicious. We talk and laugh as she tells me about things the kids are up to and stuff Brock’s done over the last few weeks that’s driven her almost crazy. “He left it on the kitchen table. On the kitchen table. Who in their right mind leaves a pregnancy test on the kitchen table? Barnett came running in and asked us, ‘Is Bethany in trouble?’ When we asked him what he was talking about, he said, ‘There’s a thing on the kitchen table that tells if somebody’s having a baby. It can’t be for you, Mom, because you’re too old.’ I wanted to strangle them both!”

  I snort. “Kitchen table. Boy, he gets no awards for subtlety, that’s for sure.”

  “No shit. I was like, ‘Couldn’t you at least carry it to the bathroom?’ And he said, ‘Why? You’ll be as big as a house in five months and everybody will know anyway.’ Nothing’s sacred in that house―nothing.”

  “Are you feeling okay?”

  Her smile is wide and warm. “Yeah. The last few weeks were rough, and I’m still having some trouble with morning sickness, but it’s getting better. I’m just excited. This is my first pregnancy when Brock’s got a decent job and we’ve got enough money to make ends meet and then some. It’s such a relief not to have to worry about how we’re going to have food and utilities and still pay for diapers and stuff.” For all
the times I’ve been proud of my youngest baby brother, at this moment I’m the proudest I’ve ever been. Boone’s made such a difference in all our lives, and I hope someday I’ll be able to thank him in a way that will really mean something.

  The server shows up to clear the table and I know it’s time I spill the beans. “So, this thing I wanted to talk to you about … What we talk about when we’re together is just between us, right?”

  “Yeah. That’s the agreement.”

  “And you’re under no obligation to tell Brock. I mean, you won’t tell Brock, right?”

  She side-eyes me suspiciously. “Unless you try to get me into bed, and then we’re going to have a problem.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that!” I blurt out. It’ll take me a couple of rounds of plastic surgery to get my eyebrows out of my hairline.

  “Am I that repugnant?” she fires back, obviously incensed.

  “No! I mean, no, I would never do that because he’s my brother! Oh, lord, this isn’t going well at all.” Now I’m wishing I’d said nothing. That’s when she starts to laugh. “What?”

  “I’m just kicking your ass. I’m not going to say anything to Brock. What you and I talk about is our business, not his. So what is it? You need woman advice?”

  “Yes and no. Not exactly. Well, kinda. It’s―”

  “For the love of god, Brandt, just say it.”

  “I’m a submissive.” I can’t believe I just blurted that out. Apparently she can’t either because she sucks in a breath and then just sits and stares at me. After a few seconds I whine, “Well, say something, please? Please?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what to say and I got nuthin’. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Nuthin’.” She’s not kidding. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody looked so stunned.

  “Oh, come on, Kara, hadn’t you even guessed that?”

  “No. Never.”

  “At all?”

  “No. You’re so … masculine.”

  Now it’s my turn to be incensed. “I’m no less masculine because I’m a submissive.”

  That sets her to stammering. “I didn’t, I mean, um, it’s not that, uh … What I meant is … Oh, shit, nothing’s going right in this conversation, is it?”

  “Nope.”

  We both sit there, not quite knowing what to say. This has to be the most awkward situation I’ve ever put myself in, and I don’t know how to salvage it. Finally, after what seems like forever, she says, “So what do you need from me? What can I do for you?”

  I want to kiss her in that moment, this generous, kind woman. “I needed to tell somebody.”

  “Well, now I know, and I can’t tell anybody, so you’ve got that. Anything else?”

  “One of the things you can do for me is to talk to me about being a submissive. I mean, I have no point of reference, nothing except my Mistress, and she’s―”

  “Your mistress? Is this the woman Boone keeps calling ‘beautiful’?”

  “Yeah. But he doesn’t know she’s Dani. The Dominatrix.”

  “Who Boone thinks is your friend.”

  I shrug. “Well, technically, she is my friend. And my mistress, and my lover. I mean, we’re creating a relationship. But she has no perspective from the submissive end, and I sure couldn’t go through the submissive orientation at the club. And anybody I talk to in there could go back and tell Boone, and I don’t need that.”

  “So nobody knows except you, Dani, and me?”

  “Well, Brian. He guessed.”

  She nods. “Yeah. I can see how he could. From what I can tell, he’s pretty damn sharp.”

  “Yep. So I guess one of the things I need is this: Can you tell me about your relationship with Brock? I mean, I don’t need nuts and bolts, just what he expects and what you’re responsible to him for. That kind of thing. I mean, do you wait for him at the door?”

  “I didn’t when the kids were little, but I do now if they’re not there.”

  “Okay. Dressed?”

  “Yeah. Because we can’t take a chance on one of them coming home and finding me by the door naked. That would be beyond awkward.”

  “No shit. But you kneel there and wait for him?”

  “Yeah. But even in their presence I say ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir.’ It’s just a respect thing between us, and the kids have picked up on it too. It makes me proud to see them have such respect for their father. He’s a good man and he deserves it. And he’s an exceptional Dominant.”

  I don’t know about the Dominant part, but I have to agree with her on the good man part. All three of my brothers are great guys, even if Brock can be an asshole when he puts his mind to it. “So what does he expect of you?”

  “Let’s see … Well, he expects sex. He typically expects it anytime he wants it, within reason. Like he would never press when the kids are home and up, but otherwise, yeah. They were never allowed to sleep in our bed, even when I was nursing them. I had to nurse them and then move them to a bassinet or crib because he didn’t want them in our bed. He said that’s a place for him and me and nobody else. Unless, of course, it was someone he invited in.”

  Okay, that’s a little surprising. “Has he ever done that?”

  “Yeah. I had a friend who got a divorce. She was over at the house one day and she made the comment that she’d never been in a ménage, so I talked to Brock and we invited her over one night. That turned into a six-month thing. Then she met this new guy and didn’t want to do it anymore, which was fine with us. It was fun, but I knew it couldn’t go on forever.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I knew at some point she’d start wanting a relationship, and that’s not what it was about. Brock would never have gone for that. He was already concerned that she was getting a little too close to him emotionally. I never noticed it, but he insisted, so it was best that it ended anyway.”

  “Yeah. Don’t need that kind of trouble.”

  “No. But our bed is ours. He’s made that clear. When we were fucking around with her, we used the guest room. He’s that strict about it. I’m also required to go to the club with him at least one night a week and scene. He says that keeps us both on our toes sexually and forces us to be careful about our appearances.”

  “Do you have sex in the performance areas?”

  “Yes. He’s always been very clear about wanting that. He’s quite a performer, and I really think he likes it when people can watch him fuck me. And the louder I am, the happier he is.”

  “Does he have a specialty?”

  “He likes extreme bondage. Hogtying, equipment bondage, anything that immobilizes me. The less I can struggle, the happier and hornier he is. Ball gag, spider gag, blindfold, all that kind of stuff. He loves tit torture too, especially needle play.”

  “Ouch!”

  “I’m used to it. It’s not that bad. The syringe tips they use are such fine gauge that it’s not that painful. But yeah, he loves that kind of thing. He made it clear to me that as soon as we’re finished having kids, I’ll be having my nipples pierced, and he plans to do it himself. I’m betting he’s going to want to do it at the club in front of everybody, and he’ll probably want me bound up tight when he does it.”

  I snicker when I say, “You should tell him if you’re having your nipples pierced, he’s got to have his penis pierced.”

  “He already does. He’s got pearls.”

  “What?”

  “Pearls. You know, beads implanted in his penis.”

  The thought makes me a little dizzy. “What? Are you serious?”

  “He’s had them for about eight years. I love it. Look it up later and you’ll see why.”

  “Has he ever used one of those electrosex things on you?”

  She grins widely. “Yeah. I love that thing. I take it you’ve had one used on you?”

  I nod. “And the very same night, she used a strap-on on me.”

  “Oooo. You got an ass fucking. Was that your first?” I nod again. “Did you like
it?”

  “Yes and no. I mean, if we’d discussed it ahead of time, it might’ve been better, but it was shocking and painful because we hadn’t.”

  “Would you do it again?”

  “Most definitely.”

  That makes her giggle. “Then it couldn’t have been too painful!”

  “No. I mean, it was only painful because I wasn’t prepared, that’s all. I was kinda tense and nervous.”

  “Nervous is never good with ass fucking. Never. Has she face fucked you with it yet?”

  That’s a curious question. “Why would anybody face fuck somebody with a fake dick?”

  “It’s not about real or fake. It’s about watching you take it. Apparently there’s something immensely satisfying to a Dominant about watching a submissive deep-throat a cock, real or not. Don’t be surprised if she does that. It’s a submission thing.”

  “Okay.” That still makes no sense, but whatever. I’ll take her word for it. “So what does she really need from me?”

  “Your obedience. Your trust. Your submission. You need to satisfy her any way she wants, and you need to do it with no expectation of satisfaction for yourself. Your satisfaction should come from knowing she’s satisfied. If she’s a good Dominatrix, she’ll do things to and with you that are new and you’ll get to experience things you’d never experience in a vanilla relationship.”

  “That’s already happening,” I assure her without adding that some of those things I wouldn’t choose if I had the ability to.

  “Good. Don’t be surprised if she starts conditioning you to come when she tells you to.”

  “She already tells me when I can’t and when I can.”

  “No. I mean she’ll tell you to. Like on the phone, she’ll say, ‘Come for me, submissive,’ and you will. In seconds.”

  “Huh. That sounds a little impossible,” I point out.

  “Nope. Brock trained me that way. We’ll be talking on the phone and all of a sudden he’ll say, ‘Chi-Chi, come for me.’ And I do, usually in under a minute.”

  Chi-Chi? Well, that’s an interesting submissive name, but I’m not going to ask. “Hmmm. Interesting. By the way, do you know anything about cock and ball torture?”