Bound and Freed Boxed Set (14 page)

After Kelly left so abruptly, John ate the French toast
he had made for breakfast, and then had a long shower. Dressing in distressed
jeans and a grey, heavyweight long sleeved cotton shirt, he picked up his phone,
surprised to see that an unlisted number had left a message for him sometime
last night. That was odd. No one ever left him messages. In fact, no one ever
even called him. John didn't like talking, much less talking on the phone. Only
three people had his number.

Hitting playback he heard an angry, older female voice
say: "Mr. Taylor. It's Professor
Lopez. I am calling
to re-iterate that, as discussed over a month ago, I am no longer your
counselor. I'm sorry but you simply must find someone else."

John frowned, puzzled. Maria Lopez had been his counselor
for four years. The older woman, who faintly reminded him of his aunt Brenda,
was one of only two people he had trusted with his family secrets. Just
yesterday he had phoned her and confirmed his appointment with her for Tuesday.
Why would she call him and leave such a peculiar message? He located the
professor's number in his cell, and rang it. There was no answer, so he left a
recorded message: "Maria, its John. I have my phone with me today and would
appreciate hearing from you. Thank you."

John then
sent a text to his friend
and mentor, André Chevalier: "When r u available 4 me 2 call u?"

After that he went on line, searching for a reputable
jeweler. John made some phone calls while drawing a sketch using a pencil. When
he found what he was looking for he hung up the phone and faxed the sketch.
John hadn't heard back from André, so he put on his swat boots and a jean
jacket, and left the house to visit the Basement – taking Kelly's personal file
with him. After a hugely physical evening and early morning with no sleep, he
was still completely buzzed and wide awake.

John parked where he had parked his car the night before,
and his heart gave a tug at the poignant memory of being right here with Kelly,
just last night. John had been parking here every time he came now, as this
spot was directly under the security cameras. Twice in the last two months his
car had been vandalized. Once he could understand, twice made it personal. But
who would want some sort of payback on him? And for what?

John had reported both incidents to the police, going
through the effort to detail and make photos of each event. Not just for
insurance reasons. John's garbage bin when left out had been strewn over the
lawn last week, another detail he had carefully recorded. Not that he had that
much garbage. Yet these unprovoked attacks made him paranoid with good reason.

Putting in the security code to the door, he took the
stairs down to the Basement. He unlocked and entered the male changing area,
turning on all the lights with the master switch. He unlocked his personal
locker, opened it and took out his bullwhip and two thick plastic rolls – these
were his human targets. Leaving the male target behind, he took the female
outline with him.

John's manager, Colin, wouldn’t be in until after twelve,
but John went into his office and left Kelly Flynn's file on the manager's
desk. Sunday was a pretty busy night, and they had a Masquerade party planned.
John generally left those details to Colin.

The area he intended to practice in was well lit. John
set up his plastic target against the clay covered seven foot plywood backdrop
he had specially made for this purpose. After each session he would smooth the
clay out, and then when he next practiced he could see how accurate his hits
were.

To successfully use the bullwhip took time and the
extensive ongoing disciple of practice, practice, practice. This was neither a
challenge nor a hardship to John, as he enjoyed the sound of the whip, and using
it. It allowed him to fully center himself and be in the moment. Nothing
focused attention like cracking a bullwhip precisely on target.

With his phone placed on a table nearby, he heard when
the text came in. John walked over and saw that it was from André.
"Available noon today."

Good,
John thought.
I need to
tell him about Kelly.

Without warning John got an image of Kelly having an
orgasm with his tongue deep in her most feminine hole, and it was so visceral
that he could almost feel the soft texture of her skin and smell her unique
essence. By his command, his poor eager sub had been trying desperately not to
make a sound or move as she climaxed. Afterwards John had said to her,
"Thank you, Kelly. You did that to please me, didn’t you?" and she
had replied, "Yes, John. I want to please you more than anything."

John shut his eyes, absorbing the sensations that this
memory provided. It was such a heady sense of belonging, fulfillment, and love.

Kelly is mine,
he
thought, twisting his bullwhip between his hands with sudden savage intensity.
I
would marry her tomorrow if she would let me.
No matter what the
barriers, and there are so many. Too many. Kelly Flynn. She was kind to me even
as a child. My first friend. My first girlfriend… almost anyway. My first real
sex. My first love. And the last. For me, there will never be another.

For now and for always, John knew he would love Kelly
Flynn.

Swallowing his violent
emotions, John effortlessly blocked them off as he had done all his life. Then
he put on some safety goggles and gently swung his bullwhip over his head,
making sure that he had adequate space and wouldn't hit anything while
practicing. He placed his thumb in line with the handle, and then brought the
whip forward in a relaxed, fluid motion and flicked his wrist back, aiming for
the floor.

Crack!

Yes,
John thought,
instantly feeling less off balance.
I love that sound.

Once the whip was fully extended, he retrieved it by cocking his
arm back and to the side, away from his body and head. He repeated this action
a few times.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

John then began forward hits to the target. Practicing with both
his dominant and non-dominant hands, John worked for about an hour until Colin
came in about a half an hour before noon. By then, partially because of his
heavy protective clothing, and largely because of his vigorous physical
efforts, John had worked up quite a sweat. John took off his goggles.

"Hey, John," Colin Wilkins said, "Always glad to
see you here honing your skills."

About forty-five years old, Colin was a stocky man, just under six
feet tall, with brown hair and a thick dark, well trimmed beard. The man had
done most everything at one time or another, including working as a lumberjack
in Canada, security; including armored car bank transport, and numerous
laboring jobs.

Colin could strip a motorbike bike down and put it back together
in half a day. He sported some tasteful tattoos on his muscular biceps, and was
a consistent, experienced Dom. It was his Dom skills that had initially
attracted John to him. The man didn’t have a higher education but what he
lacked there he made up in enthusiasm and his natural people skills and
security expertise.

Rolling up his whip, John decided he had had enough. He and Colin
both wandered over to have a look at the target area. Colin snorted, after
seeing the clay indentations underneath the outline of female breasts and vulva
area.

"Ouch," Colin said.

John checked the indentations, pleased by how shallow they were.
Not one of his hits would have been more than a brief kiss of the whip, which
is what he had been aiming for.

"True," John said. "But at this level it would only
leave a welt. It's the psychological effect from the sound of the whip as much
as ever increasing amount of pain that sends my subs off into sub space."
He gave Colin a hard look. "Trust me," John said and held up his
bullwhip. "A cane hurts way more than this does."

Colin raised his dark bushy eyebrows. "You sound like you
know from personal experience."

John lifted one shoulder in an ambiguous shrug. As was customary
from a lifetime of habit, he gave nothing away. "Let's go to your
office," John said. "I want to talk to you about something."

As they both walked toward the office area, John reflected. The
truth was he had years of personal experience of being caned by his sadistic,
sociopathic father. John still had the scars. All his life he had never
attended sports at school or swimming, or anything that would expose his
father's shame, or his own. John had never even worn a pair of shorts. The
doctor's note explaining John's "unusual and possibly contagious
rash" sent to the principle of every school he had attended ensured that all
skeletons were safely kept locked away in the family closet.

John's jaw tensed. A bullwhip had nothing on a cane for pain. Not
the way John used his bullwhip, in any case. And as for sub space? Well, John
had plenty of personal experience with that too. At one point as a child he had
felt the powerful craving for the dread, nervous excitement, and euphoric high
that could be created from constant physical torment.

Pain was the ultimate high. That was why he didn't often use the
same sub twice, or if he did there were months between scenes. Severe pain
addiction John understood intimately, and he never intended to find himself as
the cause of it in someone else.

The
words of his mentor, André Chevalier echoed in his head. "Pain must only
be used as a means to ultimately add to your sub's sensation of pleasure,
mon
ami
. To do otherwise is
un péché
noir
-
a black sin. It will tarnish your
soul."

Tarnish
his soul? John gave an internal snort, well aware that he couldn’t afford to
blacken his soul any more than he had already, sick perverse fuck that he was.

Like a military officer following orders
during wartime, John always heeded André’s advice to the letter. Thus when John
dominated a scene his focus was always on using pain to increase sexual
stimulation, with attention at all times directed toward orgasm. Still, n
othing
gave John more pleasure than hurting a sub and making him or her cry from
administering pain. He had always sought that - a submissive that was willing
to accept his torment in their desire to please him. Such tears were a profound
gift. There was nothing more beautiful.

Except for Kelly,
he
thought.
I spent the entire night having sex with Kelly, and never even
thought of hurting her, much less felt my customary desire to do so. I still
don’t want to hurt her. What I want to do is fuck her. That is the biggest change
of all. Could loving Kelly have transformed me?

If so, he was on board with it. Kelly was good-hearted. She was
the best person he knew – and all that purity came naturally to her. Even as a
child. That was what had drawn him to her in the first place. Kelly was like
the sun, bright with joy, and love and happiness. How did she do it?

John was Kelly's opposite. For years he had been buried in
darkness and hate, that despite all his efforts, he simply couldn't exorcize.
Sighing, John knew that he was still learning to like himself.

But if someone as good as Kelly wants me,
he thought,
I can't be all bad, can I?

The 'Managers Office' was clearly labeled and pleasingly fitted
out in an office worker palette of blues and creams. Coming in directly from
the dungeon-like BDSM play areas just outside this room could be a shock, but
it helped to make the adjustment from play to work. Colin had a large wooden
desk with an 'in,' 'out' and 'pending' basket on it, two cream colored filing
cabinets, a high-back black leather executive chair, with two comfortable
visitor's chairs in front of this desk. A small sink, kitchenette area was in
one corner.

The only concession to this strictly office
atmosphere was a framed poster on one wall, of a blindfolded and cuffed, naked
female sub, lying across her master's lap, clearly enjoying a spanking.
Underneath this erotic scene was
inscribed:

'Sometimes what seems like surrender isn't surrender at
all. It's about what's going on in our hearts. About seeing clearly the way
life is and accepting it and being true to it, whatever the pain, because the
pain of not being true to it is far, far greater.'
Nicholas
Evans, The Horse Whisperer.

John
liked the quote very much and felt it was rather apropos to his own
circumstances.
Walking over to the small
fridge, he pulled out a small bottle of water, twisting the top off and
drinking every drop of it down. John's mind remained on the words from the poster:
Seeing clearly the way life is and accepting it and being
true to it.

While
John wanted Kelly Flynn, and needed her submission he knew the opposite was
true as well. In his heart he had already surrendered to Kelly completely. Yet
he wasn't free to tell her that. Not yet.

John's manager had the drip-feed coffee maker ready to go. Colin
put beans from the fridge inside, and flicked the switch to on. With the smell
of fresh coffee brewing, they sat down together and discussed the evening's
events.

"I won’t be attending tonight," John said.

"No problem." The machine was sputtering, indicating the
coffee was ready. Colin moved to pour cups for both of them, getting sugar and
half-and-half out of the fridge. Everything edible was kept in the fridge so
they didn’t inadvertently attract pests.

"Has Kelly Flynn signed up for another month
membership?" John asked.

"Not yet."

John's mug was red with green letters that said,
'Anal Sex: a
pain in the ass.'
Hiding his smile John stirred milk and sugar into his coffee.
"I want you to contact her Monday. Tell her to come in and see you Monday
or Tuesday – wherever she isn't working and is available." He took a sip,
and realizing he was still thirsty, took another.

"Okay," Colin said, surprised. Then he frowned and
narrowed his eyes, displaying a curious, calculated look.

The man was completely transparent to John, which was part of the
reason why he had hired him, that and his squeaky clean background check. In
the Middle Ages Colin would have been a knight; he just had that sort of
chivalry about him. Honest, hardworking, married, two children and faithful to
his sub – Colin was a 'what you see is what you get' kind of guy. John liked
him for that and paid him very well. If the club made money, Colin did too in
the form of generous bonuses in addition to his salary.

John smiled, fully aware of exactly what his manager was thinking.
Colin's response to John's wry smile was to give him wide eyes. Colin rarely
saw John smile.

"Colin, my friend," John said. "It is as you
suspect. I have a thing for Ms. Flynn. I want her on a permanent basis. The
woman is mine - she just hasn't realized that yet. I have a plan however, to
get what I want."

Laughing out loudly, Colin set his large dark green mug down. It
had
'Bondage: Knot for everyone'
written on the side of it in big red
letters.

Colin's good-natured grin broadened and he settled back into his
chair. "That's fucking fantastic, John," he said. "In the four
years I've known you I have never seen you want anyone, ah… you know. Like
that. Honestly you have always seemed a little lonely to me. I don’t know where
I would be without my Donna. Anyway, you’re a private person, John. No one even
knows you own the club. But for what it is worth, I'm really happy for
you."

Still smiling, John said, "Thank you, Colin. I appreciate
it." He then explained about the elevator, and the events that occurred
with Kelly because of it. Also Kelly's unfortunate discovery of her personal
file at his home.

"Wow," Colin said. "So she used her safe word,
didn’t let you explain, and now she thinks you are a stalker?"

John shrugged. "That about sums it up, but Kelly wasn't far
wrong. In fact I rather think her Spidey Senses are absolutely correct. I did
bring her file home to study. Have you ever known me to do that with anyone
else's personal details?"

Colin laughed some more and slapped the desk in his enthusiasm.

"I want you to give
Kelly a month free membership if she doesn’t plan on signing up again,"
John said. "If she does plan on staying at the Basement, let her pay her
own way, or maybe offer a discount. I don’t want to show my hand yet if I can
avoid it. Think of the best way to tell her that I own this club. Maybe leave
her file and a few others out where she can see them? I rely on you in this,
Colin. Talk it over with Donna. You know how to get the message across, but
less is more when talking about me."

John swallowed the last of
his coffee and stood up. "Oh, and get on to the manager of the building
about that elevator. Nothing will happen today as its Sunday, but if you notify
him, something will be done first thing Monday morning."

Colin stood up also and
shook John's hand. "Leave it to me," he said. "And what are you
going to do with Kelly? Wait for her to make the first move? Talk to her?
What?"

John looked at Colin well
aware that he had made no attempt to hide what was probably an evil, sadistic
little glint in his eyes. "I'm going to make that poor girl suffer,"
John said.

Colin just stared at him
with a little frown between his eyes. Clearly his Manager was uncertain of how
to take that remark.

Unfortunately,
John thought as he left the office,
in punishing her, I rather
suspect that I will be suffering, too. But it can't be helped.