Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey (13 page)

I lay in bed, gazed at the headboard, and wondered if it would be here that Mr. Delacroix would bind me in preparation. My groin roiled and my hips moved. I held my hand steady on the journal, remembering his electric blue eyes as he commanded my pleasure. I was concerned I would not be able to hold out until he came home.

It all seemed to make sense now, working with the bindings for my own pleasure. Even though Mr. Delacroix said it excited him, tying me up was meant not for complete domination, but for the complete experience of pleasuring me. I had never thought of this before and only Monique in her gentle way could explain it so well.

My thoughts went back to Mr. Delacroix. While I did not want him to be with anyone else, I understood the level of giving and pleasure, his experiences with Mr. Scott. How selfish of me to try to deprive him of this. How very wrong and spoiled I was. Only, I hoped he was indeed with Mr. Scott and not some other woman. A wave of jealousy took hold of me and I knocked it away with a stiff mental riding crop. He and I signed together. He wanted me more than he wanted anyone else.

My hands gripped the journal.
Monique
, I thought,
let me be strong like you.

“Sunny, did you do this?” I heard Mr. Delacroix say as he left the room. My eyes opened to see his back as he walked away and I realized I had fallen asleep with the gag in my mouth. The gag reflex was gone.

He returned with Sunny on his heels as I sat up and removed the gag. My mouth was terribly dry and I could not speak.

“Do what, sir?”

“Gag her, Sunny. I don’t recall giving you permission.”

“I didn’t,” Sunny said.

I raised my hand and in a half whisper said, “I did it.”

Their mouths fell open and four blue eyes looked at me in surprise; two electric and two like arctic ice.

“Sunny, go get Miss Nez a glass of water. Apparently she has something to tell us.”

Mr. Delacroix tossed my backpack on the floor, sat in his throne chair, and took off his shoes. He leaned back, crossed his left ankle over his right knee, and closed his eyes. “Nez, I missed you today, my love.”

“I missed you too, my lord.”

Sunny brought cool water and I sipped greedily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now tell us why you gagged yourself,” Sunny said.

Mr. Delacroix opened his eyes and looked at me with a wide smile. “Yes, Nezzie, whatever possessed you?” His giggle was infectious.

“I guess Monique possessed me, sir.”

Mr. Delacroix smiled even wider. “You’ve been reading her journals?”

I looked around for the precious book and found it tucked under the duvet. “Sir, she inspired me, possessed me, if you will.” I held the book to my breast.

“Oh, Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said as he rose from his chair. “Sunny, I knew it. I knew she was the one.”

“Sir,” Sunny said, “I tend to agree, but shouldn’t you give it more time?”

“Time for what?” I said to no one in particular. I waited for the other shoe to fall. Nothing could be this good without a hitch.

Mr. Delacroix’s eyes shaded over and bore into Sunny. I cowered, but Sunny stood fast, his eyes narrow and gray. Was Sunny protecting me or himself?

After what seemed like an eternity, Mr. Delacroix conceded. “You’re right. I’m sorry, friend, you’re right. I have to stop getting ahead of myself. I sometimes get so wrapped up in how I want things to be or how I think they should be that I forget there are others to consider. I lose my sense of reality.” His hand rested on my leg. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to delay gratification. I have dreams of how I want that place to be, of you being there, but I forget that it’ll take some work to get there. I just can’t shake this feeling that you belong there.” He trailed off as if listening to that internal voice in his head.

He turned to Sunny again. “I need you here for supper tonight.”

“I’ll call Abby and let her know she’ll have the bar tonight, sir.”

“I’d like to have supper with my family,” Mr. Delacroix said. “It’s been quite a day. Ty will be joining us for supper too.”

“Yes, sir,” Sunny said, and left the room.

“My lord, are you tired? Would you like to sleep for a while?” I asked.

“No, my love, I’m too wound up to sleep. These family get-togethers are draining. There’s so much pretense and honest-to-goodness bullshit,” he said.

I wanted to touch him, to caress his body and show him what I learned today from Monique. But before I could do anything, he took the gag, washed it carefully, and set it out on the vanity to dry. “So, do you think sleeping with this helped you?”

“I think so.”

He came back in the room and sat on his throne. “Come over here and show me what Monique taught you, but take your clothes off first. Don’t forget, this is our room now. When you’re in our bedroom, you’re to be naked, my love, unless you’re dressing.”

“Yes, my lord.” It felt odd to hear him refer to this room as our bedroom. I had never shared such a personal space with anyone before.

“I won’t tell you again.” He smiled and rubbed his hands together.

“Oh yes, my lord.” I disrobed quickly and went to him, falling to my knees as Monique described.

“Good girl, you’re a very good girl.” He lifted his hips from the chair and pulled his pants to his ankles. Before I knew it, he had a handful of my hair and was pulling my head back firmly but gently. “Did Monique show you how to kneel before me?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You are the sweetest thing.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Show me what you learned today.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I said as I bent in to kiss the tip of his shaved hardness as it grew in my hand. I was astonished at the metamorphosis. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth wide, and hungrily took him as Monique had described. I did not gag, but rather I challenged myself to see how deep I could take him in my throat without suffocating. I got on all fours so that I could more easily move him in and out of my throat and mouth. I sucked him and ran my tongue around the throbbing head of his beautiful cock. I was enjoying giving him pleasure and my privates got so wet I knew I would drip on the floor.

He groaned, his hips moving in rhythm with my head as his grip on my hair guided me.

“Nez,” he whispered, “I’m gonna come soon. Can you swallow it? Are you okay?”

I nodded my head yes. He immediately shoved his hard cock deep into my throat, pushing my head further than I had gone before. I thought I might suffocate but he held me in a vice-like grip. I began to struggle. His cream coated my throat in a salty sweetness. He pushed again and then released me. I sucked hard as I pulled my head away and fell back on my heels.

“That was beautiful. Just what the doctor ordered. Thank you, my dream, you’re a quick study, intelligent and sexy.”

“You’re welcome, my lord.” I snuggled into his thigh and he twirled a lock of my hair in his fingers.

“Nezzie, I’m gonna ask you something and I want you to answer honestly.”

“Yes, my lord. I’m always honest with you.”

He smiled. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m glad I did it.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“The feeling’s mutual
what
?” He grabbed my hair and pulled.

“My lord,” I said quickly. His pull of my hair made my nether regions light up. I kissed his thigh again and he relaxed.

“Do you think this whole thing, the way we live, do you think we’re fucked up, depraved?”

I thought for a while because the truly honest answer was yes. How would he respond if I gave him that answer? Moreover, what did that answer say about me?

“Be completely honest, Nez. Don’t be afraid to give it to me straight.”

“Yes, this is fucked up and depraved,” I said, and I felt him tense, “but given the culture and traditions your family has, it isn’t so fucked up. It makes sense in its own way, in a real way. Sometimes it’s a game, but it isn’t really at all. It’s more real than anything I’ve ever known, so no, it isn’t fucked up or depraved in this context.”

“You aren’t feeling ashamed or appalled or guilty?”

“No, my lord. May I ask why you ask?”

“Yes, but I won’t answer until later when Sunny’s around so he can hear. Do you trust me?”

“With my life, sir. I trust you completely.”

Mr. Delacroix lifted me up to his lap and held me tight. I listened to his heartbeat as my head lay on his chest.

“You suffer so sweetly for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You’re my world. When I see your suffering, I know I’m alive. We’re alive together for each other,” he said, caressing me as if I were a most precious treasure. “You’re the sweetest thing. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

The guitar sounded melodious against the backdrop of rain on the roof and windows. I followed the sound to find Sunny sitting on the floor next to the fireplace, strumming absent-mindedly. He was a vision in the firelight.

Mr. Delacroix sat on the sofa. “Sunny’s a guitar virtuoso,” he smiled. “Come, my love. Sit.” I took my place on my pillow at his feet.

“Hardly a virtuoso, sir, I just like to play.” Sunny strummed a few chords.

“He sings, too, Nezzie.”

“Sing something for us,” I said with a smile.

“I dunno, Miss Nez. It’s been awhile.”

“Please,” I begged. I saw something in his eyes melt.

“Mr. Delacroix, now I see what you mean about when she begs.”

“Yes,” Mr. Delacroix said, “she cannot be denied.”

Sunny closed his eyes, thought for a moment, and said, “I know. How’s this?”

He strummed a few chords and then began in earnest to sing. I was awestruck by his talent.

“Brava, my dear,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Thank you, sir. Shall I play another?”

“Yes, if you’re up to it,” Mr. Delacroix said as he twirled a lock of my hair in his fingers.

Sunny strummed a few chords and then performed. His fingers positioned themselves and smoothly moved along the neck of the guitar in a melancholy chord progression that seemed random but harmonious.

“Where did you learn?” I asked.

“I’ve always had music lessons, even as a little kid. My mother wanted me to play the violin. I picked up the guitar after I came here. Mr. Delacroix felt it was good for me to have my own hobby.”

“Passion, Sunny,” Mr. Delacroix corrected him. “Each of us needs our own personal passion.”

“My lord, what is your personal passion?”

“Aside from you, my personal passion is Twisted Oak and the business. We need to find your passion, my lady love.” He playfully tugged my hair.

“I have one now. It’s you, sir,” I smiled.

“Na-na, you need something to call your own. Think about something you love to do and I’ll make it yours to master.”

“Okay, my lord.”

“Ty should be here soon. I told him to bring us a little surprise. I feel like we all deserve it after the week we’ve had, especially you, my love.” Mr. Delacroix ran his hand down my throat and into my low-slung neckline. His hand fell on my breast with fingers finding my nipple, rolling it gently between soft, thick fingers. I arched my back, allowing him easier access. “Nez, you’re a natural.”

“Only for you, my lord.”

Knock, knock, knock.

Sunny set his guitar aside and went to receive Ty, who blew in like a caramel-cream Creole breeze, his tight curls sparkling with raindrops. He added such levity to the room.

“Miss Nez, you look so beautiful!”

“Thanks, Ty, and you’re handsome as ever. I’ve been missing you. Where’ve you been?”

“Aw, Miss Nez, I been workin’, ya know. Takin’ care of business. I been meaning to come by, but I know things been crazy for you and I thought maybe some time for you to adjust would be good.”

He sat on the floor opposite Sunny on the other side of the fireplace. “It would seem, Miss Nez, that you adjustin’ well. You just lookin’ so fine.”

“I am, thank you.” I meant every word.

“Miss Nez, I’m never far, ya know. I’m never too far where you can’t find me. Sunny always know how to find me. Oh, hey now, Mizz Dee asked after you and I told her you was fine. She say hello.”

I waited for Mr. Delacroix to correct Ty’s grammar, but he said nothing. Maybe he was too worn out to care or maybe Ty had pleased Mr. Delacroix that day.

“Ty,” Mr. Delacroix finally said, “what’s your first impression of the inner workings of Twisted Oak? Did you have a good time today?”

“Aw, god, Mr. Delacroix, yes indeed, I did. Cher, in all my days I ain’t never seen anything like it.”

Sunny laughed. “Ty, I should think you were in your element.”

“No way, I was way outta my element, sir. Shooo-ey, man, they a crazy bunch, but fun as hell.”

“You should have seen him,” Mr. Delacroix said, “he was such a treat! No one really knew what to think when he and I walked in, but soon enough, he became a novelty and everyone wanted a piece of him. And Ty, I gotta say, you obliged more than I expected.”

I raised my eyebrows and waited for an explanation, but Ty was silent.

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix explained, “Ty’s very well-endowed. You wouldn’t know it by looking at his skinny ass, but he is, and the ladies, not to mention a few gents, went wild. Up until yesterday, blacks have never been allowed to play at Twisted Oak.”

“Play, my lord?” I asked.

“Did Monique tell you about the upstairs rooms at Twisted Oak?”

“She mentioned the rooms, my lord, but she didn’t describe them in much detail.”

“Oh, she will as you read more. The space is still there. Usually at the roast, a few of us end up upstairs and we play around.”

“Like group sex?”

Another tug of my hair. “Like group sex
what
?”

“My lord?”

“Yes, something like group sex. Ty was the star of the show today. What do ya have to say, Ty? Was it as good as it looked from where I sat?” His smile was broad and gleaming.

“Mr. Delacroix, I never dreamed of anything so crazy. I honestly didn’t think I would be into doing the ladies—no offense, Miss Nez—but everyone was just so loose and fun. You white people are plumb crazy.”

“Last time I saw you, Ty, you were tied up and twisted between a man and a woman having the time of your life,” Mr. Delacroix laughed. “Glad you made it out alive is all I can say.”

“Well, sir, I be kinda wore out.”

“Me too.”

“I bring you that thing you wanted,” Ty said, and handed Mr. Delacroix a small envelope.

“Great, thanks,” Mr. Delacroix said as he took the envelope. “Sunny, got some fire?”

Sunny took a long match from a box that sat atop some books on the bookcase, lit it on the fireplace, and handed it to Mr. Delacroix, who lit the joint he took from the envelope. He inhaled deeply and handed it to me. I gladly partook, handing the joint to Ty.

“Nezzie, we only do this on occasion. Using drugs of any kind to get high, even alcohol, is to be avoided. I trust you realize this and can exhibit some self-control. If you don’t think you can handle it, just say so and we’ll never do it again. Don’t you agree that getting high from one another’s pleasure is much more fulfilling?”

“Yes, my lord, and I’m okay with this. I never really smoked a lot of pot,” I said as my limbs began to feel thick and heavy.

“Personally,” said Sunny to no one in particular, “sometimes I find it easier to get it up after I smoke a little, but then I get tired too soon, so I guess it’s a trade-off.”