Echo of Redemption (26 page)

I’ve never backed down from any label-defending fight before.

George would ask me if I’m struggling with low self-esteem, and as much as I want to argue ‘No!’ the truth is I feel powerful with Dean and weak with Kitten, and for the life of me I’m having a hard time putting all the pieces of the puzzle together as to why.

George would ask me if I’m unhappy at home and seeking chaos as a means to destroy the ménage, thus being given an
out
.

“Except, I don’t want to destroy the ménage.”
The three of us—no matter what.
That’s what we agreed to. I roll up my sleeve, exposing the scar on my forearm. We have matching brands, and I realize now that this was Kitten’s purpose when she came up with the idea. At the time she felt threatened by Eva, I doubt she ever suspected I might want to bring a fourth into our relationship. Is that what I want? A fourth?

I shake my head, realizing how totally inappropriate Dean is for the life we lead. He would add nothing to our strength and in the end weaken the bond I have with my other two.
I am a fool
.

Closing my eyes, I can see Dean’s chiseled body. Perfection. I can smell his scent and taste the salt of his sweat and of his tears. With a labored sigh I leave my car and go inside. Heavy feet carry me to The Attic, where I find George. Thankfully, Dean hasn’t arrived yet and I ask George to join me in his office. Aside from a curiously lifted brow, he doesn’t comment, and leads me down the hall to where we’ll be afforded privacy. He closes the door softly and still I jump when it clicks closed. “It’s good to see you back.”

He motions for me to sit in one of two heavily upholstered chairs and takes the other. “What’s on your mind, Garrett?”

“An infraction of The Attic’s rules. One of the Dominant’s crossed the line and called a client at home in an attempt to begin a relationship.”

He scoots forward on the edge of his seat, concern lining his face. “That’s a serious accusation. You’re certain?”

We both know there is usually no leniency in such circumstances and the punishment for the errant Dominant would be immediate termination. I answer with a curt nod.

“Which Dominant?” he asks.

I point at myself.

He slides back in his chair. “I see.”

“I called him tonight with every intention of starting something outside the bounds of professionalism, and then on the drive here I decided that I am an absolute idiot.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “You haven’t met with him for this purpose yet?”

“No.”

“Good. And so now, are you asking permission or asking for an intervention?”

“An intervention. Definitely.”

He slides forward again, clasping my knee. “You must not see him again. Not as a client. And especially not outside of the club environment.”

I nod. “I agree.”

“I’m assuming he’s one of our regulars.”

“A regular at The Attic, he is not a member of The Oasis. Whether he prowls the public areas?” I shrug, not knowing the answer to that. “I hate to lay this in your lap, but I need help walking away from this. My place is at home with Kitten and Thomas.”

“I’ll assist, but you must be accountable. You will have to face this man when he arrives.”

“I’m sure he’s already here by now.”

George stands as do I, and together we leave the office. It is a long walk to the outer room which is reception and when I face him dread curls into a tight, painful ball in my guts. “Thank you for meeting me.”

He smiles, expecting a session. Just as an hour ago I expected more than a session. I haven’t done anything wrong and yet my palms are sweating, my heart pounding. I haven’t felt this horrible since I jilted Ellen Kramer right before our wedding because I’d decided I was gay.
Oh God
.
It’s because I’ve led him on…led him on like I led her on…taking what I wanted. With Ellen it was normalcy, I didn’t have to face being different; with Dean it was the power I felt topping him.

“We need to talk.”

He looks confused. “Is something wrong, Sir? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I answer as gently as I can. “You didn’t do anything. I needed you to come down here tonight because I feel like when you were here last you might have left with the impression that our relationship was going to move outside of the professional parameters of Lewd Larry’s…and I just wanted to make certain that you understood that isn’t possible.”

He gives me a crestfallen look but tells me he understands.
Damn it
.

I smile my perfect Lewd Larry’s smile and wrap my arm around his shoulder. “I want you to meet someone. I’d like you to consider booking a session with Doctor Psycho. He’s one of our most experienced and reputable Dominants.”

I watch his face run the gamut from miserable to curious to excited in fewer seconds than it takes my brain to figure out that he isn’t devastated by the sudden loss of
me
.

“Doctor Psycho?” He reaches out his hand. “It’s an honor, Sir.”

George doesn’t take his hand. He gives him his classic domination glare.

“Oh! I apologize, Sir. I meant no disrespect. I-I—”

I leave Dean stumbling over his tongue and hurry away from the scene. I’m suddenly disappointed that I was so easily replaceable, but by the time I reach my car I’m laughing at myself. I could have really fucked up. Dean Anderson was a classic example of Dom Adoration. It didn’t matter which Dom, any Dominant would do. I laugh harder, realizing he never saw
me
and that’s perhaps the reason I felt so God-like being with him.

I think of Kitten’s efforts to challenge me, forcing me to pull from a deep well inside myself to control her. She
sees
me. Human, not a God, and we’re in this relationship, struggling together and against each other to figure out our power balance.

I smile, finally seeing past my failures.
God, I’ve been such an idiot.

“They gave themselves up wholly to their sorrow.”

Jane Austen,
Sense and Sensibility

Thomas

I watch Sophia sleep from a chair near the window, though she awakens shortly after Garrett leaves and is understandably disappointed, but I am still surprised when she busts out in tears. “I never wanted to hurt the ménage. Master hasn’t been the same since he found out I was pregnant. This is why I considered an abortion, to keep us from falling apart. Now, I might lose the babies anyway, and it won’t matter if I’ve already lost him.”

I join her on the bed, sitting down on top of the blankets. I pull them up to her chin, tucking her in. “I don’t believe we’ve lost Garrett. I think he’s had a lot on his mind.”

She shudders, tears still sliding over her cheeks.

“You should go back to sleep. I can tell by looking at you that you aren’t getting enough.”

Petulantly, she argues, “I’m not tired.”

She looks so vulnerable and afraid, not the woman of strength I’ve come to love. I’m worried about her. Of course, I’m concerned about the health of the babies and Garrett’s peculiar behavior as well so I can hardly fault her for crumbling under the stress. Not to disregard my own behavior. Nikos has kept me away for too long. I kiss her cheek. “I’m sorry I was gone so long.”

She barely acknowledges.

I pull the sheets and blankets away from her slowly, drawing them down her body in a teasing reveal. I cover her shoulders with kisses, gradually moving to her breasts. I kiss them only, not sucking her nipples though it is so tempting. I slide my hand down her stomach before drawing circles on her expanded belly.

“Do you wish me to pleasure you, Lord Fyre?”

“No.” I slip my fingers between her thighs and feel her tense.

“I don’t think—”

“Sh-h, relax.” I interrupt her. “I have no intention of having sex with you until Doctor Wang feels it is safe.” I slide my fingers through her damp folds. Showing her the fluid covering my fingers. “No blood. That’s a very good sign.”

She shifts nervously and our gazes touch.

“I don’t think Doctor Wang would have any problem with me worshiping the vessel who is carrying my babies. Do you know how absolutely radiant you are? Or how powerfully sensual you look like this?” I rub my hands over the small swell of her womb. “I haven’t told you ‘thank you’ yet. I know it is a terrifying journey you’ve embarked on, and until now I haven’t been here to make you feel safe, or cherished. I am sorry for that.” I kiss her…navel to toes…saying with each press of my lips, “Thank you.”

* * * *

“I was going to wait until morning, but I brought you a present.” I reach behind the bed for a large bag I placed there while she was sleeping. I remove a medium size box and hand it to her.

Readjusting pillows to sit up, she reads the label. “Smarter Baby?”

While she opens the box and investigates, pulling out headphones, a mini-microphone, a set of fetal speakers, and an elasticized wrap with pockets for the speakers, I explain, “You can play music or read a book to the babies and the speakers direct the sound inside.”

She looks at me expectantly, not understanding.

“We had a set when Lattie was pregnant because I’d read studies had proven playing classical music to unborn babies helped to stimulate growth and enhance mental development. She enjoyed listening to the same music she was playing for the baby when she was exercising or doing housework. I thought it might be something fun for you to do while you’re confined to bed.”

She smiles but the expression doesn’t extend to her eyes. Tears leak out when she explains, “I love the gift, I really do, I’m just so afraid I’m going to lose them.”

“Please stop worrying.” I take her hand and kiss her knuckles. “Do you trust me?”

She gasps. “Of course.”

I take the remaining items out of the bag—a blindfold, several rolls of non-elasticized cotton bandage, thick cotton pads, and surgical scissors. “I want to do a scene with you.”

She licks her lips, looking worried.

“You know that if I thought the babies were really in danger or if I thought I was going to put them at risk, I wouldn’t even suggest doing a scene, right?”

She nods.

“Okay, so relax. Lay down.”

She does and I uncover her. “I realized today that the scenes we do together are so intense that you are missing out on some of the simpler pleasures of bondage. What I want to do is allow you to relax completely, and we’re going to accomplish that by depriving your senses.”

I cover her eyes with the blindfold. Lifting her right hand I start tucking soft cotton pads between each finger and then using the bandage, bind her fingers together so that even the skin of her fingers doesn’t touch. I wrap her hands, extending up her arms, not tightly, because I don’t want to interfere with her circulation at all.

“I’m going to cover every inch of your skin, except for your nose and mouth, with bandage, so that you won’t feel anything. You are going to be wrapped in a cocoon of cotton.”

I wrap her left hand as I did the right.

“Okay so far?”

“Yes, Lord Fyre.”

“Do you think you are going to enjoy this?”

She swallows and answers honestly, “I’m not sure.”

She can’t see my smile as I keep wrapping the bandage up her arm. When I finish, I set up the CD player and place fetal speakers next to her stomach, holding them in place by the included elasticized belt. I put the earphones over her ears but pull one away long enough to say, “You are going to hear what the babies are hearing. Just try to relax and enjoy the moment.”

I lower the earpiece, press
PLAY
, and start wrapping her head.

Garrett comes in as I’m finishing the mummification, having wrapped her entire body. “Looks like I’ve missed the party.”

“It’s to help her relax.”

He nods and pulls up a chair to sit closer to the bed. “I only wish I’d thought of it first. Did you put in ear plugs or can she hear us?”

“Headphones. They’re listening to Mozart.” I hand him the Smarter Baby box so that he can read all about the fetal speakers.

I can tell by the look on his face he thinks it was a good gift but he reads from the box, “In-utero fetal acoustic stimulation improves pregnancy outcomes,” with skepticism.

I set a timer. “One hour?”

“Might be too long for a first mummification.”

“We’ll see how she responds. We can always cut her out early.”

Garrett stands and tucks a pillow under each leg and under each arm. He nods at the improvement, then sits back down.

“You’re home early,” I say, not bothering to hide the slight accusatory tone that creeps in.

“I couldn’t stay away from her. I was too worried.”

I let it go. He’s home, that’s what matters.

“Oh, haggard mind, groping darkly through the past; incapable of detaching itself from the miserable present; dragging its heavy chain of care through imaginary feasts and revels, and scenes of awful pomp; seeking but a moment’s rest among the long-forgotten haunts of childhood, and the resorts of yesterday; and dimly finding fear and horror everywhere!”

Charles Dickens,
Martin Chuzzlewit

Kitten

As Lord Fyre wraps my arms and legs in cotton bandaging, I worry about how safe this is…considering…but in my heart I know we wouldn’t be doing a scene if he was worried about me losing the babies…and I know how much he loves his children…he wouldn’t take an unnecessary chance. He wants me to give birth, he wants my pregnancy to go to term so that the babies will be born healthy, which can only mean I was overreacting.
Oh God
,
that is so. I don’t want to miscarry.
I console myself, knowing these things are true. Besides, it was only a little blood and the ultrasound technician said it was only a small tear.

With my hands and arms, feet and legs completely cushioned, I relax.
I’m fine. The babies are fine.

He lifts my hips to slide the elasticized belt which holds the fetal speakers in place. It is cool and snug against my skin. “Feeling all right?”