A Cup of Tea Bk. 03

"Clean her Dax. Clean her cum-filled snatch."

Jennifer lay prone on the bench, her chest heaving with each labored breath as the remnants of her head splitting orgasm rippled through her. Her plump thighs were spread wide apart and Boxwood's pearly white cum was leaking out of her, across her anus and onto the surface of the padded bench. Dax the voyeur became Dax the submissive. He pushed Boxwood away from Jennifer's open legs, hungrily lapping up another man's cum with his tongue. The sheer depravity of the moment made Dax's cock throb where even a slight touch would trigger his climax.

The big titted blonde let out a low growl as his lips swept across her winking anus and then to her gaping pussy. Dax's tongue reawakened her desire. She bent forward and curled her fingers into his hair, pressing his lips against her nether lips, now panting again as he pushed her ever higher. As he felt the hot, sticky cum slide onto his tongue he looked up at Elaine, soliciting her approval. She gave him a slight nod and a wicked, knowing smile. He looked into the Domme's eyes, deep shimmering pools of lust, and realized that only she could probe his bottomless well of darkness. He swallowed.

Elaine scratched the surface of that pit in his soul, scratched a place so dark he had never before recognized its existence. It took Mistress Elaine to ignite the fire that now burned steady and bright.

* * *

It was over a month before Mariko and Keiko returned to New York. Mariko was placed into a long term care facility for recovering cancer patients and started a bi-weekly chemo regimen that was closely monitored by her daughter. Dax and Keiko resumed seeing each other, but Keiko sensed that something in Dax had changed. He was more distant, moodier, than he had been before. She was busy attending to her mother so she decided to give Dax the space to work through his issues. Dax still hadn't reconciled his love for Keiko with his lust for Mistress Elaine's brand of humiliation.

Mel was working on resurrecting the Reynolds deal, Dax's acquisition of a trophy office building that was put on hold when he was preoccupied with getting to know Keiko better. She was able to set a meeting for the following week, subject to Dax lining up letters of credit to demonstrate he could complete the purchase. She entered his office and closed the door behind her.

"So Mel, how much financing do I have to get committed before our meeting?"

"$400 million. Our lead bank has committed $200 million and it's up to you to secure the rest before next Thursday's meeting. I can get a meeting with a couple of the banks on Monday."

"Umm ... Monday ... I have a commitment with Keiko that I can't break."

"Dax, do you want this deal or not? We've only got three days next week to line up the rest of the financing."

"I do. I just can't do it on Monday. Can we shoot for Tuesday?"

"I can. That doesn't leave us much margin for error." Mel's curiosity was getting the best of her, and this was the right moment to broach her question. "So how is it going with Keiko?"

"It's complicated."

"I'm all ears."

"She's not like anyone else I've been with."

"Including me?"

"Including you."

"How so?"

Dax shared everything with Mel. Although they were once intimate, that moment had passed, but Mel still enjoyed Dax's confidence, and that included his love life. He struggled with telling her the truth, but in the end, given his own confusion on where he stood, decided to seek her counsel.

"She likes to be in control."

Mel laughed. "All women do. Tell me something I don't know."

"I mean really in control."

"You mean like ... mind control?"

"Well, let's just say that I'll do anything she asks me to do."

" ... in the bedroom?"

He dipped my chin ever so slightly, indicating assent. Her eyes widened. "That's so hot."

"Really Mel ... "

"No I mean it. You can be a bit of an ass sometimes and it's good you've placed your complete trust in her."

"I trust you."

"Not like that." Her eyes had a forlorn look. She had always carried a torch for her boss. Did she just miss his signals?

"No ... not like that. But I trust you."

"Good recovery Dax. By the way, speaking of trust, did you have anything to do with Hank's call to me breaking it off once and for all?"

Dax wanted to stay in the background even though he wanted to say yes. "No ... why?"

"Oh nothing. Well, if you were to have done it, thank you. I really needed to rid myself of that jerk." It was truly a love-hate relationship between Hank and Mel. The sex was terrific, but the surrounding circumstances, especially Hank's marital status, sucked. Mel said what Dax wanted to hear, but she was secretly seeing Hank, once again, despite her better judgment.

"It was a good decision."

"Well, about Keiko, there's nothing sinister in her motives. She just likes to dictate everything that happens ... even in the bedroom."

Mel was pretty savvy about all types of relationships, and although she had never experienced anything but vanilla sex, she had friends who had actively explored the world of BDSM. It surprised her that Dax had found himself in such a relationship.

"Is she a Domme?"

"I guess so. It's all new to me. I've done some reading up on this ... I know it's kind of fucked up ..."

"No ... no ... I haven't seen you this happy in like ... forever. So whatever she's doing ..."

"I can't seem to help myself ..."

"Maybe you don't want to."

"Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself."

Dax only gave Mel half of the truth. He never breathed a word to her about Mistress Elaine. He thought it was his secret, and that was his biggest mistake.

* * *

It was an early winter day, a Friday evening, when Keiko was away on a business trip and Mistress Elaine was entertaining "company" in her Connecticut country estate. Most of Dax's friends had already escaped to their homes in the countryside, but business meetings kept Dax in the City through the end of the day Friday. The entrepreneur lamented his banishment to the chilly confines of the Big Apple with Mason as they travelled through lighter than usual traffic to Dax's apartment.

"Everyone's abandoned me. I've got nothing waiting for me at home except leftovers in the refrigerator."

"It sucks to be you, Sir," said Mason, sarcastically.

"Got any ideas?"

"It seems like whenever you're in a funk like this you fall back on Mel."

Dax's ears perked up at the mention of his assistant. "Mel ... that's a great idea. Why don't we stop by her place and see what she's up to? She told me earlier today that she was just going to hang out in her apartment."

Mason turned his head towards the back seat, but kept one eye on the road. "I'm sorry if I'm being presumptuous, but don't you think it would be a good idea to give her a call first?"

"You're not being presumptuous. You can tell me anything you like. Mason, we've been together for twenty years. I trust you like a brother."

"Well Sir, as your brother, I'm telling you that women don't generally like to be surprised."

Dax chuckled. "Nonsense. You're my brother and Mel's my sister. I don't need to make an appointment to see my sister." Dax took off his coat and tie and unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. "Let's go."

"As you wish." Mason made a right turn off Park Avenue and headed to Mel's co-op apartment on the Upper West Side. Fifteen minutes later, the gleaming black Bentley pulled in front of Mel's building.

"I'll wait for you in case Mel's busy or not at home."

"Thanks Mason. I'll text you."

Dax stepped out into the cold night air and walked briskly to the front door of the building. Because Dax owned three units in Mel's building, the doorman was well familiar with the tall, dark haired man as he approached.

"Evening Mr. Hanlon," the uniformed doorman said as he held open the door. "Cold one today, huh Sir?"

Dax quickly glanced at the doorman's nameplate. "That it is Gerry. Thank you," he said as he entered the climate controlled comfort of the building's white marble lobby.

Dax strolled over to the elevator bank, walked into the first cab, and pressed "23" for Mel's floor. Moments later the elevator doors opened and Dax turned right to go to Unit F. The entire common area of that floor just received a makeover and Dax was pleased with the choices of carpeting and paint. He pressed the bell for Unit F and waited. He didn't hear anything on the other side of the door and rang the bell again. After waiting for a minute, he fished a key ring out of his pocket and thumbed through the keys until he spotted Mel's. He decided to leave a note in the kitchen in case Mel got home before the evening was over. He unlocked the door and stepped into the darkened apartment.

"Hello? ... Mel? ... Hello?"

There were faint sounds emanating from the rear of the apartment so naturally Dax was drawn to its source. Mel's bedroom door was ajar and light was filtering out into the hallway. Dax peered through the six inch opening.

"... yes ... oh God ... you're so deep in my ass ..." he heard Mel half talk, half moan, as Hal was fucking her from behind. Dax could see Hal's not very attractive middle age ass as he thrust into the tall brunette's ample backside, now on her hands and knees. Dax was well-endowed, but even at a distance he could see Hal was bigger than him. His cock glistened as it slid in and out of her rear passage, stretching and gaping the narrow opening.

"Oh fuck ... cumming," bellowed the balding middle age man as his engorged cock spewed cum inside her. Mel was making mewling noises as he pushed all the way inside her, exciting the muscles in her anal ring. Her inner thighs trembled as another orgasm ripped her breath away.

Dax watched in horrid fascination as his trusted and beloved assistant was being anally ravaged by a man he thoroughly despised. Not being to contain himself, he pushed the door opened and leered at the couple. His imposing presence loomed in the doorway.

Hal turned his head towards the sound made by the door creaking open and saw just about the last thing in the world he wanted to see.

"Dax," he gasped, his cum covered penis deflating as he realized the trouble he was in.

"What did I tell you about staying away from Mel?" the much larger man screamed, the veins throbbing in his forehead. The last time they went around about Mel, Dax had lifted Hal up by the collar until both of his feet were off the ground.

Mel grabbed a shirt that was laying on the floor and covered her breasts. "Dax ... no," she cried as she saw the rage on Dax's face. It was a look she had never seen before and hoped she never saw again.

The hulking, angry as hell man ran towards the bed. Hal hunkered down on the bed and covered his private parts with his hands. Dax grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him off the bed and onto the carpeted floor. He hit with a loud thump and yelped at the unexpected pain.

"Let me go, you asshole, or I'll ..." the defenseless man said, as Dax hovered over him.

"Or you'll what?" Dax bent over and stared at Hal, fire in his eyes.

Hal rolled over like a dog, eluding Dax's grasp. He got up and ran, buck naked, to the kitchen, his pulse pounding as a cornered prey. He opened a kitchen drawer and pulled out a serrated steak knife, Dax in close pursuit.

"By God, I'll cut you," Hal said, turning around and brandishing the steak knife in front of him.

Dax laughed. "Go ahead you spineless prick. And while you're cutting me with that puny knife I'm going to teach you a lesson." Dax rushed forward as Hal crossed his arms in front of him and closed his eyes. They fell backward, Dax on top of Hal, while the knife Hal was holding nicked Dax on the forehead, above his right eyebrow, leaving an ugly, jagged three inch wound. As head wounds are apt to do, Dax started bleeding profusely, dripping blood on Hal's face. Dax rose to his feet and bellowed in pain. He pressed his palm against the cut, trying to staunch the flow of blood, but to no avail.

"Call 911, you fool," Dax said, running to the bathroom to tend to his wound. Mel followed close behind, now wearing loose fitting sweats. She pressed a washcloth against the wound and used another wet washcloth to clean the blood off of his face. As she was angrily dabbing his face she put her hand under his chin so he was looking directly at her.

"Dax, I don't know you anymore. What gave you the right to barge into my apartment?"

"I don't know. I wanted to leave you a note and then I ..."

"... invaded my bedroom."

"God Mel, I'm so sorry, I just thought ..."

"That's the point. You should have thought before you broke into my apartment." She threw the bloody washcloth at him, splattering his already tattered suit, and walked away in disgust.

An ambulance arrived, but also a squad car with New York's finest. Dax was attended to by the paramedics as the two policemen interviewed Hal, then Mel. After the interviews Dax was arrested and placed in handcuffs. By the time he was taken downstairs there were already a gaggle of reporters clustered on the sidewalk outside the building.

The next day in the least reputable tabloid newspaper in New York (you know the one), there was a picture of Dax trying to shield his face as he was escorted to a waiting NYPD car, a heavy bloodied bandage across his forehead. The front page headline read "Dax Hanlon Arrested in Love Triangle Spat." Below the picture of Dax were smaller pictures of Mel and Hal, Mel dressed in her sweats and Hal covered in Dax's blood. Hardly the finest moment for any of them, and particularly irksome for Mel, whose first appearance on the front page had her dressed like a homeless person.

Dax went through the humiliation of being booked on felony assault charges late that night, sitting for hours in a local police station in a drunk tank with a half a dozen other men, most of whom reeked of alcohol, vomit, piss or all of the above. He spent that sleepless night wondering why he was so needy when it came to women and how he had managed to fuck up his life by failing to manage his temper. It wasn't until the next afternoon that he was finally bailed out by his attorney.

Mason was waiting outside the police station, holding the door open to the Bentley. Dax stumbled out of the station, his head still heavily bandaged, in a blood stained suit, spotting his longtime chauffeur and giving him a weak wave. He fell into the familiar confines of his little rolling oasis, vowing to himself that he would never get arrested again.

"Glad to have you back Sir," said Mason, crisply, as if Dax was returning from a business trip.

Dax almost felt too embarrassed to talk. "I'm sorry about last night. I ..."

"No reason for an apology Sir. I'm sure it'll all get straightened out soon."

"Thank you for your understanding Mason. It wasn't my finest hour."

"I thought you should see what was written about last night. I've put a copy of the three newspapers in the seat pocket in front of you."

Dax's heart sank as Mason spoke. Of course this would be written up. Dax had a fairly high profile in New York City, and his arrest would be headline worthy. Fuck, Dax thought, it's only getting worse. Then he thought about Keiko. What would he tell her? What would she do? And Mel. She was madder than a disturbed nest of hornets when he left her apartment. How would he ever make this up to her?

He plucked the top newspaper from the seat pocket, which featured his not so flattering picture on the front page. Oh fuck, he thought, as he read the article. They've portrayed it as a love triangle where Hank and I got into a fight over Mel. There's going to be hell to pay with Keiko. The other papers thankfully carried the story inside the front page, but they also suggested that Dax was also having an affair with Mel. They must have copied pictures from Mel's social media feed that showed Dax and Mel together at a few charity fundraisers. Mel, of course, was dressed elegantly in an evening gown, and Dax was in a tuxedo. Dax was lost in his thoughts when the Bentley pulled into the underground garage in his apartment building.

"Home safe and sound, Sir," Mason declared, hoping that being at home would restore some normalcy to the madness that Dax had created. "Will there be anything else today?"

"I may need to visit Keiko. Let's plan on this afternoon?"

"Certainly. I'll be sure to have the car ready. Good luck to you Sir."

"Mason, I owe you an apology," Dax said sheepishly. "I should have called Mel first as you told me."

"No apology necessary. We all find our own path through life."

"Yeah ... that's true ... I think my path just went down shit creek."

"Don't worry Sir. I'll meet you there with a paddle."

"Thank you. I know I can always count on you."

"That you can. I'll be here."

Dax's confidence boosted a bit, he took the elevator to his penthouse apartment. When he opened the door Madeline, his longtime chef and housekeeper, was waiting at the door. She did her best to mask her surprise, seeing her boss with a massive bandage wrapped around his head, a tattered suit, and smelling of ... vomit?

"Mason called ahead. I've got lunch waiting for you. And why don't you shower and change first? I've laid out some clothes on your bed," the tall redhead said. "Oh yes, I talked to Dr. Franklin. He sent over some supplies so I can change your dressing after you take your shower."

"Bless you, and bless Mason," Dax said appreciatively. He hadn't eaten in eighteen hours and was famished. He still had traces of his blood on his face. He threw his ruined clothes (including his shoes), and his bloodied bandage into the waste basket and stepped into the hot spray of the shower, the soothing feel of the water literally washing away the grime (but not the memory) of the previous night's fiasco. He donned the casual clothes that were on his bed and went back into the dining area, assuming his usual spot next to the floor to ceiling window with its panoramic view of the East River and beyond. There was a fruit salad in front of him.

"The farmer's market had some wonderful apples," Madeline said helpfully.

The colorful reds and yellows looked good, but didn't assuage his anxiety. "I've really done it this time, haven't I Madeline?

Madeline had read the papers and also got a briefing from Mason. "I'm afraid so."

"I haven't a clue how to fix this."

"Just go to her," the redhead insisted. She had met Keiko and knew that silence was not the answer. "It's not going to fix itself."

"Fine ... fine ... I'll call her," he said in mock frustration. He knew he had to call her. He just didn't want to do it right then. "So what else is for lunch?"

"I've got a homemade chicken salad sandwich with French fries on the side."

"You sold me at 'homemade,'" he said, thankful to be home. He sat there in peace, enjoying the view and his lunch, trying to block out his troubles.

* * *

He had to mentally prepare himself for the phone call. He stared at his screen, wondering what he was going to say. He pushed the call button.

"Keiko?"

"Dax. How good of you to call," her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I'm so sorry you had to read it in the paper. I ..."

"So it's true?" she said sharply.

He was already off balance. "No ... no ... it's not true."

"What part isn't true?"

"I wasn't having an affair with Mel."

"So it's true that you attacked him?"

"Well ... attacked may be too strong a word."

"What word would you use?"

"Intervened?"

"Were they having consensual sex?"

"Well ... yes."

"Were you invited in?"

"No, but ..."