Twisted Oak: A Sexual Odyssey (7 page)

He moved his hand from my breast. “The next stop is ours.”

We made our way at an easy pace down Washington. It was a gorgeous sunny day and the surrounding homes seemed like exhibitions from an architectural garden catalogue. We came to a city block enclosed in a tall wall that was old, gray, and stained with mildew. It seemed out of place in such a picture-perfect neighborhood.

“That’s where Mother lives,” Mr. Delacroix said, pointing beyond the old wall.

Across the street was a Victorian home turned restaurant,
Commander's Palace
, the house painted greenish-blue with white trim and matching striped awnings.

“I think we should meet Mother before we eat, if that is okay with you. That way, we don’t have to hurry through lunch,” he said as I looked at the restaurant. “I know you’re hungry, Nez, but it won’t take long.”

Finally, I just had to ask: “Ty and Sunny told me your mother was dead.”

“She is,” he smiled as we entered Lafayette Cemetery through an iron gate.

The cemetery was not big, but it was full of mausoleums and crypts. Nothing was underground. The tombs and crypts, angels, crosses, and fleurs-de-lis were the same gray color. Some were so tall they rose above the oak tree limbs and Spanish moss. Every so often, you would see one that had been freshly painted.

Fences surrounded most crypts; some had benches made of concrete or iron. Each was its own petite garden, some well-kept and others disheveled with large cracks where small lizards darted.

We walked on the gravel walkway between crypts. Azalea, magnolia, live oak, and other trees shaded the graveyard. It was as if Lafayette Cemetery had been there from the beginning of time.

“Here she is,” he said as we approached one of the larger family crypts. “She and all the rest of her family too. They go back hundreds of years.”

He pointed out the oldest plaque. The name was barely legible, but the date was 1749.

“Mother’s family, like my father’s, has been around here forever, but the two families never really got along very well. I think Mother’s family didn’t think my father was right for her. The Delacroix family had a reputation for being a bit different,” he chuckled. “For one, we didn’t go to church ever. Never have, never will, and in a Catholic town, that can get you blackballed pretty easily. It didn’t help that we have a lot of money.”

“Do you still?” I asked.

“Have a lot of money?” He looked incredulous.

“No, I meant do you still have a reputation?”

“Depends on the part of town you’re in,” he winked. “Around this part, I’d say the reputation still sticks. We’re a fucked-up old rich family as twisted as those crepe myrtles.”

“And you like it that way?”

“We sure do,” he laughed. “How many other guys bring a girl to the graveyard to meet their mother?” His expression changed. “You know, if you were mine to have, I would take you right here. Fuck you silly right here.” He still had the riding crop and he flicked my blouse open so he could see my chest heaving atop the bustier. He tickled my cleavage with the tip of the crop. “Yep, I’d hike up that skirt of yours, slam you into the wall and fuck you from behind.” His laugh was guttural. “Goddamn, that sounds sweet.”

He closed the four-foot gap between us with one long stride. I backed up into the wall of his mother’s family crypt. My heart skipped a beat. I was appalled and turned on at the same time. I ducked under his arm and ran around the crypt. I heard the riding crop strike the wall. It was close, but he missed.

“Catch me, you son of a bitch.” I laughed at the irony of saying that in front of his mother’s grave.

“Hey, you little whore, she can hear you, ya know.”

“Find me, Mr. Delacroix. Hunt me down and I’ll be yours, but you have to hunt. Or are you scared of your helpless prey?”

“Nez, you’re about as fucked up as I am.”

“Maybe, but you’ll never know unless you catch me, old man.”

He started coming around after me. “Now you’ve done it. I’ll hunt you down, find you and devour you as an appetizer, you little bitch, but not until I whip your ass.”

If this is what the contract was all about, I was in. I had made up my mind.

His family crypt was one of the largest in the cemetery. Certainly, this indicated great wealth. I ran across the gravel walkway and hid behind an oak tree. I heard his footsteps crunch on the gravel. I could not climb the tree, so I sprinted behind another older crypt with a cracked cross and quickly ducked behind a statue of an angel. She looked down at me as if she did not approve, so I ran over to the next crypt. I was getting tired. I circled around the back where azaleas and ligustrum bushes gave cover, and found him waiting with crop in hand.

His stance was wide and his glare reproachful. “I will punish you now.” He slapped the riding crop in his hand.

“Hey, I haven’t signed yet,” I said, backing up.

“Do
not
interrupt.” He came at me and spun me about as if we were dancing, and in one motion lifted my skirt and smacked my right cheek with the crop.

“Damn,” I said. He still had me in his grip. His fingers pulled my thong aside and he shoved them into my vagina so hard, he almost lifted me off the ground. I melted in ecstasy and very nearly swooned. He pulled his fingers out and spanked me with an upward motion that electrified my crotch.

“Against the wall, hands above your head. I would grab your hair, but we have a lunch date and you need to look presentable. Do it now, Nez.” His tone of voice was a low growl.

Silently, I followed his command and turned to face the wall, hands above my head as if being arrested. He grabbed the condom out of his pocket.

“Don’t move. Don’t you move a fucking muscle.”

I could hear him unzip and in an instant he was at me from behind, plunging into me growling, “I’ve hunted your cunt and now it’s mine. I take it as I am entitled and you give as commanded, bitch. Spread your legs.”

I spread them wider and he lifted me off the ground with each thrust. I let out a yelp.

“Silence, whore,” and without a sound, he fucked me hard. When it was over, I fell into his arms in blissful release. He held my full weight and gently rocked me. “You certainly are an insistent little bitch, aren’t you?”

“Does it please you?” I asked.

He gave a long sigh and said, “I think you get how this works.”

Commander’s Palace was a charming Victorian structure. The foyer was dark wood paneled with French toile cloth wallpaper depicting rural scenes. Someone had embroidered bright colors onto some of the people in the print. It was odd and enchanting. A young woman dressed in black slacks and a white shirt greeted us.

“Mr. Delacroix, it is so nice to see you again.” She handed him a dark suit jacket.

“Thank you, Ana. This is my friend Nez.”

“Hello,” I said and she smiled back.

“We have your table all set with the regular accoutrements.”

“Lead the way, cher,” he said as he put the jacket on.

She took some menus and a wine list and led us through the crowded main dining room. The big bay window facing Lafayette Cemetery housed a bass player, trumpet player, and singer playing Dixieland jazz. A carpeted flight of stairs in the back brought us to the second-floor dining room, nearly identical to the one below, though this one was nearly empty. The bay window on this floor was like a private dining area, and featured its own table. It was set for two with a wine cooler that held a bottle of champagne. You could see the entire graveyard.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Delacroix?” Ana asked as she sat us, placed our napkins on our laps, and opened the champagne.

“I’ve got everything I need, thank you.”

“Enjoy, Mr. Delacroix.”

“I sure will,” he said and turned to me. “Nez, the restroom is over there to your right.”

“I don’t have to go.”

“Yes, you do.” He stood, expecting me to leave the table at his command. The sound of the music playing below us echoed through the old ductwork.

The reminder of this morning’s happenings made my private area twitch again. I got up and went to the bathroom. I pulled my panties down and sat on the toilet. The pretty lace panties were now a mess of fluid, and smelled musky. The toilet paper did a decent job of drying my tender spots. The pain I felt there made me want more sex. I put myself back together as best I could and joined Mr. Delacroix.

“You are radiant.” He stood as I approached the table and helped me with my chair.

“Thank you,” I said and patted his hand.

“I took the liberty of ordering us a dozen raw oysters.” He sat and poured the champagne.

“I don’t think I like them,” I said.

“Have you had them?”

I admitted I had not.

“Then how do you know you don’t like them? Besides, you’ll eat at least one because it’s a test. If you really don’t like it, you don’t have to eat any more.”

“A test? Surely, I’ve passed a test or two already today.”

“You sure have,” he laughed, “but this one is much easier.”

“Your wish is my command,” I smiled.

“Did you mean it when you said if I caught you, you’d be mine? That you would sign the contract? I just want to make sure I understand. I tend to take things very literally.”

I could tell he was at his last nerve. His gaze was intense but he was trying to look calm. His hand rested on the table, caressing the riding crop.

“Yes, my lord, I’ll sign on.”

He exhaled in relief and kissed my hand. “Aw, Nez, you’re a dream come true.”

“It does feel like a dream and I trust you to maintain it.” My voice was surprisingly sharp.

His eyes widened and he whispered, “You’d be a delicious dominatrix. Will we ever have fun with this.” A dreamy look came across his brilliant eyes.

“It appears that you have my destiny in your hands. Please be kind.”

“Aw, cher, you give so completely.” Tears flowed down his cheeks. “Your psychic surrender is poetic. Your physical surrender will bring wholeness to your life. You have my word that you’ll experience ecstasy few others will ever know.” He groaned. “And I love it when you beg.”

“I love to beg you,” I whispered.

The large tray of oysters appeared in the center of our table. I was not sure where to begin with them, so I let him take the lead.

He lifted an oyster with a small fork. “Here, I’m giving one to you plain. This is the test, so pay attention. Open up.” He put the oyster in my mouth. “Don’t chew, just swallow.”

The taste was not too bad, though overwhelmingly salty, but the texture made me gag.

“Ugh, Mr. Delacroix,” I said as I sipped my champagne, “that was terrible.”

He shook his head. “Baby, you failed the test.”

“Oh no, I’ll try again,” I said in earnest. I liked the challenge.

“Na-na, it’s not good to train your gag reflex with oysters,” he laughed. “Believe me, I know. Besides, it’s an awful waste of good oysters.”

“How do you train for it? How do you train for any of this?”

“Very carefully, my newly plucked flower. When we get home I can show you some of the training aids and apparatus. That way, you won’t be as surprised as we move forward.”

I sipped my champagne as he smeared red sauce, horseradish, and lemon juice on his oyster and popped it in his sexy mouth. He seemed to relish every one.

Puzzled, but intrigued, I moved on, knowing greater understanding would come in time.

“I’ve learned a lot already. You’re a good teacher.”

“Tell me, what have I taught you?”

“Mostly, that if I trust you, I’ll come to a fuller understanding naturally.”

“Brilliant, my lady. I want to fuck your brains,” he laughed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

I wanted to keep things serious because I had questions, so I let that one go, but my insides were aflutter and it was difficult to concentrate.

“Sunny told me this morning that he’ll be my confidant; that you said he could be.”

“Yes, I told him that in the event you sign on, I want him to be there for you to talk to and to answer questions that may come up. He may very well be the only one who can answer them; after all, he’s been my sub for years now. He probably understands my peculiarities, moods, and needs more than anyone else does. As it goes, I suppose, with anyone, sometimes I don’t understand myself from others’ perspectives very well.” He scooped another oyster into his sexy mouth. I wanted his mouth all over me.

He swallowed the oyster. “Did he talk to you about being collared?”

“No, I don’t know what that means.”

“Maybe tomorrow he will. You should ask him.” Another oyster. “By the way, tomorrow is the family roast at Twisted Oak, so I’ll be there for most of the day. I’m leaving you in Sunny’s care.”

“I’m not invited?”

“Not this time. You’re too new. Give it time. There’ll be one next month and by then you should be ready. As I said, I wanna take it slow with you. Trust me on this one, babe.” His slight Southern drawl made me melt inside.

“Sunny doesn’t have to miss it on my account,” I said, hoping not to appear selfish.

“It’s okay. I think these days, he’d prefer a break.”

“Is Sunny still your sub?”

“Yes, but we broke the collar awhile back.” A twinge of pride and sadness was evident in his eyes.

“I’m not sure what that means, but I’m sorry.”

“Ask him about it tomorrow. It’ll give you some perspective.”

“Do you and Sunny have sex?”

“He’s my sub, so what do you think?”

“One more question?”

“Sure, Nez, this is good, honest communication, which to my way of thinking leads to trust. Your questions give me an idea of what you know, where you are with all this.” He was enjoying his last oyster.

“You said you wouldn’t ever ask me to do something you haven’t done or wouldn’t do. I don’t understand. Am I correct to assume you’ve been a sub before?”

“Nez, I am a sub.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We can go over the details later when we discuss the contract. For now, I’ll give you the
Reader's Digest
version. I’ve been Mr. Scott’s sub since high school.”

“God, you were young!”