Bound and Freed Boxed Set (9 page)

"Parents
are supposed to love their children. One could imagine this fact to be a genetic
imperative.
Your parents,
je
suis
désolé
, were quite mad,
mon ami.
You
have seen how pain and pleasure can become confused, for your own body's
natural gratification was turned to pain. Yet the opposite is also true. It is
a strange paradox that if you love someone so hard that it hurts, your pain will
disappear. You must find someone to love, John. For she will take your pain
away."

--- André Chevalier, conversation with
John Taylor

~~~

Kelly Flynn had been knocked completely on her ass – both
figuratively and literally.

It had been quite a night. If someone made a list of
human emotions, from the worst feelings in the world to the highest possible
states, Kelly figured in this one evening she had experienced pretty well all
of them. Terror, panic, dread of certain death, shock, embarrassment, shyness,
anticipation, excitement, longing, joy, happiness, euphoria, and heart-stopping,
soul soaring love – Kelly had felt the full gamut.

All because she had been trapped in an elevator with an unattainable
man that she had a crush on, a man she was obsessed with. A man she had fallen
in love with. But John Taylor seemed to want her, too. Or did he? Did he feel
as close to her as she did to him? 

The building that the Basement was in was an older one,
and because they couldn’t fix the fault, the fireman came and took them both
out by prying open the lift doors. John had boosted Kelly up the six foot
height, and the firemen had pulled him up after her. Kelly and John had spent
an hour and twenty minutes inside the darkness of the elevator.

I had five orgasms during that time,
Kelly mused.
That is like, what? One climax every twenty minutes or so? And
John had three.
She realized her jaw was a little sore from going down on
him, and smiled. The man who never had sex and never kissed had done so with
her.
Lord in heaven. First I had a crush, but now I'm gone. My savior. I'm completely
in love with John Taylor.

My God the way that man kissed alone was enough to make
her love him.

When the paramedics had checked them over, and given them
water, John put his arm around Kelly, who still had his long black jacket
thrown over her. "Come with me," he said.

They took the stairs to the ground floor car park where
John had left his silver Mercedes sports car. It was new and expensive and
Kelly hadn't ever considered what kind of car he might drive. Yet this sleek
and powerful vehicle suited John Taylor. He hit the unlock button and it beeped
cheerfully. Opening the passenger door, he guided her in. Once he got into the
driver's seat he said, "I'm going to stay with you tonight, Kelly. Do you
want to sleep at my house or yours?"

Kelly gave a shaky laugh, thinking of the mess her small
apartment was in. "Yours."

"Good. I live closer, too."

Kelly thought it an odd comment, but didn't question it.
How did he know where she lived? She had a fleeting thought about her car, but
it was safe in a parking lot. John drove with the competence she had expected
from a man like him. There was a full moon out tonight, peeking in and out of
the clouds of rain. He stopped at the 7-Eleven.

"What kind of pop do you like?" he asked.

"Diet Coke," she replied.

He left the car running and told her he was getting just
a few things, then opened the door and ran through the rain and into the shop.
What exactly about him held such devastating appeal? She had a crush before but
now she was really in trouble. Man oh man what a guy. The man moved with such
confidence, Kelly imagined what his hard muscles would look like under his
clothes and her stomach fluttered, because she was going to find out real soon.

When he returned he handed her a bouquet of flowers - not
roses - pink and white daisies. Kelly laughed out loud, but inside she was
touched. "Daisies," she had told John, was her safe word. Was he
trying to reassure her that she was safe with him? It was still raining so
there were drops of water on his neck when he hopped back in. Kelly looked at
him, wanting to lick it off.

Jesus, five of the best orgasms of her life and she was
still horny. She wondered if either of them would get any sleep tonight and
decided probably not.

John also handed her a paper bag of stuff, which she
immediately looked through. Two Hershey's chocolate bars, a large cold bottle
of Diet Coke, a pink, up-market toothbrush (a thoughtful touch on her behalf)
and a large box of condoms.

Kelly felt her lips curl with an instant grin of
happiness when she saw the condoms. She gazed over at John. To her great
delight, he smiled back at her.
Ay, caramba!
  Kelly had never seen his
smile, and it was all she had hoped it would be.

"Do you think we have enough condoms?" she
asked, daring to make a little joke.

"I'm not sure. Do you have anywhere to go
tomorrow?"

"No."

"Good," he said in a neutral tone. "We can
spend the day together. And in that case, we may need to go out for more."

She snickered, because it was funny. But she also wasn't
sure if he was in fact making a joke. John always appeared so solemn. Kelly
wondered what she was doing going home with him, but only a moment. The man had
saved her life. Seriously. She could have died in that little elevator. Not only
that but he had probably exorcised that phobia of small dark spaces forever.
Now when she thought of tiny, black, airless rooms she would think of
him
and
not be frightened at all.

Kelly smiled. From this day forward, each time she
entered the elevator to the Basement, she suspected that she would become
instantly wet.

John lived in Aloha about fifteen minutes away from the
Basement. It was kind of a rundown old suburb with older homes and even older people.
His
house had a detached garage that they drove
up to by way of a driveway alongside the house.
He entered
his block, and hit the automatic door.
An upward-acting garage door raised but this was the only evidence
of modernity that Kelly could see. Long boards were through the rafters of the
garage, and she could see odd assorted, stored stuff up there, like a rusty red
children's bike, and garden stuff like hoes and rakes. The garage was pretty
basic, with no heat, no obvious insulation, and one bare bulb for electricity.

When Kelly stood at the doorway she noticed
two strips of concrete spaced for car wheels, with grass and gravel alongside and
between. It seemed so odd to have this modern, expensive car, housed in such a
lowly garage. It was like having a champion thoroughbred racehorse put in a
back yard garden with a handmade wooden lean-to for shelter.

They both made a run for it in the rain, in
through a side entry and into his home. John touched a keypad, turning off an
alarm as they entered.

John lived in a bungalow, a house built probably back in
the 1940's. It was small but quaint
with a
front porch and transverse roof slope to the street-front and a dormer window
in the roof. Older area. Older home. Kelly was even more surprised when she
walked inside.

This house belongs to an old lady, not a
strong, masterful Dom like John Taylor
, she thought.

It was a small house with probably two or
three bedrooms and a modern-feeling low ceiling. They had entered directly into
the kitchen, family area. The ugly tan armchairs were from the 1970's, and the
kitchen hadn't been renovated either, or rather it had been, but the
countertops were still that weird orange that was all the rage years ago. A
really old overstuffed chair sat in front of the antique TV, covered by a
blanket made with colorful crochet squares. Definitely old lady.

When she looked up at him with a question in
her eyes John shrugged and said, "This was my Aunt Brenda's house."

Kelly wanted to ask how long had he lived
here? And why hadn't he renovated? Yet some renovation had been done as the
room was warm and comfortable, centrally heated. Irrepressibly curious about
John, Kelly had a million questions but bit her tongue. He was notorious for being
a man of few words. In Kelly's case, it was hard to keep her mouth shut. Still
a little shy of John and his overwhelming presence, she managed to keep quiet,
having decided that if John wanted to talk, he would. So she sat on a wooden
stool at the kitchen counter and simply watched him.

John made them both hot chocolate in mugs,
tossed a couple marshmallows in each, and heated them in the microwave. Then he
got out homemade spinach and ricotta cannelloni and a fresh salad from the
fridge. Kelly could see it was home made. Did John cook it? Did he, like her,
enjoy cooking? But again she didn’t ask.

When the microwave finished, John handed her
a cup. "Careful," he cautioned. "It may be too hot." Kelly
blew on the dark liquid, and smiled when she took her first sip. Marshmallows.
What man would think of that wonderful little touch? Seriously? Meanwhile John
got out a red wine, Bordeaux, corked it and brought it and two glasses over to
the kitchen table. Kelly was willing to bet money that Bordeaux was the exact
wine that one was supposed to drink with cannelloni.

John put the cannelloni in the microwave on
re-heat. Then he got a clear crystal vase out of a cupboard, and a box of
aspirin. He crushed an aspirin between two spoons and put it in the vase,
stirred and added water. Kelly had left her daisies on the counter and he put
them in the vase. She figured aspirin must add to the life of the flowers, and
she thought it was such a weird thing for someone her age to know or even to
care about. The silence was no longer an issue, mainly because John was such a
pleasure to watch, as he confidently and purposefully moved around the small
kitchen.

The microwave finished with a ding. Putting
both cannelloni and salad on separate plates, with a hand at her lower back,
John escorted her to the 1960's wooden kitchen table set.
He
courteously pulled out a chair, and sat her down.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, setting a plate of
food in front of her.

"Now you ask?" she said looking up at him.

John gave her that smile again, and Kelly just wanted to
melt. He was sooooo freaking beautiful with those dark expressive eyes. John
had a s
trong jaw, thick dark hair and a symmetrical
face with strangely soft, almost feminine features. No wonder everyone wondered
if he was gay. John's usually smooth shaven face showed the shadow of a growth
from the stubble of a beard. Kelly found herself caught, staring once more
because he simply took her breath away.

"I want you to eat," he said. Then he
added in a low, suggestive voice.
"I think we
are both going to need our energy, Kelly."

Kelly felt her cheeks heat and bit a lower
lip while her mind whirled. What was it about John Taylor?

Never had she felt such sexual chemistry with
another person. It was completely overwhelming. Kelly wanted to shout with joy,
or dance naked in the moonlight - even in this rain. She needed him to screw
her silly, to be inside her, to spill his cum all over her body. Kelly wanted
to listen to him climax with the amazing noises he made. To hear his courteous
"Thank you, Kelly," after he shot his load and she had swallowed
every drop. She wanted to feel all those wonderful sensations she felt when
John showered her with his grateful sensual kisses.

Man I have lost every brain cell I ever had,
Kelly thought, and she knew her heated cheeks were as red as a
strawberries. Kelly cleared her throat, got hold of her emotions and nodded.
Then she picked up a fork.

John raised her chin, to look at her. "I
love this blush. It's such a wonderful display, to let a Dom know something is
going on. But I don’t understand it. Are you embarrassed after all we've done
together?"

Her gaze never left his and Kelly shook her
head. "You said we need energy," she said. "And I know why we
need it. Then I imagined you and me in your bed, and the idea of more sex
sounded so great I just blushed because I was seriously turned on. This is my
'I'm turned on' blush," she said with an irrepressible giggle. "It's
probably not much different from my 'I'm embarrassed' blush. I go red a lot,
John, so I hope you can get used to that. But right now I want to have sex with
you. And I want it with the lights on, because I want to see you this time. I'm
looking forward to lots and lots of hot, back scratching, toe curling,
mind-blowing sex."

John's lips firmed into that implacable look
she knew. "Me too,” he said. “Thank you for telling me. I want us to
always be honest with each other, as much as we can be. I feel so honored by
your trust Kelly."

Kelly had so many things she wanted to talk
to John about, but he was so reserved and she didn’t want to break the mood
with her famous idle chatter. Kelly didn't want to risk it just at the moment.
Because if she talked too much maybe he would just get sick of her and take her
home.

They both ate silently, without attention on
their food. If she slowed, John gave her narrowed eyes and a, 'If I can eat
when all I can think of is sex, so can you' look. John poured them each some
wine, and they both sat across from each other, just staring. Kelly thought it
was the single most erotic meal she had ever had. Watching John put each
forkful of food in his mouth, and knowing where that mouth had been, and where
it might yet go later on tonight.

John stood up suddenly, picking up the box of
condoms. "Had enough?"

"Of food, yes," she said, making it
clear that she was still hungry in other ways. She reached for her plate.

"Leave it," he said. With a firm
hand on her back, John escorted her into his bedroom, and flicked on the light.

"Oh," Kelly said and stood back in
shock. Now this was more like it. Kelly had imagined
something
minimalistic and super well ordered, judging by what she knew of John, but that
wasn't the case. This room was warm and inviting.

John's bedroom was huge, big enough to be a
bedroom and large living or study area. John must have renovated this section
completely, taking over the living room, but that wasn't the most interesting
thing about his bedroom. It looked like something out of Merlin's Cave. A large
chandelier brightened the entire room that had dark wooden floors, and an
interesting red, green and yellow oriental carpet. Olive green velvet curtains
covered the windows, sheltering them from prying eyes.

The room was filled with elaborate patterns and natural
textures. It had an air of sophistication, yet the materials seemed simple and
often antique or made by hand.
There was a large fireplace,
with a stone hearth.
The bed was king size of
dark barley twisted oak, with a matching dressing table. There were two oak
desks in the room, and rows of book shelves with hundreds, if not thousands of
books.

A Kindle rested on a bedside table with three other
books. A plastic full size skeleton hung in the corner, at least she hoped it
was plastic, and there was a world globe and a set up with four computer
screens – so the man was certainly computer literate. The walls were filled
with everything from Indian tie dyed wall hangings to a quite stunning Greek
Orthodox religious Icon of the Virgin Mary with a child.

John had placed the box of condoms on the
bedside table and since then had been studying her intently, no doubt gauging
her reactions. Kelly turned to him and said in a gush of enthusiasm, "Oh,
John, this room is gorgeous!"

John's smile lit his eyes.

"Did you decorate it?" she asked,
moving to brush her hand over the handmade broken star quilt, made in the
masculine ocher, olive greens and dark yellows of the room. She wondered if
some Amish lady somewhere had quilted it. John Taylor was such a unique and
enigmatic man. What strange circumstances had made him the way he was? And what
man of his age would consider making such a comfortable, unique space for
himself?

"Yes," he said. "I spend a lot
of time here."

Kelly had been surreptitiously looking for
any BDSM signs, floggers, paddles, even ring bolts or cuffs – but there was
nothing. So what did he do with his sexual partners?

"You are the only person I have ever
brought to my home, Kelly," he said.

Jesus,
she thought.
How had he known what I was thinking?
Kelly
knew then that her friend Rosslyn had been right. Father John could read minds.
For one weird moment, she felt violently jealous of Rosslyn, for the time she
had spent with him, for the connection they had forged. It was an odd emotion
for her, because she wasn't the jealous type, but John was different. Kelly had
never had such an incredible attraction to anyone, like she had with this sexy
Dom. And was she really the first woman he had ever brought home?

"Am I really the first?" she said,
echoing her thought out loud.

John brushed her cheek with the back of his
knuckles. "The one and only," he replied with a smile that would make
angels weep. John was achingly beautiful but all Kelly could think was, why
her? Why would this man, who could have had anyone, want her?

John strode purposefully to the bed head.
Then he pulled back the quilt, blanket, and top sheet, dropping them off the
end of bed. "Have you seen enough?"

"Yes," she said and her mouth went
dry.

"Good," he said quietly, but his
voice had the tone of command. "Then take off all your clothes please,
Kelly."

Kelly felt like all the air had left her
lungs suddenly and she couldn't speak. She stared at him, mesmerized. Then she
simply nodded and started to unlace her corset.