Now I just hung my head and kept pace with him. I didn’t want to hear what was coming, but there was nothing I could do to stop it, save taking off across the field and running all the way back to my car.
Though he was reticent, I could hear the wheels turning.
I swallowed hard. A chilling breeze swept across the field to swirl at our feet.
We reached the edge of the plowed ground and made our way to the picnic table, still set with a six-pack of buns in their plastic wrapper and some sort of grilled, shredded meat, long since cold. Sir’s dinner? A sacred Solstice communion?
Sir sat down on the bench, looking very tired. I immediately sat on the ground at his feet. All I wanted was to salvage our world and get back to our original Time Line. This wasn’t it. This world was strange and creepy and scary.
He reached out a hand to me for the third time tonight, and I pulled up on my knees before him. He took out his dick and I gladly sucked. Finally, familiarity at last. I was happy to be servicing him again. For a minute, all the harshness of the world disappeared.
Sir got hard and murmured for me to get up and lean over the picnic table. I bounded up and over it in a flash. He parted my cheeks and fucked me with abandon in my cunt through the teddy’s built-in slit. It didn’t take long. His sperm erupted accompanied by a long, groaning moan. It was over quickly. Highly unusual. But then nothing about this night was usual up to now.
Then something I didn’t understand. Sir was suddenly squeamish about letting me sit back down on the bench beside him. It was kind of like that elephant in the Tarzan cartoon, the one that would touch the water with her trunk, pull back, and say 'EWWW'.
“Don’t you want to go wash off first?” He quizzed, totally out of character. Wash off before sitting on a grubby wooden bench in the middle of the woods...? Hoo-kay.
“Oh...” I said, stopping mid-sit. “...OK.”
“We don’t want any tell tale signs being left for anyone to find.” He explained.
Again, unusual, but I complied. Sir pointed to the little stone path that led to the ‘outhouse’ a couple dozen yards away through the pitch black, where he said there was a jug of warm water and some soap hanging on the outside of the door. I trotted off to find it.
“And watch for snakes” he called after me. “Be careful of snakes. They’re everywhere around here because of the creek.” I couldn’t tell if it was the Old Sir who delighted in teasing me, or if it was the New Sir who was solemnly worried. He was pretty humorless tonight so it was likely the latter.
I halted in place, looking all around my feet. I picked up a stick then started again, gingerly tapping the ground before I stepped. Picture the lady in ‘Parent Trap’ clacking sticks together to ward off 'Snipes'. Hopefully Sir was getting just as big a kick out of me as the twins were that lady in the movie. We needed something to lighten the night.
I made it to the outhouse without incident.
After 'having a wash' I headed back to Sir, where he sat with skinny legs crossed and a sandal dangling off one foot. This picture was so wrong.
OK. I approached the bench again to sit. But nope, even clean, I still I wasn’t permitted to sit with impunity.
“You’d better get dressed first?” He offered quietly, staring at the ground, halting me again. And I didn’t even have the satisfaction of it being a command, it was only a weak suggestion. My heart sank further. I got dressed.
I was feeling totally lost at this point. I had thought for sure the sexy body stocking would’ve gotten a charge out of him, and no way he’d want me to cover it up now.
I just KNEW those damn sandals had something to do with this...
Finally, back in my skirt and blouse, I seated myself on the bench beside Sir, but not for long. Sir popped up and walked away from me, over to the fire pit. Obviously he couldn’t tolerate sitting by me. Or even looking at me. He stared into the fire.
He picked up a thick branch and jabbed at the coals sending little burnt fireflies of sparks flying into the blackness. He was reticent. Too reticent, even for Sir. I sat abandoned on the bench. Cast out. Sir was purposely distancing himself from me, mentally and physically.
“What’s the longest we’ve ever been apart?” He finally asked. More coal jabs.
Uh oh. Here it comes. My heart started pounding. Couldn’t we just go back to scaring me with snakes?
“A month?” I stammered. “Two?” My voice trailed to a whisper, “I don’t know, Sir.”
“Well I have to be gone,” he heaved, feigning authority. “I have to go away, I can’t see you for a while.” Then he paused. “And it’s going to be a lot longer than two months.”
He smacked the burning logs as if kindling his courage. “...much longer than that.”
I heard apology in his voice.
“How...” I choked with a whimper, “...how long, Sir?
“Six months?” Sir speculated, then barked, “A YEAR?!”
WHAT?! A year?!
I gasped out loud.
“WHY, Sir?” My tone was becoming shrill. “Where? Why? Are you going away for treatment? Is that what it is?” I was stabbing in the dark. “I didn’t think there was any treatment for ALS?”
Sir drew a deep breath and kicked the dirt.
“It’s not ALS,” Sir mumbled, staring at his feet, hard.
That threw me. So my suspicions were right.
“Not ALS?” I repeated, wrinkling my brow, “Is it...” I almost couldn’t bring myself to say it, “...cancer?”
“It’s tumors.” He stated flatly. “On my brain, on my lungs, in my abdomen. My heart. I’m riddled with them.” He pronounced the edict as only Sir and John Wayne would. Dry, matter of fact, unemotionally.
I fell back against the picnic table like I’d been hit in the chest with a sledge.
“Oh Sir...” I whispered. “Oh, Sir. No.”
I had to blink away the tears. Sir didn’t like tears. I sniffed discretely.
My voice started off very tiny as my dizzy brain swirled in a wild search for answers, “There’s...” —my head was bowed to hide my glistening eyes—“...there’s this clinic in Kettering, Ohio.” My chin shot up, on a roll, “They do something called a ‘gamma knife blade’ for tumors on the brain...I could call them!” I was mounting a EUREKA moment as I breathlessly hopped off the bench. “Sir! I’ll ca...”
“NO!” He boomed. Now that was the old Sir. “You don’t need to worry with it.” There was no mistaking that tone. I was slapped back.
It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on my head. But that was Sir. He didn’t like being fiddled with. I was just desperate to help him.
I tried again. I had to take my shot, “...but Sir! I read...”
“I SAID NO!” He bellowed, taking strength he didn’t have.
“And I want you to keep this to yourself. You hear?” The wheeze in his lungs told me he didn’t have much more umph in him. “No calling Johnny, or anybody.” He heaved. “No snooping around like you do!” He staggered a little, so weak I was afraid he was going to fall over.
“Are you going into the hospital?” I whined, choking on hysterical tears now, and pushing my luck.
“Listen to me!” Sir rallied all his strength, stiffening his spine to finally stare straight at me. Was that pleading in his blood-strained eyes? “Nobody knows I’m sick. You’re the only one! You hear me? NOBODY KNOWS! Not Johnny, not my kids...” he hesitated, weighing his next statement, then whispered, “...not even my... my wife.” He turned his face away from me having given her life. “Understand me?! “ he squeezed out the words with a rattle. “And I want to keep it that way.”
Sir was trying his best to sound stern, but I’d seen him bold and terrible when he was at his most frightening. This was just sad.
“What...wh—” I couldn’t speak. I swallowed hard,“...what are you going to do, Sir?” Tears flowed freely now. This was the moment I had dreaded most, when Sir finally came face to face with his mortality. This w
as bad. This was real bad.
“I will take care of it. Do you understand me?” He was making his way over to sit down on the edge of the sturdy table, heaving hard. “I will handle it” his voice was rough, “...and I don’t want you snooping around like you do, trying to find out what’s going on with me. I know you. I know how you do.” Sir was floundering for control, for the right words to make me behave. Finally he found them. “I am ordering you to leave this alone!”
I sniffed indignantly at the accusation. Of course it was all true, I did snoop. I was incorrigible. But I only did it to help Sir. I did not want to obey him on this, but what could I do?
“I won’t, Sir.” I promised, dropping my head in defeat. Grrrr. I didn’t want to make that promise. “OK,” I finally surrendered, “I promise. I won’t snoop.”
I hoped I could hold myself to it.
Sir was now sitting in a frail heap on the table, scrunched up and shuddering, like his chest was hurting. I could tell he wasn’t through. There was more to come. Oh lord. Don’t worry, Little Brother, there’s more...
What was next? He sat for several minutes catching his breath and regaining.
“How long do you think it might be...” I swallowed hard, “...realistically, Sir?”
Sir took his time in answering. I was surprised that he answered at all. The old Sir wouldn’t have. He was malleable tonight. It went with the ponytail and sandals, ha ha. That wasn’t funny, he was just sick and probably...
I couldn’t say the word.
Finally Sir looked up from the flames which he’d been deeply contemplating. “I don’t know. A long time.” He heaved a sigh. “A long time.” His shoulders collapsed as he emphasized the second 'long'. I quaked.
Sir read my body language well. He tried to tap into his old dominance to get back in control. “I’m going to cast a wide line here...” He said, stiffening ramrod straight again. GOD, he looked like a scarecrow. I knew something was coming but lord knows I wasn’t prepared for this:
“I want you to find somebody else.”
There it was. The brick wall had finally fallen. I couldn’t believe my ears.
I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t. I was speechless. I just sat there with my eyes growing wider, staring into the blazing fire in shock. I must have looked like a volcano bubbling over, anger mounting with every passing second. What vibes!
Sir was shaken. Through my brain-fried electric crackle I sensed it. I wasn’t reacting properly—submissively—and I was visibly shaking. I felt him looking at me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off that damn fire pit. This was way worse than what I thought he was going to say. And I had bought this lousy body stocking and everything, like it was going to be a party. How stupid can you get? I felt like a fool.
“I want you to go to Gio,” he slid the knife blade the rest of the way in.
Wow. Just wow.
Muthafucking-cock-sucking-sonofabitch-WOW. My eyes were bugging out.
“He’ll take care of you. I can’t take care of you. He’ll be good to you and he wants you. I am ordering you to go to him.” Sir was pouring his heart out. I didn’t even know he thought about things like this. I never wanted anyone else but him, ever! He seemed to sense he only had a few minutes to make his case before I was going to go completely bananas. I don’t think he could have handled bananas this night.
Inexplicably, this hit me like a Mac truck. Inexplicably, rage started rising from the tips of my toes, shooting straight up my body, and smacking me right upside the head. I was dizzy, I was so mad. I couldn’t think straight, I was so mad. I WAS SHAKING, I WAS SO MAD. How could he say that? My face blazed red. Everything about Sir’s illness was forgotten for a split second as I heard his words echo in my brain. Here came the water works again. There was no stopping them now. I cry when I get mad.
Hell, I cry when I’m happy. I cry when I’m sad.
I cry.
Sir looked stunned. He seemed genuinely perplexed by what he was witnessing. He had never experienced me hysterical. It was ugly. Sir tried to counter it with more bluster.
“But don’t lie to him! Just don’t lie to him!” He tried to summon one last bit of bravado to calm me down.
No freaking way. I was pissed. I was crying. I was pissed that I was crying.
“Gio?” I wailed. “Sir?!!! GIO?!” I jumped up and stomped both of my feet sending up clouds of dust. “Not this one, Sir. I will NOT promise this one. I will NEVER go to Gio, Sir!” My voice cracked like a prepubescent boy’s. “I can NEVER do that, Sir! What on earth makes you think he could EVER replace you?!” Even I couldn’t believe the disrespect I was hearing come out of my mouth. I was beside myself.
“You won’t honor your vow to me?” Sir asked, taken aback, suddenly quiet. He didn’t have anything more left in him.
“Look...” he began sincerely. Now he was the one choking up. He turned his back to me and drew a breath. “How do you think it makes me feel?” He was staring into the trees. “I leave you each time not even knowing whether you made it home alive or not. Your car is ready to break down! I keep expecting to call your house in the morning only to find out that you never made it back. That you’re laying dead off the side of the road somewhere.” Sir’s voice was crescendoing. “HOW DO YOU THINK THAT MAKES ME FEEL?! I can’t even buy you a decent car! Or provide for you! Or even keep you safe anymore!” Sir was grimacing at his plaintive explanations.
I didn’t understand anything. It wasn’t even computing anymore. All I heard was 'blah blah blah'. All I knew was he didn’t want me anymore. He didn’t want me around. He didn’t want me to snoop. He didn’t want me to help. I was exactly what I always knew I was to him, trouble. I knew it. I’d always known it. He wanted to get rid of me because I was nothing. I was no good!
I glared at the fire and clenched my jaws without answering. I had never been so hurt and humiliated.
Sir was at a loss. I honestly think he didn’t know what to do, how to get through to me.
He turned to scoop up the stick to poke at the fire a couple of more times, and then tossed it in watching the flames lick at the dry wood.
He tried feebly one last time, shoulders slumping, “Just go to him...” He was pitiful. “For me.” He wasn’t asking, he was begging. This was too much. I melted. I couldn’t be angry anymore. I couldn’t obey him, but I loved him so much I couldn’t possibly be angry with this man who owned me and who wanted only what was best for me.
It dawned on me. He was sending me away so I wouldn’t have to watch him die.
He reminded me of my beloved dog, Brandy, when she was full of cancerous tumors and knew she was dying. She crawled off to the cool, dank of the bushes out back and scratched out a hole in the soft, moist dirt to soothe her fevered body. She lay down and wouldn’t come out no matter how hard we called or persuaded. She wouldn’t come out till we coaxed and coaxed, pleaded and begged. Then she dragged herself out on her belly, just to please us. She wanted to die in peace, alone. Away from us who she loved, because she was proud and strong, and she didn’t want us to watch her die, warrior dog that she had always been. She wanted no pity in death, as she’d never tolerated any in life.
Sir wanted the same thing, but I was too full of self-pity to realize it in my few minutes of anger. I finally saw that he was trying to crawl off into the cool, dark bushes and die where I wouldn’t see him, where I wouldn’t pity him. Where I would remember him the way he was, strong and dominant and bold, instead of writhing in agony and spewing blood from both ends.
Instead of being weak.
He didn’t try again. He saw he’d gotten through to me.
He silently readied everything for us to leave.
I sat on the bench in shock, until he summoned me to get into his truck. I was washed out. Drained like a sieve.
I couldn’t believe he was trying to give me away. Worse, to stupid Gio? Gio was not suitable in any way. Except for being rich. He was sacrificing my bent, my training, my deepest desires and cr
avings so that I could be taken care of by the only rich man he knew.
God bless him.
We drove in silence to my car. Once there I jumped out, rushing to hop in and show off by revving up and peeling out like a drama queen. But, alas my car wouldn’t start. See, Sir was right. Even my car was telling me to go to Gio.
Sir had me raise my hood and he rattled this and unscrewed that, and it started. He knew there were going to be more waterworks if I dawdled. He gave me a quick, stern look.
“You’d better get in your car and git. Fast” he said, dropping my hood. “This time of morning my uncle comes right by here.”
We’d spent the whole night there in the woods, and now at 5am the sun was coming up. The mundane world was waking around us.
I nodded my head. Eyes swollen from a night of crying, I managed a weak smile.
“I love you, Sir...” I felt the tears coming again.
“Go!” He barked with an impatient sigh. He was trying to be tough, but our eyes locked, and he gazed at me like it was the last time we’d ever see each other.
“Yes Sir...” I squeaked, and hopped in my car to drive away. I looked in my rear view mirror at the thin man in the open shirt, khaki shorts...and, yes, sandals, growing smaller and smaller.
He was holding up one hand to me. The 'I love you' sign.
I couldn’t see to drive I was crying so hard. It’s a wonder I made it back alive.
I cried all the way home, and fell asleep crying. I couldn’t do anything the next day because my eyes were puffy little slits in a face, chalky white.
It was a horror of a night.
But that was then. This was now—a whole year later.
Now, Sir was healed. Magic of Miracles, he had MADE himself well. Had WILLED himself well. He had defied all the doctors and avoided the plight of his entire platoon, who had died, one by one of the same illness. The same illness and tumors that he HAD had.
I can only assume that the Summer Solstice he wanted me to attend was to play an integral part in this magical healing, but stupid me, I didn’t know. I never took his religion seriously enough. But despite my bumbling, Sir had pulled it off alone. He had conjured whatever he needed to conjure to make himself well.
Masochism of M: A Sexual Mémoir Page 36