“Ah, lass, how are you? No kilt today, I’m
afraid—it’s been a bit of a rough time for my boy here and I. Let
me tell you… ” She took his arm and walked between them as Sullivan
began describing, in graphic and often grotesque terms, the events
of the past two days. Brian tried not to be too obvious as he
looked for what it was that would make her so instrumental. The
three of them walked through the park near Ada’s house, a suburban
monument to prefab child’s play structures and cement
companies.
Certainly there was beauty. She had shoulder-length
auburn hair and was wearing what Brian would have called “upscale
club” clothes—skin-tight pants with a dark shiny purple texture
somewhere between scales and fishnet covering the curves, a low-cut
tight cotton blouse printed with diagonal stripes that led the eyes
inexorably to the center of her chest, where her breasts were
tightly pushed up and out by the maroon bra that peeked around the
edges of her decolletage. He managed to avoid the “eye trap” as he
thought of it, and focused on her face as she giggled and listened
to Sullivan’s wry commentary. Her sharp features at first seemed
startling in their precise beauty, with her lips slightly darkened
in a way that drew the gaze and emphasized every word and
smile.
Sullivan finally finished his tale, and the three of them stopped
near a blocky monument topped with a bronze general. She turned to
look at Brian, “Sounds like you’ve had quite a time of it. And you
think I can help?”
Brian smiled and was about to make a witty reply
when he finally was able to look directly into her eyes. They were
a silvery gray, and the sunset coming through the park brought them
into bright contrast with the warm glow of her skin. He looked into
them, and there was a snap of sensation, of his self falling,
sinking into them. After a moment, he realized that he ought to
feel awkward about the silence as it stretched between them. He
would have, except that she, too, seemed silent and lost in the
overwhelming suddenness of the connection.
Sullivan watched the two of them sharing the
moment, and then broke it, not unkindly. “That would be a ‘yes’, I
do believe.” He chuckled as the two of them looked at him with the
embarrassed glances of people who had forgotten that he—or anyone
else—was there. “I would call that an auspicious beginning. So
here’s the thing: I would love to give you both the time for a
courtship, for a gentle getting-to-know you, but things are moving
more quickly than that.” He looked seriously for a moment at Brian.
“Sally knows everything that you know, now, but while we know she’s
a Focus, she’s not yet actually channeled the kind of energy that
you have to deal with.” He sighed. “And by the nature of her
fetish—and yours—I can’t exactly tell you to be gentle.” Sally
blushed and looked down for a moment, a slight smile curving her
lips. “But be careful, both of you. You’re going to have to play
near the edge to get where you need to go. I’ll be… listening, you
might say, but really, either this will work or it won’t—I don’t
think I can haul your ass out of the fire too many more times,
bucko.” He gave Sally a friendly leer. “Your ass, however, I will
gratefully haul anywhere you’d like, at another time. Ah, if only
you were more into ink and less into cumsluttery...”
She returned the leer in a mischievous crinkling of
her eyes and Brian suddenly saw, for a moment, a glimpse of what
was behind the smooth professionalism. His stomach felt suddenly
hollow. “Is that the word for it now? Ah, Sullivan flattery will
get you this—“ she suddenly pressed her body full length against
him, twining her arms up around his neck and kissing him
ferociously. His hands came around and naturally gripped the curves
of her ass, the shiny pleather dimpling under his fingers. They
disengaged, and Sullivan gave Brian a final wink before turning and
jauntily strolling back along the path.
“Not to be nosy, but… cumsluttery?” Brian said as
they watched him go, trying to make his voice nonchalant.
Sally laughed. “Well, that’s one word for it.
Really, it’s just that I really, really like cock. And cum.” Her
voice went into a throaty parody of a cartoon. “Mmm… sticky!” She
watched Brian intently as she spoke, and he realized that she was
testing him, trying to gauge his level of shock. An aggressive
competitiveness rose in him, and he suddenly resolved not to give
an inch.
“Ah, that makes sense. Attached or
detached?” He watched her eyes widen with glee, and was right with
her as they both chanted “Dee-tachable Pee-nis!” The shared
laughter seemed to set the mood, and she took his arm. Brian was
sure she deliberately pressed the swell of her breast into his arm,
and just as deliberately he ignored it as they walked. He lapsed
into a Freudian accent. “ZSO!. Vhen did this particular affinity
for zee male organ first manifest,
liebchen
?”
She giggled again, then looked thoughtful. “Well,
you know, it actually wasn’t always like this. In fact, I think it
started back when my boyfriend pointed out that I really didn’t
like going down on him. I’d do it for him, sure, but it was not
something that I enjoyed. As a result, I… wasn’t very good at it.”
Her look of demure embarrassment was so at odds with the subject
matter that Brian couldn’t help but laugh, and he realized that he
was becoming captivated by the layers of this woman.
They strolled down the paths of
the park, chatting like old friends as she told him the story of
how she’d learned to stop worrying about fellatio and learned to
love the cock. He entertained her with what he could remember of a
Hoot Island website column about reasons the man loved his cock.
(“
Use it as a catapult for M&M’s and
see how many you can flip into your mouth!
” was a particular favorite). They discussed their particular
kinks, his voice intense and excited as he spoke of the ropes he
used, the ties, the imposing of sensation on the mind of his
partner. She blushed pink as she confessed that spanking was the
one act that turned her on more than any other, and told him of her
desire to submit combined with a need to rebel. It was an easy,
friendly conversation, and the open and frank nature of their
exchange was refreshing to both of them. The attraction they’d felt
for each other was a constant undercurrent, but there seemed to be
none of the awkward embarrassed silences or even blushing
admissions. The conversation might go from current political races
to species of flowers to unusually shaped anal plugs, and it all
seemed perfectly rational.
I think this is
what sexual maturity feels like,
Brian
found himself thinking at one point, and he said as much
aloud.
She looked up at him for a moment, and then put her
head down. For the first time he heard her silence as an
indictment, and he worried that he might have said something wrong.
“I’m sorry… was that not the right thing to say?”
“No, no, it’s fine. Really. It’s just… ” She looked
off in the distance, and sighed. “You don’t know how hard this is,
really. Dealing with this part of myself, which I really don’t know
much about, except that it’s there, and that when I acknowledge it,
it makes it all feel so… right. Whole.”
“My first real boyfriend and I went through
hell—no, let me rephrase that, we put each other through
hell—simply because we were unable to talk like this, to be frank
and open about what we each wanted. What we needed. I mean,” she
gave a rueful laugh, “it was really bad. And I’ve had relationships
since then, where I’ve forced them and myself to be open and
honest… and it was always such work, and usually drove them away
before long.”
“Now I meet you… and you’re great,
really, you are—“ Brian filled outt he next word for her:
but…
”and all I can
think of is, what if it doesn’t work this time, either?” She
laughed at his sudden worried look. “No, no, I know what you’re
thinking. I know you’re married, with, what is it, two daughters?”
Brian nodded, relieved that Sullivan had included that in his
introduction. “Believe me, with my life, marriage is the furthest
thing from my mind. But Sullivan and Ada think that you and I might
be able to help each other, not only now but as some sort of…
partnership? Is that right? I’m still not clear on how that
works.”
Brian smiled wryly. “The more I get to know these
people, the more I think they’re not especially sure, either. I
know what my problem is; I met up with someone who marked me in a
way that means that every time I get hot I turn into a target for
those Repressor types. And you...well, they told me you were a
Focus, and could give the power from my ropework a place to go, a
way to let it go without setting off a neon ‘come and shoot drugs
into me’ sign over my head.” He looked at her seriously for a
moment. “I definitely feel the… draw of you. I won’t pretend that I
don’t know that it’s us, too, not just me. And I don’t know exactly
how, or what is supposed to exactly happen between us. Or what
you’ll get out of it. But yes, I have two daughters who right now
are probably in danger from the same assholes who tortured me, and
I would be very grateful if you could… what?” She was staring at
him with such a mixed expression he couldn’t tell if she was
laughing at him or simply was about to sneeze.
“What
I’m
going to get out of it? Brian,
do you realize what I am?” He shook his head. “I guess I didn’t
make it clear. I am a submissive. Yes, I love sex, and cock, and
all that stuff, but that’s like… fluff.” She took a deep breath.
“My ability is to control people’s gaze, get their attention, make
them listen to me. It’s what I do for a living. ‘Doin’ a-what comes
naturally.’”
“But that’s why, in order to get
the kind of release that works with this Power—in order to add my
own Power to it—it needs to be with someone who is
not
controlled. Not
oblivious to me—they wouldn’t want to do anything with me in the
first place. No, it has to be someone who feels the pull, feels my
power, gets me—but is in control of its effect, rather than being
controlled by it.” She smiled at him. “Someone, to use a simple
example, who is certainly aware of my bodacious ta-tas but whom
I’ve never once caught sneaking a peek.”
Brian grinned into her eyes. “Well, to be honest,
your eyes are at least as beguiling. So it’s not so much being
immune to them as choosing my poison.” She dimpled at that. “So let
me get this straight: I’m supposed to dom you? And that’s going to
help my daughters?” He frowned. “You know, I’m not really
comfortable about the idea of using sexual energy like this where
it involves them. Maybe it’s because I’m a teacher, or because I
raised them mostly alone, but I’ve never been into the whole
‘daddy’ kind of kink. .”
She scornfully sniffed and lightly slapped his arm.
“Oh, give me a break! How exactly were they created in the first
place, Mr. Puritan?”
He blinked in surprise. “I… never thought of it
that way. Good point.” He rubbed his arm where she slapped him.
“So, I’m going to dom you, and that’s going to let us set the Wards
on them?”
She nodded, and smiled again, a devilish look in
her eyes. “You’re going to try, anyway, sugar. Much as I would love
to just say ‘I give in’ and spread my legs for your tall sexy self,
from what Sullivan tells me, that won’t work. That’s about as
sensual as the plastic and fur handcuffs they sell in the back of
Playboy. I have to really resist you, and you have to really
conquer me. And that’s something no one else has managed to do,
though they have spanked me until I was bruised for weeks.” She
added, more softly, with a concerned look. “You do know, don’t you,
that I would make it easier on you if I could? I wouldn’t fight you
if I could help your daughters any other way. You have to know
that… because it’s a part of this, a part of me that I hate right
now.”
He shook his head, and lifted his hand to caress
the side of her face—the first time since shaking hands that he’d
actually touched her skin. His palm rested on her cheek, and she
leaned slightly into it, her eyes never leaving his as he spoke.
“No. I understand. Nothing good comes for free. As for it being
difficult to overcome your defenses… well, as someone once said
about surviving the fire swamp, ‘You’re only saying that because no
one ever has.’”
“Hey, no fair!” she protested. “I’m the only one
allowed to quote from my favorite movie! And besides—“ her voice
cut off in a gasp as Brian’s palm rotated slightly so that his
fingers curved behind her neck just at the base of her skull, his
thumb sliding under her jaw. He had suddenly tightened his grip,
just slightly, lifting with his hand so that she was pulled onto
the balls of her feet, her head tilting back. Their eye contact
never broke, and there was the thickening of the air between them
as Brian stopped trying to hold back.
“
We have work to do. Is your car
here?” He held her eyes as she gave a slight nod, her breathing
fast and a far away look relaxing her features. “It will keep here.
We’re going to Thornhall, right now.”
VII
Thornhall will be a good place for you to try to
form the connection,”Ada had said. “We found this Focus, this
woman, through a local BDSM support group that meets there. She’ll
be comfortable there, and able to concentrate on you and what you
do.”
“Sullivan is the one who determined that she is a
Focus, or has the potential to be. But he’s not attuned to the kind
of connection she needs. But I believe you and she may be able to
work together and build the kind of energies necessary for the
wards.”
“Wards?” Brian had asked dubiously. “Can’t we take
more, I don’t know, direct action, somehow? I mean, I was able to
mess up those missionaries pretty well by myself, and the Torture
Guy didn’t seem so tough once I unplugged him… ”