“Tell me what happened. Come on. Tell me, Mistress. It’s okay.” Pulling back, I wipe the tears from her face with both hands and cradle her jawline in my palms. “Talk to me.”
“It’s a good thing he beat me up.”
The voice that comes from my lips is almost a scream. “WHAT? What are you talking about?”
“Jesus, it’s been a hard day.” I watch as she shudders and takes a deep breath, then blows it out. “If he hadn’t beaten me up, we never would’ve known about the rest.”
“The rest? What ‘rest’ are you talking about? Dani, I―”
“Brandt, after they took him away last week, two girls came to the office. One said he’d assaulted her, and the other says he raped her.”
“Whaaa … You’re not serious?” This … I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This kid was, is, dangerous. Very dangerous.
“Dead serious. The police took both reports. The girl who said he assaulted her? He forced his dick down her throat and held it there until she blacked out.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“Yeah. I feel kinda lucky that all he did to me was knock me around.”
“Those poor girls. Why hadn’t they reported it?”
“Because he’s a popular jock and they thought everybody would hate them, or think they were lying, or call them sluts. But because he got arrested for what he did to me, they felt safer coming forward.”
It takes at least a half minute for the whole thing to sink in, and when it does, I realize something very important. “Danielle, you do know if he hadn’t beaten you up and gone to jail, he probably would’ve eventually killed some poor girl.”
The tears start to fall again, and I feel so helpless, but I’m also incredibly proud of her. “Yeah, I realize that now. It could’ve been so much worse. At least he’s in jail now, and he’s not going anywhere. They told me because of the seriousness of the crimes and his behavior, they’re probably going to prosecute him as an adult. I mean, he’s seventeen. It’s not like he didn’t know better. He did it all because he thought he could get away with it. And I bet you if the truth were told, it’s probably a lot more than two girls. I bet there’s at least half a dozen or more out there that he’s hurt and terrorized.”
“You’re probably right. I’m just glad he did what he did to you in front of everybody and didn’t follow you to your car where you were alone.”
“Yeah. Me too. And, oh, Brandt, it was so sweet. The kids had made cards for me, and two of them bought my lunch, and the boys kept holding doors for me and asking if they could help me carry things. They were all so nice. The teachers and administration all went in together and bought me a nice gift card to a restaurant, and they put it in a beautiful greeting card. Everybody was so wonderful to me. I’m so glad I work there.”
She’s finally smiling. That’s all I wanted to see, that beautiful smile. “I’m glad you work there too. Are you gonna be okay? Because if you need me to take the rest of the day off, I can tell Boone―”
“No, no. That’s okay. I’m going home and take a nap, try to decompress a little. But thanks.”
I just shrug. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh, but my beautiful Panther, you most certainly did.” My heart thumps wildly when she leans in and kisses me, and my hand can’t help but wrap into that gorgeous hair and pull her closer. Every hope and dream I have for us is there in that kiss, and I hope she can feel it the way I can. Pulling back, she smiles. “Come over when you get off work and we can grab something to eat and talk.”
“Absolutely, Mistress. How about I pick up something so we don’t have to go out?”
“That would be great.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.” I plant another peck on her lips and watch her smile. “Can’t wait.”
I open the car door and climb out, then turn and bend down into it to hear her say, “Good. See you in a little while then. Bye, babe.”
“Bye, beautiful.” Once I’ve closed the door, I watch as she pulls out and heads away, but when her car is on the street, I hear the horn and see her wave at me, so I give her a wave back.
Two steps. That’s as far as I get inside when I see my baby brother standing there, grinning at me. “So, what’s the rush?”
“Friend had a bad day at work.”
“Friend, huh? Brandt, why don’t you just fess up?”
“To what?” Oh, shit. Here we go again.
“To the fact that you and Dani are together.”
“We’re friends, Boone. Friends.” Fuck me. Please tell me he didn’t―
“That’s some kissing you were doing with your friend out there,” he says, and he’s smirking. I fucking hate that.
“Were you watching us?” He lets out a laugh. “What, are you fourteen or something?”
“No. I’m just curious. Sue me.” Fuck me twice―he’s taking that stance, the feet-shoulder-width-apart, arms-folded-across-his-chest stance. When he leans back into it, I know I’m screwed. “Now, out with it.”
“There’s nothing to be ‘out’ with. I told you―we’re just friends.” My inner child whines, Will this never end?
“Uh-huh. Well, okay then. Hold onto your little secret a tad longer, my brother, because it’ll eventually come out.”
“Jesus, Boone, give it up.” Now I’m just getting annoyed. I’ve already told him, and as far as I know, that’s really all we are. I’d like more, much more, but I know all she wants is a submissive. A pet. That’s what I am―her pet. Panther, her house cat. The thought makes me sad, but I shake it off. Maybe it’ll eventually be more.
He turns to walk away, then spins to look back at me. “You ready to go on Wednesday?”
“I will be.”
“Okay. We’re leaving at about ten in the morning, so be at my house by nine. My driver will take us to the airport.”
“Sounds good. And thanks for letting me come.”
“You’ve never been to an opening before. You should get to experience that so you understand it. I’m going to a doctor’s appointment with Melina. Be back in a couple of hours.” With a wave, he’s gone.
By the time I get to Dani’s with steaks, baked potatoes, and grilled broccoli for all three of us, she’s up and moving around, but she looks like hell. Beautiful hell, but hell all the same. She managed to get the table set, so we sit down and eat immediately before our steaks get cold. Caleb and I wind up in a discussion about Asian religions while Dani just sits there, listening. When we’re finished, I ask her to go sit in the living room and let Caleb and me clean up the dinner mess. For the first time ever, she doesn’t argue with me, just disappears.
“I’m worried about her,” Caleb whispers to me as we work quietly.
“I think she’ll be okay. She just had quite the shock today.”
“I know. She told me. But I worry about her working there, about her teaching kids like that.” He seems suddenly old beyond his years, and I feel sorry for all the worries he has to deal with.
“I know what you’re saying, but she has to. It’s her calling.” That’s the best way I can explain it.
There’s an edge to his voice that makes me a bit uncomfortable when he asks, “Oh, you mean like you and being a minister?”
Okay, kid, you wanna play rough? I’ll play. “Yes. Exactly like that. They’re both vocations that require some kind of calling, just like being a doctor or nurse.”
“So your calling just went away?”
“No. My calling did not just go away.” Where’s he going with this? I’m starting to get a little pissed.
“Seems to me you just forgot about it. You were a minister, but you’re having sex with a woman you’re not married to, and I’ve heard you come out with a few strings of four-letter words that would make a construction worker blush. Seems to me you left your calling behind.”
Ah. So that’s where we’re going with this. “Actually, I didn’t leave my calling. My calling booted me. My wife told everybody in my congregation, start
ing with the deacons, that I’m a sexual pervert and she kicked me out of the house. And with Baptist churches, at least Baptist churches in the south, not liking divorced ministers, that was the end of that. So you see, I didn’t abandon my calling. My calling abandoned me, and right when I needed it the most.”
“What are your intentions toward my mother?” Now we’re getting down to it.
“My intentions are to be the best submissive I can possibly be so she can depend on me and be proud of me.”
“And a more permanent relationship?”
It takes everything I have not to sigh. “I’m the submissive. That’s up to her.”
“I see.” Then he falls silent, thank god. I want to shout, I don’t need your permission to have a relationship with her! but I’m glad she has him. If she can’t love me, at least she has someone to love who loves her back.
That ends the conversation. We spend the rest of the time doing a clumsy ballet of putting things away and throwing things out. When we’re finished, I thank him for helping me and head into the living room. I just plop down on the opposite end of the sofa from her and say, “Okay, give me those feet, Mistress.” They’re in my lap in about three seconds, and I go to work, kneading and digging, watching her face at the same time and being thankful for the peaceful expression that finally makes its way there.
Twenty minutes later, she’s sound asleep. I let her sit there for another fifteen minutes, then pick her up and carry her to the bedroom. She can barely help me get her undressed and into a tee, but when I do, she snuggles right down into the bed and doesn’t move.
This was not how I wanted the evening to go, especially since I’m leaving on Wednesday morning, but she’s exhausted and I know it. I lie down beside her and spoon her until I know she’s completely down for the count. Sure that she’s asleep, I rise, kiss her on the cheek, and make my way up the hallway. I tap on Caleb’s door, tell him goodnight and that I’m leaving, and go on out to the car. I’m only about five blocks away when my text tone pings and I check it to find a message from Caleb: Thank you for taking care of my mom.
I pull over and shoot one back: You’re welcome. I’d do anything for her. I get back two emoticons, a thumbs-up and a smiley face. That’s good enough for me.
The clock says eight when I get home, but I go straight to bed. It’s chilly under my covers without her, and I wish her warmth and softness were against me. Nothing makes me as happy as being with her. Nothing ever has, and nothing ever will.
* * *
Work is all about getting ready to leave tomorrow. Getting things done before we go is imperative, at least the things that can’t wait. I get some shipping schedules nailed down and tell Willa, Boone’s assistant, what to tell store managers or shipping companies if they call. I also remind her she’s always welcome to tell them to call me directly. I would never expect her to try to fix something that’s screwed up.
At a little before three I get a text. I want to go to the club tonight.
Hot damn. Sure. I’d love that. What time?
The three little dots wave up and down before I get a reply: Seven?
Sounds good. See you then, Mistress.
She sends back an emoji blowing little heart kisses. That makes me smile, and so does the thought of me kneeling by the bed in the private room, waiting for her to use me any way she pleases.
“Hey!” My head snaps up to find Boone standing there. “I’m headed home to start packing. Leave whenever you want. See you in the morning at my house.”
“Yep. I’ll be there. Have a good evening.”
“You too.” Oh, I’m going to have a good evening, I want to say and smirk at him, but I don’t dare. Once he’s gone, it takes me a whole five minutes to get out the door and head home.
Suitcase. Four pairs of slacks. Two pairs of jeans. Four polo shirts and two tees. Six pairs of underwear and socks. All my toiletries. And my athletic shoes. I don’t bother with a blow dryer. I know Boone well enough to know we’re staying in the best hotel in town. I’ll have to wear casual dress in the morning―he told me at some point that we’re going straight to the store when we get off the plane.
By five thirty, I’ve got most everything together. I won’t fold it all and put it in the suitcase until morning. With a quick shower, I head out to grab a bite and get to the club, satisfied that I’ve got it under control.
The club is super quiet―it’s sort of early for everybody―and I peer around the corner at the entrance to the hallway to check out the front room. There are only about five people there, and they’re all Dominants, so there’s no play going on, at least not yet. Our regular room is open and I close the door behind me, step into the little bathroom, change into what I’ve come to think of as my nad hammock, and kneel by the bed. As I relax into my pose, I drop my head and start to meditate. A whiteness fills my mind, a blankness that’s soothing, and I just sit there and bask in it.
“Good evening, submissive,” I hear her say as she enters the room, and it startles me at first.
I’m careful to keep my head down. “Good evening, Mistress.”
“Were you praying?”
“No. Meditating.”
“Ah. That’s good for the soul.” There are sounds of her moving about, but I refuse to look up. “You’ll be glad to know one of the teachers at the school goes to a self-defense class and she asked me to come with her. Just out of the blue. So I’m going to.”
“That’s excellent, Mistress.”
“I thought so too. While I change, take off that thong, get up on the bed, lie down on your back, and close your eyes.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Excellent. I have this feeling we’re going to play in a way I’m really going to like. My cock had started to harden when she stepped through the doorway, and now there’s a slow burn building in it. By the time she comes out, I’m exactly as she ordered.
She doesn’t say a word, just gets right to work binding my wrists and ankles to the bed. When she’s finished, she stands at the foot of the bed. “Open your eyes and look at yourself.” My gaze takes in the bindings around my ankles, a red webbing binding, and my steely dick pointing up at an angle. She’s just standing there, staring at me, and after a couple of minutes, she asks, “Does it make you uncomfortable for me to stare at you this way?”
“A little, Mistress.”
“Good. I want you a bit uncomfortable.” With that, she goes straight to the cabinet across the room and comes back with three clamps, two small ones and a big one. “You’re going to watch me do this to you.” The anticipation sets my heart hammering in my chest, and I pay close attention. God knows I don’t want to be accused of being non-compliant. She has this thing in her hand that looks sort of like a syringe, and she places the open end over one of my nipples, then draws the plunger back. My nipple swells inside it, and when it’s the way she wants it, she places the clamp’s round jaws around the base and removes the pump. While she does the same with the other one, I notice that the first one is starting to ache just a little. When she’s finished, she takes the bigger clamp, a spring-loaded thing, and heads south.
Oh, shit. What the hell is she going to do? It doesn’t take long to find out. Her hands are a little cold when she lifts my balls and opens the jaws on the big thing. She places them up as close as she can to my perineum, right in the center between my two testicles, and slowly releases it.
I see stars. After a couple of seconds, the blinding pain steps down a little to a hard, vicious, biting ache, and that doesn’t seem to decrease. Not only that, but I’ve somehow noticed, although I’m not sure how over this pain, that my nipples are throbbing, and when I glance at them, they’re dark red and huge because of the blood flow restriction. I’m practically wheezing in pain. “Oh, isn’t this fun?” she asks with a chuckle.
Now I’m panting. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You look so delicious this way, submissive.
So, so delicious. Let’s see if I can find a way to make it a little worse.” Fuck, I hope she fails at that.
But she doesn’t. I hadn’t noticed the holes in the handles of the clamps on my nipples, but they’re there, and she strings a piece of twine through both and hoists them toward the head of the bed. It’s all I can do to keep from screaming. “Better?”
“If it pleases you, Mistress.”
“Right answer. Now let’s see what we can do about this one down here.” There are no holes in the handles of that one, so she ties the twine around the base of the jaws at the spring level and draws it down to the footboard. Oh, shit. I know what’s about to happen now, and it’s not good. Sure enough, she threads the twine through the rungs of the footboard and starts to tighten it, pulling the clamp, and my balls, that direction.
I can’t move. If I do, the pain is excruciating. I want to please her, but I don’t know if I can stand this. “Well, submissive, tell me what you think of my handiwork.” I don’t know what to say, and I have a feeling that anything I say will be wrong. Words cross my mind and I decide to try them.
“It’s beautiful, Mistress.”
“Is it? You look a bit frightened. Can I assume it hurts terribly?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“And do you like it?”
“Truthfully? No, Mistress. I don’t.”
“Well, then, we’ll have to increase the pain until you do, now won’t we?”
I remember something in that moment. “May I use my safeword, Mistress?”
Lips pursed, she puts her fists on her hips. “Oh, yes, you may, but all play will stop. That means there’ll be no sexual release tonight. Is that really what you want?”
Right this minute? I don’t care if I get off tonight or not. I just want the pain to stop. But I get that she needs this somehow, and I want to meet those needs. “No, Mistress. I want to please you.”
“And it would please me to increase your discomfort until you’re in agonizing bliss.” Leaning up to the headboard, she pulls both ends of the twine and my nipples are stretched out a good inch. Just the sight alone is enough to make me very nearly faint. “You don’t look uncomfortable enough yet. Let’s see what we can do about that.” And she pulls a little tighter. Another half inch, and the tips are a deep cherry red. Every pulse of blood through them is excruciating.
Blissfully Hers: Bliss Series, Book Seven Page 20