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The brown-haired slave looks pathetic while bound in a doggy position on the slave driver. I give her a sign to push the button, and she adheres like a puppet. The attached automatic dildo pushes in and out of her. I grab a whip and snap it on her back when she sounds a moan. She bites her lips, but the horny slave can’t contain her expression from the pleasure. So, I whip her again.
The door opens, and Terrence walks in. He looks surprised that I'm not the one mounting my slave for the night, Charice – not her real name, I suppose. I give the slave a sign to pause while Terrence sits on the chair next to me.
“Any news?”
Devon told us that the woman I – raped – is in Houston with my possible baby. He thinks that Nicholas's wife wants to get her revenge. She reported Devon and Nicholas for what they did to her. Devon used his connection and shut the investigation. Now, the woman can prove her claim by using the baby.
"Devon's story checked out," Terrence explains. "I still think she doesn't remember you. You've been in the newspaper and magazines for the past year. And she hasn't come to us yet."
“Just find her before Devon,” I declare while ordering the slave to operate the slave driver again.
Terrence watches as the machine fucks the slave. “Why is she on the driver?”
“I had a nice evening and morning sex with Kelly. I don’t want it ruined.”
Terrence laughs a bit. He stands and leaves me with my business. He slaps the girl’s butt before heading to the door. The slave moans from the pain. I whip her as a punishment. As the machine intensifies, she can’t stop holding her whimpers. I enjoy hearing her cries as I whip her for every sound she makes.
“That’s enough,” I order when the slave is about to cum.
“M-master, please,” her voice shakes with frustration. I walk to her and kick the button to stop her from turning it on. I point the dildo on her back.
“You want it? Get it.”
The slave smiles happily. She pushes her pussy against the dildo and achieves her climax using her efforts. I take a check from my chest pocket and drop it on the floor. I grab her by the hair and force her to look at me. “You still need to learn your control, slave.”
I tidy my suit and walk out of the private room. Delilah, the manager of the BDSM club, greets me in the hallway with a passionate kiss. I push her away, and she quickly understands that I'm not in the mood.
“Why come here when you obviously want to be with your wife?” Delilah pours me a shot of scotch after we reach the bar. “You should go home and do her.”
“It’s our alone time,” I reply.
“How long has it been? Nine years?” I look at Delilah. She pours me another shot and asks, “When are you going to tell her about this fetish of yours?”
I trace the rim of the glass with my fingers and look at Delilah. How can I tell a woman who has suffered from violence that I enjoy inflicting pain as pleasure? I wasn't like this until nine years ago – after Kelly lost our first baby. I was so angry at her, me, and the people who caused our loss. But I couldn't express my anger in front of her.
My anger was eating me. It would have destroyed me if I didn’t meet Delilah. Kelly didn’t want to make love to me after losing our baby. She was afraid to conceive and lose the baby again. So, out of disappointment, I sought refuge in another woman’s arms in some crappy hotel. That’s when I came across Delilah and her friend.
I thought her friend was beating her. So, I beat the crap out of him, too. It turned out that they were pleasuring each other through the pain. Delilah was a professional slave. People who observe the BDSM lifestyle hire her for their pleasure. It was the first time I heard about BDSM, but the idea of hurting someone for pleasure intrigued me. So, I engaged Delilah's services, too.
But the lifestyle wasn't the relief I sought. Delilah told me that the pain, infliction, and humiliation aren't ways to vent my anger to the world. They are for finding pleasures that would satisfy me. I found it stupid. You hurt someone out of anger, disappointment, and frustration. Pain is a result of everything negative in this world!
Delilah showed me a different way of looking at pain. Instead of seeing it as an expression of anger, she taught me to see it as the power to be in control over someone. I was never the alpha. Back in Lake Charles, I was the omega – part of the weakest status. Had I been an alpha fourteen years ago, Nicholas wouldn’t have messed up my life and Kelly’s.
The thought of being an alpha and being the master fueled me to learn more from this lifestyle. Slowly, I learned to be in control and become superior to other people. It didn't only help me regain my confidence and strength as a man, but it also helped me focus on the things that are important to me – Kelly and my quest for revenge.
With newfound confidence, I built a cargo empire. I started doing cargo services for a few underground businesses to earn more capital. Within nine years, I triumphed in the cargo industry and earned millions.
I finally have the means to give Kelly everything she wants, but there are still things I can't give to her. To compensate for those, I vowed to give Kelly everything that will make her happy despite the losses we had.
As a gift for Delilah, I built a BDSM club for her. She operates it as a school for the dominant and the submissive. It's like a private BDSM prostitution pool that caters to the high end. I'm the part-owner, but Delilah calls the shots.
“Kelly doesn’t have to know,” I push my glass to Delilah. “Just as she never and will never know about you.”
“I’m just surprised that she doesn’t have any inkling about this,” Delilah also pours a drink for herself.
I clank my glass on hers. “Unlike you, Delilah, my wife is as innocent as an angel,” I smile proudly and drink my last shot for the night.
Just when I am about to leave the bar, Delilah pulls me back to my chair. “I need your help. I intend to train new bloods.”
Delilah explains that the club is losing many dominant clients. Only a few professional slaves are below thirty years old. Most dominants are in their early forties and are looking for younger bloods. They don’t like to be called “Master” anymore. They prefer “Daddy” or anything like that. I can’t imagine myself having my slave call me that. I rather want my child to call me that. My child and Kelly.
My mind drifted back to Nicholas’s wife – ex-wife. I try to remember her face, but I can't. I asked a doctor if a drunken man can impregnate a woman. The latter said that the possibility is low. But given that I'm healthy and not an alcoholic, the possibility is raised. The age of the woman and her fertility stage also increases the odds.
I should have used protection! But Nicholas impregnated my wife first. So, I want him to suffer the same fate.
Yes. Nicholas Aracelli raped Kelly – on the night of our wedding. Prima Nocti, he claimed. He had always wanted Kelly before I met her and got pissed when we fell in love. Nicholas belonged to a powerful family in the Lake and often got away with what he wanted. He wanted Kelly to submit to him first before our wedding. Of course, she refused.
We thought he’d stop after Kelly and I were married. We underestimated him. On the night of our wedding, he had a gang ambush the cabin we rented for two nights. He tied me in a corner to watch him abuse my wife. And after he got tired of her, Nicholas fed my wife as a prize to his gang.
I saw Kelly's thoughts through her eyes that night, and they reflected mine. We wanted to be dead and leave the nightmare behind. But they let us live. I begged Kelly to report Nicholas to the police, but she would rather die than live in humiliation. And Nicholas could easily get away with it. We ran away instead.
A few months later, we discovered that Kelly was pregnant. We didn’t know who the father was, but we knew it wasn’t me. Kelly refused to make love to me all those months, thinking that she was too dirty for me. It could be Nicholas or any of his gang.
Kelly didn’t want to go through the pregnancy and had the baby clamped without my knowledge. An accident happened and scarred her for life. The two of us.
If the child is indeed mine, that little fox is commendable for bringing it to this world. She must be stronger than Kelly. Or she only wants me to pay. Little Fox. I don’t know why Devon and I call her that. It must have been a code name or ...
A memory of two upturned almond-shaped brown eyes that looked like a fox flash in my head. Did she have natural fox eyes? And is that why I call her little fox?
“Elijah,” Delilah taps the counter. “Going down memory lane again?”
“Training new bloods is dangerous,” I smile softly. “Most of them only want the thrill because they read it in some romance books.”
“That’s why I need your help. Elijah, you trained the best of my subs for the past six years. I need you to do it again.”
I shake my head. It’s too early for me to go all out for this fetish again. Though we had been married for fourteen years, it’s only been around three years that our marriage became stable. The previous years were on the rocks. I even have to endure begging Kelly to reconsider two of her divorce attempts.
I don’t know what happened in the past three years, but Kelly slowly recovered her old self back. For the first time in a long time, she wanted to be in control of her life. I welcomed that return and cherished her more. I don’t want anything to disturb it again. Even if it’s something I love to do or a child I need to know.
“Just two weeks, Elijah,” Delilah sounds so desperate. “A favor for an old friend. And besides, you can’t pass up the chance to whip a young girl’s ass, can you?”
I laugh at her words. She raises an eyebrow at me. Part of me hesitates, but then again, I’ve kept this secret for nine years. Two weeks won’t matter.
#
