A gay story: An Unexpected Submissive – 06 – Final Author’s Notes –
This story came about from my need to write a lot of varied spicy scenes as a way to work through some writer’s block while working on a larger novel. As a result, it is more sex heavy than my normal work (which typically has several sex free chapters) and there is less focus on a full novel style plot and advanced character development (which I know has received mixed reviews). Despite this, I find myself really enjoying these men and their journey together as is, and I don’t feel that the lack of a full novel style plot/piles of obstacles for the characters to overcome detracts from it for me and I hope you have also enjoyed it.
While this is the last chapter from Grey’s perspective, I’ve already begun re-writing it from Alexander’s, the first chapter of which will be coming in the next few weeks.
One more note — In this chapter, I’ve tried to offer some more clarity around their contracted relationship and an explanation as to why Grey has kept his feelings to himself. However, I’m going to note it here as well. Their contract is a professional one, not a personal one. The original structure of their relationship is that of teacher/student for the most part. As it is not a personal / romantic relationship contract, Grey doesn’t feel his romantic feelings for Alex are appropriate.
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I ignored the knock at my office door. I shouldn’t. I had ignored it for the last two days. It wasn’t going to go away.
As I feared, it came again a few moments later.
“Come in.” I hoped the struggle to keep my voice steady was less obvious than it felt.
Alexander’s face was a mask of concern as he stepped in and settled into the chair across from me without waiting for an invitation.
His quiet words dripped with worry. “White.”
I nodded once.
“What’s going on Grey?”
I didn’t respond.
“Something has clearly been very wrong the past few days. I haven’t seen you at all and Jake says he doesn’t have any answers for me.”
I sighed deeply as I fought to retain emotional control. Twenty years I’d spent learning to regulate nearly every bodily response, every emotion, every reaction. Yet, in this moment, it was all I could do not to break down in tears.
He continued hesitantly. “I’ve been with you for five months now, and while I know our relationship is contractual, I want you to know that…at least from my side, it feels like we’ve built a friendship as well.”
I nodded once. It was all I could manage.
“Whatever is wrong, you don’t have to deal with it alone you know. You give everything you have to the club, to me, to your employees, but it doesn’t seem like you ever allow yourself to take anything in return. Not even friendship.”
I lost my internal battle and tears slipped out. He was right of course.
His voice softened further as he leaned forward across my desk. “Even if I’m wrong and what feels like a friendship to me is actually just one sided, maybe you should consider accepting what I’m offering and let me support you through whatever is going on.”
I stood, crossing to the small bar to pour two glasses of whiskey, offering one to him without a word.
I felt like I was taking advantage of the friendship he’d extended given that I’d finally admitted to myself that I’d fallen madly in love with him, but he was right. I had no one. I was alone, and I was in no position to turn him down even if I wanted to. I didn’t want to. He was all I wanted.
I sank heavily back into my chair, vaguely noticing how broken and detached my voice sounded when I finally attempted to form words. “My mom died.”
His eyes grew sorrowful and caring, somehow shifting from their normal pale, translucent blue to a deep stormy grey as he sat his untouched glass on the desk and made his way to crouch in front of me. He gathered me into his arms, holding me together in a way that seemed as if he knew I could no longer manage it on my own.
I broke down. He was so strong, so warm, so perfect as I curled into his chest; clutching at him like a man drowning as my tears fell onto the soft fabric that covered the skin I knew so well.
He held me tight, one hand continuously tracing along my back for a long while even after I’d finally stilled. He held me until he was sure I wouldn’t unravel into dust without the support of his embrace. When he finally shifted his body away from mine, he took my hand. I followed without question as he led me into the living room and gently sat me down on one end of the couch. I’d have followed him anywhere.
“I’ll be right back.” His calm, soft voice lingered against my soul as I watch him leave the room.
I barely managed a single nod. I didn’t care where he was going as long as he was coming back.
He returned several minutes later carrying a tray with mugs and a pot of tea which he sat on the end table at the opposite end of the sofa before crawling into the corner seat with his legs spread, one foot resting on the cushions, knee against the back of the couch, the other leg hanging off the side. He offered a soft smile as he gestured with his chin. I moved quickly, settling between his legs with my back against his chest. It was the only place I wanted to be. His arms surrounded me once more as his cheek came to rest against my hair. I closed my eyes and let myself disappear into his warmth. It hurt less in his arms.
He held me for more than an hour before he finally spoke. “Tell me about your mom.”
I snuggled back into his embrace, fighting the wave of grief that threatened to overwhelm me as I started.
“I’m from the Midwest. So, when I say my family is a religious cliché, most people understand.”
He kissed my temple, letting his lips linger. “Mmhmm.” Their silkiness and the way his warm breath pooled against my skin threatened to overwhelm me.
“We moved here when I was young, so I’ve mostly known life in California. My siblings are all older, and just the few years that separate us seem to be enough that that Midwest got to them before we moved. They all have lives that are exactly what they are supposed to be. They are all married with kids and respectable careers and houses in the suburbs.”
I turned my head slightly, letting my forehead rest against his cheek as I relaxed into the bend of his neck.
“When I came out as gay, that was sort of the end of my relationship with my dad and siblings. I was 18, and lucky I suppose that they didn’t just kick me out, but it was clear that I wasn’t really welcome any longer. Mom is…was…different.”
His arms tightened as I corrected my phrasing and I let myself disappear into his strength for a moment before continuing.
“She took me to lunch and told me that I should always be myself and that she’d always love me. A couple of months later when I left for college, she made the hour drive with me to make sure I was settled in. She came up to visit the next week, and the next. The entire four years I was there, she drove an hour each way every Thursday to have lunch with me.”
I felt both tears and a smile materialize at the memories.
“The first year I went home for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but it was uncomfortable, and I haven’t been back since. Mom brought me gifts every year, and we had our weekly lunch on the Friday after Thanksgiving so she could spend it with the rest of the family, but she always brought me leftovers.”
He squeezed me softly and kissed my forehead, letting his lips and his breath and his strength take hold and remain on my skin. He didn’t have anything to say. There really wasn’t anything to say.
“From the outside I did everything I was supposed to do. I got my degree and had a good career. But, while I was in school, I also explored my sexuality. I ended up with a boyfriend who was a dom. I didn’t know that when we got together, and he wasn’t a very good one. He wasn’t abusive or anything, not really, but over the course of a few months of exploration I came to recognize that he was more of an asshole that owned leather and toys than an actual dom, and our relationship didn’t last very long after I came to understand that. I realized that while we weren’t a good match, BDSM was something I was interested in. I spent a couple of years after that diving heavily into the scene, met some good folks, had some good experiences and the rest just sort of fell into place.”
I focused on the way my breath lingered against the skin of his throat and jaw as I spoke. “Most people hide that they’re into the lifestyle. I did as well for a long time, but when I decided to give up my career and open the club, it didn’t feel like something I could hide any longer. Not from her. When I told her I understood if she didn’t love me anymore, she just stood up, hugged me right there in the middle of the café, and told me she would love me forever.”
I’d never told anyone about my life before the club. No one knew about my previous career, or my family. No one really knew anything about me. They knew my persona, but not me. Until that moment, I don’t think I’d realized that. Once I started talking, it just all fell out. The way he held me made me feel safe, cared for, loved. I felt as if I could tell him anything and it would be ok.
“She came to the club’s opening night.” I couldn’t help but chuckle as I played the memory in my head. “Even doing what I do I’ve never seen someone look more uncomfortable or out of place in my life, and she managed to tolerate what was going on for all of 20 minutes. But, when I walked her out, she took my hands in hers and told me she’d never seen me look as confident as I had when I’d addressed the crowd, never seen me seem as comfortable in my own skin as I was in my leathers. She told me she was proud of me, and that she loved me. She hugged me for an eternity right there in the parking lot.”
I felt tears once again dampen his skin as I hid from the world against it. My voice cracked as I continued. “She accepted me unconditionally. She is…she was…the reason I know what love feels like.”
“Oh Grey.” He wrapped his arms and legs around me tightly, burying his face in my hair as I lost myself in the scent of his skin.”
I let myself go, crying in the comfort of his arms for a long time before pulling myself together enough to shift, turning further into his chest as I continued.
“You know we’ve continued to have lunch every Thursday for my entire adult life. I’ve done most of the driving the past few years, but we’ve rarely missed one. We went to one of her favorite little café’s just last week. Now I have to go to her funeral. No one will want me there. But I have to go. I have to.”
He pulled his head back, and I mourned the loss of his touch for a moment until his touch returned as he wiped my wet cheeks with the back of a knuckle. “Let me come with you.”
I shook my head and started to protest. “Alex, I can’t…”
He cut me off. “Let me come with you Grey.”
His blue eyes held mine and I knew I needed him with me. I needed him.
From the outside I’m sure it appeared as if I was lost in my own thoughts while I moved around my room. In truth, I was somewhere far deeper; disconnected from everything, including the ability to think or feel. I was so far gone that I nearly jumped when I zipped my case and turned to find Alex leaning against the door frame watching me.
“You’re sure you can take the time off from work? You don’t have …”
He cut me off. “Work is just fine. I’m coming with you.”
I simply nodded as I made my way past him and out to the car. I was grateful.
Though my family only lived an hour away, it was a nearly three-hour drive to the funeral and cemetery where my parents had their plots. The drive was hazy; something I somehow managed largely on autopilot. I stood quietly to the side as Alex checked us into the hotel, and while he likely made sure I showered and ate, I can’t be positive that that’s what happened. The world was a blur, and I was nothing but a specter moving through it.
Alex was up before me the next morning; pulling on the jacket of a somber black suit by the time I untangled myself from the sheets to mindlessly make my way to the shower as he stepped out to find us some breakfast. Thirty minutes later when he returned to the room carrying coffee and take out containers, he stopped short, his eyebrows raising while a broad smile slowly teased its way across his lips as he stared while I finished adjusting my tie.
“I mean….” He stumbled to find whatever words had suddenly eluded him. “I never would have guessed that you owned anything other than sweats and leathers. I mean… good lord. Is there anything you don’t look good in?”
The warmth that spread though me pulled me back from the edge for a brief moment as I let his words of praise wrap around me and hold me together. I always made sure I had one elegant mainstream suit in my wardrobe though I really don’t know why. Perhaps it was simply a throw back to my youth as it had been a requirement for church. It’s not like I attended a lot of weddings or funerals and on the rare occasions I made appearances at such events, I always wore something closer to my club attire than anything else. Pieces selected from my normal wardrobe, strategically chosen to appear edgy but not overly unusual. Those that invited me expected nothing else. I’d never worn this suit. A fashionable slim cut number in jet black with a simple green shirt so pale it could be mistaken for white and a basic black silk tie. As I dressed, I found myself regretting the fact that I couldn’t recall my mother ever seeing me dressed this way as an adult, and it would have made her smile.
By the time the warmth of his words had cooled around me, and I found myself back in the hotel room, he was standing close, holding out a cardboard cup with a sad smile. I took it gratefully and he brushed his lips across my cheek quickly.
“Sorry. Hardly the time.”
I smiled sorrowfully into his pale blue eyes. “Don’t be. I appreciate it.”
We ate quickly at the small table in what passed for the room’s kitchen area before silently making our way to the car and enduring the short drive to the church. It felt endless. The anxiety. The dread. The overwhelming sense of loss. How was I supposed to do this at all, let alone as an unwelcome outcast.
I watched as strangers made their way through the parking lot to the church doors. Solemn, subdued older couples in dark suits and long floral dresses. Younger families dressed largely the same, carrying and dragging children with small ties and frilly hair bows. Every one of them wore the deliberately structured expression and body language that comes from years of modesty, religion, and conformity. Things that were foreign to me now.
I jumped as Alex’s hand slipped onto my knee. Even lost in the fog of knowing I was an unwelcome outlier in this assembly of shared grief, my soul responded to his touch through the thin wool. I sighed deeply and gathered myself as I squeezed his hand briefly in thanks. Dressed this way, with my hair pulled tightly back and largely hidden at the nape of my neck, I felt naked. An imposter arriving to ruin any small measure of peace these people might find here today.
Alex’s fingertips brushed the small of my back while he fell in at my side as we made our way through the parking lot. We had intentionally arrived only minutes before the service was to begin. I wanted to fade into the crowd, slipping quietly into the back, but the chapel was full. The only remaining space was in the second row. A row reserved for family. I drew myself up, ignoring the way every eye in the room followed us as we walked down the isle. The soft whispers that fell in at our backs. The shock on my siblings’ faces. The way my father’s glare cut through me. I looked forward, only forward as we settled into the opening at the end of the row.
The service was long. Prayers and shared memories and hymns all blending together. Alex’s voice joined my own, deep and clear, each time the room stood to sing. A part of me noticed, surprised, that he never picked up the hymn book though he sang every word. I had intended to share my memories as others did; to let anyone who would listen know how kind and caring she had been, even to me. But as I sat there, half lost, half listening to others speak about her I came to realize that I’d already said those words to the only person in the room that mattered to me. She had been the only thing tying me to everyone else in attendance.
No one said a word to us as we made our way to the car.
The drive to the cemetery was short. The graveside service even shorter.
We stood to the side, removed from those I once called family. We stood in silent witness as they once again sang hymns and spoke prayers. We stood as friends took their leave. As family took their leave. We stood until only my father was left, seated on a folding chair under the frayed green temporary sun shelter. I hadn’t seen him in a decade. While he had never been a powerful or fearful figure in my youth, he had seemed somehow larger than life in many ways to a young boy. Such illusions had been shattered long ago. Still, I was astonished by how old he seemed. How small.
I made my way to the side of the casket, gently placing the small bundle of flowers I’d brought. Lily of the Valley. Her favorite. One small white bouquet, easily lost among the mountains of bright, bold roses and carnations. If she had been there, she would have seen them. She would have loved them.
As we reached the car Alex walked to the driver’s side and held out his hand. I raised an eyebrow in question.
His smile spoke volumns. “You still don’t trust me completely. After all this time?”
I couldn’t help but smile in return as I handed him the keys at the way he’d used my own words against me.
He took me to a small café we’d passed on our way into town, and I followed him inside without question. I would have followed him anywhere. It was late afternoon, earlier than the dinner rush and he spoke to the hostess in hushed tones before we were led to a quiet, intimate corner of the room where only moments later two whiskeys arrived.
He held up his glass without a word and I returned the gesture, grateful he was with me. Grateful for him. Two more drinks arrived quickly along with several appetizers, and I found myself wondering how he’d managed to arrange so much in the brief conversation he’d had when we arrived.
His blue eyes danced as he began speaking.
“I came out to my mom too. I was 17 and I’d wanted to for years, but never could find the right time, even though I didn’t really think it would be an issue. My family is pretty open.” His grin grew as he chuckled momentarily. “My parents were hippies when they met, and I don’t think they’ve really ever outgrown it completely.” He sipped his drink. “Anyway, I stood my ground in the kitchen as she chopped vegetables, which I suppose in hindsight could have been a mistake.” He laughed softly and I found myself swept up in the easy way he spoke. “I told her that I wanted to take another boy to the prom. It didn’t even affect the rhythm of her chopping. You know what she said?” I smiled softly and waited. “All she said was, well just because you can’t get anyone pregnant you still need to use a condom if you have sex after the dance.”
He dropped his head, shaking it in amusement before catching my shocked gaze.
He laughed harder at my expression.
He spoke for hours. Food and drinks came and went as he told stories that made us laugh out loud. Stories that pulled at my heart. Stories that he told simply as an excuse to keep speaking. I found myself clinging to his words like they were my salvation. Clinging to everything about him. To the way his shoulders hunched slightly toward me when his elbows propped on the table, his white shirt straining against the muscled form underneath, his jacket long ago relegated to the back of the chair. The way he picked at the food as he spoke and lightly sipped his drink. His fingers moved delicately and deliberately, his lips much the same. The way his smooth voice rolled over me like water, softening the pain I felt and replacing it with the warmth of sentimentality. The rest of the world vanished, if it had ever existed in the first place. He was my world.
His fingers wandered across the table from time to time, brushing across the back of my hand or the inside of my wrist. Light touches that grounded me, that held me with him in the moment and stopped me from wandering back into sorrow.
He talked and touched until the restaurant closed, continuing as he drove us back to the hotel. It was only as we entered the lobby that the stream of words he’d used to hold my soul together finally tapered off.
Neither of us spoke as we entered our room. Waves of emotions were once again pulling me into myself. He knew that, and silently respected it. I removed my jacket and tie, laying them over an armchair. On the other side of the room, his actions mirrored mine. Our eyes met as my fingers started their work on the buttons of my shirt. I wanted him. I needed him. Needed to remember that life still held joy and connection and all the things that the day hadn’t been. All of the things that he was for me.
His eyes grew bright and hungry as I stripped slowly. Deliberately. Completely. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d undressed for him. Stripping was nothing to me. Nakedness was nothing to me. I’d stood naked in the middle of a crowd without thought dozens of times. I couldn’t count the number of times my body had pressed against his, my skin sliding against him, teasing him, driving him. Driving myself. This was different. The way he watched me was different. The way I felt under his gaze was different. This was more.
He watched, motionless as I crossed the room, my fingers coming to rest on the buttons of his shirt. His blue eyes searching my face as I slipped the soft fabric from his shoulders and dropped to my knees before him to slide his pants to the floor. I rose up, the heat from his body searing my skin even through the inch of space I kept between us. My eyes closed as his fingertips reached out to trace my cheek bone, my jaw, along the front of my throat. My body melted into his touch, needing him. Only him.
His breath was closer; smooth firm lips against mine, exploring gently. The tip of his tongue begged entrance I gladly granted as the air swirled warm and heavy around us. I couldn’t count the number of times my lips had found his, but this was different. This was more.
He responded to my touch the way he always had, without hesitation. The lightest brush of my fingertips across his hips drew him toward me as I walked back, falling onto the bed, pulling him down with me. Over me. I wanted to feel nothing but him. Needed his body and his soul to hold the world at bay. My hands wandered his back tenderly. My fingertips exploring his skin in a way I’d rarely allowed them. Lingering, reveling, as I crank in the sensations of his breath mingling with mine, his scent, his strength.
As his fingers curled in my hair, pulling my head back to expose more of my throat to his lips, his tongue, the sharp scrape of his teeth, my knees hooked instinctively around his hips. I was lost in him, panting and arching up, our hard lengths crushed together between our bellies. Hot silken skin sliding as we rocked together.
I refused to let my need drive me. I knew this was the only time I’d get to feel him this way, yet it wasn’t until I felt the waves of pleasure threaten to undo me that I pulled back, stilling the movement of his hips with my thighs. My hand slid along his ribs, slipping between our bellies, my fingertips brushing along his length as his hips rose to allow me access. He was slick now, wet with the passion that had leaked from us both. I wrapped my hand tightly around him, drawing a shaky moan from his throat as his forehead dropped to the bend of my neck.
I shifted slightly, guiding him down to press his swollen head against my opening.
His head shot up, icy blue eyes searching mine in confusion. I leaned up to flick the tip of my tongue across his bottom lip as my hand tightened around him.
“Please.” My desperate whisper nearly begged.
His nod was nearly imperceptible as his mouth found mine once more.
Although it was only for a moment, I whimpered in loss as he shifted away to retrieve the lube before slipping back between my legs. His fingers opened me with strong, gentle movements. They were knowledgeable but unskilled and I briefly wondered how many times he’d done this. Surely, I wasn’t his first.
As his body drifted back over mine, the soft pressure of his slick head against me paused, waiting. I wrapped my arms tightly around his ribs, fingertips digging into his shoulders, pulling against him until I felt my nails scraping his skin. Pulling him until he pressed forward.
My head fell back with a soundless cry as my body responded to his intrusion with pleasure and pain so intense they threatened to consume me. My calf tightened against his hip, pulling him closer still as he sank deep, filling me completely. The world was lost to me by the time his hips settled against my skin.
He pulled back slowly, slipping from me completely before thrusting back in with deep smooth strokes. I clutched at his back, curling my body around his, burying my face in his shoulder. He was everything. He rode me with slow, deliberate care. Each movement driving me higher. Closer to him, further from the rest of existence. I forced one hand away from his shoulder to slip it down between us, ignoring my leaking cock to press my fingers against my belly, feeling the pressure of him moving inside me against my hand.
He shuddered in pleasure, and I pressed my palm harder against my skin, pinning him tighter inside of me. I disappeared into the sensations of his length within me, the strength of his body around me, his moans against my jaw, his breath caressing my neck.
For so long he’d cum only when I allowed it, that the moment I heard myself cry out as the flood of pleasure that rose with my release overwhelmed me, I felt his cry against my shoulder and a rush of heat deep inside my body. He’d held on to follow me into oblivion.
The last remnants of daylight had faded while we were lost in one another, and our breath slowing together was the only thing that existed in the dark. I grasped at the sound. At the scent of his sweat and the warmth of his skin against my own. The sensation of his release dripping down my leg toward the bed, and my own painted across my stomach between us forced an exhausted shiver from my spent soul.
I held him until his breath was quiet and regular before I carefully reached down to pull up the sheets.
I fought the darkness of sleep. Preferring instead to live in the illusion of the moment for as long as I could. It was not my right to love him. He was not mine, and ours was not a contract between lovers. The boundaries of our intimate universe did not contract and expand based on words tenderly whispered in the dark; did not shift as our love changed and developed. While our relationship was sensual, and comfortable, and companionable, our contract was that of a professional and his student. It was my place to show him the delights my world could hold and to warn him of its downfalls. It was my pleasure to watch him find his boundaries, to discover his ecstasy, to learn who he was and what he wanted. It was my responsibility to give him safety, and consistency, and professionalism.
I had crossed a line. As I lay in the dark letting the peaceful rise and fall of his breath hold me in the stillness of the night while my fingertips wove through the blond waves that rest on my chest I fought desperately; attempting to conjure up a scenario in which it was acceptable for a teacher to fall in love with his student. I could not. Because it was not. So I held him in the dark. I made this moment my universe. In the midst of my grief, I tucked it away, even though I knew that once he was gone it would only serve to highlight what I’d lost.
It was after ten by the time I woke. Sunlight filtering in through the half-opened drapes landed across his back as he lay tangled in the sheets as he always did when we spent nights together. I slipped from the bed to shower, taking my time under the hot spray, half lost in the memories of the previous evening, half avoiding the fact that I’d soon have to wake him.
He slept soundly as I dressed, and though I lingered as I pulled on my clothes, dwelling in this moment in which he felt like mine, eventually there was nothing else I could use to postpone the inevitable. I crouched beside the bed and placed my hand on his shoulder.
“Alexander.”
“Hmmm”
“Checkout is in half an hour. Why don’t you go shower while I finish packing and go get us something to eat on the drive.”
I removed my hand from his skin quickly as he rolled over.
“Of course. Sorry I slept so late.”
“It’s just fine.” I stepped away to finish packing our things, giving him space as he rolled out of bed.
When I returned with coffee and pastries, he was waiting by the door with our luggage. He said little as we loaded the car and during the entirety of the drive. When he did speak, he called me Sir. I’d selfishly expected our interlude to end only after we’d returned home.
As we removed our cases from the trunk, I informed him that I was needed at the club that night as a few issues had arisen in my absence, but that I’d see him at breakfast the next morning. An abrupt nod with a mumbled, “Yes Sir.” was the only response my announcement received.
I felt myself shift as I pulled on my tight leathers, hardening myself against the emotional turmoil that had rolled through me over the last few days. The suit I had worn yesterday had rendered me defenseless and I felt as if I’d gone to battle without my armor. My leathers were a part of me; an extension of my skin, of my soul. I was protected. They held back the flood of pain and loss that threatened to undo me. I was grateful for that.
I smiled that night at the club. I laughed with clients when I was expected to laugh. Spoke when I was expected to speak. Commanded when I was expected to command. My body did what I had trained it to do for so many years; exactly what I told it to. And when the club closed, and I had nowhere else to hide I returned home and locked the door to my bedroom behind me before curling up alone.
I kept my distance for a few days upon our return, using my absence from the club during the past week as an excuse. Our meals passed they always had. I smiled and laughed there as well, telling myself that the tension I felt between us was only my imagination. Once again, I didn’t believe my lies. We were clearly not ok, and there was only one thing left to try that might salvage our former relationship for the remaining three weeks of his contract. Three weeks. He’d be gone in three weeks. The mere thought pulled the breath from my lungs.
I stepped into the dining room where he was waiting for me to join him for dinner. I held my voice steady; harsh and professional. “Come with me.”
“Yes Sir.” He followed without hesitation, as he always had. I led him to the playroom, stripped him quickly, and cuffed him to the poles without a word.
He was already hard as I picked up a whip and circled him silently, my fingertips trailing along his skin. Skin that felt different to me now. It was no longer the skin of my contracted sub, it was the skin of a lover. Skin that had held me, supported me. Skin I had tasted and bitten and reddened with my demands yes, but skin I now longed for. Skin I wanted touch as I read and slept and worked. I wanted both. I wanted everything. I wanted him.
I brought my whip down aggressively across his ass, drawing a moan that resonated through the soundless room. I struck again, higher. Again. I worked my way along that skin, watching it redden under my touch.
When no more of that skin was left unmarked, I dropped to my knees and slipped his favorite vibrator into his ass without pause. The cry that rose from deep in his chest forced goosebumps across my chest and arms. His ass had been vacant for more than a week and I’d thrust hard and without hesitation, knowing it would bring him both pleasure and pain. I gave him exactly what he liked.
I stood and brought my whip across his skin once more. His ass. His back. Again and again, drawing moans and cries and whimpers. Red stripes crossing over one another, marring his perfect tan flesh.
“Have you had enough?”
“No Sir.” His voice was coarse and tight.
“You want more?”
“Yes Gre…Sir.”
I circled him quickly. His head was dropped, eyes hiding from mine.
I lifted his chin gently with the butt of the whip and raised an eyebrow in question.
“I’m sorry Sir.” He cringed.
I let his head drop and stepped back, making a show of dragging the thin strands of the leather flogger through my fingers as I fought to reign in my emotions. This is what I wanted. What I’d always wanted. Someone who was submissive yes, but someone who was more than that. Someone who found pleasure in the ways I offered them pain. Someone who offered me control not because they knew what was allowed by contract, but because they trusted me completely. Someone who could come from my whip or from my words and then let me hold them close and whisper to them of my love afterward. I wanted this. I wanted him.
I stepped closer and drew my whip hard down across his belly. “Five.”
Harder. “Four.”
Gently enough to barely sting across his swollen and leaking cock. “Three.”
His whimpering was continuous as he fought to hold back.
I dropped my whip and fell to my knees in front of him, sinking my teeth into his slick length before whispering against the silken flesh. “Two.”
Without pause I leaned forward, taking him into my mouth and sliding him completely down my throat. He cried out and his body shook as he fought to hold his release.
I tapped my hands once on the back of his thighs, indicating the end of my countdown.
It was my name that he cried out as heat rushed into my throat.
I milked him tenderly until he softened, letting my fingertips lightly trail through the pale hair on the back of his calves and thighs. My closed eyes heightening my other senses as I savored the taste of him in my mouth and the warmth of his skin against mine. It seemed that even my whip couldn’t undo the damage I’d done to our contracted relationship, and I knew this would be the last time I’d taste him. Anything other than terminating his contract early would be unprofessional of me. Even more unprofessional than I’d already been.
I took my time as I cared for his reddened skin with cool towels and salve as I always did, cleaning him gently and completely. His eyes followed me as I stood, leaving him lying on his back on the floor.
I forced a kind smile, desperately hoping it would hide the way I was breaking. “I’m sorry I pulled us away from dinner.”
His smile was broad and all encompassing. It was light in the dark and I knew I’d be lost without it. “I’m not Sir.”
“I have some things I need to take care of at the club and I’m afraid I’ll be unable to spend time with you this evening.” Lies
His expression dropped as I continued.
“Will you be ok if I skip aftercare this time?”
He nodded, his smile now as faded and forced as mine felt. “Of course, Sir.”
I knelt quickly and brushed my lips across his. I couldn’t help myself.
“Rest as long as you need Beautiful. I’ll have Jake reheat dinner for you.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
I forced another smile as I traced my fingertips along his jaw before I stood once more and left him lying in the center of the room.
I felt nothing as I packed my bag and made my way to my office, speaking briefly with Jake briefly before shutting the door and taking out a sheet of paper. I stared at it until night fall before words allowed themselves to fall onto the page.
____
I owe you an apology. In truth, I owe you many apologies. I apologize for cutting our contract short as I have never before done such a thing. I apologize for my lack of professionalism in allowing us to step outside of the boundaries so clearly laid out in our contract. I apologize for taking advantage of our friendship. I apologize for the fact I find myself wanting to keep you even though my training is expressly meant to prepare you to find and enjoy the company of an appropriate long-term partner. I apologize for wanting more. I’ve fallen in love with you. I know I should apologize for that too, but I can’t bring myself to do so.
I’ll be away for several days. While I offered no details of course, I have informed Jake that I crossed an inappropriate boundary during our time away and he will ensure that your move back home is completed quickly and professionally in my absence.
I’m afraid I don’t know how to end this letter although I’ve been staring at this page for several hours other than to thank you for all you have offered me, for all you’ve taught me, and for all the ways you’ve unknowingly changed me.
Yours,
Grey
____
I sealed the envelope and met Jake in the hall.
“Take care of him please.” I whispered quietly as I adjusted the bag over my shoulder and handed him the letter to deliver.
Jake simply nodded. “Of course, Sir. Are you sure there is nothing I can do for you?”
I let my hand clap his shoulder as I offered him a pained smile “There is nothing any one can do for me right now Jake but thank you.”
The next four days were a blur. I checked into a hotel and made it to the room before I broke down. I spent my time drinking, crying, and trying to forget that Alexander had ever existed. When I woke on day five with the painful realization that it wouldn’t happen no matter how much I drank or cried, I dragged myself to the shower, dressed in a daze, and made my way to my car.
It was quiet as I walked through the foyer. Jake’s text two days ago had let me know everything was settled with Alexander and when I’d pulled myself together briefly enough to respond I’d given him several days off. The house was empty. I was empty.
I dropped my bag at the entrance to the dining room and trailed my fingertips along the table’s edge as I walked toward my office. The moment I entered, my gaze was drawn to the small table between the wingback chairs. Alone on the dark polished surface sat his leather cuffs.
I made my way over without thought, sinking into a chair as I picked up the smooth leather, running it between my fingers. The leather was softer than when I’d first placed them on his wrists; transformed from months of wear. The time they had spent against his skin, covered with sweat, straining as he tensed and pulled had softened them. He’d done the same thing to me. The tears I’d fought so hard to reign in fell once more as I sank into my grief. In the span of two weeks, I’d lost everything. Everyone that mattered.
“Those were given only for the duration of my contract, yes?” His voice was smooth and steady.
I pulled myself together quickly. Jake had assured me everything was taken care of, and I’d thought myself to be alone. Truly alone. It wouldn’t do for him to see me crying like a child.
I was surprised at how stable my voice sounded as I fought for self-control. “They were.”
He walked slowly toward me, and it took all the strength I had not to ask him why he was still here and beg him to stay.
He fell to his knees in front of me and offered his wrists. His silver blue eyes held mine without wavering. “And if I were yours? No time limits, no restrictions, just yours? What if I loved you in return?”
I heard a soft whimper escape my lips before I could stop it and the corner of his mouth twitched toward a smile.
I stiffened my back, sitting taller as I unwound the cuffs from one another.
My gaze never left his as I allowed my fingers to linger on the skin of his wrists while I clipped them on and rose to stand before him.
“Come with me.”
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