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Episode 59—The Dom, The Dad, and the Do-Gooder
CHRISTIAN
She’s beautifully blindfolded and bound to my sex chair, her legs spread and her thighs strapped down so that her sex stares at me through the useless pretty white lace of her thong—moist, wet… but not wet enough. I bring my stool to the front of the table and sit so that my face is right at her beautiful, pink pussy. This will be her first torment. I wet my finger with my saliva and tease her clit gently through the lace. I can see that the pussy is perfectly shaved, and her lips are incredibly inviting, but I wait, fingering this gorgeous creation and watching her breath change as her arousal rises. I watch her muscles tense as she tries not to move her hips.
I won’t make this easy for you, baby.
I stand from the stool and step around to the side of her. She’s breathing heavily, waiting for my next move, so I don’t keep her waiting. Standing by her side, I reach down and massage her clit through her panties with my two middle fingers, around and around and around. She’s panting now, biting her lip as I work her into mindless arousal. She’s trying to move her hips against my hand, but I’ve got her pretty restrained—physically and mentally.
I pinch that cute little tit and keep those massaging circles going for a moment. Then I slide my hand under her underwear so that the entire hand slides through her lips until two fingers slide into her pussy to the first joint. She gasps as I finger-fuck her sensually while massaging that pussy and clit with the rest of my hand.
“You are so fucking wet,” I tell her, my lips almost on top of hers. “I’m going to have so much fun torturing this pretty little kitty.” I close my lips over hers as I finger-fuck and massage her deeply. She’s getting wetter and wetter, and I keep going until I feel her start to tighten around me. Ah ah ah, Mrs. Grey. Not so fast.
I stop the movement of my fingers and kiss her deeply, waiting for the tightening to wane. Once it does, I continue with the finger-fuck and massage, kissing her deeply while pushing her closer to release.
A few moments later, I release her mouth and her pussy and stand in front of her again. Her lips are on either side of the thong, swollen and wet, and I can smell her. I rub the outline of my hardening cock through my boxer briefs.
You’ll get your chance, I mentally tell Greystone, but it won’t be easy for you either.
I bring the stool back to its place between her legs and take a seat.
I lick my lips and run my tongue between the crease of her thigh, first one and then the other. Her hands, feet, and thighs pull against the restraints, but she’s bound pretty well. I tickle this sensitive meat a few more times before I succumb to the smell of her.
“Well, these can go now.”
I untie the sides of the white lace thong. Covering her pussy with my mouth, I breathe hot air onto it before I close my mouth over the crotch of them. Deliberately stroking my tongue over her lips, I close the crotch in my teeth and use my mouth to slowly pull the thong off her body. I could have sniffed it right there, but why sniff the thong when I have the real thing?
She’s so hot and ready that her clit is swollen and protruding from her lips. My mouth is watering just looking at it. I have to taste it.
I lean in and being a slow, leisurely up and down and circular stroke of her clit. She shakes immediately upon contact of my tongue. I don’t touch her with anything but my tongue, but I use my entire tongue to tease that pussy, around and around with masterful tasting and licking to spread her flavor over every taste bud. Damn, she’s delicious. I can hardly contain myself because I love the taste of her cum so much, I’ll have to stop myself from sending her over just so that I can enjoy the feast. There’ll be plenty of small nectar squirts before she actually gets to that point, and I’ll be right here to lap up each and every one of them!
Long stoke up and over her clit like I’m licking an ice cream cone, then around and back down; back up and over the clit, and around and back down… again… and again… and again… Mmm, so good.
I have to force myself to change rhythms when I feel her clit start to stiffen. God, that was delicious… maximum coating of the tongue and fuck, I’m so fucking hard.
My tongue now runs from midway at her opening just to the underside of her clit, still stimulating the soft, sweet meat of that sensual bundle of nerves while treating myself to fresh releases of that delicious juice every time my tongue passes over her opening. I close my eyes and allow the fresh creamy flavor to coat over my tongue as I lick her again and again, changing the original rhythm so that she doesn’t come yet. She whines in frustration that I won’t lick her entire clit and give her full stimulation, only the underside and just enough to drive her mad—and enough to get the full, sumptuous taste of that pussy. Fuck, nothing tastes like Butterfly in the evening…
… Or the morning…
… Or the afternoon…
Deciding that the intense stimulation needs to continue, I wrap my arm under her body and move my hand to her mons, pressing down gently, the other hand gaining a firm hold on the underside of her hip and holding her in place. Bringing my tongue back to that clit, I flutter ever so gently but quickly right against the tip of it. She damn-near convulses at the original flutter, groaning loudly as I continue. I have her bound so well that she can barely move, so she certainly can’t get away. Any other purchase that she has to move is halted by the vise-like grip of my arms and hands on her hips.
I press down harder on her mons, knowing that’s an erogenous zone especially during oral sex. Added pressure intensifies the feeling without actually touching her genitals. While still applying pressure with my palm, I use my fingers to lengthen her lips by pulling them up, causing them to close a bit, but also causing her clit to protrude farther from the opening…
… And I flick my tongue a little faster.
“Mmmm…” she moans, struggling uselessly against her wrist restraints. I continue the torment while looking up her body, over her beautiful breasts to her sex-tormented face as she bites her lip in ecstasy, trying not to cry out. I keep the flick going as I feel her trying to resist me, then run my tongue down to her opening to catch her juices, hungrily tasting the fruits of my labor before returning to her red, pulsing clit.
She won’t be able to take much more of this.
I flick and flutter a little longer before I go back to the slow, sensual, full-tongue tasting of this delicious pussy. When I’m certain that the flavor will stay on my tongue while I fuck her, I pull back and blow on that hot clit, bringing it down from yet another impending orgasm. I sit back in my seat and look at my masterpiece—hot, dripping, barely able to stay on the sex-chair-now-sex-table were it not for the binds. My dick is outlined impressively in my underwear, and I have to free myself before I burst out of them. I pull my boxer briefs past my hips then drop them to the floor. My dick pops out anxiously, jutting up and bobbing wildly looking for that pussy. It’s so goddamn engorged, this is going to be the hardest test of restraint and control that I’ve ever put myself through.
Poor Pussycat.
I stroke my balls in a useless attempt to seek relief before I step to my poor soumise. You’re going to lose your mind tonight, baby, and so will I, but if we endure, the payoff will surely be like nothing we’ve ever felt before. My dick doesn’t need any guidance as I close in on the woman bound and lying before me. It goes straight for the money, but I have to wiggle and guide it away from that tender, welcoming opening.
Not just yet, buddy.
I stroke it softly over her, massaging both her clit and that bulging vein on the underside of my shaft. Fuck, it feels good. I can’t do this too long, because I know that she’s just about ready to blow, but I enjoy it while I can, stroking long and soft while she groans and burns against me.
Covering her body with mine, I kiss her deeply, lapping hungrily into her mouth as I grind naked against her. We have come many times like this fully dressed, and it appears that we both have the same thought at the same time, because I feel her begin to pulse against me and I immediately stop my gyrations.
“Noo-ho-ho-ho-hoooo!” she whines mournfully against my lips as her orgasm begins to slip away.
“Shhhh,” I soothe against her lips, “I feel it, too, baby.” When the vibrations have ceased, I begin the outside stroke again, moving my lips from hers down to her neck, then to her breasts. The further down I go, the further I have to arch my back to maintain contact, which means the grind gets harder and the stroke gets deeper.
Fuck! It feels so good! I’m going to come.
I suck her nipple into my mouth and torment it until it pebbles, just as I move to the other breast, I catch my orgasm just as it’s beginning to burn in my balls
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! That was fucking close… and painful as fuck.
In response, I involuntarily bite down on her nipple, a little harder than I intend. She cries out and her pussy pulses madly against my dick.
Fucking hell! Fucking hell! Fuck-ing-hell!!
I’m trying to keep my noises as non-existent as possible as it’ll intensify the feeling for both of us since she’s blind-folded and I’m tempted to scream “Fuck” to alleviate some of the pressure in my balls. No way, Grey. You wait.
I lick, suck, and kiss that tit with the taste of her pussy still in my mouth. Mmm, it’s torture, but it’s sweet torture. And now, for the worst part of it.
I raise off her, standing between her legs with our sex breaths away from each other. At first, I do nothing. I rub her thighs and legs, watching my dick get harder and harder, reaching for her pussy. I want it so aching and thick when it enters her that I won’t have to touch it for it to breach her core.
About a minute and a half later, that’s exactly what it does.
Too heavy to stay in a “jutted up” position, it falls between her legs and the tip actually lands on her ass cheek. Breathing heavily to control my untamed lust, I wait until it rises again to meet her core. When it does, her opening sucks hungrily at the head.
Sweet God in heaven, that’s my cue.
I take a really deep breath and hold it, steeling myself. I grab her hips on both sides, lift her body and pull her slowly against my dick while breathing out harshly. She gasps as I pull her against me in the slowest, most agonizing stroke I’ve ever done in my life. Since my dick is so swollen, it’s not hard at all to take it slow.
Fuck, she’s tight and I’m thick… and this thrust is so sweet that it burns. It takes quite some time to get fully sheathed in her warm silkiness. Once I do, standing over her with her hips plastered against mine and my dick buried inside of her and pulsing, I can’t fucking move. Just let me savor this agony for a few moments more.
I feel her pulsing against me, or it might just be her heavy breathing, I don’t know. I watch her body as I pull her off my dick all the way to the tip and pull her all the way back down again, deliciously slowly, oh so slowly. I don’t move my hips at all, only hers, using her body to stroke my dick and tormenting us both. I breathe in deep and push her off me again to the tip, and very slowly, pull her back onto my raging, angry dick.
Her arousal gathers at the base of my dick and spreads slowly up and down my shaft as I repeat this torturous move over and over again, digging my fingers into her ass cheeks and squeezing them hard together so that even though her pussy is spread as wide as it can be, the pressure on her pelvis and hips is still pushing her pussy walls together against me, making it tighter, hotter, and more agonizing for us both.
I’m watching her body and soon, that familiar tell-tale sheen develops on her lovely chest. I’m going to have to pause soon, but until then, I pull her down onto my aching, waiting dick again and again and again until…
I pause just as her body starts to stiffen and her leg begins to shake. What is that, five near misses for you now, baby? And one ruined orgasm for me.
“Nooooooooo,” she whines again as her pussy clenches around me, aching to squeeze out the orgasm waiting there in the walls, but unable to do it without stimulation.
“Patience,” I growl, failing and attempting to keep my voice steady. She stiffens then silences at the sound of my voice.
“I’m not finished with you, yet.”
I see her swallow hard before I pull her hips against my dick again, watching myself slide in and out of her wetness, my hips in agony from the pleasure and from holding them still. A few more pulls of those luscious hips against me and I’m squeezing her thighs and gritting my teeth through my second denial, this one more painful than the first.
When my glutes are screaming from the agony of holding my hips still without release, I place her butt back on the table and close in on her, thrusting into her at the same speed that I was pulling her against me, only this time, I add the grinding and gyration of my hips against her when I bury myself inside of her. I spread my feet apart on the floor and thrust, standing up straight causing the head of my dick to rub against her G-spot with every thrust in and out.
Oh, yeah, that’s the ticket!
She’s losing her mind as I massage this sweet spot over and over, bringing her to two more near misses before adding in the delicious tweaking of her nipples to the agonizing stroke. I reach my third denial—unbelievable fucking agony—as she is denied her eighth release. I squeeze my eyes tight and grind my teeth, fighting almost beyond hope to fend off the ensuing orgasm as my dick jerks inside of her.
Don’t come, don’t come, don’t come…
The denial is fucking painful, my balls threatening to rebel against me any second and empty their load inside her warmth. I grunt and groan loudly as my groin brutally aches to come. My beautiful submissive pulses around me, panting and choking on her breath as her orgasm wanes as well. She was nearly at the point of no return when I stopped stimulation, and that’s not helping my current situation.
I try to start the stroke again, but when she cries out and Greystone squirts a little inside of her, I realize that we’re both too close. I can’t even take deep breaths to calm myself as I’m so swollen inside of her, every breath causes more stimulation. I stand still for several moments, my dick buried in her pulsing, hot core, and give us both a chance to cool down. She whimpers, realizing that I’m not quite done with our exquisite torture.
I start the stroke again, our sex melding together so tightly now that we can’t move much at all without sparking another rise. It doesn’t take long into this one before she taps out.
“Bells,” she breathes, and I stop immediately.
“Talk to me,” I whisper.
“I can’t take anymore,” she confesses.
“You want me to stop?” I say softly in her ear. “I’ll stop if it’s too much for you.”
“I want to come,” she keens. “It burns. It’s too much. I want to come…”
“I’ll stop then,” I say, slowly beginning to pull out. She whines loudly.
“Nooo,” she protests. “I want to come…”
“And you will,” I tell her, “if I keep going, but not until I say so. If it’s too much, though, I’ll stop.”
Those are your options, baby. Either I stop, care for you and we go to bed, both aching and wanting, or I keep going until I’m done. This is my game, my rules, and although I won’t torment you any further if you can’t take it, I won’t succumb to your will, either.
“Please…” she croons softly.
“Please, what, baby?” I ask, standing completely still. “I stop, give you aftercare, and we go to sleep, or I keep going… until I’m done,” I stress the word. “The choice is yours, but you have to tell me. Do I stop… or don’t I?”
I realize that this conversation has given us both an opportunity to regroup, our genitals not pulsing nearly as much as they were moments ago. Even so, these controlling breaths that she’s taking is still torture on my dick.
“Tell me, Anastasia,” I coax gently, “or I’ll respect your safeword and stop now.” She sighs again.
“Don’t,” she breathes, “don’t stop.”
Thank God!
She knows she’s not in control of this evening. Her only control is that she can make it stop. With a word, she can make it stop. I’ll cease and desist and carry my aching ass to sleep…
… But she can’t control when she comes. Even if she tries to make herself come, being bound and at my mercy, I can halt her orgasm. I know her body that well.
I can also give her release so galactic that her soul will momentarily be ripped from her body and sent to fly around in the heavens, returning to her shell and drowning her in unrelenting, lingering mentally, emotionally, and physically euphoric ecstasy. I feel the need to claim her—really claim her—and for some reason, my mind goes all the way back to seeing that asshole trying to kiss her.
I don’t know why my mind goes all the way back there. That was more than a year ago. Nonetheless, I seize this opportunity to claim this body, to show her that she will always ever and only belong to me; to show her that no one can or will ever be able to make her feel what I can make her feel…
… And in the process, realize that no one in the world can do to me what she does to me.
She’s my beginning and my ending in this life. My aching… my longing and sexual torment is only a means to an end—a giving of myself while denying the ultimate pleasure, the ultimate release until I’m delirious with want and need… in return for the torment I put her through when I was away. Withholding her orgasm is a process—a building to that ultimate release that will linger with her for days after it’s over.
I push into her again, knowing that I can’t torment her much longer. She feels so good, and I feel her body completely surrender to me. Although I wanted that, I don’t want her to be lost in being my sub tonight. I want her to feel good, so I push and push and push until…
She whimpers. It’s almost a sob caught in her throat as I deny her again. I lower my lips to her ear.
“Can you hear me?” I say softly.
“Yes,” she squeaks, still weak and fragile from her last denied orgasm.
“I’m going to let go,” I say. “I’m going to fuck you like I mean it… but hold your orgasm.” I feel her deflate under me at my command. “Hold it as long as you can,” I continue. “I won’t stop again. Hold it until you can’t hold it anymore. Feel everything. Absorb everything, and once the feeling grabs you and you can’t fight it anymore, sink into it. Let it engulf your body and your mind and let it take you wherever it wants to go.” I thrust into her again. “Do you understand?” I say with a bite to her earlobe.
“Yes,” she breathes wistfully, and now, she’s in control of her release. However, I’ve given her a challenge, and she will surely rise to it.
This is where the real hard part begins.
I pull out every trick in the book to push her over. I kiss her passionately as I hook my arms under her shoulders and drill into her at that same aching pace I’ve been keeping all this time—still slow, but faster than the beginning and harder and deeper than before. I whisper sex talk in her ear that I know drives her crazy…
“You’re so wet…”
“God, you feel so good…”
“My dick is so hard right now…”
“Fuck, this pussy is so tight…”
I thought I had her for a minute, but she found her bearing and set herself to take more…
And more, and more, and more…
I roll my hips on the upstroke and the downstroke…
Wiggle her clit with my wet thumb while I plunge into her…
Hold her down once by leaning on her shoulders and once by holding on to her hips…
She won’t relent. I’ve even denied myself twice more while hoping she would come first. I’m sure that I created a monster during that trip to Anguilla when I first introduced her to orgasm refusal. I never knew she’d become a fucking pro at it! Now, I need her to come… and soon!
I lean down on her with renewed purpose, determined to feel my dick swell even larger inside of her until neither of us can take it anymore. When I feel the angry vein pulsing, I grind again… in and out… closing my eyes and enjoying the unbelievable warmth. God, she’s too much. I wrap my body around her, hell bent on taking what’s mine.
Oh, how I devour her body as I push into her, pulling out to the head and thrusting in again almost at a musical pace. I push deep into her almost until my hips hurt, kissing her deeply and wetly as I do, then pulling my lips away from hers just as my head meets her opening as I pull out. I repeat the sensual move as the burn is so deep and powerful that I have to repeat it… again… again… my mouth sucking on her bottom lip, her top lip, her tongue…
Again… again… again…
Her chin, her jaw, her earlobe…
Again… again… again…
Her neck, her throat, her shoulders…
Her chest, her breasts, her nipples…
Again… again… again…
Beautiful little love bites begin to welt up on her body and I can’t help but kiss them and suck them harder, deeper, making them darker…
Again… again… again…
Again… again… again…
Again… again… again… again… oh, fuck.
She feels so good that I raise my body away from hers without losing the connection of our sex. She’s bruised and marked all over… by me. The site of her restrained to the table, blindfolded, completely unable to move and covered in the red and purple evidence of me completely having my way with her speaks to something primal in me and my stroke quickens only ever so slightly. I slide effortlessly in an out of her and my entire dick feels the wetness and the friction as well as the unbearable torment of the unrelenting tightness and weight of my balls.
She’s mine.
All fucking mine.
Look at her…
Helpless and bound… aching for release…
Marked all over her alabaster skin…
Itching to come and totally at my mercy…
I did this… she is mine!
All fucking mine!
The visual of her before me and the mental words slamming around in my head is almost more than I can take. My God, this is killing me! Will I be able to stop this time?
My hands are now pressed into the table as my dick plunges into her hot, sopping core… again… again… again… fuck! She so wet that I can hear and feel her juices splash against my pelvis each time I thrust. I can’t stop it this time. It’s too damn good.
Come, baby. I need you to come. I won’t come without you…
As if in response to my silent request, her body rises off the table, only held down by her restraints and my powerful thrusts into her core. Her legs start to shake, and her pussy starts to thrum a mean and vicious tattoo against my dick.
Oh, fuck here it comes.
The blindfold has somehow come off, but her eyes are still closed and her mouth opens. No sound emerges as she begins this incredible ride. Intent to give her the big blast we’ve worked so hard for, I step up on the first step, rest my knees on the cushion of the table, and pump into her hard and deep—never losing my pace, but keeping the rhythm going as hard as I can. I swear it looks like she’s getting closer to me as I pump into her harder… deeper… concentrating on her orgasm until…
The feeling grabs me at the base of my spine in my tailbone. I wasn’t prepared for it as I momentarily took the focus off myself and turned it onto her. Oh, hell, tiny hands reach into my back and drag the pleasure down through my ass, my prostate, my hips, my pelvis, my balls and shooting madly and feverishly through my dick and into the goddess suspended in front of me. To say that I’m frozen in agony is an understatement. I don’t know what the fuck is going on.
“Ah! Anastasia! God!” I sob as my abs, hips, glutes, and groin burn, pulse, ache, and thump with the pleasure and pain of the ultimate release. Her body is suspended in an endless orgasm, her eyes closed and her mouth open in silent hopeless surrender as her body jerks involuntarily. I’m helpless to assist in any way as my body is being drawn and quartered in a punishment orgasm of my own making, so I just hold her tight against me, still trying to climb deeper inside her as my dick is turned inside out and the pleasure vein is completely exposed, being endlessly massaged by her insides.
She jerks up and against me as if she’s convulsing, her hands still bound by the chains to the hooks at the bottom of the chair. Her body is suspended as much as it can be without my help like her torso is tied to puppet strings and being pulled hard in the air, attempting to follow the soul that’s currently flying around the ethereal realm as I planned. I can tell that she’s having multiple large and small simultaneous and consecutive orgasms while I’m trying to cringe through the one that’s tearing my body apart.
When it’s finally over—several uncountable moments later—I fall on top of her, my weight pushing her body back down onto the chair/table. I weep into her shoulder, continuously kissing her flushed, wet skin as I try to compose myself. Her breathing is soft, controlled, her mouth still open, her eyes still closed. Her body is limp now, twitching only occasionally in what I can only assume are uncontrollable aftershocks.
Oh, God, baby… how can I possibly express what I feel for you?
It takes several more moments for me to compose myself… the big, bad Dom crying on his soumise’s shoulder after orgasms so intense, they threatened to rip the life from us both. I raise my head to see that she’s lying there looking at the ceiling. When my eyes meet hers, I can’t interpret what I see and I don’t try. I only know that her gaze brings me comfort, connects me to her.
When I close in for a kiss, her eyes don’t leave mine, but her lips and tongue welcome me, caress me, comfort me. I kiss her again, and her lips close over my top lip, tasting it gently with her tongue. I bring both hands to her face and bury my tongue in her mouth. She matches my strokes with gentle strokes of her own, a small soundless sigh escaping her as we kiss. God, she’s everything to me.
I rise off of her, pulling out of her achingly slowly and watching my still hard cock slowly deflate as my massive load of cum starts to drip out of her, some of it still hanging from the end of my dick to her core. It’s so fucking erotic, I almost plunge back into her for round two, but I don’t think either of us could withstand it at the moment.
I undo the wrist restraints, ankle restraints, and thigh bounds, each body part falling helplessly against the sex chair and stirrups as I release them. Both of us still naked, I gather her in my arms, and she lays limp on my shoulder. Part of me is concerned that she’s so quiet. The other part knows that there’s really nothing that needs to be said.
I carry her from the playpen to her en suite and the big marble tub. I sit her on the edge and wink at her. Her expression changes only slightly, softening a bit at my gesture. This moment reminds me a bit of the state she was in after we made love in Napa, only she was much more verbal then. I reach for the jasmine bath oil and begin to fill the marble tub with hot water and jasmine. Before the tub is even full, I lift her in my arms again and step into the tub, slowly sinking into the aromatic warmth and allowing it to envelop us both.
Beautiful girl… Beautiful, beautiful girl…
She nuzzles into my neck as I clean her body from head to toe with a freshwater sponge while she sits on my lap. This is my wife at her submissive best, silent and allowing me to care for her after blasting, cosmic orgasms. It truly makes me want to love her some more, but I honestly still think neither of us is capable of the feat.
I again think about her breakdown earlier, what she must’ve been thinking about when she and Valerie were talking about the reveal parties. I can’t take back the asshole that I was when we found out about the sex of the twins. I can’t undo what’s already been done, but I can sure as hell make sure that I don’t do that shit again.
Rest easy, Butterfly, I’ve got your back, baby.
*-*
I’m lying in our bed next to my Butterfly. We’ve both gotten a wonderful night’s sleep and even the twins haven’t stirred yet. I look over at my sleeping beauty and admire her angelic face. She looks so content and I’m so pleased and proud to be lying next to her right now. I begin to sing the only lyrics I can think of to her sleeping form.
Having my baby,
What a lovely way of saying how much you love me
Having my baby,
What a lovely way of saying what you’re thinking of me
I can see it,
Your face is glowing
I can see it in your eyes,
I’m happy you know it
Her lids open slowly, and she raises guileless blue eyes to mine. The fire from behind me is reflecting perfectly off her irises and I feel like I can fall in and swim there forever.
Corny, huh?
That you’re having my baby,
You’re the woman I love and I love what it’s doing to you.
Having my baby,
You’re a woman in love and I love what’s going through you…
The need inside you,
I see it showing
Oh, the seed inside you, Baby
Do you feel it growing?
I reach between us and gently cup her stomach.
“It’s a boy,” I say. I raise my gaze to her questioning eyes.
“How do you know?” she asks softly.
“I just do,” I say.
“What if it’s a girl?” she questions.
“Then it’s a girl,” I reply, pushing her hair behind her ear, “but it’s a boy.” She smiles.
“Do you want another boy?” she presses.
“I want another baby,” I say, “but this one is a boy.”
She chuckles softly. I lean down and gently press my lips to hers.
“I’m not perfect,” I say. “I’m going to make mistakes, but I promise you that I won’t fuck up like I did the first time.”
Her expression turns serious, and I’m certain that she doesn’t believe me. I’ll just have to show her. That’s all I can do.
“That’s all I can ask for,” she says as if she read my thoughts, and I kiss her again.
Brunch is insane! Clam and crab stuffed mushrooms, a garlic prosciutto and hot honey baked brie bread bowl, delightful miniature beef wellingtons courtesy of Ms. Sophie, the usual breakfast treats—eggs benedict, mini quiches and crepes along with various sweets, fruits, and sides. Sophie has been working on Gordon Ramsay’s beef wellington recipe trying very hard to perfect it. I must admit that these miniature delicacies are very close if not identical to the original.
Butterfly and Valerie are gleefully discussing everything baby and I’m hoping that the crisis is averted from her husband’s previous asshole behavior. Elliot and I are sipping coffee and enjoying their exchange when Chuck excuses himself from the table, putting his phone to his ear.
“She’s already looking at cribs,” Elliot says.
“She should be,” I tell him. “The time is going to be upon you before you know it… and you need to have a checklist making preparations if you haven’t already.” Elliot scoffs.
“It’s too early,” he says. “She’s only halfway there.”
“Really?” I ask. “Twenty weeks—have you started interviewing pediatricians?”
“We were just going to use yours,” he says confidently.
“Have you met mine?” I ask. “Did you ask me for her contact information? Check out her credentials?”
“I figure if she’s good enough for my godchildren, she should be good enough for my child.” I pause.
“And that’s only the answer to one of the three questions that I asked you,” I say. “Have you already chosen which room is going to be the nursery? Is Valerie breastfeeding? Is she delivering at home or in the hospital? Have you chosen a midwife, and do you have a birthing suite prepared? What about childbirth classes—have you started those yet…?”
“Whoa! Whoa! Wait, bro. Angel is going to be taking care of most of that,” he replies. My eyes widen.
“You misogynistic idiot she’s having the baby you’re supposed to be in on every step of this!” I bark all in one breath before I realize that we’re not the only ones in the room. Now, I have everyone’s attention, but I’m too angry at my chauvinistic brother to care.
“Get up!” I say, standing from my seat and nearly dragging my brother from his chair.
“What the hell, bro?” he protests.
“Christian!” my wife calls out.
“You’ll all have to excuse me,” I say. “I must relieve my big brother of his antiquated and sexist viewpoints!”
“You tell ‘im, son!” Mom cheers as I shove Elliot into the family room.
“Way to embarrass me, Christian!” Elliot hisses, but I can’t hear him.
“Keep moving!” I demand. “I don’t want your wife and our family to hear me take a bite out of your ass!”
I don’t know if it’s what I said or how I said it, but Elliot looks at me for a moment then turns his ass around and walks in the direction that I’m pointing. We get to the elevator and I push the button to call it. We get inside and when we reach the bottom floor, I let him have it.
“Your wife is about to go through one of the most harrowing experiences that she will ever endure in her life, and that’s saying a lot since she had to battle cancer. Her body is going to go through several changes; she’s going to feel fat, ugly, and undesirable; and she’s going to be justifiably emotional and irritable. You should be halfway through if not all the way through What to Expect When You’re Expecting by now. Don’t you feel anything at all watching her body swell right before your very eyes—and I’m not talking about your nether regions, you caveman!”
Elliot’s eyes are wide, and he looks at me a bit chastised.
“Jesus,” he says, “Women have babies every day. I didn’t think it was that serious. I mean I know it’s serious, but not like this.”
“It’s very serious, you numbskull!” I scold. “It would probably be the most serious thing in your fucking life under normal circumstances, but she’s had a miscarriage! She survived cancer! If she hiccups one time too many, you should be timing how far apart they are and why she’s hiccupping. What’s your plan—wait until something goes wrong and then dash to the hospital because you have no fucking idea what’s happening?” His brow furrows.
“Were you like this with Montana or are you trying to make up for your shortcomings with my wife?” he retorts defensively.
“Yes and no,” I respond without a pause. “I’ll make up my own shortcomings with my own wife, but yes, I was just like this with Montana. In fact, I had a five-page checklist shortly after we found out that we were pregnant. Where’s yours?”
Don’t test me, big brother. You’ll find your head rolling across the patio.
He just gazes at me for a long time, saying nothing. I sigh and put my hands on my hips.
“There’s a bit more of the possessive Neanderthal in me than there is in you,” I begin, “but do you remember the condition I was in when I came to tell you all that the babies had been born? I was so swallowed by emotion that you were all scared shitless because you thought something had gone wrong. After watching your wife put her body through all the things that I know her body is going to go through in labor and delivery, will you be able to look her in the face knowing that you didn’t do everything humanly possible to assist with the development and delivery of this child?”
His expression is solemn as he examines me for a moment.
“Now, you may have gone through half of her pregnancy without a problem, but the real work is only beginning, Elliot. Her body is about to go through some major changes and you’re really going to want to keep an eye on her now because even though she’s pretty much out of the woods, she’s still a high-risk pregnancy. You should know every little thing that’s about to happen before it even happens. She shouldn’t have to lift a finger unless she so chooses.
“You shouldn’t assume that she’s going to take care of everything. You should allow her to offer to take care of something if she so chooses, because she’s about to do a really big job that you can’t handle. Your body and soul aren’t built for it, only hers. So, every other thing that you can do that she doesn’t have to, you should be doing.
“I’ve seen pictures of Valerie in college,” I say. “She has always had that model look. Now her boobs are about to explode, her ankles are about to swell, and she’s going to be certain that she weighs 400 pounds, and it’s going to be up to you to convince her that she’s the most beautiful creature in the world, which unless you’re dead, to you she will be!
“She’s about to do this incredibly selfless, self-sacrificing act and as you watch her body change and your baby grow, you should be consumed with wonder and gratefulness for this unbelievable gift that she’s giving you. So, start giving her the gift now of being the attentive and knowledgeable father that she’s going to need throughout the course of this pregnancy and your life together.” He sighs and drops his head.
“Way to make me feel like a heel, bro,” he says chastised.
“You should,” I reply. “Now come to my study and let me get you some information to get you started. Like you said, you’re already halfway through. There’s probably no way to get your family history but is there anything in Valerie’s family history that you guys would be concerned about? Histories of strokes or high blood pressure? Diabetes? Anything like that…?”
My brother had no idea what he was in for, and he really did feel like a heel once we got into the details of everything that’s going to be involved in preparing for his baby to be born. He wanted my copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, which I still have, but I made him order his own. I’m expecting again, and I’ve got notes in the margins! I’m sure Valerie’s OBGYN probably gave her a copy for free, but I made him buy one of his own anyway.
Elliot isn’t prepared for anything. I would be scared shitless if Butterfly was this far along and I didn’t have at least a head start on the information that I know I needed. We’re a bit behind from waiting for the outcome of the pretrial motion, but not as far behind as my brother.
Val has already started her prenatal vitamins and she’s been eating right ever since Meg showed up.
Elliot hasn’t picked up a pregnancy book, hasn’t looked at a pregnancy app, no journal for milestones, nothing!
He has already told me that they don’t have a pediatrician. They were just going to go with Dr. Nahabedian since that’s who we have, but he doesn’t even know Dr. Nahabedian. I open his calendar app and make him set a reminder to call her office on Monday and set an appointment to meet her and talk to her. He may not even like her!
They don’t have a baby budget, they’re not on any registries, and they haven’t done any shopping at all.
Valerie’s starting to show even though she’s been hiding it well under oversized sweaters, T-shirts, and sweatshirts, but if she doesn’t get some kind of essential oil on that skin soon, it’s not going to stretch correctly and she’s going to have stretch marks.
Elliot is unbelievably overwhelmed by this checklist that he’s looking at, and I tell him that he needs to get going on those things at least one or two things at a time until he gets caught up. While he’s lamenting his situation there’s a knock at my study door. I’m thinking that we may have been down here too long in our wives have come to retrieve us when I see Chuck stick his head into the door.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” he says, “Ana told me you were down here, and this is kind of important.” I raise my brow.
“You have your marching orders, Lelliot,” I say. “Go forth and get busy. Start by going upstairs and apologizing to your wife for being such a narrow-minded, obstinate pig!”
“Yeah,” he says in wonder, still looking at the list. He walks out of my office without another word.
“Watch where you’re going before you run into a wall!” I call out to him. His exclamation of surprise alerts me that’s exactly what he was about to do. I shake my head.
“What can I do for you, Chuck?” I ask.
“My dad’s in a Zoom meeting waiting for us to join him,” he says. “He wants to talk to us and get our opinion on something. It’s about Joe.”
“Oh, fuck,” I say. “The not-so-model son… here we go. Send me the link.”
He emails me the link, then pulls a chair up next to me as I connect to the meeting. Nelson’s face comes on the screen and he’s none too happy.
“Hey, Nelson,” I say. He purses his lips.
“Hey, Christian,” Nelson greets. “There’s not much that can be done about what you’re about to hear. I just didn’t want Chuckie to be alone and I’m going to ask you a favor when it’s done. I missed the first part of the call, but I got enough to give to the court.”
The court? Oh, shit. He begins to play a recording of a Zoom call between him, Maddie, and Joe.
“Stop this,” he says. “Stop this whole dollar check thing and I’ll tell you where I am… and get Chuckie to stop it, too.”
“You know we can’t do that, Joe,” Maddie says. “That’s court ordered. It has to be changed by the court.”
“Then go to court!” he snaps. “This is ridiculous and you know it. You all know it! You don’t need $4 a month from me! None of you do! You two have always been fine and Chuckie’s living in that big house in Seattle with his Ja-MEH-can piece of ass. This is just your way of shaking your finger at me—keeping me under your thumb like a damn kid! Send you all a damn dollar every week so that I never forget what I did. I know what the fuck I did! I was trying to protect you!
“That asshole was a trainwreck. He caused our family nothing but pain, and he may have those gullible idiots looking for a charity case fooled, but he doesn’t fool me for a second. He’s going to go right back to the shit he was doing before. They all do. Let that green-card-seeking jungle bunny go back to the Caribbean or find herself a bigger fish. He’ll be face first in a bottle before you know it!”
She already did go back to the Caribbean, Joe, and it didn’t happen.
“She’s his wife now, Joe,” Nelson says. “They had a beautiful ceremony and she’s not going anywhere.”
“Well, then, she got what she wanted, didn’t she?” Joe snarls. “I knew that’s what she wanted all along. It’s a typical story, but that’s neither here nor there. I could see him being this petty… but you two? I never would’ve expected you to stoop so low.”
“Do you hear yourself, Joe?” Nelson says. “Do you hear how selfish and narcissistic you sound right now? What you did had a profound effect on our entire family, but on me and Momma most of all. The torment that you caused us was far worse than anything Chuckie could’ve done on his worst day!
“We thought our son was dead. We didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye. We mourned that loss for more than ten years. Can you imagine thinking that one of your sons has died, Joe? How would you feel if Sunny hid the boys from you and you thought that they were dead? How would you feel if she looked you in the eye every day and never let you see your sons? Never let you know they were okay? That wasn’t protection, that was torture.”
I see the first chink in Joe’s armor as Nelson’s eyes begin to mist and Maddie wipes away a tear that has escaped. However, it’s gone in a moment, and he’s back to being the unfeeling asshole.
“I don’t understand why you can’t see that what I did, I was doing for your own good,” Joe excuses. “He was nothing but trouble, heartache, and pain, and I was trying to spare you that…”
“And in the process, you caused us even more!” Maddie declares loudly. “That wasn’t your call! No matter what you think he did to us, that wasn’t your place. We’re not helpless or infirm! We can make our own decisions! We can decide if we want to stomach the trouble, heartache, and pain as long as we had our son. He’s our son—our flesh and blood, and you took that away from us.
“You spout that you were trying to save us the despair and all this time, he’s been doing wonderful and productive things with his life—and we missed it! We missed it because you made a decision on our behalf that you had no right to make! All the evidence shows that he’s been doing very well for himself and you’re still holding stuff that he did years ago over his head!”
“Yeah, let’s talk about that!” Joe retorts angrily. “You’ve got me paying a dollar a week to each of you to punish me, to remind me of the shit that I did. What about the shit he did? When does he get punished for all the destruction he caused—repeated arrests, wrecking your cars, embarrassing us all, destroying my wife’s wedding cake, stealing money for booze… He was worse than a fucking crackhead! Yeah, he disappears for a while and then he shows up and he’s better than the second coming! When does he get to pay for the shit that he did?”
“You took care of that, too,” Nelson counters. “He was punished by thinking that his family didn’t want him for 15 years! Your punishment for him was much more thorough than $2 a week. You can’t even put a dollar amount on what you put him through… on what you put us all through. You’re lucky the judge only said a dollar!”
“You guys are so blind,” Joe says, shaking his head. “I only hope I’m around to see when your foolishness and naivete comes back to bite you in the ass.” Nelson shakes his head.
“I’m sorry that you don’t have it in your heart to forgive him for what he did to you all those years ago,” he says to Joe, “but that’s something that you have to live with. The rest of the family, it was our decision to hang on to that anger or to forgive, and you took our choice away. You cheated us out of the opportunity to share our son’s life for years. That’s what you did, Joe. You weren’t protecting us. You robbed us.”
Joe is quiet for a while, just staring at the screen.
“Fine,” Joe says. “Have it your way. I’m appealing this ridiculous judgement and I know I’ll win, because it has no legal basis. While I’m appealing it, I’m not paying you guys a dime. I’ll need that precious $104 a year for the enormous legal fees that I’ll be incurring to release me from this absurd requirement. I gave you a chance, and all you have to do is say that it’s okay for me not to pay that dollar. The court doesn’t even have to know since you all need validation so much that I was wrong. Fine, the court said that I was wrong. You win. Why do I have to pay you a dollar every week? I’m in purgatory and you know it, and that’s where you want to keep me.
“It’s fine, though. It doesn’t matter. This is what you want, this is what you’ll get. You think it was so bad being without your alcoholic son who ruined everything he touched for a few years? How about the one that stood by you—the one that protected you from his destructive behavior? Now, he returns from the dead and I’m trash? I’m nobody? Fine. You’re all hurt and destroyed from losing one son? Let’s see how you feel losing the other.” He ends the call. Nelson stops sharing his screen and looks up at me and Chuck.
“So, we have no idea where he is now,” Nelson says, “but he’s determined to put us through the same torture that he did with Chuckie.” I sigh heavily.
“I can’t make him speak to you,” I say, “but I do have the resources to make sure that you know that he’s still alive unless he leaves the country and changes his name. Even then, there are still ways to find him.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” Nelson says. “That’ll probably cost a lot of money and I’ll be happy to pay for the services…”
“Nonsense,” I retort. “I have a lot of money, and I do this on more people than I can count for safety reasons. I get a bulk rate—trust me, I won’t even see the money leave the coffers.”
“I would really appreciate that,” Nelson says. “That wasn’t why I called. I just wanted Chuckie to know what the development was and I didn’t want him to be alone when he heard it because…” Nelson trails off.
“You were afraid of a relapse,” Chuck says. Nelson twists his lips, nods, then drops his head in shame.
“I didn’t want you to think any of this was your fault,” he says when he raises his head. “You’ve been doing so well and you’re so happy…”
“Think nothing of it, Dad,” Chuck says. “When people fall off the wagon, it’s usually something big and traumatic that causes it. I understand your concern, but trust me, I’ll be fine. This is just Joe being Joe. I’m more concerned about you and Mom.”
“We’ll be fine, son,” Nelson says. “Joe has been very standoffish ever since you found us, and basically nonexistent since the court order. Like you, our biggest concern is if he’s dead or alive. Unlike you for 15 years, we’ll have that information on him, so we‘ll be fine.
“Is it bad to say that I’m willing to release him from paying that dollar?” Nelson says. “It’s not because I want to go easy on him. He deserves to be reminded of what he did to our family, but it’s a weekly reminder to us, too… a reminder that we don’t need.” Chuck nods.
“I know,” he says to his father. “I felt vindicated after the first few checks. After that, I had them forwarded to a lockbox service that deposits them into my account. I have a monthly donation that goes to Step-by-Step Recovery House, and I just include the checks as part of the donation. I don’t even see them—that’s why I didn’t know they weren’t coming. I’m not going to court, Dad, and I don’t really care if he sends them or not anymore. You can tell him that if you want. I don’t want you guys to lose another son… even though I came back.”
“I feel the same way, Chuckie,” Nelson says, “but I’m not going to tell him that. He’d count it as a victory, one that he doesn’t deserve. Besides, I think Momma is still feeling the vindication. So, if he wants to waste money on appealing it, that’s up to him. He could do something similar to what you’re doing and have a check sent to us every week with automatic bill pay without even having to look at it, but it’s the principle, and he knows it’s the principle. That’s why he doesn’t want to do it. He held us hostage—all of us—for 15 years, and he wants to continue to do it. He’s writing checks for what he did to us, and that’s burning him up.
“He’s already gotten away with it. He’s only paying us a dollar a week for the excruciating pain that he put us through, and he’s too selfish and pig-headed to pay the damn dollar! It’s going to cost him thousands of dollars to appeal this judgement, and he’s going to pay it rather than face up to what he did to us. You want to know what’s so bad about it? We would be willing to let him off the hook if we could just get a sincere apology for what he put us through, but he’s so busy justifying his cruel actions that I’m positive that’ll never happen.
“You know what, Dad?” Chuck says. “I would, too, but Joe would rather chew and swallow glass than to apologize to me.”
“Then he hasn’t learned anything,” I say. “I’ll keep you all abreast of his whereabouts and that he’s alive and safe, but nothing’s going to change his screwed-up circular reasoning. As far as he’s concerned, he was completely justified in the pain that he put the entire family through as payback for what Chuck put him through, because nobody else cares. Everybody else is just happy that Chuck is alive and okay, and he could’ve made amends to all of you years ago had he not been headed off by Joe.
“And Joe’s right about one thing,” I continue. “He’ll probably win his appeal unless he gets another morally-driven judge to uphold the settlement. What he’s not thinking about, though, is that the money that you spent looking for Chuck and the money that Chuck spent looking for you is part of that judgment. He still has to pay that even if he’s released from the punitive damages. If he paid that $104 for 20 years, would that pay for all of your expenses? I would say not. So, he’s still not going to escape the judgment. He’s just going to be paying more money for someone else to tell him that he was wrong.”
A/N: The Christmas album as it develops can be found at More Grey Matters (Season Six)–Christmas with the Greys
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I look over at my wife and her expression is unreadable. I can’t tell what she’s thinking at all, and right now, I don’t even want to. I turn away from her.
When her clit gets to my tongue, she jumps at first. I know that she’s sensitive. I lick her deeply, her whole pussy from the top all the way to the perinium. She jumps a few more times, but when she finally settles in, so do I, deeply sucking and licking the juicy hot meat. She’s trying to find her perch and for a moment, I think she forgot about her other command… until I feel her fingers wrap around my throat.
Let’s start with our bedroom—small, but it’s the room with the huge platform bed that dominates the space… peculiar choice of words. There’s a stylish area rug, a marble fireplace, and classic Italian accessories and furnishings. My husband has already proven that even though the space is small, it will definitely serve our purposes.
On this end of the house, I see one of the sets of stairways, and on the other side of them is a huge laundry room, a mud room, and another flight of stairs that leads down into the garage where the Audis are parked. Going towards the other end of the house, I see the impressive grand foyer that leads to the front door… the huge, distressed wood double doors with the iron hinges that Aaron showed me in the video that he sent me. There’s also another flight of stairs—this one with a wrought iron railing—and on the other side across from the foyer is a huge room that looks like a ballroom—two stories and gorgeous.
“Wow,” I say aloud, walking into the room and absorbing its size and splendor. I don’t know what Grace’s plans are, but Val and Elliot could have the wedding in this room if they want. It’s stunning!
The street is lined with a plethora of trees—some tall and narrow reaching for the sky while others are wide and bushy like the trees in the States. There are a few trees with deep purple leaves, I have no idea what they are, but I’m more fascinated with these short, stumpy trees with really wide trunks. They’re tall enough compared to a person, but they’re not as tall as the other trees. I’m not a tree specialist, but I’ve never seen a tree like this before in my life… anywhere. 
JFK would be murdered in Dallas only six months after his visit to Bellagio. He was one of the most charismatic statesmen of his time—a quality that made him popular, but apparently also controversial among other attributes. It’s one of the things that has me concerned for President Obama. There’s a quote on his monument that’s pretty profound, if not a bit naïve:
Butterfly never tires of gardens almost as much as she never tires of water. This garden has some of both and not just the fact that it borders the stunning Lago di Como. In addition to the azaleas, water lilies, and about 50 different species of trees, the garden has a serene Japanese pond. My girl and I spent several minutes there taking pictures and pondering life.
We turn and walk in the other direction of the Bellagio Skanks, down the narrow main road lined with shops boasting silk scarves, hand-carved wine openers and, of course, jewelry. A small nautical shop catches my eye, with model boats, compasses, and other boating paraphernalia. I admire the wares but don’t want to buy anything as there’s absolutely nowhere I can think to display a model water taxi—which is exactly what those boats are. My wife, however, convinces me that one of the classic boat compasses would look nice on the desk in my home office.
Yep, it’s another damn mansion. In fact, it looks like a hotel.
Butterfly Saga 