Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (101 page)

My breath catches in my throat
when I enter our bedroom. Wil is a masculine beauty. He did exactly as I’d asked. Lying on our bed, the light from the open door casts shadows over his pale skin. I flick on the lamp that is on my nightstand, needing to see Wil better. Fully clothed, Wil looks unassuming- not too tall and not too short. Undressed, you can see the definition in his body. Long, lean muscles cord his arms and thighs. Deep grooves and ridges line his stomach. All I want to do is slowly explore the expanse of his flesh… and I plan on doing just that.

“Um…” Wil audibly swallows. “What’s in your hands?” his voice is thick and shaky with a mix of fear and anticipation.

“Don’t you worry your pretty shaved head,” I tease, letting my accent out to play. Wil lets out a happy little chuckle that puts a smile on my face.

Wil looks
shy and bashful lying in the lavender and black bedding on the bed we’ve shared for almost eleven years. When I got out of the hospital after almost losing Zane, Stanton had moved us to this apartment- Wil, too. We’ve been together ever since- partially together because Wil always held a part of himself back. Tonight, I’m going to expose him. Freak out or not, Wil isn’t getting away- he isn’t hiding out in the bathroom or running off to wherever the fuck he goes after he breaks down.

A silk tie isn’t the best medium to use to restrain a willing victim, but I will make do. As a firefighter, I have a lot of knowledge in tying ropes- my men tease me that I have an inner Boy Scout. My skin beads with sweat and I feel my eyes glaze over at the thought of buying a length of silk rope and using those knots to keep Wil where I want him. A fireman’s chair knot with a couple of d-rings in the ceiling could be very interesting.

“I’m using a bowline knot,” I warn Wil. “Don’t struggle too much or you’ll end up cutting off your circulation.” A bowline knot is self-tightening. The more Wil struggles, the tighter it will get. I call it motivation to stay still or you’ll be self-punished.

“Okay,” Wil says in a small voice, the kind children use when the monster is lurking in the closet. He gets very still, knowing that this is as loose as the rope will
ever get. Move and it will tighten. Move some more, and you are screwed.

I secure one of Wil’s hands with the neck tie and one with the sash from Stanton’s navy blue smoking jacket. Our headboard is mission style wooden slats made of hardwood- oak
. No matter how hard Wil pulls, he’s not getting loose unless he tears the silk in half. Silk is an interesting fabric. It’s buttery soft, but extremely strong. The tensile strength of silk versus the strength of the hardwood slats means Wil is all mine until I let him go.

“Freak out if you must, but don’t
struggle too much. You’ll hurt yourself and I’m not letting you go, even if you are freaking out,” I warn, “especially if you’re freaking out.”

Wil’s pale blue eyes look white from fright. He reminds me of a spooked horse readying to bolt. “I’m not going to hurt you in any way. I just want to explore you for once. I’ve never got to thoroughly taste you,” I purr, my voice dripping with lust.

“What about you?” Wil asks, swallowing repeatedly. “I’m not being fair- this is all for me: the control, the freak outs, and the pleasure. It’s always been about me while you get nothing in return.”

“Don’t worry, Wil,” I practically groan. “This is about trust and control- I’m all for that,” I huskily say. I laugh, and it sounds unsure- wobbly. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” I say in awe.

“I want it,” Wil moans, unable to stay still, his hips undulate on the bed. “There is no one I trust more than you or anyone I’d want to do this with.”

“You’ve never done this before?” I say in surprise. I have no real idea what Wil’s history is. “We’ve never talked about… I was always scared to ask,” I softly whisper. Right now, I want the answer more than anything. Wil is at my mercy. If he answers me, I will reward him. If he ignores me, I will punish him.

“It wasn’t what you think,” Wil quietly says, face paling and blushing from conflicting emotions. “I can’t do sexual stuff with strangers or people I don’t trust. I…” Wil closes his eyes and turns his head away from me. I straddle his chest, trying to ignore how incredible it feels to have my bare intimate flesh warmed by his chest. I grip his chin in my fingers.

“Look at me,” I order. “You wanted to do this, so we’re doing it my way.” I hold Wil’s chin, not letting him look away. I give him a moment to look at me before I
attempt to pry his eyelids open with my fingertips. He blinks at me a few times. I sigh in relief; I didn’t really want to pry him open. I want him to submit- to trust me enough to tell me the truth.

“I suffered through it for a long time,” Wil begins
, bright blue eyes staring into mine. “I’d freak out and leave you here, knowing you were safe with our family. I’d drive around for hours. It’s my fault that you don’t understand- I never told you the truth because I’m ashamed. I was strong and still couldn’t protect myself. I was supposed to be a man and I couldn’t protect myself. I wasn’t just molested as a kid- it lasted until my father’s death. They stopped when I took over as Mitchell’s enforcer and took responsibility of Greta. I hated Mitchell, but he is the one that stopped Pierre and Jon. My grandfathers looked at me like they owned me- my body was theirs to torture or reward. It ended a month before I met you. It was too raw for me to deal with. Meeting you felt strange. I wanted you and I didn’t like it.”

I try to wrap my mind around the Wil I met being forced to do anything. He was so stoic and in control- angry and fierce. He beat the shit out of me without breaking a sweat or showing a hint of emotion. A month before that he was being assaulted by two of the worst predators I’ve ever met. I just can’t see it.

“If you were hurt by a stranger, I think you would have reacted differently. Pierre never acknowledged you as his grandson, except when he was hurting you. I’m sure that had a lot to do with it. It doesn’t make you less of a man, Wil,” I sincerely say. “A man is determined on how he treats his family, proving you are a real man.”

“I’m tr
ying to understand what it means to be a real man. In theory, I get it. But it all messed me up... in my mind. I liked some of it. Now I need this,” Wil lightly tests his binds. “It was always forced. I never relented. They would make me enjoy it. It’s why the fear freezes me during sex- I was never given a choice before. It scared me and I’d run. For a long while, I thought I was gay or something- strange. I wanted you, but I couldn’t go through with it. I wanted things during sex that gay men want. But I didn’t want men, I wanted you. I’d run- I’d run to Cory because I trusted him to not humiliate me when I went postal.”

“Cory?” I say in shock, my tongue feeling numb in my mouth. My eyes widen when Wil looks at me with an open expression. “Julio,” I breathe, not a question, a statement. Wil would only seek those he trusted. “Did you…”

“I have,” Wil readily admits, face paling a deathly shade. “It didn’t work out so well. I always ended up screaming and crying and lashing out. It’s a good thing Julio is built or I’d have hurt one of them. It always happened when Cory would try to… but I’d ask him to do it.”

Silence descends on us. Wil looks disappointed, with himself or me, I don’t know. I school my breathing and try to hide my horrified expression. Wil tries to turn away from me, but my fingers on his chin won’t allow it. I let go of his chin and slide my hands along the column of his neck until my hands are supporting his head. I don’t want to make demands on Wil. My fingers on his chin felt threatening. Holding him immobile this way seems gentler.

“I’m…” I swallow and lick my lips to wet my mouth. “I’m not horrified over the thought that you were with them. They are our friends, and I understand why you’d seek them out. I’m sad that you couldn’t trust me with it before now. But I’m mostly horrified that you had to go through that alone. I wanted to be angry with you when you disappeared, but I knew it was torturous enough without me acting like a jealous woman. I just really feel for you, having to go through that. I’m sorry, Wil.”

“Don’t,” Wil barks out. “I know how hard this has been for you. I see how my sister treats Boyd and… I know what I have, and what I’m throwing away. It’s been a few months that I’ve tried to change for you- to let you in
. It’s difficult because what I’m telling you… I feel like I’m cutting off my balls and handing them to you. You need a man, Pixy, not some pansy-ass that wants a woman to control him- to do shit to his ass. It’s the only way I can have sex. I’m admitting how fucked in the head I am. I’m telling you that I can never be normal.”

“What’s normal?” I snort. “I’m sure as fuck not normal. Look at me, Wil.” I lean back on his chest, putting my hands on his thighs, so he can see all of me. I’ve defiled my body with enough ink to tattoo ten men
, in a quest to be an individual among the genetically engineered masses of my family. I’m covered from neck to wrists to ankles. There is barely any pristine flesh left on my body. I have piercings all over my face: tongue, lips, nose, eyebrows, even in my cheek and below my mouth. My nipples, belly button, and clit are pierced. I look like a carnival freak show.

“I don’t do normal,” I say in challenge
, lips twisting in a sardonic smirk.

“You really shouldn’t lean back on my chest like that,” Wil seriously says, making my eyes narrow. “You’re showing me your pussy and it’s distracting me. I know you want answers, but all I can think about is being tied to our bed with you sitting on my face- riding my face.”

All I can do is pant while Wil holds me captive in his white/blue gaze. He believes that having me tie him up and use him is control. That’s utter bullshit. Wil controls me- one look and I will do whatever he wants. This is just the perception of control- Wil is the one in power.

“I’m down for that,” I huskily say. “But answer this first, when was the last time you had sex with anyone but me?”

“Almost four years ago,” Wil readily admits. “Julio had to punch me out to get me to calm down. It was a bad six months or so, where I had no outlet. I was carrying out some orders of Gwen’s. I went to visit Roman, but I got Grant instead. It’s easy to talk to someone that can’t talk back. Who is he to judge after all the shit he’s pulled? We found out we had some things in common.”

“What?” I say in a thick voice.

“Dominance and anal play,” rapidly flows from his mouth, like if he hesitated he wouldn’t have told the truth. “I see Grant as a manly man. I know he pretends to be weak. But I know the real Grant. If he likes what I like, then maybe I’m a man, too. He explained that it makes him feel safe and cared for when he gives his submission to his lover. He’d write to me and it made sense. I’d read his books and they resonated within me. So I started visiting him more often.”

“Do you have sex with him?” I ask in a small voice. Wil shakes his head no. “Do you want to?”

“I’m…” Wil licks his lips. The flash of tongue causes me to whimper. “I’m not sure. I don’t want him. We’ve um… watched the other while he made me read his books aloud. Neither one of us had what we needed. Some stuff I liked… a lot- stuff that I can’t do to myself. I’m not even sure you can do it for me. I know he can. So the answer is yes and no. I don’t want to fuck him, but I trust him to let me if I ask. Does that make sense?”

“No,” I admit, confusion heavy in my voice. I have no idea how I feel about any of this. I’ve never been creeped out about homosexuality, but I don’t know if that is what Wil is talking about. Being gay is about wanting men. Wanting what Wil wants is about sexual preferences. Does it make him gay or just as confused as I am? I’m probably more confused than he is at this point.

“Are you mad at me,” he asks, voice so soft that I have to strain to hear him speak. Wil closes his eyes, but doesn’t try to turn his face away. “Do you think less of me?”

I answer him with a kiss. Confused or not, I can’t answer him with words or I will ruin this tenuous trust we are building. I kiss him lightly, and every time he tries to deepen the kiss, I pull bac
k. I love the sense of power that flows over me when I control how the hunger to kiss is fed.

“Sit on my face,” Wil begs. “Please.”

“I could be wrong,” I say, half laughing, ‘but you telling me what to do kinda defeats the purpose of me being in control.”

Wil’s laugh is high- almost a giggle. “You really need to read Grant’s books, Pixy. It’s called topping from the bottom
, and it should make you very pissed off. You have some studying to do if you really want to do this. Never let me get away with begging.”

“Um… oh, I won’t,” I growl. “Grant is sending me into the bowels of Hell to train in BDSM. I understand his ego-maniacal plan now. Except I’m not so sur
e about being around
Wicked with the Whip
, he scares the shit out of me. You better appreciate this,” I warn.

“Dexter?” Wil asks, blushing. “He’s not so bad from what Grant’s told me. You seemed to really like that whip.”

“Oh my God, no!” I shriek out. “That bastard told you. That is by far the most humiliating experience in my life.”

“Pixy,” Wil groans. “I know that passage of Grant’s book word-for-word. I’ve masturbated to the video of it. You were so scared that I wanted to be in your place. I wanted you in Dexter’s place. You have no idea how many times Grant and I have watched that video. I even have it saved on my cell.”