by Trent Evans
“You — what?”
“Oh sure, hairbrushes are … quite effective. I had no idea until that first time he ordered me over the bed. I learned quickly.”
“Why did he? I mean, what was the reason?”
“Said he wanted to try it out. He’s never needed any other reason.” Sharon winced dramatically. “It was even better than he’d hoped.”
“What do you mean he doesn’t need a reason?”
Kirsten wasn’t even sure why she’d asked the question. But hearing Sharon say it — it was almost word for word what Keihl had once told her.
No reason required.
Was she looking to understand why Tom — and Keihl — would just decide to spank their wives without “a reason? Shouldn’t the very idea have pissed her off?
It didn’t though, and the truth of it just confused her all the more.
Jesus, Kirsten. Is this who you are now?
“He’s never needed one.” Sharon tilted her head, locking gazes with her. “From the very beginning. He told me he wanted to start as he intended to continue.”
Kirsten swallowed hard, trying to ignore the insistent throb of her clit at the imagery Sharon’s words evoked.
Hadn’t that been what Kirsten had always fantasized about? A man who just… did? Took? He’d give her no choice, issue her orders — and she’d obey them. What did that say about her? She couldn’t remember the exact form of those early fantasies — they were more impressions, feelings, rather than concrete, definable visions — but it didn’t make those fantasies any less vital, any less primal.
The problem though then — as now — was that no matter how they spoke to her on an elemental, primitive level, they just weren’t compatible with real life. She’d often thought of those fantasies, wondering if she could somehow live them out — and more importantly, wondering if she should.
“How’s the baby? And how are you?”
Courage, Kirsten. You came here. Just say it.
“That’s actually part of why I agreed to come.”
Sharon’s eyes went wide. “Oh no. Is something wrong?”
“No, no. Sorry.” Kirsten held up a hand, pausing to try to swallow some saliva back into her mouth. “I — I need some advice, actually.”
“From me?” Sharon beamed. “I’ll try.”
“My OB, I um, I have some questions about”—heat flamed across Kirsten’s cheeks, but she plowed on—”what Keihl and I, have been… doing.”
“Oh you mean The Game?”
Kirsten covered her face with a hand. “I don’t know why this is so hard. I mean, I know — I know that you’re okay with, well, everything. It’s just… I’m not used to talking about this shit. Except with my husband.”
“We don’t have to talk about it then, if it makes you uncomfortable.” Sharon moved to the stool immediately to Kirsten’s right, laying a palm on her shoulder. “I get it. Believe it or not, I was right there. At the beginning, anyway. But can I tell you something? It might help to know.”
“Please — anything to distract from my idiocy.”
“You’re not being an idiot, dear. This is very normal. Believe me.”
“Thanks.”
It did help, at least a little, to just broach the subject, get it out in the open. What was so odd though was that they’d she and Sharon had talked about this before — but now that all four of them knew what was going on, Kirsten had to fight this insane urge to curl up into a ball, to cover her face with her hands and hide. It made no sense. Maybe it was just the pregnancy? The protective instinct seemed to be stronger by the day, rising within her, gaining strength, making its presence felt in more and more tangible ways. It was paradoxical of course; for every new step she took deeper into her submission to Keihl — for that’s what this was — it seemed to feed that same protective instinct within her.
Mama Bear.
That really was it, wasn’t it? Protecting this wonderful child growing inside her. It wasn’t as if she feared her husband would hurt the child — it was plain he’d die for the child, already. Could she really pinpoint the cause of this protectiveness though? Maybe it didn’t really have a specific cause, and was instead yet another of her body’s preparations for giving birth to, and caring for, another human being? She caressed her belly, in her mind, cooing at her child, already anxious to meet her, to get that first glimpse of those pale blue eyes.
Sharon continued. “Once you realize that it’s okay to talk about these things. The world’s not going to end. Nobody’s going to call you a slut.”
“Keihl might — but only if he’s… Jesus, forget I said that.”
“Being able to talk about this?” Sharon’s slim fingers covered her smile. “With someone who understands? Who gets it? It’s huge. And once you do it, once you’re past all that awkward early stages shit… it makes things so much better. You start to see everything in a new light. New possibilities open up. And you’ll be surprised at the truths you discover about yourself.”
“Thought about this much?” Kirsten looked down, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound snarky. I just…”
“It’s cool,” Sharon said, crunching a chunk of ice between white teeth. “I know what it’s like. We all start somewhere, and for some of us — I’m not saying that’s the case with you — it’s almost like we have to deprogram ourselves, unlearn what we’ve have drilled into our skulls all of our lives. How it’s only right to live this way, but deviant or wrong to live another.”
“That’s it! I’ve felt that exact thing. Like I’ve somehow, I don’t know, betrayed something. Or someone.”
Sharon’s eyes narrowed. “The only person you could betray is yourself — by not being who you really are.”
“Lucky me. Born a kinky slut — and didn’t realize it until thirty years of her life had passed her by.”
“Better late than never. Some women — maybe a LOT of women — never get that far. They just… turn it off. Give up that part of themselves. The very thought of it makes me ache for them. But it’s the truth.” Sharon sighed. “I’m just lucky to have found a man who understood, who was open enough to let me figure it out. In my own way. And you are too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your husband. He’s not like most men, trust me on this.” Sharon looked away a moment, the muffled sound of deep male laughter erupting from the living room on the other side of the door. “He’s true. To you.”
“A lot of men are true to their wives.”
“Yes, they are — despite what we’re all led to believe.” She gazed at Kirsten again, her blue eyes bright. “But where he’s different, is that he accepts — without being threatened. He loves you — that’s plain as fucking day. Pardon my French. And he wants what you want — only maybe he doesn’t quite realize how much you want yet.”
Kirsten sat back in her chair, her jaw dropping. “How did… how do you… ?”
“I know. Those of us who’re this way? We just know.” Sharon leaned close. “And here’s a secret, between you and me. When Keihl learns just how far you want to go with this? He won’t run. He’ll take your hand. And when he does, you’d better be ready for the male animal. Because the predator will come out.”
“Predator?”
Sharon nodded, one eyebrow arched. “Does that scare you? It shouldn’t — at least not in the bad way. That’s what he’ll be though, and you’ll not only accept it, you’ll crave it. You’ll have given him the ability, the safe place, to let that part of himself out.” A sly smile curved the pale gloss of her lips. “You can guess who his prey will be, can’t you?”
Yes.
Kirsten’s panties were already soaked — and nothing had even happened yet. Was something supposed to happen tonight?
“I — there’s something else.” Kirsten slid a palm up and down the curve of her belly. “I’m… afraid to ask.”
Sharon’s eyes caught the play of Kirsten’s hand. “If you aren’t comfortab
le asking your OB, then you need to find a new one. One who understands kink, who gets it.”
“Yes, exactly. But how? They don’t exactly have a ‘Whips and Chains Obstetrics’ coming up at the top of a Google search do they?”
Sharon giggled, then tipped back the remains of her margarita, her slim throat working. “No, they don’t.”
“Do you… know anyone?”
For a moment, those blue eyes regarded her coolly, as if the woman weighed what to say next. “I do know someone. My OB is definitely kink friendly.”
“She is?”
The flood of relief Kirsten felt had her hands shaking. She curved both palms over her belly, steadying them, not for the first time, drawing strength and comfort from the life within her.
“Lauren Shaw.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard that name. I think we went through every OB in the state too. Does she have a website or something?”
“Oh no, she doesn’t even have a practice, technically.”
“But… she’s your OB, right?”
“She works for… an organization that Tom’s part of.”
“Like a fraternity of OBs or something?”
The slow shake of her head Sharon gave her sent a frisson of unease through her.
“I don’t know if… I’m really supposed to talk about this. I mean, not yet.” Sharon’s voice lowered, her hand wrapped around the stem of her empty margarita glass. “Has Keihl talked to you about the Trust?”
“Not that I can remember, no. What is it?”
At first, it made her think of some sort of bank or insurance company. But the term was triggering some sort of vague recall in the back of her mind, but she couldn’t place it. Fucking hormones were turning her into the Absent Minded Preggo.
Sharon leaned forward, laying her arms on the butcher’s block. “Dr. Shaw is, well, she’s interesting. Before I refer you to her, there’s something you should probably know.”
“Okay.”
Another fucking shoe to drop. There always was, wasn’t there?
“She’s kinky herself. Like, seriously kinky.”
“That makes it even easier then, right?”
Another submissive woman, a doctor, really would understand some of the questions she had. They’d understand it like nobody else on Earth could.
“She’s a Domme.” Sharon cocked her head toward her. “You know what that means right?”
“I’m not a sheltered, quivering virgin straight out of the convent. So she cracks the whip on her man, okay?”
“She does a helluva lot more than that to him, but yes.”
“Her husband then?”
“She runs the show.” Sharon arched an eyebrow. “Utterly and completely, runs the show.”
“Fine. I can deal with that,” Kirsten lied, her heart already jackhammering in her chest.
This was more than she’d ever have imagined. It wasn’t that she thought a woman dominating a man was wrong, per se. No. It just wasn’t — it soo wasn’t — the axis her particular orientation spun upon.
“She’s into girls too.”
Whoa. Hold the train.
“That does, well, that does — complicate things. Doesn’t that, uh, weird you out a little?”
“Like I told you when I visited you at your office, you’re missing out.”
Jesus, this wasn’t one shoe dropping, this was a whole goddamn store of them.
“She doesn’t… I mean, with you?”
Sharon merely shrugged her shoulders, giving her a half smile. “No, she and I aren’t fucking, if that’s what you mean. But it’s a little more complicated than your typical doctor-patient relationship, that’s for sure.”
“I know I’m going to regret asking this, but how is it complicated?”
“She’s an associate of the Trust. Not part of it, exactly, but she does work for them.”
“OB work, I take it?”
“Yep, among other things.” Sharon’s eyes glinted. “She’s got a sister who works for them too. But she sure as hell isn’t an OB.”
Kirsten, took a sip of her now lukewarm tea. “So, no offense to Dr. Shaw, but you’ve successfully talked me out of a referral. Congrats.”
“I suspected you might want to consider other … options.”
“Why doesn’t Tom? I mean, he’s an OB too. Can’t he just… take care of you?”
“Oh he does.” Sharon flashed a gleeful grin. “But he gave me to Lauren instead.”
Gave?
“He said he needed a doctor who could be objective. He’s my husband after all. So it was Lauren. She ended up delivering all of my kids.”
“I don’t suppose you know another OB then?”
Sharon beamed. “I do. Quite well, actually.”
“You don’t mean… really?”
“What better person though? Tom’s kinky. He knows both of you. You wouldn’t have to go through the whole feeling-the-doctor’s-style-out bullshit, either.” Sharon’s lips quirked. ‘I can vouch for his bedside manner too.”
“Oh God,” Kirsten said, scrubbing a hand across her lips. “I can’t believe I’m seriously considering this.”
“Look, you don’t have to, obviously. There are dozens of OBs, locally.”
“Believe me, I checked them all out too.” Kirsten pointed at Sharon. “But you know as well as I do that finding what I need is just about impossible.”
“It’s not easy being kinky.”
“No shit.”
She shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea. Keihl’s fucking best friend? That was all kinds of weird. Wrong, even. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more she considered that it just might work. Maybe she could just have the initial consult, hit him with her questions, and be done with it?
You know it wouldn’t be that easy, Kirsten.
No, it wouldn’t. And part of her was curious as to what would actually happen, how it would go. Did they have some sort of secret handshake? Or did you just blurt out that you wanted to know if it was safe for your husband to tie you up and spank you during late term pregnancy? She jammed a fist against her lips, holding back the sudden giggling threatening to bubble up within her.
“I’ll do it.” Kirsten inhaled deeply. “Just talk at first though. I don’t… I can’t just jump into this all the way. Too much what-the-fuck about this whole thing.”
“Good!” Sharon laid her soft hand over Kirsten’s. “Now, let’s go see what the big bad wolves are up to.”
* * *
Keihl remembered what he’d seen in this room, over this couch, that last time he’d been at Tom’s house.
He took a long sip of his drink. Whiskey sour. His favorite. “I need to know something, Tom. Before we go any further.”
“Okay, fire away.”
Tom was sprawled in the over-stuffed easy chair across the room, the smoky liquid in his glass balanced on the arm, condensation beading on the glass.
“This… Trust. How exactly are you part of it? What do you do?”
Tom crossed his ankles. “I’m one of the people who takes care of… medical needs.”
“Pregnancies.”
“That’s one of ‘em, sure.”
“But that’s not all.”
“Not even close.”
Keihl sat forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “You think she’ll really go for this? How do I even bring it up?”
“You could just ask her.”
“Sure, that’ll go over well. ‘Honey, would you mind if my best friend takes a gander at your pussy’?”
“Might want to work on your delivery, smart ass.”
Keihl still wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea. Was he really okay with Tom examining Kirsten? Touching her, even in a non-sexual way? Why didn’t the idea of him touching her in a sexual way not make Keihl want to put his friend through a wall? It wasn’t exactly something he was… eager to try. But it wasn’t something that repulsed him either. Not by a long shot.
It didn’
t matter though, because deep inside, if he was honest with himself, he knew Kirsten would balk at it. He still expected her to come flying out of the kitchen, screaming for the front door. Any minute now.
“What’s wrong?” The ice in Tom’s drink clinked against the glass as he sipped from it.
“Fuck, nothing. Really, nothing. I just don’t think she’s ready, that’s all.”
“How do you know if you don’t try?”
“We showed up, didn’t we?”
Tom chuckled. “Yeah, you sure did. Surprised me too.”
“Can’t have you thinking you’ve got me figured out, can I?” Keihl cocked a thumb at his friend. “Tom Forster. Wannabe head shrinker.”
“Prick.”
“I’ve heard that’s one of the favored terms for lawyers nowadays.” Keihl gave him his best shit-eating grin.
Tom’s smile faded, and he sat up in the chair. “So, I’ve got something I need to ask you too. And I need an honest, no lawyer bullshit answer.”
“I can probably manage. Just this once.”
“How much do you want to know? About the Trust.”
Everything.
“Why do you ask?”
“Answer my question, Keihl.”
“Whatever I need to know.” He stared at Tom. “I know there’s a shitload more to it than you’ve told me. And I know Ella’s stirred up enough to make someone very uncomfortable.”
“That’s why I’m asking you this. I … can show you more. A lot more. If you’re prepared to do what needs to be done.”
Now we’re getting somewhere.
“I’m listening.”
Tom leaned to the side, setting his drink down on the glass side table.
“I’ve been given permission to take you to a Trust facility. The one on that card Stanton gave you? That’s the one.”
“Permission? What is this thing, Tom?”
“Like I said, it’s an organization. With rules, and protocols. I know that sounds … odd.”
“It sounds fucking crazy is what it sounds like—”
“It’s not.” Tom’s gaze cooled. “And there’s more — but you need to listen to me. I’m your best friend. Try to give me the benefit of the doubt here, okay?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Keihl sat back, giving his friend a nod. “Go on.”