Read Out of the Darkness (Untwisted #2) Online
Authors: Alice Raine
It wasn’t long after my perverse discovery of my parents’ unorthodox sexual tastes that the shit had really hit the fan in the Jackson household. I was 18 by this point and my brother Nicholas was fast approaching his 16th birthday, but still our father’s dominant treatment of our whole family continued.
It had been on Nicholas’ actual birthday that ‘it’ had happened. I had been in my room waiting for my nightly punishment visit from my father, as expected my door opened at a little past eight o’clock, but my father didn’t come in the room as usual; instead he had leant on the door frame casually, which had immediately set alarm bells ringing for me. ‘You can have a night off for good behaviour, son.’ my father had said lightly, but my stomach immediately tensed, I never got nights off, apart from Sundays that was, so this was definitely unexpected. ‘I’m taking your mother out with some work colleagues shortly, but as your brother is officially 16 today I thought I’d give him a welcome to adulthood before I go out.’
It had been the same when I had turned 16. Once my masculinity had kicked in with me growing taller in stature and broader in muscles, my father’s beatings had increased in strength and duration. Almost as if he was proving that no matter how big or strong his sons would grow he would always be the one in control of us.
For a good 20 minutes that night, I had to lie on my bed and listen to the aggressive grunts of my father as he repeatedly hit Nicholas with God knows what implement in the room next door. To his credit, Nicholas only cried out twice, probably on the first two blows, but after that, my brother had remained painfully silent.
Finally, I heard the click of my brother’s door closing and my father’s footsteps passing my door on the way to the master bedroom. The noises of my mother and father changing and moving downstairs went on for a further half an hour or so until finally I heard them leave the house at a little past nine o’clock. Waiting for at least ten minutes to make sure they were definitely not returning I then crept from my room to check on Nicholas.
The sight that met me turned my blood cold and caused me to instantly drop to my knees in shock. Curled on the floor in the foetal position was Nicholas, his hands tied to the radiator and his entire torso covered in long, angry welts and bluing bruises. A cane was tossed casually on the bed, but it was neither of these sights that shocked me into crying for the first time in years. No, it was my brother’s deathly pale face and the deep red blood pooling around Nicholas’ slashed wrist that broke me.
The scissors that my brother had obviously used to cut his own wrist lay discarded next to his bloodied body and I used the exact same scissors, slippery with his blood, to cut Nicholas’ unresponsive arm from its restraints before hurriedly tying a makeshift bandage around the wound, scooping him up and carrying him downstairs to my mother’s car. I didn’t care that I hadn’t passed my driving test because my father hadn’t allowed me to take any lessons, I’d be damned if I was wasting precious minutes waiting for an ambulance when my brother was bleeding out in my arms, so I climbed in the car and did what I’d watched my mother do a thousand times.
Ignition, clutch, gear, accelerate.
Miraculously it worked, after several juddering gear changes and a near miss at a junction I had an unconscious Nicholas in hospital within eight minutes.
Our father never beat us again after that night. In fact, our father would never see us again after that night, because the police had picked our parents up as soon as they arrived home and taken them directly to the police station.
For reasons I couldn’t fully explain I had always had a grudging respect for my father and initially this had made me reluctant to admit everything to the doctors and policemen that fought to save my brother that night. But when Nicholas came around and looked at me with such complete desolation in his eyes I had known there was nothing else for it, I couldn’t allow my brother to suffer any longer.
The whole story was told. My parents were arrested, my father for child abuse, and my mother as an accessory and that was it, the Jackson brothers were now alone in the world. Nicholas was 16, technically able to go his own way, but because the psychiatrist that treated him deemed him to be a ‘vulnerable young person’ it was decided that he would be put up for fostering whilst he stabilised.
My brother was everything to me, so there was no fucking way I was letting him go and live with strangers. I immediately applied for, and was eventually granted, guardianship over him until he reached 18. Some social worker busybody told me I could claim benefits to get us a little cash each week, but I wasn’t going to rely on anyone else anymore. I was in control now. Not some prick in the benefits office, and not my father. I was the man of the house now.
By the end of the following week I was no longer a college student, I was full-time guardian to a 16-year-old boy, my broken and fragile brother, and had managed to get myself a job as a labourer for a local building contractor.
Unfortunately, even with Nathan’s veiled promise that we would have sex once I fully trusted him, I still found my stubborn body unable to give up its fear and I repeatedly failed the test of falling back into his arms. He would only ever attempt the exercise after a full weekend together just before I was due to leave, but if I was unsuccessful again today, this would be week five of my failure. Not to mention week five of no sex and week five of frigging frustration. At this rate, my new vibrator would need the batteries replacing sooner rather than later.
Still, Nathan had stuck to his guns and made no move on me sexually; our days together had been spent in much the same way as the first weekend. Even with my final failures I knew I was definitely more comfortable in his presence now, so although frustrating, his training was at least working.
As I waited for him in the lounge, blindfolded, it suddenly occurred to me that actually, when I thought about it, this was probably the most intimate I’d ever been with any man in my entire life. Which was ironic really, seeing as we weren’t even sleeping together. Nathan had literally been catering for my every need, and although he didn’t speak that often apart from his instructions, the closeness I felt when he was washing me in the shower, or combing and drying my hair afterwards, was exceptional. As corny as it sounds, it was almost as if words weren’t necessary between us.
The carpet must have muffled his footsteps because the next second I felt a hand touch my shoulder to alert me of Nathan’s presence. My skin jumped to alertness as it always did when he was near, then his hand dropped away and I felt Nathan lean in behind me lowering his mouth close to the sensitive skin below my ear. ‘On the count of three, fall backwards, Stella.’ But this week he added an extra statement. ‘You know you can trust me to catch you,’ he urged me. His breath was warm on my neck and sent a tingle across my skin and just like that I knew without a doubt that he would catch me, Nathan
would
keep me safe. This time when Nathan counted to three I let out a soft gasp, opened my arms wide, and merely fell as if sinking back onto a huge feather-filled mattress.
Not only did Nathan catch me in his strong arms as he had promised, but he then wasted no time in scooping me up with a growl, turning me in his arms and kissing me hungrily.
. But unfortunately, his lips rose from mine far too quickly for my liking as he pulled away and removed the blindfold to reveal his flushed face and glittering eyes. ‘Get plenty of rest this week, Stella, you’re going to need your energy next weekend,’ he said huskily. ‘When you arrive here next Friday you better be prepared to hand yourself over to me completely. Bring back the vibrator too, there will be no more need for it, it’s going to be me driving you wild from now on,’ he promised darkly as he escorted me and my quivering body to his car.
Several months had passed since the hideous night when Nicholas had tried to kill himself, regardless of time passing I still occasionally found the events playing through my mind. It was a more frequent occurrence for my poor damaged brother, however, and I was often woken by Nicholas’ screams when feverish nightmares took hold of him in the dark hours around midnight.
There were certain visual similarities between my father and me. I knew that, what with our impressive stature, icy blue eyes, and blond hair, but sometimes Nicholas would look up at me with apprehension and say, ‘You look just like Father when you do that, Nathan, I don’t like it.’ So for the sake of my brothers mental health I had grown my hair slightly longer to adjust my appearance and would always quickly change whatever behaviour it was that upset Nicholas. Deep down, however, I couldn’t move my belief system away from the fact that my father had taught me the correct way to behave in life.
When I finally got up the courage to ask a girl at my work out I hadn’t really known what to do, so when she invited me in to her place for a coffee I did just what my father would have done and bossed her about. She hadn’t liked this one little bit, not like my mother had seemed to, so I’d tried demanding a kiss instead, wondering if perhaps that was what she wanted. It wasn’t, she’d thrown me out and told me to ‘Get yourself a sub if you want to be so fucking bossy.’
Those words were what had led me to David Halton at Club Twist. Having gone home after my failed date I had immediately looked up what a ‘sub’ was, and apart from finding various entries about American sandwiches I had finally discovered a variety of sites devoted to submissive men and women who loved to be controlled in all manner of situations. When I’d searched more specifically for submissives in the London area a link for Club Twist came up and not long after my first visit to see David Halton, Nathan the dominant was born.
What a week! With Nathan’s intense promises last Sunday about the things that lay ahead for me I had barely been able to concentrate on work at all. Instead, my mind had been on Nathan’s contract, Nathan’s sublime kissing, and Nathan’s amazing body … but if I’m honest then I’ll admit that most of my time had been spent on imagining the things Nathan might do
to
me and
with
me.
I’d been so ‘Nathan-focused’ at work that during one of my lulls in concentration I had made use of my mobile Internet to go online and purchase some rather risqué clothing that made me turn beetroot red as I pressed the ‘order’ button, but that I hoped Nathan would like. All of this was against office policy of course – ‘
no phones allowed
’ signs were plastered everywhere, and no doubt there was an unwritten rule against using office time to purchase corsets and crotchless panties, but seeing as I pretty much ran the floor I worked on I decided to risk it. Imagining Nathan’s reaction to my new purchases when I arrived at his apartment on Friday night made the risk worth it, and was enough to get me so hot and bothered that I’d had to go outside for some fresh air to calm my rampaging libido on several occasions. Perhaps I should start bringing my vibrator to work. Although technically Nathan had banned me from using it now, hadn’t he?
But now finally it was Friday! Jeez, last week had felt like a frigging eternity. I’d rushed straight home from work and barely spoken a word of sense to Kenny during dinner, hardly touching the food that he had prepared, but he’d merely eyed me knowingly, removed the pasta from in front of me and forced me to eat a slice of plain toast instead.
Six-thirty rolled around, and at last, I could think about leaving my place to go to Nathan’s apartment. Donning my newly purchased outfit, I sprayed myself with my favourite perfume, shrugged on a long coat to cover my skimpy clothing and headed to the lounge where Kenny was waiting for me. Most weeks I’d just got the bus or train to Nathan’s home in Docklands, but I hadn’t wanted to wear my ‘surprise’ outfit on public transport tonight so Kenny had offered to drive me over, although I suspected the ulterior motive behind his kindness was his nosy curiosity about where Nathan lived.
Pursing his lips, Kenny eyed my long coat suspiciously as he rubbed his goatee between his finger and thumb and gave me a probing glance. ‘Do I want to know what you’re wearing under there, Stella?’
‘Nope,’ was my tart reply, but it was accompanied by a blush so hot that Kenny giggled loudly, his imagination no doubt in overdrive, then with a wink he linked arms with me and escorted me to his car.
No more than 15 minutes later we were outside Nathan’s apartment block both standing on the pavement gazing skywards. ‘Fuck, does his penthouse cover the entire top floor?’ Kenny asked in jealousy-tinged amazement.
‘Yep,’ I confirmed with a nod. ‘He’s even got a gym and a cinema room in there.’
‘Really?’ Kenny’s shocked squeal was louder than I had expected and I turned to him with a grin. ‘I’m so jealous, Stella, I wish I was banging a billionaire.’
‘I doubt he’s a billionaire, but sorry, Ken, I’m pretty sure Nathan only digs women,’ I joked lightly. At least this banter was helping to calm my leaping nerves.
‘Ask him if he has a suitably handsome and equally rich gay brother,’ Kenny called as I waved goodbye and made my way inside the foyer. ‘Or bisexual!’ he yelled, prompting me to roll my eyes and pointedly ignore him. ‘I’m not fussy!’ he cried desperately as the lift opened in front of me. Wasn’t that the truth! Kenny would bed any man as long he showed a vague knowledge of fashion and had a body that was suitably ‘bangable’, as he put it. Basically, male, under the age of 50, and preferably with blue eyes.
My light moment with Kenny was now gone and I found myself outside the door to Nathan’s apartment chewing on my lip and desperately twirling the ring on my thumb. Well, this was it. Placing my weekend bag on the floor I undid the buttons on my jacket, took a deep breath for courage and rang the bell.
At about ten minutes to seven, I frowned as my doorbell rang. I’d given Stella a key to my apartment so the bell ringing made no sense to me unless she was ignoring my request to let herself in upon arrival. Perhaps Stella would be receiving her first punishment sooner than I had been expecting, I thought in annoyance as I strutted across the room and harshly pulled open the door with a scowl to match my mood.
‘Gift for Mr Jackson.’ Stella murmured softly in front of me, then slipping the coat from her shoulders she let it drop to the floor before linking her hands in her submissive pose and turning her flushed face towards the ground.
Holy fucking buckets of shit.
All thoughts of anger and punishment slipped from my brain as my mouth hung open and my gaze took in Stella stood in the hallway – a sight that caused my groin to go rock hard within a matter of seconds. Stella, my supposedly inexperienced submissive, was standing in front of me wearing possibly the most smoking hot outfit I had ever seen. High black leather boots clung to her legs, stopping just below her stockinged knees and the suspenders holding up the stockings she wore were just visible below the short black skirt at her thighs. If possible, the top half was even more stunning, Stella was strapped into a silver corset so tight it sucked her waist to practically nothing, pushing her breasts up and out and was barely covering her nipples with a froth of black and silver lace.
Even with the incredible outfit, my eyes couldn’t help but linger on the pale blue collar fastened around her neck. What the hell? My eyebrows flew up, she had bought
herself
a collar? It was about an inch wide, in a colour that was at odds with the blacks and grey of her outfit, but matched her eyes perfectly. Pursing my lips I wondered if Stella knew the significance of the collar she was wearing or if she had merely purchased it to add to her outfit. One thing was for sure, no matter how good she looked in it, or how much the idea of collaring her suddenly appealed to me, there was no way I was going to let her get away with her presumptuous behaviour.
Seeing as she was a novice I decided to deal with the collar issue once Stella was safely inside my apartment. Delaying the moment I ran my gaze over her again. ‘You look incredible, Stella,’ I murmured thickly. ‘
Fuck
.’ I didn’t often swear out loud, but I couldn’t help but curse under my breath at just how true my words were.
‘I hope we might do, Sir.’ Stella replied teasingly causing me to shake my head in complete surprise at her playful confidence. She might not be so confident once I informed her of her gigantic slip with the collar though, I thought with a smirk.
Stepping back to let Stella enter I calmly closed the door all the while feeling how my heart was rampaging under my skin. Perhaps it was time for a countdown? Breathing in through my nose I did my usual five to zero and then feeling marginally more in control I reached out for her. My fingers were magnetically drawn to the soft velvet collar at her neck and as I ran my fingers across it I felt Stella’s skin tremble under my touch. It seemed that she was just as affected as me, which pleased me greatly.
‘Do you know the symbolism of a collar in a dom/sub relationship Stella, or is this just for decoration?’ I questioned thickly.
‘It shows I’m yours, Sir. Your property.’ Stella murmured softly, a small smile turning up the corner of her mouth and making me want to kiss her there immediately. ‘You told me to come prepared to give myself to you … so I did, I’m all yours, Sir.’
Well, fuck me. Stella’s response totally blew my mind. The urge to press her against the wall and lay claim to her there and then very nearly overwhelmed me, but the dominant streak in me couldn’t get past her mistake in collaring herself and so thankfully I dredged up my reserves of self-control and managed to hold myself back.
I am in control.
Or at least I used to be before Stella walked into my life.