Chapter Seventeen
You came to him
“Tell me,” Kevin ordered, one arm wrapped low around Aurelie’s hips, one across the middle of her back. He’d positioned her on his lap, a knee on either side of his hips. He tightened his arms, holding her close, not allowing room for her to push away. She kept trying, palms against his chest, but her arms trapped between them had little leverage.
They had gotten home after the sun had already broken the horizon, and he knew she was tired. More like exhausted if the dark circles under her eyes were any indication. He also knew that if he allowed her the space of even a day to rebuild her walls, she would never let him in. Now or never, he thought, and said, “I can do this all day, honey.” He leaned in, grazing his cheek against hers, feeling the scruff of his unshaven face dragging across her smooth skin. “Tell me.”
Over the events of the evening, strands of her soft hair had pulled loose from her tight braid, and now they brushed against his neck and chin as she shook her head. “Kevin, please.” Her neck dipped, bending forwards and resting her forehead against his shoulder. “I would very much like to go to sleep.”
“I’m sure you would, honey,” he muttered, tipping his head to press his jaw tight to her temple. “But, I very much want to know who the Domme was.” He decided to offer a warning of just how serious he was. Firming his tone, threading command through every word, he told her, “Don’t deny me, Aurelie. Do not try to evade just to provoke.” He sat in the comfortable chair in the living room, holding her, waiting, willing to give her a minute to decide she could trust him to follow through on the promise.
Without that trust, the foundation he was attempting to rebuild with her would never stand—could never support the relationship he needed. I won’t give up on her, he thought. Still, against his better judgment, he’d opened his mouth to urge her again when she took in a deep breath, ribs expanding strongly against the muscles of his arms before she blew it out in a whoosh of air that chilled his skin.
“I first met her in Paris. It was…” Aurelie’s already weak voice trailed to silence for a moment before she picked up the thread of her story. “She was only a baby Domme then. New to the scene. Cautious and careful with each action, each word. More willing to take two steps backwards than follow through with any advancement.”
Kevin swallowed hard, because it sounded nearly like the first weeks he’d had with Aurelie.
“No, Kevin.” With two words, she proved she was in tune with him, picking up on some subtle telltale of his unease and mapping it through to the cause without error. She still knows me, inside and out. “It was not like that. She is not like you. In the beginning, she lacked the desire to dominate. She was testing the waters and finding them not entirely to her liking, but something there called to her. Madame G was aroused by arousal in others, and a public scene was a means to an end for her. Satisfaction of her submissive was not the reason for her pleasure in itself.” He frowned. He’d seen some inexperienced Doms nearly ruin a sub with that kind of treatment, and his stomach turned at the idea of Aurelie in the grasp of someone so shallow. “She never enjoyed negotiation or set-up, exhibited no desire to build a world a sub could trust in, could invest themselves in for more than a short time. I believe she still finds the domination unsatisfying. That’s one of the reasons she makes a statement with the flamboyant trappings she prefers. Those outward signs will quell most questions from a sub, especially one who is relatively inexperienced. Her carriage and costume portray confidence and assurance.” Aurelie’s head moved, cheek rubbing across his chest, unconsciously seeking comfort he was happy to give. “She was not you, but even as an initiate into the lifestyle, for me she was at least a distraction.”
“A distraction? From what, honey?” One arm stayed low around her waist as he worked his other underneath her shirt to rest a flattened palm on the naked surface of her back, rubbing small circles, fingertips tracing along the edges of her shoulder blades and vertebra. Shame had suffused her voice, and he wanted to soften whatever blow she was about to take from her own words.
“You were gone.” Thin and airy, the words drove into his skull like a spike, pounding at him. She shivered, a full-body quiver and he was reminded of the first night he’d seen her here in Chicago, in the club, terrified of something even as she’d approached him. Maybe that I’d leave again?
“I’m here, Aurelie.” Squeezing her tight with one arm, he kept up the soothing strokes of his fingers on her skin. “You’re here with me.” Pressing his lips to the side of her head, he whispered close to her ear, “You’re safe with me.”
“I missed what we had.” While not as softly spoken as her previous statement, her words were still tentative and quiet. She was feeling her way with him, trying to find the boundaries of what he’d allow. So much more than you think, honey. “It had been so good with you. More than titillation, it was effortless and sweetly affectionate. Satisfying in a way I’d never known. I knew it wasn’t to be. Wasn’t something sustainable, because you belonged here, in the United States, and I saw myself staying in Paris forever.” Heat from her palm blazed against his skin as she flattened her hand on his chest, positioned over his heart. “Early on I thought I’d accepted the finite window fate offered. The reality that I had eight weeks with you.” She shrugged, one shoulder lifting as her head tossed back and forth. “But, mon amore, I missed you so.”
Kevin closed his eyes, a swelling pain rolling through him that they had both lost out on so much. I was too stupid to know what I had, he thought, angry at himself. Tightening his hold, he focused on the feel of her pressed against him like this. I’m not too stupid now.
Sounding choked, she pulled in a breath and stiffened in his arms, back going straight as she fought through the emotions clogging her throat. “Life goes on, Kevin. I was lonely, so I played with her. I learned what she liked, tried to become that for her. It was not enough for me, her faltering play. I needed more. You know me, what I…she and I, we had no claims of ownership. I was not her slave.” Aurelie’s fingers gripped his arm, tight. Her voice urgent as she told him, “She was Madame, never Mistress.”
Kevin heard the distinction and nodded.
Aurelie continued, “She heard of a scene I did with an established Dom, one with a heavier hand, more confident. More to my liking, because…well, you know how I am.” She tried for a laugh, and the broken sound tore at his heart. “Always willing to push the boundaries. Then it fell apart. There was a moment in the club when she confronted me with lies, and I was asked to leave. She was a Domme, I a sub. Suspended.” Quaking steadily now, Aurelie shook her head.
“Because she could not be what I needed, she took all of it from me. So petty. She was only in France for another three months, and out of spite, she stripped the club away. Without even that…” Another breath, this more ragged than the last. “My work fell apart, Kevin. I couldn’t see anything in my head.” She tapped two fingers against one temple, face twisted in pain. There was remembered frustration in her voice when she told him, “Nothing here would come out. Blocked and stifled, my art held prisoner inside my mind.”
He knew what she meant, had seen it more than once, watched how the endorphins from a good scene could energize her, bring her creative spark to life. After regaining composure in his arms, she could spend hours working. Clever fingers flying across the page, she would frantically sketch and draw, capturing the beauty shaped by her imagination.
“It took time, but I settled into a routine. I found an outlet.” She trembled, and he wondered at the emotion banked inside her, unable to determine if this were remembered enjoyment or an expression of residual fear. “It was not the same. No one could bring me…it wasn’t the same. I played, but without an intimate aspect, looking only for the relief my poor head needed. In a way, I found a path I could follow in order to cope and force what I needed. I thought I could anyway.” She moved restlessly, then settled in his lap again.
“I kept up with your career, kept abreast of the things you did, where you’d been seen. Knew when you rejoined the lifestyle.” She pulled in a breath on a half laugh, cutting it short when it wobbled in her throat. “Subs talk. You know that. And the Internet has broken down so many boundaries. We are no longer as isolated as once we were; message boards, chat rooms, social media—we find ways to connect and tell our tales, expound upon the successes and bleed our hearts out about the failures.” She laughed again, this sound more real, low and sultry in a way that made his cock start to pay attention to the beautiful woman in his lap.
“You were a coveted prize, mon amour. It became known that you were a one-and-done Dominant, not looking for a long-term arrangement, no matter the temptation placed in your path. A challenge for most, especially those you worked a scene with. Dom Kevin became the talk of the unattached subs in Fort Wayne, and then in Chicago. Every munch had a story about what would happen if you showed up. When an offer came to work with a private fashion house here in Chicago, it seemed like fate. Oh, mon amore, I so expected to see you around every corner for the longest time. A thing I longed for, but it felt weak to want it so badly. I would not allow myself to come to your restaurant. That was one battle within myself that I won.”
“I wish you had lost. Wish you had come to me, honey. But you’re with me now.” He breathed the words, afraid he would break the spell, but needing her to know she would have been welcome. Ever welcome, no matter what. “I would love to show you what I’m building.”
“I could not, Kevin. For me, it was enough to know you were nearby. For a time, at least. After that, when the typical entertainment failed to satisfy, I became careless, unafraid. I have wondered if I was seeking something like I found.” She shuddered, muscles in her back contorting under his touch. “Then I remember the pain, and I know that was nothing I sought. She found me in a private dungeon. I was playing with someone I knew and trusted…thought I could trust. An invited guest, she recognized me immediately, but the persona of Madame G had evolved, and I failed to note who she was.”
She shuddered again, trembling, and this time he knew the reason was a memory of pain and fear.
“She sweetly cajoled my Dominant, asking for critique. You know a submissive’s mindset in the moment, how abhorrent it is to disappoint when deep into a scene. When I did not demur, he surrendered the whip. It wasn’t until the first blow landed that I knew her. Her voice, shaking with excitement as she said my name. Not the submissive play name I’d used in that dungeon, but my name.” A deep breath, one that again tested the strength of his hold before Aurelie’s back lost its stiffness and she slumped against him. “I still do not understand her words. Kevin, she was angry and out of control. Not feigned for show, but truly, deeply angry. The pain was sweet at first, my arranged Dom had seen to the warmup, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”
Kevin had tipped his head down, resting his cheek on the top of Aurelie’s head, listening as she poured out her fear and shame. Fear, because she had been injured, the play passing outside of the range of acceptable behavior so fast she couldn’t control it. Shame because in the beginning she enjoyed it, and debasement wasn’t one of her kinks, so that felt wrong. “Honey,” he breathed, deliberately keeping his hold on her steady and tight.
“The Dominant tried to intervene, ‘Jos, stop.’ I still hear his voice. You know the sounds of a scene like that, the things you can hear when you aren’t deep inside it. The creak of leather restraints, swish of the whip’s recovery swing, the thudding effort put into each strike. Grunting and breathing, so harsh, not beautiful at all. ‘You came to him,’ she told me, each staccato word landing with a blow. ‘I was supposed to come to him.’ I still don’t understand.” Aurelie shook her head, loose hair catching and dragging against his beard stubble.
Kevin had frozen in place when Aurelie said the woman’s name, and he now sought clarity, because suddenly everything was falling into place. Even the Domme’s arrogance and aggression towards him tonight could be explained if his leaps of intuition were correct.
“Aurelie, honey. What’s her name, do you know? You called her Madame G, and then just now said the asshole who lost control of a negotiated scene called her something else. What was that again?” He swallowed, waiting.
“Jos.” Aurelie breathed the name and then solidified everything for Kevin with five crisp syllables. “Joselyn Gandall.”
Top of Form