Author's Note: This one is the last part. It's still a romance and still M/f. And there still aren't really content warnings, as none of them seemed to fit.
I loved writing this one and hope you enjoy :)
Essie
My week was quieter, I noticed. He made me stay away for that long and I was glad he did, even if it was torture to pass him in the hallway, even if his eyes would meet mine and my pussy felt like it opened in a sense of readiness, which was strange when he didn't have sex at all. I even asked Isabelle about that part of it (not because I distrusted him, but because I was so curious when, like I said, my partner's pleasure had once been so important to me) and she smiled in this quiet way and answered that he really just didn't have sex anymore. It was a thing for him.
I asked more, telling her to not tell me anything that she thought would be a betrayal. I told her why I wanted to know and she'd sighed. "I'm not exactly the right person to ask for this, honey. I realize that, in setting you up in a weird way, I have some responsibility, but I don't fully understand sadism or masochism myself. They're somehow different from domination, which is what I like. They really are." And she'd told me about a woman named Courtney, but I couldn't go to Courtney when I looked her up. She was a cold eyed blonde who made me a coward. I ended up messaging Lily instead, after I found her on Facebook.
She'd given me quite a bit. At first she'd answered that she needed to get home to properly type out an adequate response and, as a bartender, I'd thought she was just throwing me off, briefly forgetting that this group of people was a little different than that. She definitely messaged back and Lily, I was quick to learn, had a big heart for people on the S&M side of things.
First, I'm glad you messaged me. It's a thing for me that sometimes I even have masochists come to me for playtimes because they don't have a safe top to go to and have a craving they need fulfilled. I will always try my best to answer or safely give you whatever you need. I hope that isn't an awkward invitation, as I'm not much of a Dominant, and that you'll genuinely ask if you have needs. I know what that kind of pain is like and I know the abuse that can happen. The abuse part is unsafe and bad.
As for Jackson, I can tell you that he is absolutely safe and a good person. Well, I can tell you he's safe in general, but should clarify that I can't tell you what he is if he's in love, since love has seemed to change every sadist I've ever met. Also, as a disclaimer, this is exclusively for sadists, since Doms have their own rules (they can be sadists, but aren't always and Jackson has always seemed more on the sadism side. My own fiancé was a sadist who became dominant when he fell in love with me, for instance).
But Jackson not having sex isn't as uncommon as you might think. Sadists get a rush off giving pain, for a start. Now imagine that orgasm is a release valve for pressure for most people, and it can be any kind of pressure. It can be stress, frustration, pleasure. It's just a valve that lets the steam out. Well, sometimes a sadist can be pure enough that they don't want to let the valve open for release. If they know that they won't "blow a pipe", so to speak, they'll just let it build. For a lot of sadists, there might be a "leak" further along the pipe where it slowly releases, but they enjoy the build that comes from giving pain so much that they don't want to let all the steam go at one time. They want to burn in the pressure and enjoy it. Incidentally, masochists sometimes have a similar thing. They don't want to orgasm. They want to burn in the knowledge that they were a used fucktoy, that they were truly abused with no regard for their own pleasure at all.
The two ideas seem to hold hands. I think Jackson is in total control, probably in more control than ever, but maybe at a sadism point that has reached that purity level where he doesn't release it. I hope this helps explain a little.
It did, actually, but it also served to make me more fascinated than ever. I had had fantasies of dark males dominating me, taking total control.
But this was a little more dark than I had anticipated. Even so, it was intriguing, you know? Maybe a lot of people would think I was crazy, but he was so romantic, in this strange way, about how he tormented.
Like I said, I would forever be glad that he made me stay away for a week. Because of that quietness, that newfound sense of discovering something so very dark... and being unable to stay away from it. It felt like a form of hypnotism in some strange way, a kind of dance with him where I knew I was going to go back. I knew I was going to beg him to keep going.
The week gave me more of a sense of torment than it did any hope of escaping that fact, but it gave me time to realize that I couldn't stay away. I just... couldn't.
————
Jackson
She came back to me. A week later she messaged with a short text that said,
I'd still like to play again.
And I'd answered with a date setup on a night when she was off work from her bar.
Even then, I tried to resist, tried to keep us with light playing, though, but she
came back to me
. It made me feel giddy, made me goddamned elated actually, that I gave her pain and she liked that I did. It was the kind of thing that made my sadist's heart sing, the thought that someone enjoyed my form of love and affection. I'd spent life either being too soft for hardcore masochists, who would rather be left on the floor in a sense of abused numbness, and being too hard for quiet submissives, who only wanted a little pain in their play. I liked a lot of physical pain.
But I was soft when I gave it, soothing. And she came back to me for more of it.
I couldn't get over that fact. I just couldn't. I was trying to not go into what I knew would be more serious games, the kind where I would actively be training her to take more, the kind that would be my version of dating. I was trying to keep to light games, fun little play dates. Trying.
She wasn't making that an easy thing. "Back again, Essie?" I smiled when she sat at the bar, and she was wearing another little party dress with those -
Jesus fucking Christ
- latex gloves of hers. She looked much more comfortable in Sulfur's than she had that first time, too.
She looked like someone who belonged. "Yes." Her eyes sparkled and she looked around. "I'm back again. Also, do you know, I think I'm getting used to seeing all the latex and exhibitionism." She studied a dominatrix who was working over a male submissive and the Domme had cutouts in her outfit so that her breasts and pussy were obviously visible. The male, on the other hand, was mostly naked. Excluding the leather hood over his head and the cage and crusher setup on his genitals, that is. "Hey, I have a question."
"Imagine that." I leaned over the bar to kiss her forehead and she grinned in a way that made my heart warm, a way that made me want to hurt her. "I might have an answer."
"Do you do the exhibition thing?"
I laughed. "Look at you, getting interested in all these new kinds of perversions." She giggled and I winked. "I do, sometimes, actually. It doesn't bother me at any rate, but not for tonight for you." I touched her nose. "I already have tonight planned out and it's all for me, I'm afraid."
Oh, she enjoyed that thought. Her eyes were alight with a dark kind of excitement, a blend of playfulness and fear that warmed me. "Yes, Sir."
And I was getting addicted to the sound of those words on her lips. I had another thought, that I would have her say them all the time, a 24/7 dynamic, which was always a thought that disturbed me. It wasn't the kind of thing I was lightly interested in, when I was more of a play sadist and Dom. "We're waiting for Isabelle to get done, by the way, since she's apparently volunteered with Christopher to take over for me on these nights." Fucking Isabelle. Christopher always kept a couple of bartenders on roster because he had to give me a break some time, but I rarely used that fact and the bartenders were all just DMs who would trade with me anyway. They didn't mind one way or another. "How was your week, by the way?"
"It was good. I watched Music Man again last night. What about you?"
I laughed. "Good. I watched the football game on my day off. I have fantasy league investment in it."
Her face lit up. "Which player? With that game, it could have either been fucking horrible for you or amazing after the stats were said and done."
"I'll give you a hint. It was fucking amazing for me."
"Nice. So I'm guessing a certain running back was-" She cut off with the way I smiled, laughing at the self satisfied look on my face. I'd traded for the player she meant, actually, taking a risk and it had come out beautifully.
"You're a strange little breed of everything, Essie. I shouldn't be so shocked that you know these things, with what I know about your family, but it does sometimes take me by surprise." That was a coward's way of saying what was really in my heart, those words I was starting to realize and couldn't speak out loud. I wanted to hurt her more all over again, wanted to make her cry for me so I could kiss her and tell her how good she was being.
She held out her hands. "What can I say? I'm a quiet nerd who ended up with a sports obsessions out of an occupational hazard of working at a sports bar and being the only sister of eight. Warning label, though. I'm actually really boring. This and work are the only places I go to in order to get out anymore."
"Oh, yeah. This is definitely boring."
She turned around to watch with me while the Domme from before moved on to fucking her sub's ass with a massive dildo, which was evil when he was still in the cock cage. Essie turned to me and laughed. "Okay, well, if I'm getting more interesting, then you and Isabelle are to blame."
That made me remember Isabelle talking with Courtney about Essie a couple of nights ago. Courtney had been in high spirits.
She was vanilla but learned on
him?
Yeah, whatever vanilla was left is long gone.
And wasn't that the truth with how she so casually watched the male sub, her head tilted curiously, with a lot less shy embarrassment than she'd had that first time.
