All previous disclaimers apply.
It’s been two years since Ana and I began our arrangement. That’s even longer than Juliet and I lasted.
It turns out that I really am a bit of a masochist, just not a submissive. I can only assume that the intense things that occur in my life require intense motivation in order to be released. The same old “Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am” wasn’t getting it for me, and even multiple sex partners only held so much splendor for so long.
I was never into beating or punishing submissives. I thought I was because, let’s be honest, seeing my father with Bunny tied to a whipping bench and fucking the hell out of her after he flogged her turned me on. I got off on it for a while—a long while, in fact—but it turned out not to be what I wanted. It was hot, and there was always a beautiful woman ready to be flogged and fucked.
And now I know why.
This dick needs to come hard, long, and often, but my body needed something that it wasn’t getting. The pain awakens me—it heightens my senses, makes me more aware and quite frankly, it goes straight to my dick! I can’t tell you why certain people are wired this way, but apparently, I am. This is exactly what I need and dammit to hell if those orgasms haven’t become more and more powerful over the course of the two years. We still fight for dominance when we’re in the bedroom and not the dungeon, but that’s even more fun!
Lincoln Timber is no more. I held enough shares to influence Lincoln’s board to sell and even had him removed from his own board. Of course, there were other factors, like the fact that I had obtained enough timber interests to give them a run for their money and take a huge bite out of their profits. Although Linc may have wanted to fight, the board was by no means looking forward to the war they knew was coming.
It also didn’t help his case that he’s behind bars. He was arrested for unsuccessfully attempting to jump bail, and once his two accomplices rolled on him, he took a plea for conspiracy and second-degree murder for 32 years as opposed to first-degree murder and accessory to first degree murder. Quite frankly, I don’t know how you determine what the difference is. He contracted someone to kill his wife after she cashed in $10 million of their assets. That’s pretty cut and dried. What’s the appropriate penalty for that?
Nonetheless, he’s in his mid-forties now, so he’ll be somewhere in his 60’s before—and if—he’s even eligible for parole and nearly 80 if he has to serve the entire term. Turning Lincoln Timber into Golden Lumber was like taking candy from a baby.
Of course, Mom and Dad sorted things out. He’s still an asshole and I really don’t have much to say to him, but he loves my mother and she loves him. That’s all that really matters… I guess.
Mia’s doing well with the kidney. She’s dating someone that she met in dialysis. She didn’t want to tell us at first because they’re both kidney transplant patients, but I just figure that they understand each other’s plight more than anyone else would. You get happiness where you find it… it’s that simple.
Elliot is getting slimier and slimier as the days go by. Every time I see him and one of his Rent-A-Thots, I wonder if his line is low-class prostitution. He keeps bringing these tricks home to meet his family, and all we really want to know is, “Why?” It’s a different slut each time there’s a family gathering, and yes—they are sluts. Half of them are making eyes at me fifteen minutes through the door. They’re the type of women that you definitely wouldn’t want to bring home to your family, and if he married one of them, we really wouldn’t want to know about it or her.
He would make cracks about how I could never bring home “the type of women” that I date since latex and ball gags aren’t appropriate dinner attire. I simply concur and tell him that distinguished members of the lifestyle probably wouldn’t be comfortable around him and his dime store hookers. The last time he tried that shit on me, he got a little surprise.
“Elliot, stay the hell out of my life, and the next time you plan to visit your parents, clean the powder from your nose first.”
I don’t actually know that he had powder in his nose, but the fact that his hand went immediately to his face to pinch his nose made Mom leave the room, after which Dad threw him out of the house. Apparently after all this time, he’s still snorting coke. Needless to say, he didn’t crack on me again.
Speaking of bringing someone home to meet the family, neither Ana nor I are coming out to our families as a “couple.” I’m not really sure that we consider ourselves a couple. I know that we don’t in the traditional sense, but it’s more than that. Ana tries way too many cases in front of my father, and as long as he doesn’t know about our relationship, there’s no conflict of interest. The moment he’s aware of that personal link, all of Ana’s cases would have to be reassigned. My father is an asshole of a man, but I know him to be a fair and impartial judge, and my Mistress informs me that this is the case as well.
Even though we’re incognito, the relationship has caused some changes in both our lives. For example, I don’t mind if she fellates one of her clients during her scenes, but it’s understood that there will be no kissing for us that night. We both agree that even though she does what she has to do, a line has to be drawn somewhere.
Also, Ronnie has graciously agreed to be my date for red carpet events since Gisela and I normally end the night with hard fucking and that’s out of the question as Ana and I have agreed to be sexually exclusive. I simply explained to Gisela that my “woman” is back, and she wasn’t interested in accompanying me anymore.
When Ana and I are both at one of the clubs and Ana is Golden, we don’t interact. I understand the mystique involved in being unattainable, so I won’t fuck that up for her. It’s just like it was when we first met—she dances, she waits until her client is ready; and I get the front-row seat in the exhibition rooms for the performance. Sometimes, she still gets me so hot that I jack off while I’m watching. Other times, I save that nut for her. We leave the club at different times in different cars, having decided in advance if I’m going to partake of the dungeon at her house, she’s coming to my house to get fucked, or we’ll go our separate ways for the evening.
Very rarely do we go our separate ways.
I still get that magnificent pain and pleasure experience from my Mistress, and I’m the only one allowed in her private dungeon. She still makes me hurt so good that I’ve learned to accept aftercare from Blake—once in a while from her—and she still makes me come so hard that I’m certain I’ve shot skin from inside my dick when it’s done.
Yes, we have a strange relationship from the outside looking in, but that’s why nobody’s on the outside looking in. It’s nobody’s goddamn business what we do behind closed doors. Do I expect to go on like this forever? Shit, nothing is forever, but I’m going to have a fucking good time while it lasts.
Boy, my guru would probably shit her pants if she saw this arrangement. For that matter, so would Elena. One gave me the mantra to make them want me and never give all. The other was correct in that once that billionaire dick got a hold of me, I wouldn’t be able to resist it. I tried for months after he fucked me, but I couldn’t do it.
When he told me… ordered me to come to his house that night, I knew my life would change. I never told him, but Elena was completely right. I would have changed my entire lifestyle for him had he told me to that night. Luckily, I played it by ear. I let him tell me what he was expecting and as it turns out, I get to have my proverbial cake and eat it too. Blondie is rolling over in her fucking grave.
Blake has become accustomed to seeing Christian around. He knew something was missing from my life even though I wouldn’t admit it, and he was certain that once I realized that I had found what I was missing in Christian, that I wouldn’t need him anymore.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
He gives me care and camaraderie that’s far beyond anything I’ve ever had with anyone. Even as a lover, Christian wouldn’t be able to achieve this level of closeness with me. I don’t think any lover would because the level of intimacy that Blake and I share can’t be imitated. It’s somewhere between father and confidante, and it’s simply irreplaceable. He still buys the groceries and stocks the house, but I was able to convince him to stop paying me.
Aunt Sheila sold the house about a year ago. She said that she felt haunted by the memories there instead of comforted, and she wanted to make a new start. I definitely felt like it was time for her to move since she was in that big house all alone, and even though the neighborhood knew her, they knew that she was alone, too. She bought a nice house in Redmond and she got a job in the real estate office that sold her the house. We all still make our way over there for Sunday dinner at least once or twice a month, so I’m still enjoying time with my family.
And speaking of family, Reynard had absolutely no way to prove that my dad was his father. Aunt Sheila wouldn’t give him the time of day unless he had some proof and none of her children were willing to help him with any kind of relative DNA test. As it stands, he was just trying to get money so that he wouldn’t lose his mom’s house.
Call me a sucker…
I contacted him and paid the debt directly on his behalf. I told him that I only did it because I really don’t know if he’s my father’s son, and Daddy would have wanted me to do it. However, the way that he accosted my family was unacceptable. I told him to take this as a parting gift and leave us alone, promising that I would make his life a living hell if he ever crossed our paths again. I’m sure he believed me.
Christian’s lawsuits for wrongful arrest and harassment from the police department are still pending. I’ve told him more than once that he most likely won’t see anything from the suits, and they’ll probably still be pending long after he’s dead. He doesn’t care. He claims that it’s the principle of the thing. At least he hasn’t had any problems out of the cops.
And Bingham… yeah, she got busted to a desk job for a while, but the truth is that she’s an effective cop—tough, and a ball-buster—so they ended up putting her back on the beat. The last thing that I want is for a good cop to be sitting at a desk, but they also need to remember that they’re here to protect and serve—not to bully and harass.
I still do yoga with Kevin, but I haven’t told him about the arrangement with me and Christian, only that things are better than they’ve ever been in my life… which is true.
Sex… yeah, sex. One of the reasons that I didn’t want to involve sex in my life—besides the inevitable emotions that often come along with it—is the fact that I was concerned that it would make me docile, take away my edge. But I have to admit that the aggressive sex that we have actually makes me hungrier. It feeds the passion monster, but it fuels me and helps me perform… on the pole, with the whip, everything!
And I couldn’t fuck just anybody. Hell, I wouldn’t want to, but I found someone with a magnificent dick who knows how to use it, can take a good flogging, and wants to watch as I work my clients over.
What the hell else can a girl ask for?
A/N: Final Authors note to follow.