“Very good, Jared. I'm proud of you. We're going to do two more sets and this time, Kit is going to pleasure you with her hands. This is more true to how we operate, and you may ejaculate at your leisure. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Jared said, his eyes darkening, even as they glistened with pain-endured tears.
“Very good. Kit?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good girl.” My reaction to her praise was immediate. It pooled low in my stomach, and warmed me enough to chase the chills of the experience away for at least a second. I knew what she was asking of me and moved accordingly.
My right hand released Jared’s, dropping between us and reaching over the meeting points of the cross. My fingers closed around his hard cock with reverence. His hips bucked against my touch and his eyes dazzled me as the hunger took over.
My thumb brushed over the head of him before my hand made one long stroke down his shaft, a guttural moan falling from his lips as his eyes fluttered. Finding a slow, steady rhythm, I stroked him with care, the whistle and snap of the whip evoking a moan rather than the previous cry of pain.
The memories of watching him pleasure himself only nights earlier infiltrated my mind, my wrist recreating the gentle twist he'd used on himself as the whip started the last set. They were the hardest yet, but Jared didn't break the connection between us and I didn't stop the ever-growing rhythm of my hand, as his cock pulsed with need for release in my grip.
He came hard, the heat of his climax spilling over my wrist as he rocked his hips forward. The last crack of the whip hit between his shoulder blades, pushing him toward me with a shout of pleasurable pain, his hips pumping him into my hand as he milked the last of his orgasm.
We stared at one another for only a moment before Mistress Kayla's arrival. One last look in Jared's eyes and I dropped my gaze, my fingers stroking his cock gently before falling free. Something had just happened between us and I wasn't sure what it was. I just knew I couldn't go through seeing him so vulnerable again. Not without breaking myself.
“You did so well,” Mistress said gently, making a sound that demanded I join her and help him from the cross. I stroked his fingers on the hand I was still holding and stepped away, taking a deep breath as I moved obediently to Mistress Kayla's side.
Unfastening an arm each, we bore his weight and led him toward the bed, lowering him gently on his stomach. At Mistress’ command, I ran to fetch a heated blanket from the bathroom and rushed back to lay it as gently as I could over his shivering body. Mistress disappeared to the cabinet to get what was needed to clean some of the weeping welts on his back.
“Kit, get on the bed with him and talk amorously. Use soft touches and calm him.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
It didn't take long for me to get in position, my body pressed against his side as my fingers ran through his hair. I whispered to him, telling him how well he'd done and how proud I was. They were all of the things I needed to hear after a session as grueling as his. He responded only by turning his face to see mine, his hand grappling for my free one, which I offered eagerly.
I stayed pressed against him, my hand in his as Mistress Kayla cleaned his back, his subdued hissing running straight through me as I continued to whisper nonsense in a soothing tone.
Mistress Kayla climbed in the bed when she was finished, her body pressed against his other side, her hand brushing his hair also. He didn't budge. His eyes stayed glued to my face for the whole time we laid there, even after Mistress had left to get water and something sweet to help with the shock his body was going through.
“Thank you,” he whispered as the sound of her heels faded down the hall. His voice was quiet, the commanding timbre buried beneath the pain lacing his tone.
“For what?”
“Being my strength. I could never have made it through that if you hadn't been there. And I'm not afraid to admit that.”
All of the pain and discomfort at seeing him being whipped faded away at those words. I'd done this dozens of times for other subs, but this had been so different. His simple and quiet thanks seemed to make it all the more profound.
There was a part of me that hoped this wouldn't deter him from his natural instincts. The fact that he’d now experienced the pain he'd be issuing could have only resulted one of two ways. It seemed like such a shame to deny the world of his natural born abilities, but I was finally coming to understand that the knowledge and vulnerability were why he'd gone through with this display of submission. All of this had been to test himself and to see if he was comfortable knowing the pain he was giving to others.
I hoped he found what he was looking for, and more than that, I hoped after these weeks were over we'd still have a friendship to hold on to. I knew now more than ever that I selfishly wanted him in my life, in any capacity I could have him.
I'd almost expected Mistress to have the three of us in her bed like she normally did, but when we had Jared settled on his mattress in the spare room, she told me to stay with him. I didn't argue. I didn't so much as give her a questioning look. I just crawled into the bed as I was told and snuggled into Jared's chest after he'd gotten comfortable, curling into his side. My hand gently stroked his hair while my lips brushed over his shoulder, lulling him to sleep as I tried to figure out exactly what was going on.
It didn't take long for his breathing to sink into the deep, repetitious rhythm of sleep, and I stayed longer, just to make sure that he was in the embrace of his slumber before I slid slowly from his grip and tiptoed to the door, slipping out as he sighed and rolled to his stomach.
I stood there, watching him for a moment as he resettled, a shadow of the discomfort I'd felt seeing him in pain haunting me. Seeing him in that vulnerable state hadn't changed the way I looked at him. He was still that man with the undeniable strength and beautiful body that I'd always comprehended. He still held that mystery for me. His submission, in hindsight, had been beautiful. The noises he'd made, that intense burning determination in his eyes – it was all part of his charm and he'd managed to infuse that resolve into his pain. He'd given me the strength to be strong for him without even realizing what he was doing.
I wanted to climb back into the bed with him, curl around his body and whisper all of these thoughts to his subconscious, but my intuition was calling me away. A voice in the back of my head nagged that something was wrong with my Mistress.
I wouldn't be gone long, but I needed to see her. I needed to know why she'd gone against the norm and sent us to another room. I pulled the door closed and made my way down the hall to Mistress Kayla’s room. I didn't bother knocking. I just slipped inside and looked around, finding the room empty. I would have gone downstairs if I hadn't heard the shower running. This only cemented my concern.
Mistress Kayla was particular about her cleanliness. Mornings were for showers, night times for baths. She hated the thought of bath salts lingering in her hair all day long. It was one of those little idiosyncrasies I adored about her. That she was taking a shower rather than a bath, could only mean something was bothering her. She deviated from routine when something didn't sit right with her.
“Mistress?” I whispered, cracking the door open and peeking inside. The moment I did my eyes found her and my heart fell to my stomach. Through the thick layer of steam and the condensation on the shower doors, I could see her huddled under the spray, her head back against the tile as the water rained over her face. I didn't hesitate. My dress was over my head and I was pulling open the door before she'd even noticed me, my knees hitting the bamboo flooring of her decadent shower before her eyes had fully fluttered open.
There were times this would have been unacceptable. I was disobeying her order for me to stay with Jared in the other room. I would, at any other time, have been right where I was supposed to be, staring at the ceiling. However, she’d also broken her own rules by staying away from her submissive and ignoring the needed aftercare. Perhaps it was an evening for rule bending, and the lack of hardness at my defiance only confirmed that I’d been correct in my assumption.
“What's the matter, Mistress? Please talk to me.”
The water had washed away her tears, but it couldn't wash away the ring of red and the veins of her bloodshot eyes. Dropping her head to her knees, she shook it slowly, her breath finally calming.
My hands reached out tentatively, brushing her wet hair over her shoulders as I shuffled closer on my knees, my arms slowly folding around her as she tried to compose herself.
I couldn't lie; she was terrifying me with this outpour of emotion. In two years I'd never seen her break down; whether that was because she'd been better at hiding it, I wasn't entirely sure. All I knew was I didn't like seeing her this way. Not because she was vulnerable or suddenly appeared weak, because I knew there was nothing wrong with bleeding your emotions. No. It was because something had managed to get under her skin. Her infallible composure was crumbling, even if it was for just a moment in time. For that to happen, something serious had to be wrong.
“Go back to Jared, Pet,” she whispered, the sound stolen by the run of the water. My hands ran over her shoulders to the tops of her arms, squeezing.
“Please talk to me. Maybe I can help.”
“No one can help. I'm just a silly old woman having a wobbly moment that I never intended for anyone to see.”
“You had to know I'd come looking for you. I've been gone for a week. Then you just dismiss me so easily. I know you better than that, Mistress.”
Her hand reached for mine, squeezing it before pulling it gently into the cocoon of her curled body and kissing the ends of my fingers.
“Jared is the first Dominant to ever submit to me,” she said quietly, lifting her head. “I realize how arrogant I've been all these years. I never realized what it took out of someone to top another Dominant. All these years...”
My mind clicked slowly into place and the things I'd missed finally became clear and completed the puzzle. Charles wasn't the only one still in love and living in the past. Mistress Kayla still loved him too. It seemed the warning he’d given me that morning over breakfast had more than one level to it.
“You still love him.”
“I do. I never could stop. That doesn't take away from my love for you,” she said, almost desperately as her hand-gripped mine tighter.
I grinned, mostly to reassure her. “Mistress, you know my thoughts on that. I believe in love. I believe in soul mates. But I also believe that we, as a species, are capable of loving more than one person. I don't take offense that you're still in love with him. Who couldn't love him?”
Her laughter was genuine, and her hands cupped my face as she leaned in to kiss me tenderly. Her smile was faltering. “What bothers me the most is that he hurts himself to give me what I need.”
I almost said
because he loves you
, but it would have been betraying Charles and I just couldn't do that to him.
“I'm sure he has his reasons, Mistress.”
“I'm sure you're right.” She sniffed as the water continued to beat down on us. “You need to go and tend to Jared. If he wakes up in pain, alone—”
“I'll go back to him now. I just needed to know you were okay, Mistress.”
“My sweet girl.”
I grinned and leaned in to kiss her again before pushing to my feet and offering her a hand. She took it and rose, the water sleuthing over her shoulders and breasts. My eyes followed the path slowly as my mind emptied completely.
“We have a week to satisfy our needs, Pet. Bed.”
I backed away, my eyes flickering up to her face before pushing the glass open and stepping out. “Goodnight, Mistress.”
“Goodnight, Kit.”
I grabbed a towel on my way out, scooping my dress from the floor as I left her, the fluffy material of the towel folded around me, and my hair dripping slowly.
Slipping back into the spare room, I tiptoed into the adjoining bathroom and rubbed my hair dry as best I could before turning off the lights and returning to the bed to press my body against Jared's. He mumbled half asleep, his arm draping over me as he whispered about my hair being wet.
I didn't answer him. Instead, I snuggled closer,. My hand found his hair and slowly stroked, coaxing him back into a deep sleep.
My mind was wide-awake as I absorbed the warmth of his body. I couldn't imagine being in love with someone and knowing I couldn't have them. At least, not the love Charles and Mistress Kayla seemed to have. They were perfect for one another with one small flaw, and that was that they were both dominant. As small as it was, the significance and difficulties were large. I mulled over possible ways to rectify the situation, how it could work out for the two of them, and the answers never had a happy ending, which was surely why they were apart.
Every idea I had seemed akin to putting two dogs in a cage together, and the thought made my stomach roll at the barbaric comparison. These were two adults. Two compassionate and capable adults who used thought over instinct to rein themselves in. So why couldn't they find a resolution? Had they convinced themselves that they were the only one that felt that way about the other? It was hard to believe considering the chemistry between them. Something I’d picked up on through my own intuition.
In fact, I'd known something was different the morning Mistress had packed to go to Charles’ house.
I wasn't sure why I was so intent on finding a way for Charles and Mistress Kayla to be together when, in all actuality, I should be thinking of ways to keep them apart and dissuade them from pursuing any kind of rekindling. Yet, not one jealous emotion was stirring inside me. I should have been questioning
that
rather than how they could work things out, but I found myself pushing the lack of jealousy to the back of my mind, sticking it in a little box where I wouldn't have to analyze it.