Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey (42 page)

“Someone just slid a note under the door, my lord.”

He stood and stretched the small of his back. “Fuck it. Who cares? Let’s go to bed.”

“Sir, it’s probably Thomas wondering about dinner.”

“What about it? It can wait. Come on,” he insisted as he took my hand.

“Yes, sir,” I said reluctantly.

“Are you hungry?” He was suddenly concerned about my welfare.

“I’m sorry, my love, I’m too selfish with you. I don’t wanna share. Please forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you, but go get the note, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a weary smile. He walked in beautiful nakedness toward the note. Even in his exhausted state, he could not say no to my direction. If commanded to run a mile, he would have. With him, power was constantly shifting, a dynamic, random motion like waves hitting the shore.

“What does it say, sir?” I asked as he opened the envelope.

“As always, my love, you’re correct. Thomas says he’s serving dinner at seven for Marie and Girl and will hold dinner for us. God, I wonder what time it is.”

“Who cares, my lord?” I asked with a smile.

“Not I.” He took my hand in his and led me to the bedroom where he fucked me in every orifice until we were absolutely spent.

“Neige Blanche,” his voice was distant as if in a dream, “it’s time to get up, my dear. We have to get ready.”

Blackness surrounded our cocoon. “Sir, what time is it?”

“I dunno, maybe around five or so. We slept through dinner.” He walked into the bathroom and started the shower. Mr. Delacroix was an early riser and I would have to get used to it. “We’ve got an exciting day ahead of us, baby. I have the perfect thing planned. You’re gonna love it.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and looked outside into the darkness. “What good is it to get up before the sun, my lord?”

“What did you say, my love?” he shouted from the bathroom.

“Nothing, sir.” I padded my way across the bedroom floor to the bright steamy bathroom and sat on the toilet. I was sore everywhere.

“Good morning, my dear, did you sleep well?” he asked from behind the shower curtain.

“Yes, sir, but I have a question.” I stood at the mirror looking at my body full of marks and bruises and began to unbuckle the leather cuffs from my wrists.

He must have heard the buckle. “Nezzie, ask my permission before you remove those.”

“Yes, sir. May I?”

“No. I’ll do it in a minute. What’s your question?”

I left the buckle intact and began to brush my knotted hair. “Sir, how is it that you have such staying power? I wasn’t aware a man could just screw and screw like you did last night.”

“That’s your doing, my dear,” he said as he stepped out of the running shower. “You make me that way.” He took my wrist, unbuckled the cuff, and set it on the vanity. I gave him my other and he freed it, as well. He kneeled on his towel, unbuckled my ankles, and kissed each foot. “You do this to me.”

“Mr. Delacroix, I love you,” I said, placing my hands on his head. He leaned into my thighs.

“Nez, I didn’t realize I was holding you so tightly yesterday.” He leaned back on his knees, examining the bruises on my thighs. I halfway expected an apology, but received none. Instead, he kissed each bruise and got to his feet, further examining the marks on my torso. He ran his fingertips down from my armpit to my hips, sending excited chills through my spine. My nipples immediately reacted. “You’re amazing,” he said. “Good Christ, I can’t help myself.”

My gaze followed his as he looked down at his stone-like erection.

“See what I mean? I can’t help it. You make me this way.”

“Yes, sir, I do know what you mean. I’m your total slut,” I laughed. “I can’t get enough. You own me, my lord.”

“Not yet, but soon enough,” he said. “You’re gonna love what I have planned for us.”

“I love everything you do, my lord.” I kissed him in hopes he would bring me back to bed, but instead he ordered me into the shower.

“We can’t be late,” he said. “There are things that just won’t wait on our pleasure, my love.”

The foyer light was the only one on in the dark house as we descended the stairs. I was dressed in a sheer white shift and flat shoes; he wore a white gauzy linen shirt and pants with sneakers. We were apparitions moving through the darkened interior. He opened the front door and gathered up a picnic basket, rolled-up blanket, and flashlight that were waiting just inside.

“If you please, my dear, close the door behind us,” he said.

I closed it tightly and followed him through the darkness around the side of the house, where I noticed for the first time the servants’ entrance to the basement. An inconspicuous cellar door half underground was surrounded by large oleander bushes and lit by a single porch light, casting an eerie shadow across the side drive where the parked golf cart sat. The windows were dark.

We walked in silence across the veranda and the croquet green. I realized he had taken to heart my hint the other day. We were heading toward the water’s edge under the ancient live oaks on a green carpet of thick grass. The darkness embraced our circle of light, bringing us close in the larger nature that surrounded us. The sky was void of the moon, but the starlight twinkled on the water. Night sounds, crickets, frogs, and the occasional birdsong were our symphony as he carefully set the basket down and spread the blanket.

“Lay down with me, Nezzie. Let’s look at the stars for a little while,” he whispered.

The dew made the blanket cool and damp. It felt good on my sore bottom and hot strap marks. Like two kids who had snuck out of the house, we lay on our backs hand in hand and looked at the heavens.

“The stars are so bright, my lord, it’s almost as if you can reach out and touch them.”

“Ya sure don’t see this in the city,” he said, his tones of molasses accentuated with the smell of dewy green grass.

The stars twinkled and danced in their heavenly home and my breath came in rhythm with his. “Do you ever wonder where you’ll end up?” I asked.

“I’ll end up under that tree over there,” he said, pointing in the direction of the graves. So much of his life was predestined, a concept foreign to me until I’d met him. I still could not fathom that level of security.

“I never knew where I’d end up, my lord, but I always felt like I’d be alone,” I confessed, “until I met you.”

“Everything changed for us when we met, didn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

His stomach growled and we laughed at ourselves for not eating dinner the previous night. “I guess even though I feasted on you, my stomach is still empty,” he said.

“Maybe we should snack on each other for a while,” I laughed, squeezing his hand. I tried to roll over but he stopped me.

“Not yet,” he whispered, “let’s lie here and feel our hunger for each other.”

His incessant need to mix suffering with delight was a conundrum to me. I wondered if he was capable of feeling pure delight without the presence of suffering.

“Sir,” I began.

“Remember what it’s like, Nez, to hunger for me.” He paused and took a couple deep breaths. “I promise to god I’ll never forget my hunger for you.”

I decided to save the questions for later. After all, I was beginning to understand his dichotomy, that one cannot experience joy without also experiencing pain; that one without the other is hollow compared to the rapture when both collide.

“I’ll never forget, my lord. Never in my lifetime will I forget this moment and so many others I’ve had with you.”

He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. “I feel like I’m spinning when I’m with you. I swear, if I wasn’t lying flat on the ground right now, I’d fly off the earth.”

“Me too, sir,” I whispered.

He rolled back over and we lay in silence until he looked at me again. “You understand me, don’t you?”

“Well, my lord, I think I may be getting there. You’re pretty complicated, ya know.”

“I’m sorry.” He rolled back to look at the sky.

“Don’t be.” I tapped my head at the temple. “You keep my brain busy.”

He shot up onto his hip, grabbed my wrists, and pinned me down on my back. “Nez, you’ll still address me properly.” His leg went over me to keep me from moving. “The only difference is you may use my first name now. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said and looked away.

“Look at me,” he said as he squeezed my tender wrists. I raised my eyes.

“Nez,” he loosened his grip. “Nezzie, it’s just . . . if you decide to accept the collar you have to know that I offer it to you because I love you more than life itself. This is deep and real for me, and I need to know that you understand that once you do it, you’re mine, all of you. It has to be that way. I can’t do it any other way. It’s all I know. It’s . . .” He let go of my wrists and sat upright. “For me, I have to know that I own you. It’s not like I’m not willing to learn. God in heaven knows that you’ve taught me so much already and I’ll keep learning, but for now, this is all I know.”

“I understand, sir. It’s all I know too.”

“You’ll be for me,” he said. “I need you to be for me.”

A shooting star raced across the sky toward morning. It was as if every bit of light from the stars was in his eyes as they began to fade in the blueness of the new day.

“I am for you, my dear lord.”

He stood up and took his clothes off. “Kneel,” he said.

I quickly followed his command. He lifted my dress over my head, tossed it aside onto his pile of clothes, and kicked his shoes off. I did the same.

“Spread your legs as wide as you can for me.”

My hips were stiff, but I managed to spread my knees apart.

“Look into my eyes, Nezzie, and see how much devotion I have for you. I know you’re willing to give me everything you’ve got, and I promise I’ll never let you down. I’ll give you everything I have. I’ll die doing it if I have to.”

“Yes, sir.” I kept a steady gaze into his eyes, shiny with tears.

“I’ve saved these words in my head for years so I could recite them to the right person. I had no idea when or who or where, but now I know that person is you and this is the place and this is the time. Kahlil Gibran wrote this back in the early twenties, and my dad used to read it to me sometimes. It helps me understand his way of life, our ways. I’ve never shared it with anyone else.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said in a soft whisper, barely audible. His heightened anxiety made him seem vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

I was unsure how to proceed until he lifted my chin with his trembling hands. “You are so welcome.”

I wanted to place my hands on his but I fought the urge, not wanting to take anything away from this moment he had rehearsed a thousand times in his head. Honored this special man was so willing to give himself over to devoting his life to me, all I could do was kneel in awe of his grace.

He cleared his throat and began. “When love beckons you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.” His voice cracked with emotion and he paused to swallow. “And when he speaks to you believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you, so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth, so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.”

The words made clear to me now the dichotomy of pain and pleasure, of sorrow and joy. His emotional plea for understanding overwhelmed my senses and my heart opened to him when I did not think it could open any further.

“Oh, Nezzie,” he said through an audible sob. After a moment or two, he continued, “Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.” He was crying in earnest now. “And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy; and you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.”

He went to the picnic basket and took out an old wooden box. In the early light, I could see there was a brass plate with engravings on it, but I could not make out the letters. He opened it and took out a thick gold collar, kneeling in front of me.

“Much of your pain is self-chosen; it is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore, trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility: For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, and the cup that he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.”

His hands and mouth trembled as he fastened the heavy gold collar around my neck. With silent, sacred tears, he lay me down and made love to me until the sun rose in its splendor.

We gazed at the bayou after we dressed. The morning was not different from others and yet we both shared a sense of renewal, of new beginnings and a new way of life together. The box that had held my collar bore Monique’s name. When he placed her collar on my neck, I knew he and I would never be the same.

The basket, lovingly prepared by Thomas, included everything our tired, hungry bodies required: a baguette filled with ham and soft cheese, water, boiled eggs, citrus fruit, iced coffee, and champagne.

“I wish we could stay at Twisted Oak longer, my lord.”

“Nezzie baby,” he smiled, “we’ll stay through the weekend, but I have to be at work Monday. I’ve got buyers waiting and some of the goods are perishable.”

“Buyers for what, sir?”

“Well, let’s see, there’s bananas from Guatemala, papayas from Mexico, plus some coffee from Honduras. It’s funny how you can work separate deals for days and then all of a sudden they all come together at the same time. We’ve got a new project down in Brazil, too.” He sipped his coffee. “Not to mention my biggest deal ever,” he said as he nudged my elbow with his and showed that wide, bright smile. “I’ll have someone drive to town and pick up Sunny and Ty for the roast. They’re gonna go nuts when they see the collar on you, especially Sunny. They had no idea. Neither did I when we left the city.”

“I hope you mean they’ll go nuts in a good way, sir.”

“Oh absolutely, but I know it’ll be emotional for Sunny. I don’t have to tell you how close we are, Sunny and I. And Ty will be Ty. He’ll be all over the place.”

“I think Sunny’s ready for this. No, sir, I know he is. He told me so.”

“I know, baby, but it’s one thing to prepare and another to have it actually happen.”

“I understand, my lord.”

I took a bite of the chewy, scrumptious baguette. “I wonder where the alligator is.”

“Probably sitting right over there,” he said, pointing to a thick stand of reeds, irises, and cattails, “thinking that sandwich looks almost as good as you for breakfast.”

“Very funny, sir.”

“I’m serious,” he giggled and put a piece of grapefruit in his mouth. “You look beautiful, Nezzie.”

“Thanks, Gregory, so do you.”

“I never thought I’d find someone worthy of Monique’s collar,” he whispered. “It scares me a little.”

“Why? I don’t bite, sir,” I said.

“Nez, I’m serious. It scares me because there’ll be so many changes. What if I’m not worthy?”

“Shhh now, stop with that nonsense, my lord. You’re worthy. We both are. Together, we can do anything.”

“Oh my gawd!” Ty said in astonishment. His footsteps echoed on the wood floor. “Miss Nez, oh my Jesus gawd, would you look at dat, sir.” He grabbed Sunny’s arm and turned him toward me. “Oh my gawd,” he squealed again.

“Oh, miss,” Sunny said, “it’s gorgeous.” He took my shoulders in his hands and examined my neck. “Congratulations, you two,” he said, kissing my cheek before turning to Gregory. “Sir, that’s stunning.”

“It was Monique’s,” Gregory said.

Sunny stared at him.

“Sunny, I . . .”

“No, sir, let me say something,” Sunny interrupted, and to my surprise, Gregory did not protest. “I knew from the beginning this would happen someday,” he said, his eyes filling with tears, “and when Ty brought her here, I knew it. I knew she was the one.”

Sunny turned to me. “Miss Nez, I knew you were the one, that you’re what he needs, what we all need.” He grabbed me hard and held me tight. “Thank you, baby, for coming to us.”

“Oh, Sunny,” I said, falling into him, “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby girl.”

Ty and Gregory stood with their arms around each other. Gregory was patting Ty’s shoulder, trying to comfort him, and kissed him sweetly on the head. “It’s okay, son, we’re all okay now.”

It was late Saturday morning at Twisted Oak. Pepper was outside edging the garden beds. The high-pitched sound of his machine was a charming accent to the birdcalls. Neither one of us wanted to stay in the master suite until it was redecorated, so Gregory decided Ty and Sunny would sleep in the black room and share our space for the weekend; after all, it was larger than our apartment. We sat on the front porch sipping lemonade, watching Pepper and his crew in the garden. Jon-Jon pushed a wheelbarrow filled with a small tree across the driveway. He nodded to us as he walked by.

Sunny tuned his guitar while we filled them in on Marie’s status and Jackson’s temporary departure. Ty was pleased to announce he had signed on with Sunny while we were away. “We was hopin’ to surprise you,” he said.

They were astonished at the pace at which all the changes occurred at Twisted Oak. I told them about the night all the doms came and how much I enjoyed meeting Girl. Needless to say, the men were enthralled with the story about the three of us fucking for Gregory.

Ty giggled every time I called Mr. Delacroix by his first name. “It just sound so right,” he said.

Sunny slapped the back of Ty’s head. “Say it, Ty! Say, ‘It just
sounds
so right’! Put the goddamn ‘s’ on ‘sounds’!”

“Sir, I thought I did,” Ty said.

Sunny quickly got back on subject. “So tell us about the collaring,” he said.

“It was perfect,” I said, “down by the bayou at sunrise.”

“It was all her idea,” Gregory said. “Hell, Sunny, I wasn’t even planning on doing it this week, but thankfully, it happened. I guess it was supposed to happen as it did, because she’s right, it was perfect.”

“Next month we’re having a birthday party for me. You guys have to come,” I said.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Sunny said, strumming his guitar.

“Hey, ya know,” Gregory chimed in, “Nezzie here thinks you and Marie should make a record.”

Sunny set his guitar aside. “Really, miss?”

“Well, it was just a suggestion to Marie to give her an idea of what she can do after the divorce, but I really think it would be a good record. You’re both very talented, and she said you’re really great at the violin.”

“I haven’t played violin in ages,” he said wistfully and quickly changed the subject. “I’m thirsty,” he said, pouring more lemonade.

I glanced at Gregory, worried I had offended Sunny.

Gregory shrugged. “Just another one of those changes you bring about, cher,” he said. “Not to worry, it’s a good thing.”

Sunny remained neutral. “Where did Marie and Girl disappear to?” he asked.

“Believe it or not, they’re fishing in the marsh this morning.” Mr. Delacroix laughed. “I don’t know which one of them came up with that idea, but the two of them have the best time together.” He sipped his lemonade. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Girl this happy in a long time.”

We ate in silence, the bayou surrounding us in nature’s embrace. The sweet smell of fresh-cut grass wafted through the air.

“Tomorrow’s a big day for all of us,” Sunny said.

“It sure is, my love.” Gregory sipped his water. “If you want any advice, I’m here for you. You can come to me anytime as long as I’m not momentarily engaged.” He caressed Sunny’s shoulder with his hand. “Nezzie, this is Sunny’s big roast debut as a dom, ya know.”

“Oh wow, Sunny, I never thought about that. I guess I was wrapped up in it being my first roast. I forgot that things are different for you, now, too.”

“One thing is for certain, Miss Nez,” Sunny said, “your teacher will prepare you well and know when you’re ready for the next step.” He took Gregory’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “I bet you’re kinda nervous though.”

“I am,” I admitted, lifting my wine glass to drink.

“Well, the same goes for you, miss. If you need advice, come to me and I’ll try to help you out. I’ve worn your shoes, or in this case, been at his feet.” He looked at Gregory who sat motionless, eyes glued to Sunny.

“You should see what I bought for Ty,” Sunny said. “Remember that little number I saved for you the day Mr. Scott came to town, Miss Nez?”

“Yes, it’s so pretty.”

“Lorraine had the very same one in Ty’s size. It looks great on him.”

“Sunny’s spoiling me now, Miss Nez. He got a bunch of new cuffs and straps, too, just for me,” Ty said, clearly relishing Sunny’s attention.

“Don’t get too cheeky, boy,” Sunny reprimanded.

“That ain’t what you said last night, sir.” Ty gave a sideways glance at Sunny, and Sunny shook his head and smiled.