The Agreement (44 page)

I closed my eyes and smiled. "Promises
promises
…"

In the end, it wasn't as bad as I thought. I'd
drunk enough wine so that my head spun a bit and he tied a blindfold around my
eyes so I couldn’t see anything. I laughed as he ran a bath and tried to
maneuver me into it without me falling and cracking my head. Then he washed me
carefully, his hands lingering on my clit, and I knew he was trying to arouse
me. I had no idea how much blood there was anyway.

I
did
have a very intense orgasm as he
fucked me from behind, his fingers on my clit. I did feel better afterwards. He
didn't remove the blindfold until I was completely cleaned off. When he did, he
kissed me.

"See?" he said, running his thumb over
my bottom lip. "That was good, wasn't it?"

I nodded. "I didn’t call you Master
once," I said, smiling, my mouth feeling a bit cottony from the wine.

"You're drunk. I made allowances."

I went to the bathroom and inserted a new
tampon, then I slipped into my black lace nightie.

Ordeal
over
.

He dragged me to the living room and he put some
music on the sound system – something folksy, from the sixties. He said
it was The Turtles,
You Showed Me
, the music dreamy, about falling in
love. We sat together on the couch, me on his lap, my arms around his neck. I
rested my head in the crook of his neck. I
did
enjoy what he did to me.
I did have an intense orgasm. I felt better, just like he said I would.

"I should go home now," I said,
yawning. "I'll call a taxi."

"You're not going home drunk," Drake
said, shaking his head. "You'll stay here with me."

"I really shouldn't," I said,
frowning. "What if…" and I almost said Dawn's name. "What if
this
person
tries to come by my place and I'm not there?"

"Shh," he said and squeezed me.
"No arguments. I bought some eggs and spinach and some nice feta cheese.
We'll have what my dad called a 'hangover omelet' in the morning, to fight the
one I know you're going to have."

I sighed and gave in. He'd have his way with me
one way or the other. He got up and put another album on the old turntable.

"Who is this?" I asked, the music very
different from the other songs.

"Nick Drake," he said. "This
one's called
River Man
. I like it because the guitar's in 5/4 time and
in standard tuning. I play it with the band. My dad named me after him."

I listened for a moment. The lyrics were hard to
decipher.

"What's it about?"

"Can't say for sure," he said,
examining the album cover. "He's dead and didn't say. From what I read,
it's supposedly about Wordsworth's poem, 'The Idiot Boy' about a mother with a
mentally disabled son, but I think it's about Hesse's book,
Siddhartha
.
It's really just the feel of the piece and the guitar I like."

"There are scratches," I said,
noticing the occasional hiss. "You don’t mind? Don't they have re-mastered
versions?"

"Sure," he said but shook his head.
"Real vinyl enthusiasts like the sound better. It has a certain quality
that can't be caught in digital. I don’t mind a few scratches to hear the
original. This is a really rare album. I paid a lot for it."

"You don’t like any modern music?"

He sat beside me, one arm going around my
shoulders.

"I like some," he said. "But
you’re one to talk about liking old music. How old's Gorecki's piece?"

"Seventies."

"Touché,' he said and smiled. "What do
you like? Anything modern?"

I shrugged, taking a small sip of my wine.
"Some. Mostly classical. Don't ask me why."

"Your absolute favorite piece of music
ever? Besides Gorecki?"

I took in a deep breath. "Barber's
Adagio
."

"That sounds familiar. Where have I heard
that?"

"It was in the movie
Platoon
. I saw
it with my dad and it upset him so much. One of the few times I saw him with
tears in his eyes."

"Oh, yes." He frowned for a moment.
"I remember that movie. My father wouldn’t go. Said the Hollywood
capitalists were glorifying war or something." He said nothing for a
moment, running his hand over my hair.

"What else? What's next?"

"After Barber?" I said and frowned.
"Not much better, I'm afraid. Music from Master and Commander.
Fantasia
on a Theme by Thomas Tallis
by Vaughn Williams."

"I saw that. What piece?"

"The one that played during the scene when
they have to cut the young man loose and let him drown."

He nodded. "I remember that." He said
nothing for a moment. "Gorecki, Barber. Williams. Awfully depressing music
you like."

"It makes me actually
feel
something."

"Yes, but incredible sadness…"

"It's better to feel sadness than nothing
at all."

He turned to me. "You don't feel anything
unless it's sad?"

"Not for a long time. Not after my mother
died."

He just stared at me, and then I hated myself
for mentioning her.

"You were ill after you returned from
Africa."

I nodded, not wanting to talk about it.

"Tell me."

I shook my head, forcing a smile I didn't feel.
"I didn't cry when she died," I said. "I felt nothing. It was
like everything just shut off and I couldn't feel anything. My doctor said
everyone grieves differently, but how could I not cry? I just went through the
motions, day in and day out."

He squeezed my hand.

"Then you went to Africa?"

I took a sip of wine. "Yes," I said,
remembering. "I tried to keep busy. I think I was in denial. So I went to
Africa even though I probably shouldn’t have. I didn't cry until Mangaize. Then
it was like I couldn't stop." I turned to him. " Why could I cry for
complete strangers and not my mother?"

"You were crying for yourself."

I nodded. "I was. I didn't think I deserved
to feel sorry for myself. But those people in the camps? They deserved
it."

We sat in silence for a while and I felt so bad,
talking about my depression. "Sorry to be such a downer."

He shook his head quickly. "No," he
said and smiled softly. "
Don't
be. I asked.

I snuggled into his arms. There seemed to be no
barrier at all between us anymore. I couldn’t imagine being any closer to a man
than I felt at that moment with him.

That Thursday night, as we lay in bed afterwards
and Drake was wiping me off with a warm wet cloth, I asked him about going to a
fetish night.

"You want to go?" he asked.

"Yes," I said, watching him, enjoying
his aftercare, not as drunk as I was on Tuesday night. "When I read about
them, I always wanted to go."

"Voyeuristic are you?"

"Maybe. I don't really know yet. I
don’t
think I'm an exhibitionist. The thought of people watching me makes me a bit
queasy."

"I'll keep that in mind but you have to
know that people who host these events sometimes host play only parties where
you have to do something."

"Like what? I don't want to have sex in
front of people."

"We'd have to do something. I might tie you
up, blindfold you, demonstrate some bondage, that kind of thing just so no one
complained."

I cringed a bit. "I don't
know
…"

"Let's play it by ear. There's a very
private and exclusive pre-Christmas dungeon party in Yonkers I thought we could
go to. Would you like to go? It's the Saturday before Christmas."

The idea of going with him to a dungeon party
thrilled me. The idea of him tying me up thrilled me. The idea of people
watching? It gave me little butterflies in my stomach.

"OK," I said. I didn't want to deny
him.

He kissed me. "Thank you. I want to take
you. I have something special in mind for that night."

"What?"

He just smiled and shook his head. He finished
wiping me off and after I inserted a new tampon, I came back to the bed and he
pulled the covers over us, snuggling down against me from behind.

"What about you?" I asked, feeling so
relaxed that I forgot to use the proper term. "Do you like to watch other
people or have other people to watch you?"

"I like to watch, yes. I can go either way
when it comes to exhibitionism. I have done some tutorials and demonstrations
of bondage and I can perform if I have to. I tend to like my sex private. I'll
expect you to be dressed appropriately and I'll have to put a collar on you and
we can do whatever you feel comfortable with."

"A collar?" I felt my neck and
imagined how a thick leather collar would feel. I turned around in his arms so
that I was facing him, the contours of his cheek and jaw highlighted by the
light from the window.

"Would you like that?" he said,
brushing hair from my face. "I'd have to make sure no one else tried to
touch you or even approached you. I'm very possessive like that. I don't share
my subs."

"I wouldn't want to have sex  in front
of people, though," I said, my hands on his chest, his arms wrapped around
me. "I'm not into the whole poly scene. I'd like to watch what other
people do, but I'm too shy to have people watch me fuck or have an orgasm. And
I can't easily just fuck anyone."

"I
know
," he said and nuzzled
my neck, playfully biting my shoulder. "I like that."

"You
do?
I thought you saw it as a
failing in me."

"I did when I wanted you to fuck me that
first time, but now, I see it as a definite plus. I don’t want to think of you
with anyone else…"

I smiled and kissed him, amused by the
contradiction.

"But when we
do
go," he said,
his voice chiding. "I'd expect you to remember to use the proper form of
address
…"
I saw his grin start despite the darkness. "If you don't in front of other
Doms, I'd have no choice but to punish you."

Then I realized we were still in scene, as he
called it, and scrunched my face up. "Oh, sorry, Master. I've been very
bad."

"That's all right," he said, trying
not to smile. "I'll let it go tonight but I won't always be so
tolerant."

"What
would
you do, Master? If you
had to punish me?"

"I'd bend you over my lap and spank you
with my bare hand. And then I would have to fuck you, but it would be in
private."

He still hadn't administered one of his
spankings I'd been so eager to experience. I wanted to suggest it, but of
course, that would be topping from the bottom and I wasn't going to do that.

"I want to go, Master," I said,
whispering. "I want you to have to spank me."

He pulled me against him, nuzzling my neck.
"You are such a bad girl to tempt me like that, Katherine. You've been
very good. Except for the occasional lapse in your use of terminology, I've
found no good reason to spank you. I like it that way. We have so little time
together, I don’t want to
have
to punish you, no matter how you might
enjoy it."

I nodded and wrapped my arms around him. It
would happen eventually – maybe at the dungeon party. Until then, I was
still far more enamored with exploring bondage with Drake. Exploring Drake
period. I knew I wasn't supposed to concern myself with what made him tick.
That was his job. My job was just to submit and let him take me where he wanted
me to go, but I couldn’t help it. I was so curious about him and what made him
want to control me so carefully during sex, why he had to compartmentalize his
life. I was curious about his wife and why they broke up.

"You never told me much about the
restraining order."

"For a reason, Kate. I don't like to talk
about it. It was a mess."

I nodded, not wanting to push him, but still
curious. I turned away, trying to hide my disappointment.

He took in a deep breath. "Have I once hurt
you in any way, intentionally, that scared you or made you upset?"

"No," I said, having to admit it.

"Then please, trust me that it had nothing
to do with any kind of abuse."

I sighed. He
had
been biting me a bit, on
the shoulder, on my nipples, my labia, but it never was a real hurt, just the
good kind. At least, what I thought of as the good kind – the tiniest bit
of hurt that reminded me that his mouth had been there, pleasuring me. Still,
he had worked a small bit of pleasure/pain into our sexual experiences. It was
more than I thought I would ever want or like, and so he was right. If he
didn't push me a bit, I would never have suggested it on my own, too afraid of
what it might mean about me.

"You're
not
a painslut," he
said after one night where he bit my labia after licking me and I was a bit
upset, thinking there was something wrong with me that I liked it. "You
never will be, Kate, so get that crazy idea out of your sweet little head.
Think about the pain you get after a good workout. Your muscles ache because
they've been over-worked. You get lactic acid buildup in them that causes the
pain and muscle tissue is actually broken down, then rebuilt. You welcome that
pain because it means you're building new muscle. The tiny bit of pain you feel
when I bite you just makes the pleasure all the more welcome and intense. Think
of it as providing contrast which enhances the real purpose of the act –
pleasure."