Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey (14 page)

“Nezzie, baby,” Mr. Delacroix crooned, “are you thirsty? I know I am.”

“I could use something to drink, my lord.” I began to get up but he pushed me down. I looked up into his glassy blue eyes, dimmed now with the fog of marijuana.

“Ty, run and get that bottle of sauvignon blanc in the fridge, will you please, my dear?”

“Sho’ thing, boss.” Ty got up from his cross-legged position and immediately went to work in the kitchen.

“Sunny, you shoulda seen Ty today, man. He had a blast. I thought Mrs. Scott was gonna have a cow when he and I walked in together.” His voice was slow and low. His Southern accent flowed under the influence of the marijuana.

“Sir, if I may say something now that we are all stoned?” Sunny began.

“Go ahead, kid. I know what you’re going to say.”

“No, sir, it isn’t that. I think it’s high time folks like Ty be welcomed at Twisted Oak. For god’s sake, it’s 1987. I think over time folks have forgotten who runs things is all. I know you and Mr. Scott are solid, so there aren’t any worries. I just hope Mrs. Scott gets to feeling better. You’ll be thirty soon and you’ll hold the reins.”

“Sunny, Mrs. Scott’s demons are brought to us by Mr. Scott. He holds a lot of blame from where I sit, so give her a break. I am very well aware of where I am when it comes to the trust. I’m ready to take over anytime.” His tone became cross. “I think things are lining up well for it.”

“Sir, can I ask a question?” I interjected.

“Yeah, doll, you can ask anything. I’m sorry if we’re talking about things you aren’t aware of. What is it?”

“What’s wrong with Mrs. Scott, my lord?”

“Nothing that Mr. Scott can’t fix, and he could very easily, but I suppose it was part of their agreement. See, Mr. Scott never wanted to have children. Anyhow, when he took Mrs. Scott, she signed on very much as you have, saying she would practice birth control. I gather when he collared her, part of their new agreement was that she would continue to do so.”

“I see.”

He glanced at me and went for my hair.

“My lord.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever thought about kids, Nez, but around here, women are expected to have children and are brought up measuring their identity with motherhood. It’s kind of a Catholic thing, but it’s also a cultural thing: women have children. And she wants to, but he doesn’t.”

“Is that what the matter with Mrs. Scott, sir?” Ty set the tray down with the bottle and four glasses.

“Among other things, yes, Ty, but this fancy of hers will pass like most things do with her.”

“I thought they were older. Isn’t she too old to have babies, my lord?” I asked.

“Oh no, Nez, she’s about Ty’s age, just ripe to have kids.”

“They’re about eighteen years apart,” Sunny said. “I guess he’s about forty-five or so; somewhere around there.”

“Forty-four, Sunny, and she’s twenty-six,” Mr. Delacroix said. “She got on this tangent with me today about how Twisted Oak is nowhere to raise a kid and Mr. Scott was too ‘homosexual’ for her and would be a poor father and on and on. She even said he wasn’t a ‘real man,’ but as I say, she’ll change her tune. She always does.”

“Damn,” said Ty, “he a real man to me.”

“Even though she has her issues, she may leave; but then again, I can’t imagine her doing so,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Break the contract, my lord?”

“Yeah, Nez, break the contract, break the collar and get a divorce. It’s looking like that scenario is inevitable, but getting out once and for all is another thing. I’m not sure where she’d even go.”

Ty said, “Miss Nez, she ain’t ever been nowhere else. She bone there.”

“She was born at Twisted Oak?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I remember when it happened. I was around four or so. Her momma worked for us. Her family lived—still lives, actually—on the grounds,” Mr. Delacroix explained. “I can’t imagine she’d just go live with her auntie out in that shack where she was born. She didn’t have a great childhood out there.”

Sunny poured the wine and sat to strum his guitar.

Mr. Delacroix continued, “Ty, this may sound like gossip and maybe it is, but don’t go repeating it.”

“Yes, sir—I mean, no, sir.”

“After my discussion with her today, I’ve decided I’m gonna make a conscious effort to move my life in the direction of Twisted Oak. It’s time for me to have more direction in my life. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think their arrangement’s gonna last. I dunno, maybe it was the gloomy weather, but Mrs. Scott is getting worse, and he’s miserable too. I’m disappointed in Mr. Scott for not at least trying to understand her. It’s his job to look after her, but he’s too damned busy playing around and she requires special attention.” He sipped his wine and faced Ty. “I noticed he fucked your ass silly today.”

“Oh yeah he did,” Ty said, his smile as wide as his head. “He was the first one.”

I shook my head in amazement and wondered how many people had fucked Ty that day.

“It’s time that place saw some real happiness again, and now with Nezzie here, I might have a decent chance at it. I hope all of you will join me, especially you, my dream, my love, my lady Nez.” He held his wine up as in a toast. “Who’s with me?”

No one but me raised their glass.

“Sunny,” Mr. Delacroix said, “it’s not like it’ll happen overnight. There’s a ton of stuff that needs to be sorted out. No matter what happens, Twisted Oak will take care of Mrs. Scott, so you can see there’s a lot that needs to happen. First off, I don’t even know if the Scotts are going to stay once I go back out there full-time. I have no idea where they’d go if they chose not to; at least he’ll get his share of the trust. There are so many personal issues, not to mention legal details. I’m just saying that over the next few weeks I’d like to get back out there and run things. I’m ready. I feel good about it and I haven’t in so long. You’ve known all along, my dear Sunny, that Twisted Oak is where I’ll end up. It’s what my father wanted. It’s what I want, and I always thought you’d be there with me.”

Sunny slowly raised his glass and Ty followed suit, asking, “Mr. Delacroix? You ain’t gonna get rid of that room, is ya?”

“The room stays, Ty.”

“Then I be in, boss.”

Mr. Delacroix rolled his eyes and glared at Sunny. “You have got to clean this boy up, son.”

After Ty left that evening, while Sunny was loading the dishwasher, I swallowed my fear and told Mr. Delacroix about the money I had stolen. I was sure he would react in anger.

“Nezzie, you should’ve told me right away. This is serious. You’re lucky they haven’t found you. God knows I wasn’t ready for anything like that.” He ran his hand through his curls. “Give me the money.”

“I’m truly sorry, my lord. Sunny told me I should tell you right away, but I got so sick and I was afraid of what you might think, how you would react. I was many things when I came here, but I’m not a thief.” I gave him my backpack. “It’s all in the liner.”

“You haven’t spent any of it?”

“Not a dime, sir. I promise you that.”

“What’s his name? This drug pusher that got you hooked.”

Mr. Delacroix was visibly angry, so I tried to downplay the role Steve played in my addiction. The last thing I wanted was for him and Steve to have a face-off. “Sir, I don’t think he did it intentionally.”

Mr. Delacroix’s eyes shaded into that terrifying gunmetal color. “Nez, don’t you
ever
make excuses for a man who would ask a young girl like you to be his front. He fully intended on fucking you up one way or the other. You think that pile of shit gives a crap about you?”

“No, sir.”

“Fuckin’ hell, clearly to him you aren’t even worth five fucking grand. He hasn’t even come looking for you!”

“We were never in that kind of relationship, my lord. I was just a front.”

He turned on me with those eyes and took my chin firmly between his thumb and fingers. “You’re never
just
anything. You’re precious and he almost destroyed you. I have half a mind to have him shot, the fucker!”

“My lord?” I was terrified to think he was capable of murder. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

He leaned back and thought a moment. “Aw, na-na, I won’t kill him, it’s not my style. He’s not worth my time.”

He leaned forward and fingered the backpack, looking for the liner seam. “In a way, you were right to steal it. He doesn’t fuckin’ deserve a dime. For all intents and purposes, you earned this, not his sorry ass.” He ripped the lining and pulled out a thick wad of bills. He looked at the money thoughtfully. “What do you think we should do with this? Give it back to the fucker?”

“I dunno, my lord. Going back there will just stir things up, and honestly, I’d rather my mother think I disappeared. I really don’t want her to know where I am. Not that she’d care.”

“Your mother knows this man?” His eyes were getting angrier. “Yes, my lord.” I was scared to death of his expression. He began to shake.

“Does she know what you were doing for him?”

“Yes, my lord.” I looked away in shame and embarrassment. His angst gave me chills.

“Aw, honey. No wonder you ran away.” He pulled me close. “No worries, my dear. It’s all okay now. I’ve got you. No one can hurt you now.” He threw the money in the fire and tossed my backpack aside. There was no turning back.

My days filled with the wonder of Monique’s journals. She shared her most intimate experiences of love, punishment, and sexual escapades. She helped me understand the value of humble servitude. She bent further and further and she never broke. Her love for Jean-Pierre kept her alive, and his devotion to her was the lifeblood of the family. I was looking forward to reading about their exchange of power. After days of training with Mr. Delacroix, I understood now the power she held; I began to understand my own.

The birth of their first son, Philippe, changed Monique’s life in ways I found to be unimaginable. I never thought motherhood could propel a woman to such heights. She became the queen of her castle, and gained more power in her relationship with Jean-Pierre. It happened gradually, the exchange of power, as naturally as the changing of the seasons. I wished in my heart that my mother were like Monique, strong, reliable, and faithful to her children. If I ever became a mother, I’d be like Monique. My children would love me because I’d love them more than life itself. I hated my mother, but I missed her too, because she was the only mother I knew.

My reflection on Monique’s life kept me strong during training for new sexual adventures, namely anal sex. Monique’s journals gave me perspective and helped me understand the bigger picture. I could very well see how this kind of lifestyle could lead to total self-indulgence. It was so hedonistic, but Monique saved me from this fate. Her reflections on her life—how she arrived at Twisted Oak with nothing, and her longing for a family—kept her focused even though her world was small. But outside of the master suite, she was diligent in the creation and administration of Twisted Oak. She had goals of her own, broader goals that included wealth, prestige, and power.

I was beginning to understand that my Mr. Delacroix’s vision included a world well beyond the bedroom. His dreams centered on the resurrection of Twisted Oak, his place of birth that existed in historical purgatory. He shared Monique’s goals: wealth, power, and prestige through family. He understood in the center of his being that he could ultimately not achieve his goals alone. Allowing me to read her journals was his way of expressing this to me.

“Nezzie, I wanna try something,” he said. “Are you ready for some fun?” He took my hand without waiting for an answer because he knew the answer was yes—always yes for his pleasure—and he took me to the bedroom.

I immediately disrobed, as was expected. I was in my second week of training, and my body was already stronger and my mind was clear. “There’s my girl. Just stand there for a bit and let me look at you.”

I stood and smiled. I loved it when he admired me. It made me feel strong.

“Turn around and let me look at that cute ass of yours.”

I did as he asked.

“Remember those beads we saw at Lorraine’s?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Let’s play with them. I’ll start with the smaller ones.”

He leaned over to the bedside table and took something out of the drawer. “I think you’re gonna like this, Nezzie. Hold still now. No wiggling. We have to get you to stop wiggling. I want you to shut your eyes and lift your ass in the air for me.”

I closed my eyes, put my face into the bed, and lifted my backside up a bit until he used his leg to stop me.

“Perfect. Fuckin’ hell, your ass is perfect.”

The lubricant was cool as he filled my anus with it. “Okay, baby girl, relax now as best you can. Do you need a pillow under you to help hold you up?”

“Yes, please, my lord.”

He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under my tummy. “You can keep begging, too. Beg me to shove these beads up your ass.”

I was beginning to get very nervous. “Please, my lord. Shove the beads up my ass. Please, I beg you to.”

“Relax, Nezzie. When you aren’t relaxed, I think you don’t really mean it when you beg.” He began to massage and tickle my rear cheeks and drove his fingers into my exposed vagina. He brought his fingers down, one on either side, and massaged where my legs met my nether regions, then ran his finger around the rim of my anus.

“Relax now, my love. Trust me. Breathe, my love.”

“Please, lord.” I breathed deep and let it out. “Please.”

“There you go. Open up.”

I felt one bead pass my sphincter and I automatically tensed up. “Breathe, my love, and relax. Trust me. You’re gonna absolutely love this. It’s me, Nez. You know that I know how much you’ll love this.”

My breath deep, and again another bead.

“Stay relaxed. There ya go.”

Another bead entered me and I began to fully appreciate the sensation. Mr. Delacroix pushed gently to make room for the fourth, fifth, sixth . . . I lost count and relaxed, opened up.

“How’s that feel? You okay, my love?”

“Yes, my lord, but . . .”

“Na, shhh, we aren’t finished yet. Come on up here and get on all fours.”

I didn’t quite understand.

“Nez, do it.” He gave me a spank and the beads bundled together, giving me the most exquisite sensation. I was nearly at climax.

“Okay, girl, good. You’re gonna have to be strong and not collapse on me when the time comes. You need to be ready for a very intense orgasm. Are your arms and legs strong? I don’t have pulleys to hang you from, so you have to do it yourself.”

“Yes, sir, I’m strong for you. Please begin. I beg you.”

“Aw, Nez, for fuck’s sake, you’re a dream come true.”

He plunged into me, moving the beads slightly, making everything feel so full. With each move he made, the beads adjusted. It felt so strange and good.

“Please,” I begged.

“Yes, my love, I’m here.” He began to pound. “You like it?”

“Yes, my lord, it’s so good.” My center was starting to unravel. The anticipated orgasm merged my mind and body into a singular focus of desire. “It only gets better, my love.”

His hands were on my hips. He created the rhythm hard and fast. I began to lose myself. My breasts swung freely as my nipples brushed against the bed, heightening my pleasure. I was swimming in the high, the quickening in my groin, that familiar windup to climax.

“Are you getting ready to come, Nez? Are you coming for me now?”

“Yes, my lord, oh god, yes! Please!”

He shoved himself into me hard and simultaneously pulled the beads from my ass. I screamed in ecstasy and my whole body shuddered, but he held me up with his arm wrapped around me. He shoved into me again, almost lifting my knees from the bed, and I heard him grunt.

My body was still shaking in ecstatic spasms of pure pleasure, and for as strong as I felt before, I was as weak as a twig. He tossed the beads to the floor, took me in both arms, and flipped us over on the bed so that I fell on him, my back to his chest. He crossed his arms over me, caressing each breast. I was still catching my breath.

“Nez, babe, you okay?”

“Never better, my lord, never better.”

He held me for a while and then tucked me in and kissed me on the forehead. “Nezzie,” he whispered, “you really don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

“No, my lord, I don’t, but I like it. Do you?”

“Yes, my dearest, love of my life. I like it.”

I reached up to touch his face and he responded by leaning into my hand like a feline. “Mr. Delacroix, what are you doing to me?”

“Sleep now, cher. Sleep and dream of all the things we’re gonna do to each other. We’ve only just begun.”