we were one once book 2: "A Dark Romance"

we were one once

book 2

BY

WILLOW MADISON

©2015 WILLOW C MADISON

All rights reserved.

No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Madison, Willow

we were one once (one, book 2)

Cover Design by David Colon (www.colonfilm.com)

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in the book should be interpreted as the author’s advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

prologue

Where is your ancient courage?

You were used to say extremities was the trier of spirits;

That common chances common men could bear;

That when the sea was calm all boats alike showed mastership in floating.

-
        
William Shakespeare

I float on the edge, half in, half out, stretched as the dead, motionless. The stars stare blankly at me. The full moon is on its way back for Lilly’s promise.

This is the last of my thoughts before I give in to the calmness, the emptiness. I don’t feel the pain. I never do.

I feel the love. I feel the need. And I let these waves wash over me; waves you create with your reach for me.

1

“Welcome to my home, Miles.” I reach to shake the man’s hand and his eyes finally meet mine. He seems to be trying to assess me in some way, shaking hands a little too long and firm for the standard niceties. I instinctively don’t like him. That and his eyes keep darting to Red behind me. I can’t ignore his appraisal of her as his eyes continue to shift away from me. Cary remains smiling at us, oblivious to the heavy silence in the room.

“Pleasures all mine, Mr. Lamb. I’ve heard so much about you.” And I’ve heard nothing about you. But I keep this to myself. No point being rude. Yet. It’s my cousin that deserves his ass kicked for this intrusion.

I turn away from Miles to introduce Red; really to give her a warning look to stay away from this guy, “This is Scarlet.” And I can see that she’s in trouble and it’s not that I’m calling her by the stupid name I made up to use in front of my cousin either.

She stands with her usual angles jutting out, her long red dress highlighting her slender sharpness. But she is inexplicably changed. Not the change I’ve come to anticipate with her identity switches. Not the sand shifting under her smooth exterior into a new state of being kind of change. No, she’s still Red, but frozen. Sand locked behind glass, only a reflection of her without the usual fieriness.

Standing near the piano, she’s locked in place, lost in this no man’s land of non-expression. I move towards her, but she stays blank. I take her hand and she slowly pulls her eyes to mine. Her beautiful dark eyes that were so lively and flirtatious only moments before, now the blankness only melts a little from them.

Her trick of pulling herself into the safety of her own head just enough to not fully feel something. Grace had explained that it’s like being on a stage. All five personalities can be there at once or only one, but whichever personality is center stage can step back, “out of the light,” is how she put it. I’ve become familiar with this blank look over the last month. With all of her subtle looks and changes. But she’s still a mystery to me.

She has a scant scent of fear masking her usual spiciness now. This makes my heart race. Red isn’t afraid of anything. I should know. I’ve shown her more of my depraved, sick mind than any one woman has seen. And she’s been my match every time. Seeing her afraid now…I have that shooting pain to my stomach of jealousy again, quickly followed with concern for her mental state.

I frown, but she doesn’t respond with anything except more blankness. Suddenly my large grand hall seems too small, filled with too many people. I’m definitely kicking Cary’s ass tonight.

“Scarlet…?” Miles’ voice is silk gliding over velvet. It grates my nerves. He comes closer to us and puts his hand out, taking Red’s other hand and bringing it to his lips. I watch this, fighting the urge to punch his pompous face for thinking he can touch her. “A greater pleasure I could not imagine, my dear.”

Red manages to come out of her freeze a little more, snatching her hand away from him. That’s my girl. She always seems to understand what I think and feel, even before I do. Fucking annoying sometimes. But now I’m glad that she can read my increased anger and jealousy so easily.

She doesn’t meet my eyes though, avoiding the glare I’m shooting at her, then him. She only moves away from us and takes a seat on the piano bench.

Cary jumps into the awkwardness, “Miles was introduced to me by Bradford last week, Simon. He thought you two might be able to come to terms.” He knows my rule of only taking clients that are known to me. Bradford has been a client for many years. But that doesn’t excuse Cary for bringing a stranger into my home and without warning.

I take my eyes off Red long enough to give a few dagger looks in Cary’s direction. “I’m retiring.” His shocked face is almost worth it though. His eyes go so round they’re more white than blue. I ignore this and turn again to my unwelcome guest, “So, you’ll have to resource your product needs from someone else, Miles. I may be able to give you a recommendation, though.” I want this man out of my house as quickly as possible. I need to attend to Red. To see what’s got her so rattled.

This is the first episode of her withdrawing like this since we came to our strange understanding a month ago. I’ve been fearing what would happen if she lost control of her batshit nuttiness. Tonight of all nights is not good. I don’t want to have to explain too much to Cary. And I haven’t had enough time to get my head around what all this really means for us.
Us
. Fuck.

Miles only smiles at me with a bland look like I didn’t just brush him off. “I was hoping to talk business in private, Mr. Lamb.” He shifts his eyes to Red again, still sitting in her semi-frozen state. His eyes linger on her longer than I like. Fuck. I really need to get control of this jealousy shit.

“That’ll have to wait, then. We’re late for a concert and dinner.” I glance at Cary. He’s still recovering his shocked look, but he nods at me. He’s not an idiot. He understands that he’s pissed me off tonight. He doesn’t know why, but that doesn’t matter. He’s quick to respond to my subtle nod towards the door.

Cary puts his hand out, directing Miles back towards my foyer. “I’m sure we can be in touch in the next couple of days…”

But Miles doesn’t move towards the door. He stays in the same spot, ignoring Cary, ignoring me. Instead, this fucker turns to Red and addresses her with a more commanding voice. “Play for me.” He nods towards the piano in front of her.

I answer for Red tersely, “She doesn’t play,” moving to block his view of her.

I square my already tense shoulders and take a closer look at the man. Miles Vanderson isn’t known to me. The fact that my cousin would bring him here unannounced is not a good sign. Cary knows better. Bradford will have some explaining to do too. I don’t like surprises. And I especially don’t like them in my home.

Miles is maybe an inch or two taller than me, but doesn’t come close to matching my physical strength. His expensive suit does nothing to hide his athletic build though. He seems purposely older than his age; a practiced way of looking and talking. A man who’s used to getting what he wants through intimidation.

His dark hair is kept very short and his darker eyes are large and piercing with an intensity. He appears casual enough, comfortable. But my years of watching people, assessing strengths and weaknesses tells me that his casualness is forced. Miles is restraining himself, uncomfortable being here. Maybe he’s not used to dealing with someone like me, on unfamiliar ground talking about acquiring a woman to be his slave? But he doesn’t seem hesitant and he didn’t look away as Cary introduced us. And he hasn’t stopped eyeing Red like she’s prime fucking beef and he’s a vegan off the wagon.

My thoughts are interrupted by music behind me. Cary and Miles move to watch Red. I turn slowly and correct myself. It’s Grace who’s playing my piano. She’s not just playing; she’s good actually. I didn’t know she could. She hasn’t even stood near it until tonight.

Of course, I don’t know a lot about her. And what I do know is more shocking than learning that she’s a modestly good pianist. After four weeks together, every minute of every day, I still don’t know her real name even. Or what happened in her past to shatter her into five separate pieces. I have my theories, but she won’t open up to me about anything before two years ago when she came to San Francisco. I’ve tried getting info out of Red and Grace, but both are stubborn in their own ways.

I’m startled awake by her fingertips dancing lightly up my stomach. I’m chilled now from the sweat that still clings to us, but I have my breath back at least. I must’ve only dozed off for a few minutes. The overhead light is still dimmed and the sheets are cold as I move.

I smile at her sweet smile up to me, pulling her hand up to my lips and kissing them softly. “Hello, Grace.” Her smile gets bigger. They all seem so pleased when I recognize the change between them so easily. A smile that big just for me pleases me too.

I’d fallen asleep with Red in my arms, our panting the perfect melody to put me into a post-sex slumber that would’ve lasted all night. But I can see by the blush on Grace’s cheeks that she has other ideas.

I roll into her, propping my head up on my crooked elbow, my fingers tracing absently over her nipples, my eyes wandering down her stretched body. She lays perfectly still under my inspection of her, looking up at me with her eyes large and waiting.

I went light on Red tonight, just feathering with a flogger that only left a few pink spots on her body. The sweat and panting came from the number of times we brought each other to climax, even without the usual intricate roping and whippings. I’d closed my eyes thinking that it’d be days before I would have the energy for sex again.

I guess I was wrong. Because watching Grace shiver and move with my light touch is enough to stir my need for her. “Be still. No movement unless it’s one I order.” She relaxes into the bed more, melting into my touch. She loves when I take charge of her.

I’ve learned the difference between Red and Grace in bed. What they like and don’t like is very different. Mind-bogglingly different and I’m feeling the familiar guilt at thinking of one while with the other. It’s an insanity that makes me harder.

With Red, it’s all about exploring limits. We haven’t found any yet. Every position, every implement, every twisted way I can think and she pushes for more. Her submission isn’t so much given to me as one I earn each time.

When I think I can’t push her further, when she’s had enough…she always gets this look in her eyes. It’s the look I think of as her submissive one, because I’ve seen no other like it. But the word doesn’t truly describe it. Her eyes aren’t clouded with blind lust or willingness or even ecstasy when we reach that point. They’re startling in their clarity actually. Because she’s not lost in the moment, lost in the emotions and sensations as so many would be, have been. She’s completely with me, in the same frame of mind as me and her lips will sometimes part for a small smile if I’ve allowed her use of her mouth…and she’ll breathe out one word…more. 

With Grace, though…it’s all about control. I don’t tie her up, I don’t hurt her…well, much. I order her around. I don’t push for her obedience; it’s her eager willingness to comply that puts her into a pure state of submission where she aches to be whatever I want, whatever I need. No effort on my part required. I just enjoy the fruits of it. And it’s all me pushing for more.

I lightly pinch her left nipple, rolling the hardened pebble between my fingers and making her try not to squirm. I know that I won’t have much for her, but I want to make her cum. I love the small gasps and high pitched squeals she tries to hold back when I get her there. So very different from the full-throat moans and screams I get from Red. But both are music to my ears.

“Open your legs…wider.” I kneel in between her thighs, looking down on her and no longer smiling. For whatever reason, Grace likes when I seem more angry than happy with her during sex. She prefers the idea that her ability to please me is illusory in its quest. I learned this about her quickly. She cums harder for me when I add either humiliation or admonishment to sex. It’s a game I’m willing to explore for her, since the prize is her softness.

I decide to try to use her submissive state to get more out of her. My daily efforts for the past weeks to get information about her past has gotten me nowhere. Maybe open like this, she’ll be more open to questions…it’s worth a try.

“Grace. Put your hands on the headboard.” She does, pushing herself to me a little, legs spreading even wider. I suppress a smile at the anticipation on her face. I take her clit in between my fingers and she gasps. It’s still so swollen, only light pressure is needed to have her moaning and stiffening against the bed to stop moving.

“Did your Master before me make you moan like that?” I ask this quietly. I know she doesn’t refer to the man who hurt her as Master; she doesn’t like when I do. But I want her a little uncomfortable right now. I hope that she finds this the right amount of humiliation, bringing up her being with another like this is certainly enough of an image to add the required edge to my voice. But I hold my breath waiting for her answer, watching her face frown as she wars the need to please with her need to keep her secrets. She only shakes her head. “No. Answer me.”

“No.” It’s a weak answer, held back with her breath.

“Did you like being under his control?” I’m feeling sick with my own questions and have to concentrate on her tits moving up and down with her quickened breaths, on the feel of her slick lips as I slip a finger gently into her in order not to lose my hard-on.

She shakes her head again and I lightly slap her thigh to remind her to speak. “No.” But I can see that I’m getting nowhere.

“Look at me, Grace. Tell me something. Anything. Where did you live before, when you were with him?” I’m not faking the anger in my voice now. It’s frustration from weeks of trying to move the boulder that keeps her mouth shut against any details of her life before me.

She starts to shake her head, but stops and her eyes blank for just a moment. I keep my finger in her, circling while I wait for the committee’s decision. That’s what it feels like…I’m waiting to hear what all her selves will say and even who will say it.

Her eyes fill with happiness and she pushes into my finger more, but only what she can without moving too much still…ever the obedient, submissive that she is, she remembers my order to not move. I smile back, hopeful that this means I’m going to finally get some answers.