Turning to find Travis, she paused at a closed door with a complex lock that looked as if it belonged on a bank vault. She wasn’t sure, but it appeared to need a palm print. How odd. But then, from what she’d gathered, a lot of people had access to the condo so she supposed it’d be necessary to have a room to secure personal effects. But, no, he’d said this wasn’t really a home. His important papers would be in Chattanooga.
She made her way to the door he’d walked into and saw him booting a computer with ten monitors. There were three, then four in a row above them, and another three on top. Damn. Talk about the need to multi-task. She’d thought her two monitors impressive; no wonder he didn’t comment on her set-up the other night — it must’ve seemed quaint to him.
Cara wasn’t accustomed to seeing men walking around nude while operating a computer and she couldn’t help but stare at his ass as he bent over the desk, clicking away at the mouse.
He saw her and said, “You already know how to move across multiple displays, and I’ll have three of them active. I used my phone to take a picture of one of the trees you shot; I’ll put it on one monitor, the tools and pallets on another, and your workspace on another. If you want more I can add them but I figure that’s all you’ll need for now.”
“What’s behind the locked door?”
“Things I don’t want the gossip dealers to know about.” He didn’t hesitate, didn’t blink, and there was no apology in his voice.
“So, none of my business. Or are you going to ask me to sign something before you’ll tell me?”
He stood, the computer forgotten as he focused on her, his gaze steady as he studied her face. He propped his ass on the edge of the desk with his fingers beside his hips, curled around the desktop’s rim, seemingly unaware of his nudity. “You figured out a great deal, somehow jumping from my renting Six Flags for a party to my hiring professionals for my first sexual experiences, but there are important pieces you missed. If you’ll give me your word you’ll tell no one about any of what we talk about, I’ll tell you.”
“You trust me?” She heard the surprise in her voice. She hadn’t intended to sound quite so shocked.
He gave a wry grin. “Yes, I do, though my attorneys and PR people won’t be pleased. They prepared paperwork for you to sign but...” He looked down and back up, his eyes intense. “I have to learn to trust sometime, and there are things you haven’t told me. If I want you to trust me enough to share your secrets it’s only fair I go first.”
For a moment she considered signing the paper if doing so would get her off the hook, but on second thought she realized how wrong that was, so she answered, “Okay. I promise. I won’t tell anyone what you tell me about your past.”
“Or my present. You won’t reveal my sexual preferences, or explain why I don’t have girlfriends. Or, why I haven’t had them before you, if you want to consider yourself my girlfriend now. No confirming or denying anything. No explanations at all. Not even if you’re offered a million dollars for the information.”
He frowned. “If someone offers you a million, or any other amount, I’ll match it. You’ll just need to sign a legal document outlining their proposal so I can add it to my collection.”
“Someone would pay that much for dirt on you?”
He gave a lopsided grin. “Probably not, most offers are in the ten to twenty thousand range. The highest so far was a quarter million and was dependent on my acquaintance having specific information.”
Still leaning in the doorway but feeling as if she should be closer, she said, “All right, I promise to give no details, and won’t confirm or denying anything about your sex life or sexual preferences.”
He nodded. “Thank you. Before I tell you any of this I need you to remember how much you enjoyed what I did to you, and when you said your safeword, I stopped.”
She inclined her head in answer and he re-situated himself on the desk’s edge, opening his arms in invitation. Cara caught herself smiling shyly at the sight of his soft cock as he propped comfortably against the heavy desk. He looked like a statue that’d been stretched until it was too tall and too thin, but it worked for him. This was Travis and she was beginning to see his tall lanky form as ultra-sexy. She walked to him and he enveloped her with his arms.
In the past, Cara could only stand to be held when sexually excited, but his embrace felt comfortable. Safe. She rested her head on his chest and he dove into his story.
“I think I found porn on the internet at around eleven or twelve, and by the time I reached thirteen or fourteen only the hard-core stuff held my interest. Spanking at first, then whipping and flogging, but I eventually discovered the extreme fetishes.”
He sighed, rubbed her back through the robe. “I kissed a few girls in school, as my money seemed to cancel out the geek factor for some. Problem was I didn’t want to kiss them; I wanted to hurt them. Thankfully, I was smart enough to know I couldn’t, at least, not the girls my age.”
“Did you go on dates with them? Socialize outside of school?”
“Not much; I didn’t really have time. I went to private school until 1:00, worked on my companies until at least seven or eight, often later, and took some college classes here and there when I could. I was learning how to manage employees, the ins and outs of corporate law, how to handle attorneys and accountants so they remembered I ran the show and they worked for me.” He shook his head. “Other than a handful of friends my age I had more in common with adults than other teens.”
No wonder he couldn’t make small talk. He was used to having conversations that matter and not the frivolous chatter of most first dates. Most teens like to feign importance but Travis wasn’t given the chance to pretend, he’d gone straight to the deep end and swam with the sharks. “You grew up awfully fast, didn’t you? You were cheated out of your childhood.”
“I’d do it again if given the choice. I accomplished more by sixteen than most people do in a lifetime. It wasn’t easy, but it was challenging, and thrilling, and I loved it.”
“Why’d you have yourself emancipated? It looks like the gossip sites tried to say you and your parents were at odds, but they denied it.”
“No such drama, it allowed me to sign legally binding contracts. Before, an adult with no conflict of interest had to sign them on my behalf. My dad did it at first, and then I hired someone, but one of the sales was later contested because, technically, hiring my representative wasn’t kosher.” His fingers trailed through her hair, smoothing it away from her face. “Having a judge legally declare me an adult was the simplest way to deal with it.”
She looked up. “Not very sexy but it makes sense.” She grinned, feeling a little mischievous. “When are you going to get to the good parts?”
He took a deep breath, as if preparing for something difficult. “I often had meetings with other businessmen and tech people, and one of them took me under his wing a few months after I turned 16. He owned various computer component manufacturing plants in China and at the time we were designing a new kind of memory chip, as a joint effort.” Travis took another fortifying breath and plunged ahead. “He hadn’t lost his virginity until 23 and didn’t want to see me suffer the same fate.”
Cara rubbed his back, feeling as if he needed moral support to finish his story. He kissed the top of her head and continued.
“He arranged for a prostitute in Maryland, right outside DC, because he found one who catered to politicians, to be sure she wouldn’t go to the tabloids. Also, age of consent in Maryland is 16 so I was legal there; as emancipation doesn’t change age of consent laws for sex, and it doesn’t let you buy alcohol or get into bars.” He sighed, his voice turning soft and sad, maybe even ashamed, as he added, “But, I was too rough with her and we had to pay her off to keep her from pressing assault charges. Her fees were a thousand dollars for two hours, but I paid her six grand after only thirty minutes because I thought whore meant I could do whatever I wanted.”
He shook his head and she
rubbed his back in what she hoped was a show of support. She was a little horrified at his admission, but this had been ten years ago and he obviously felt bad about it. She’d hear him out and hope it got better.
“Eventually, I found someone who provided me the types of women I wanted — call girls who could be paid to let you hurt them, professional submissives and masochists. But even those women expect you to know how to hurt them safely so you don’t cause damage. I paid someone to teach me how to spank, whip, and flog correctly. And...more. Luckily, a well-known Dom took me under his wing and mentored me, taught me how to control the...”
He stopped abruptly and rushed into his next sentence. “I wasn’t paying him, so I couldn’t make demands. He didn’t allow me to pick and choose the lessons; I had to accept whatever he thought I needed to hear, or push him away and learn nothing. Without him I could’ve turned into a monster, but he showed me how to corral my sadistic urges as he taught me how to safely hurt people without harming them.” He pulled back a little, his face tense as their eyes met, as if daring to hope he wouldn’t see contempt. He relaxed after a few seconds, saying, “The locked room holds the equipment I use.”
Cara’s mind reeled as his fingertips brushed her cheek, caressed her jawline, smoothed the hair away from her face. She didn’t know what to say and she broke eye contact, resting her cheek on his chest once again. He finally said, “I’ll show you if you’d like, but I need you to understand its always consensual now. I treated the one girl badly before I knew better, but since her I haven’t hurt anyone after they gave their safeword.”
She didn’t look up but finally said the phrase running through her mind. “But, you need to hurt people to enjoy sex?”
His fingers touched under her chin, gently raising her face until their eyes met. His voice was firm, solid, as he held her gaze and said, “Yes.”
How could he be so matter-of-fact? And why in tarnation was she so turned on? Shit, it was her turn to open up. She closed her eyes, took a breath, and began talking before she chickened out. “I used to fantasize about...”
She stopped, debated whether it was accurate to say it in the past tense, decided it was easier than admitting she still wanted it, and started again. “About someone paying to fuck me, so I was nothing but a body to be used. I could never actually do it so I found strangers to have one-night stands with, pretending it was all I was to them — a body they’d paid for. Sometimes I think they saw me that way; they figured they bought me dinner and I owed them sex. It made it better.”
His hand rubbed her back as his chin rested lightly on top of her head. “Thank you for being honest. We can play your fantasy out someday if you like. If my paying you would seem weird, I can donate the money to a charity of your choice. But not yet, that’s far in the future. Would you like to see the room? Or do you think it’ll be too scary?”
The frightening thing was that she’d imagined herself a whore and he’d actually hired them — he was used to treating women the way she’d only fantasized. However, she enjoyed it when men were rough but no one had ever spanked her before. She’d liked it, but it hadn’t really hurt and she had a feeling a whip would be way different than a hand.
“Will you ever want to do those things to me? Whip me? I don’t think I’d like that.”
“If you don’t like it we won’t do it, but I’ll want you to try it once.” His eyes were kind, gentle, as he added, “Maybe next month, maybe next year; but not until I’m sure you’re ready, which will likely be a while after you first ask for it. I won’t rush you into it; we have lots of experimenting to do before we reach that point.”
She took a deep, cleansing breath, and let it out. There was no danger of her asking for it, so she should be safe. “Yes. I want to see.”
His arm stayed around her as he moved to her side and walked her to the locked door. He keyed a number sequence and put his hand on the palm pad. A light went from red to green and a mechanical voice said, “Speak, friend, and enter.”
He calmly said, “Mellon,” and the light went out before the door opened inward on silent hinges.
“Mellon?”
His face blazed crimson. “It’s kind of a geek thing, the elven word for friend. It’s a riddle. Speak friend, and enter.”
“Oh, The Lord of the Rings, right? Gandalf, and some door they needed to get through. I don’t recall the specifics, or what the word was, but I remember the riddle. And a lake with a monster.”
“Yes, that’s it. It’s voice recognition, so only my voice will open it from the outside, and the riddle’s kind of silly,” he shrugged, “but I have to say something, may as well be mellon.” He brushed his hand towards the room. “Come on in. I’ll leave the door open.”
Cara had expected medieval dungeon chic, but it looked almost sterile, like an operating room. Some of the walls were mirrored while others appeared stainless steel. The white floor was some sort of solid industrial material, though sections looked soft and rubberized. Mechanical equipment hung from the ceiling, all shiny and chrome. Everything was mirrored, chrome, brushed steel, or white — she saw no color, and not a spec of black.
A few pieces had obvious purposes but others didn’t. There was a metal chair with attachments all over, a big X frame in a corner, a table resembling something out of a psycho gynecologist’s office, and a gigantic massage table on steroids with hardware she was afraid to speculate about. There was a horizontal bar with contraptions bearing a resemblance to stocks from the Middle Ages, but in brushed steel instead of wood; and brushed steel cabinets covered large sections of two of the walls.
Travis walked to one of the cabinets and pulled up on a handle and the door silently disappeared into the ceiling to reveal brushed steel hooks bearing red leather whips of all sizes — some with one strand, some with four or five, others with what looked like dozens. Several sported thin and long strands, a few short and wide, and a particularly scary one was comprised of long braided pieces with wicked knots on the ends. He opened a set of doors to display paddles, many of them also red, but some painted white, and one in brushed steel. She was as much in awe over his use and non-use of color as of the things in the room.
“Did someone else decorate this, or is this your style?”
“I designed this room. I’ve been told it’s cold, but I wanted it emotionless and sterile. Sex can get messy and almost everything in here can be bleached clean when we’re done. I can see myself wanting romance with you though, and creating a place with warmth, and more heart, for the two of us. He looked around. “But I’ll still want this room; still want to hurt someone, to hear them scream in this room.” He focused on her again. “It’s soundproof. No sound gets out once the door’s closed.”
She glanced apprehensively at the door, still standing wide open, and looked back to him. “If I wanted to watch you hurt someone, see what it’s like...could I? I assume if you’re paying them, you can tell them there’ll be an audience of one?”
His hand was inches from a flogger but he dropped his arm and turned to look at her. “You want to watch?”
“Yeah, this is scary. I don’t think I want to be alone with you in here. You say you only do things they like but...” She waved her arm towards the worst of the whips. “Can you understand why that’s hard to believe?”
His eyes followed her gesture, landing on the whips before returning to her. They were kind, understanding, and patient as he quietly said, “The computer in here isn’t hooked up to any network, to assure it can’t be hacked. It has a few videos of me in action — I paid extra for the right to record some scenes, and they only allowed it if my face and voice were also in it, so they’d know it wouldn’t end up on the internet. I’ll show you one, if you like.”
He motioned towards the large X frame as he continued. “Someone tied to the cross in the corner, with me flogging her back, turning her and flogging her front, turning her again and whipping her back, and finally having her kneel to get me off with her mouth.
This particular girl doesn’t allow vaginal or anal sex, but she loves pain and can take a lot. It’s rough, but you’ll see she’s enjoying it. Are you interested?”
Was she? Her girlie parts were awestruck; even if a lone rational inner voice thought she should run screaming from the room. The truth was, she’d enjoyed the spanking, and he’d proven he could give her multiple orgasms. Since no nice guy had ever aroused her, much less brought her to a screaming orgasm, she figured she owed it to both of them to watch the video. “Yes, and I’m glad you don’t have regular sex with her. I don’t think I want to see you screwing someone else.”
He gave a half smile and then seemed to think better of it, smoothing it away. “Jealous?”
“No.” He looked at her in disbelief and she considered her feelings. It wasn’t practical to be upset about the people in someone’s past, so why didn’t she want to see? She shrugged. “It’d be silly to be jealous of women you had sex with before we met, but it doesn’t mean I want to see it.”
He dipped his head as if approving her point, and he and his bare-naked ass walked to another wall and opened a door, revealing a giant LCD monitor in a silver frame with a white keyboard hanging below. He unfolded a brushed stainless shelf, situated the keyboard and mouse, and clicked through a few screens. The movie came to life showing a thin woman on the cross, nude, with her wrists and ankles encased in what looked like white leather and attached to the frame’s hardware.
Travis’ voice came through the speakers. “Tell me what I can do to you Casey. I want to be clear about this before we begin.”
“You can flog and whip me until I bleed, Sir.”
“What’s your safeword?”
“Whiskey, Sir.”
Safeword: Quinacridone Page 6