Domesticated (4 page)

“Yes, Dear. I’m sorry. I’ll take care of it.”

“Very well, I’ll see you at dinner. Try to stay out of trouble today,
Kendra,”
my dad scolded, kissing his beautiful bitch goodbye.

My eyes followed Adriana to the pocket doors where she closed them both. Turning back to me with the same small smile, she sat in the French Café chair and stiffened her posture.

“You heard your father. Come here,”
she ordered. My heart started pounding, knowing what she was about to do. Nonetheless, I obeyed. The spanking over her lap to my bare ass wasn’t the worst of it. It was the standing in the corner on display for her and her horrid kids to stare at me that was the unending mortification part. Katie and Paris laughed at the red handprints on my sore butt while I stood at attention, holding my school uniform up with my panties around my knees. I didn’t cry, though. Not once did I cry.

However, I did cry that day at school. I couldn’t help it. Nobody liked me before, now they hated me and thought I was more of a freak than I already was. I cried silently in the only boys’ bathroom in the school. I don’t even know why we had it. We didn’t have one male teacher. I had to walk
the line.
All the mean girls lined the hall right after lunch, tossed trash at me, spit on me, demanding that I get out of their all girl’s school. I had to go in to the only boy bathroom to keep from peeing my pants. They wouldn’t let me in the girls’ bathroom. It was only for girls.

What the fuck? I quickly wiped away an escaped tear when my driver spoke, something about a new lighthouse close to where I was staying and how beautiful it was.

“Can you not talk to me?” I spouted. I wanted away from this guy, out of this car, and to a bottle of something stronger than wine. Why the hell did I do this to myself? Why did I still let that bitch control me?

I did feel bad after the man carried in all my things, but then he said something that pissed me off again.

“Resentment is a defense mechanism, you know? It can get pretty heavy. Your ego believes that by being angry and defensive you can ward off future pain. You can’t create a safe haven that way. You need to let it go.”

Snatching my guilty one hundred dollar bill from his hand, I closed the door in his face. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? I would make sure he never worked for us again.

Dammit. Why didn’t I pay someone to be here to put all my clothes away? I should have at least made the ass carry them all to my room.

Waking late, I rolled over and hit the remote, transitioning the electronic window tint from a dull gray to a full blown bright ocean view. Rolling to my stomach, I rested my chin on my hand, observing the breathtaking view from my windowed wall. A wife’s dream. Sigh.

My head hurt a little and I missed Olivia. My first thought was to call for her to bring me something for the pain. How much did I drink last night? I knew I sat out on the deck and watched the sunset with a bottle of Sonoma Silver wine, but for the life of me, I didn’t remember coming to bed.

The being naked part didn’t surprise me. I was sure I masturbated before dozing off. There were three toys laying on my nightstand and one on my bed. I played with them on occasion when I knew I didn’t have to worry about Garrison coming home, which was a lot. I hid them away in a shoebox in the back of my closet. I set them out for Olivia to pack, hoping she would notice the unfamiliar feel and open the box. I don’t know if she did or not, or why my twisted mind even cared. It just did.

Obviously, the thoughts of Olivia picturing what I did with those toys went straight to my groin. I rolled to my stomach and played myself to oblivion bliss. Once my mind was off the fluttering after-effects of my temperamental vagina, I got up. I always liked waiting to go pee until after my morning orgasm. It was true. Ever since I read that piece of information in that
Fifty Shades of Grey
book, I never went pee first. Such a difference in the power it packed with a full bladder.

I showered and headed to The Strip. That was one of the best things about our Malibu beach house. I loved Seafood Strip. It was like the food court in the mall only outside on a whole street. All I had to do was follow a path about a quarter mile behind my house and I would be there. Anything your little heart desired was on The Strip. Mexican, Chinese, Vegetarian, amazing cheeseburgers, breakfast, lunch, supper, snacks, dessert, and best of all, the best seafood money could buy.

The street was set up just like a road, but no cars were allowed on it, only bicycles, rollerblades, and occasionally, you would see a golf cart. Those were mostly delivering supplies to the shops, though. At night, the street came alive with every origin of music you could think of. The lights hung like icicles over the tables and were separated by dance floors. I always came alone. If Garrison were here, he would make us go to a more formal setting. He hated coming to Seafood Strip.

I could smell the delightful aromas before I ever saw the big wooden sign in the shape of a pirate ship. Bacon. I was having that. We didn’t keep it around the house, it’s not really good for your arteries, but I was on vacation and Garrison and Adriana weren’t there to lecture me about it. I was having bacon and fried eggs. My mouth salivated just thinking about it.

The street was fairly empty with only families up and about. I chose a little place called Papa Pete’s for no apparent reason. I walked up to the counter, shielding my eyes from the sun and ordered.

“Can I get the slosh in a bowl?” I asked. Might as well go all out. It was a bowl of gravy, biscuits, bacon, eggs, and topped with Chèvre cheese.

“Sure thing, missy. You want coffee with that?”

“Um, sure, and can I get a side of orange juice, too?”

My stomach growled, waiting for the man to prepare my heart attack platter. I looked around, feeling warm and happy to be there. I didn’t have to attend one stuffy benefit, one ridiculous auction, or another charity event for the entire summer. This was heaven. This was the life. It wasn’t like the money was ever raised for anything worth raising it for anyway. I once suggested the proceeds from an auction be used to help rebuild the animal shelter that had burned to the ground. Angelica gave me the same condescending glare that Adriana used to give me. We never even discussed it. It was put to death before it had a chance to breathe.

“Yo, earth to the alien,” the man called.

“Oh, sorry,” I replied, snapping out of it and taking my food.

I sat alone in the middle of the street, listening to what I thought was Elvis Presley and seagulls. The sun was warm on my face and bare shoulders and my slosh in a bowl was more like an orgasm on ecstasy. Shit. Why did I have to think that? Blocking it out, I savored every taste, the bacon, the fancy cheese, the egg, and the gravy. I can’t describe the taste of it all being mixed together.

My orgasm thoughts didn’t stop from the delightful breakfast food, but they did calm after I answered a call from Garrison.

“Hi, everything okay?”

“Yes, just eating a bowl of fruit. It’s very nice here. You should come.”

“I will. I’m just not sure when yet.”

“Friday?” I asked the silly question. Okay, maybe I was still thinking about sex. For whatever reason, if we had sex, it was on a Friday. That was all Garrison, but for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you why. But I could use Friday sex right about now.

“Possibly. What’s Friday?”

“Nothing, just the weekend. You should come. It’s lovely here.” I redirected my perversion of his dick being inside me to him needing a break.

“We’ll see. Do you need anything?”

“No, well, I did want to take the yacht out. Who do I call?”

“I thought you took care of that. Maybe we should send Olivia out there with you.”

“No, I’m fine. You’re right. She did take care of it. I’m sorry. I just forgot.”

“You sure you’re okay there by yourself?”

“Yes, Garrison. I’m fine. I promise.” Yikes. I forgot to follow through on the mental note for Olivia to call the marina for me. No biggie. I could do it. How hard could one phone call be?

“I have to go. I’m not sure if I’ll get the chance to call you later or not.”

“Okay. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“I prefer you to stay in after dark. Don’t be out alone,” Garrison concernedly ordered.

“Yeah, okay. I won’t.” I knew that was a lie, well, maybe. I wasn’t making plans I didn’t need to make plans. There was no need. I could do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Screw plans. That was my plan.

I did manage to call the marina all by myself. It wasn’t hard. It was just my low confidence getting in the way. It wasn’t as bad as it once was. I guess when you’ve been told your whole life that you couldn’t, you tend to believe it. Garrison made me do things, though. He was the only reason I got out and associated with the upper-class at all. He said we needed to keep the Ashby name in the community. That was another one of my
jobs
as Adriana taught me from an early age. She wore the Brannigan name a lot prouder than I ever did. She could have it. Adriana, the so-called illustrious, carried my father’s name with more dignity than it deserved.

I was brushing my teeth when my erotic side kicked in for the second time that day. I had something in my teeth from the bacon cheeseburger I had for lunch. Of course, the vibration of my new Oral B toothbrush in my hand caused me to wonder what it would feel like on my clitoris. Even though I knew exactly what it felt like, my mind wouldn’t rest until I showed it. At first, it was through my white shorts. Even through the material, I felt the sudden wetness between my legs. Observing my reflection through the mirror, I carefully unfolded each flap and seductively slid down my zipper. All while looking at a blond, beautiful debacle. I watched myself slide the lively, gaudy purple toothbrush between the elastic in my panties.

My lips parted and my stomach muscles tightened as soon as the vivacious little instrument made contact with my spot. Although I could see my hand, my pink sexy panties, and the handle of my toothbrush, I never moved my eyes from the face staring back at me. My alabaster complexion was as it always was, smooth and creamy. My liquid blue eyes were dead. I wondered when that happened. Did my eyes always look so emotionless?

Aahh. The imminent orgasm caused me to clench the edge of the marbled counter with my free hand. Still, my eyes stayed focused on the passionately unavailable, unemotional individual that I didn’t know. Applying a bit more pressure, I came, watching the merger between gratification and pleasure change the expression on my face.

The rest of my day consisted of sunbathing on the beach while reading a BDSM book that wasn’t that great. I couldn’t really get into it so I just people watched through my dark shades. Clearly, I mostly crotch watched. I moved my beach chair to the edge of the water, letting the waves lap over my feet and calves. This was more to the benefit of wet swimming trunks more than my need to stay cool. The way the shorts vacuumed to the male anatomy was the real motive. Luckily, I was the only one aware of that fact.

I secretly watched the limp penises behind the shorts. Not only that, I watched the girls, too. One in particular. She wore a white bikini and stood just to the right of me, talking on her phone while her child played in the water by her feet. I didn’t really pay attention to her perky boobs. I was more interested in the slit I could visibly see through the thin white material.

My compulsive thoughts were abruptly ceased when I found my chair being tipped over with me in it. Comprehending that I was on the ground with sand on my cheek, I pushed myself to my feet.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry,” the teenage boy apologized.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I screamed, seizing the Frisbee from the white sand.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. Are you okay?”

“No. Why don’t you watch what the fuck you’re doing?”

“Hey, hey,” the mother with the cute little slit, called, stepping in. “He said he was sorry. My kid is sitting right here,” she reminded me of the fact that I could see with my own eyes.

I grabbed my beach chair and slammed the white Frisbee into the boy’s strong abs. Asshole. Spitting sand from my mouth, I fumed, stomping my feet in the hot white sand back to my house.

I was still mad, even after a shower. Who the hell did that? The kid plowed right over top of me, knocking me to my ass with everyone watching. Hmmm. Maybe that was a trigger. Maybe I wasn’t mad at the kid at all.

Pouring a glass of wine, I knew exactly what it was, why I had flown off the handle like that. I never did that. I didn’t have that emotion. Things didn’t work that way with me. Black or white. That’s how I saw things. I had to. I learned how to control unnecessary feelings a long time ago. Being angry, sad, hurt, or joyful was an emotion I didn’t need. A safety defense I had learned to control long ago. The one and only time I got really angry was, of course, at Bitch Face Adriana.

“Do you think I am pretty? Kendra?”

“Yes,”
I replied, brushing Adriana’s long, shiny black hair. I was nine and scared to death of the woman. What did she think I was going to say?

“Do you think I a prettier than Dianna?”

“My mom?”

My arm jerked when she turned and grabbed the brush from hand.
“You want to call her mom after what she’s done to you? She left you. She doesn’t want you. Why do you think she never has time to see you on her weekends? Stupid, stupid child. Who takes care of you? Who feeds you? Who makes sure you have the best of everything? I do. You will not call her mom in front of me again. Do you understand me?”

I nodded. I should have known by then that she was going to find a reason to punish me. Regardless of how good I tried to be.

“Do you think I am prettier than Dianna?”
she asked again. I had to lie. It was the only way. She knew it and I knew it.

“Yes,”
I said, dropping my head in defeat. She wasn’t prettier than my mother, not even close. Adriana was pretty, for sure, but she had nothing on my mother.

“You think you’re prettier than my girls? Hmm?”
she questioned, petting my hair like some kind of animal.

I shook my head, but, of course, that wasn’t good enough. She jerked my head up by squeezing my jaw in her hand.
“Are you mocking me?”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Try again,”
she ordered, making me look at her by squeezing harder on my cheeks.

“No, Adriana, ma’am,”
I added for good measure.

“No, Mommy,”
she corrected. No way was I calling her that. I stared at her with glassy eyes. I wasn’t saying it. No way.

“I’m telling you to do something, Sewer Rat. Say it. No, Mommy.”