BDSM Manor Ch. 10: Time Heals

Rules of BDSM Manor - safety, respect, and consent.

Note to reader: You will get more from these characters if you read the stories in order, but it's not compulsory.

Tess-O'Meter -- Green.

-X

"Well, it's a bloody good job you enjoy bondage!"

I let the door to Alex's room swing closed behind me.

I had only had them for three days and was already heartily sick of crutches.

Alex gave me a sleepy smile from the bed.

With one leg in plaster from ankle to hip and elevated. The other ankle also in some sort of brace or cast.

A third cast from shoulder to wrist on his left arm and bandaging on most other parts of his body, Alex should have been totally at my mercy.

I suppose he could have fended me off with his (severely bruised only), right arm, but for once I would have had the physical advantage.

It was a shame that I didn't have the energy or the ability to do anything about it.

"Don't make me laugh," he begged.

Watching me warily as I semi-staggered towards his bed in my clumsy manner.

I fumbled and dropped one of the crutches, grabbing the bed rail instead.

"Laughter is the best medicine," I informed him.

"Not with a collapsed lung!"

"It was only one lung, and it's working again now," I scolded him, "honestly, I think you have milked that for long enough haven't you?"

He winced as he chuckled a little, and grinning I bent down and kissed his forehead softly.

"You missed," Alex complained as I straightened a little.

"Did I?"

He just pouted at me. I bent again and took his lips, one of the very few places on his body that wasn't bruised, broken or lacerated.

When I pushed myself upright, Alex was smiling with his eyes closed, having slipped into sleep.

I groaned quietly as I lowered myself to the chair. My leg, awkward in its boot, knocked the crutch under the bed.

I had been warned that this would keep happening, Alex slipping into sleep, but it still freaked me out.

I watched him for a few moments. Chest rising and falling steadily.

Most of Alex's exposed skin was the color of an evil, foreboding sunset. All yellow, black, and grey. I wanted to kiss his bruises away.

Ironic when you think of how many marks I had put on him myself.

Alex was still sleeping more than he was awake, but he was on major painkillers and still groggy in general from the thirty-six-hour induced coma he had been kept in, prior to the medical team tentatively waking him up.

I ran a hand down my face, unable to stop myself from re-living the moment when I thought that I had lost him.

It was like he just faded away in front of me.

I had been yelling and reaching for him when a hefty paramedic pulled me back.

They have priorities in these circumstances and Alex, not I, was his.

As my allocated team tried to assess me and stop the bleeding from my leg, I fought them to get back to Alex.

However, it turned out that I had whacked my head hard when I went down and had concussed myself.

The last thing I saw as I blacked out was four paramedics working hard on Alex's unresponsive body.

One cutting away clothing, another tipping his head back while a third inserted a tube into his mouth or throat, and the forth prepping a defibrillator.

Then. Lights out.

Twelve hours later I realized I was awake. I don't know how long to took me to come to that conclusion, but I was numb.

Just numb.

I knew someone was in the room and eventually cracked open an eye and peeked.

A nurse was stood watching Paul put the finishing touches to some stitching in my leg.

Paul looked exhausted, and he appeared to have closed up one hell of a rip. (19 inches.) I didn't care.

It's going to scar," Paul sighed to the nurse. I didn't care.

"It's a good job you've done there, Mr Bailey," she said, "Do you want me to wait with your friend while you go and get some food."

Paul rubbed at his eyes, "No, I need to be here when he wakes up."

He glanced up and saw me watching, quickly standing, and walking to the head of the bed.

"I'll fetch Dr Pashi," the nurse said and hurried from the room.

Paul lent over me, "Leslie. Leslie are you back with us?"

I closed my eyes. I knew my cheeks were wet. I didn't care.

Didn't care.

Didn't care.

"Leslie!" Paul's tone was sharp, but I was too numb. I just shook my head.

"He's not dead."

'What?' I thought groggily.

"For fucks sake, look at me," Paul demanded so aggressively that I did.

He took my face in his hands, "Alex is not dead. He's hurt, but he's still with us. He's fighting, and he needs you to do the same."

I gripped his wrists, "You're lying. I saw him go," my voice broke, "He left me."

Paul did something I never in a million years would have expected. He kissed my cheek. The shock of it brought me back to myself somewhat.

"He didn't mean to," Paul said gently, "Alex would never leave you on purpose. He slipped away for a few moments, his lung collapsed, that's what frightened you, and his body couldn't cope without help. The paramedics brought him back to you."

Paul sat on the bed and pulled me into his arms as I started to sob, "He's fighting like crazy to stay with you Leslie, you need to stay strong."

Maybe I should have been embarrassed to have lost it like that in front of my slave's husband. My cousin's slave. But looking back, I suspect that is why Paul had insisted on staying with me.

He's a professional. He deals with people in crisis all of the time. Also he wanted me to have a chance to get my act together prior to all my friends, family, associates, and subs seeing me a complete wreak.

I didn't have any doubts when I gave Casey permission to marry Paul. I trusted her judgement.

But his kindness towards me, and his respect that day. I will never forget. Or the fact that he had spent over ten hours in surgery with Alex before coming to patch me up.

I didn't retain everything that first day, but I was back to myself by the next day, ready for them to try and wake Alex up.

The trauma to his body was extensive. Barely an undamaged rib, his left leg broken, right ankle, left arm. Severe bruising almost everywhere, both internal and external. Plus the head injury, they wouldn't know too much about that until they woke him up.

He was mostly out for another day but typically became coherent for the first time when I was out of the room.

Keira was with him, his first words were, "Are you hurt?"

"Just my wrist," she had said showing him her cast, and before he could ask, "Casey is fine, Leslie a cut on his leg and he hurt his ankle."

He had smiled and slipped back into sleep, and it had been another eight hours of waiting until he opened his eyes again and smiled at me.

He also had Dr Pashi watching over him (head injury specialist) and had impressed her by remembering what Keira told him.

And now here we were.

Alex had fought like hell to get back to me. Now I had to stay strong for him.

-X

It was three weeks before I could get Alex home, and only then due to the fact that the care team Sadie had set up for us would be providing far better attention than he could possibly get in hospital.

The fact was, three of his limbs were out of use, and due to various cracked and broken ribs, he had to be extremely careful when trying to lift himself via a hand hoist.

Alex hit if off with the whole team, which helped, and particularly with Craig who was overall in charge.

Craig was a nurse, physiotherapist, and personal trainer. He specialized in getting people back to fitness after injury. Often sports, football players and the like.

Although he had just finished a job with a semi regular client who had fallen on Everest, or off Everest depending on your point of view.

"He's a determined fucker," Craig had said with some respect, "but it's the third time I've got him back on his feet. I've a feeling that mountain is going to kill him."

Craig didn't judge. Having climbed Everest himself, and reached the summit once, he understood the need.

Alex's mood, which had been quite low by the time we broke him out of the hospital, had lifted on hearing that Craig was on a twenty-four-month contract, and the aim was a half marathon.

It had crashed again on the first night though, when he had to wake me at 2am for a pee bottle.

The painkillers were playing havoc with his bladder and the reality of my guiding him into the plastic funnel as he lay on the bed sent him over the edge.

I concentrated on my job, managing to both dry him and not drop the bottle, before emptying it and rinsing. Washing my hands and thinking as I dried them, listening to Alex sob in the bedroom.

Did I go in hard or soft?

I sighed.

My guy was hurt, broken and exhausted. Trying to jolly or bully him out of it wasn't the way.

I walked back in and handed him a cool damp cloth. Slipping back into the bed, pressing myself against the length of him and resting my head close to him on the pillow.

"You must wish you had never met me," he mumbled from behind the cloth.

"Alex, it's not like I've ever had an issue touching your cock."

"That's different. I can't even wash myself, or dress myself, or go to the fucking toilet. Are you going to wipe my ass for me as well?"

"Most likely, when the time comes. Hey!" I nuzzled in closer, kissing his neck, careful not to jog him, "Pretty sure our vows were in sickness and in health, Sweetheart. I'm not gonna welch on you."

He lowered the cloth and looked at me, his eyes drenched, "I'm so sorry."

I kissed him gently. Manfully ignoring the tears and snot.

"This is temporary, you are going to get better," I pulled the sheets back up and snuggled him down, "you're going to have to find some patience."

The drugs had sent him under again and by the next morning he had decided he felt guilty for feeling low, because as I said it was temporary and some people had to live with these restrictions all of the time.

We had both been in the bathroom cleaning our teeth, Alex in the wheelchair. I had followed Craig's advice about how to prepare to allow Alex to be as independent as possible.

From moving us into the downstairs bedroom which now had a wet room. To hoists EVERYWHERE. To flossers that he could use one handed and a toothpaste dispenser, so I didn't have to squeeze the paste onto the brush for him like he was a kid.

I sent up thanks to Sadie for finding Craig, and Craig for his insight, and then turned to Alex, deciding now some tough love was needed.

"Will you give yourself a fucking break?" I demanded.

He frowned, "I'm just saying I shouldn't feel sorry for myself."

I yanked his toothbrush from his fingers and lobbed it into the sink, "Did you clean your teeth properly, Alex?" I asked like he was five.

"Hey!"

"Let me check."

Frustrated I gripped his hair, tipped his head back and kissed the fuck out of him. I kissed him until he was shaking and gasping into my mouth.

I kissed him until over three weeks of fear and anger and frustration was drained from me.

Then I kissed him with love. With my heart and soul.

His eyes were dark with passion when I raised my head. I didn't bother telling him there would be good days and bad days, and pain or setbacks. He already knew.

"We're going to get through this," was all I said.

He swallowed and nodded.

-X

Four weeks later, Alex had been able to dispose of the right ankle boot. Mine had already gone, but I'd had a sprain and a hairline crack.

Alex's ankle had been broken, but a quick heal. I had given up on the medical terminology pretty damn fast. A clean break, quick healing, uncomplicated.

This meant he could start to rebuild some strength and mobility, as he had the right-hand side of his body functioning. But his left leg in cast and left arm, now in heavy strapping, made it hard.

Alex loathed the immobility, particularly the leg cast. He said he could feel his muscles wasting and refused to let anyone sign the hated thing.

Craig was working hard to make sure that Alex was staying as fit as possible but was clear that he wasn't to push himself past Craig's plan, and Alex was still 90% wheelchair bound.

Craig had called me one day and asked for a meeting, at my office, away from Alex.

A member of the team was pretty much there, or certainly on call, 24/7, but usually we did the updates with Alex, it was strange that he wanted to talk to me alone.

When he had left, I sat and pondered.

Craig had told me that physically Alex was doing well, but the biggest challenge was his mental state.

I knew he was down. Not himself, but he was dealing with immobility, the embarrassment of needing personal care, pains, and cramps.

I wouldn't expect him to be singing in the shower (were he able to shower without hours of prep and assistance).

Craig was blunt. I was kidding myself. Alex was borderline depressed and what was I going to do about it?

I run a business empire and spend much of my time dealing with slaves and submissives at the manor, as a master. It can be a shock when people aren't in awe of me!

Craig had also pointed out that it was his job to worry about Alex's recovery not mine, so I should stop treating him like a fragile broken thing and remember the man had needs.

Ouch!

So I sat in my office and pondered, feeling useless.

More than a little scared because if I was honest with myself, I hadn't seen the light in Alex's eyes since the day he realized the rest of us were mostly unhurt.

His light had died.

Another thought crept up on me. Something that had been playing in the back of my mind for a while.

I knew that the woman who had been driving the car had suffered from a fit.

The police had informed us that there would be no charges brought, she hadn't ever had a fit before, had no reason to suspect that one would occur.

I knew nothing more about her.

I sighed and realized that Alex wasn't the only one in a funk.

I made a call to my cousin, and then feeling lighter already, buzzed my PA.

Two minutes later she came in, her professional smile in place, "What do you need, Mr Morgan?"

"Pamela, I need you to look into the driver that hit Alex. Find out who she is, how-" I stopped in shock as Pamela turned and walked away.

I hadn't finished, what the hell?

But she wasn't leaving. She shut the office doors and came back to me, a massive smile on her face.

Sitting down (without invitation, that was a first), she grinned at me.

"I'm so glad you asked Mr Morgan, I was starting to worry you never would. I'm so pleased that you are feeling more yourself."

"Thanks," I managed, unsure what she meant.

"Her name is Freda Harris. She was unhurt by the accident but lost her job because she was a mobile carer and without being able to drive, she was unable to do her job."

I started to ask a question, but Pamela waved me down.

"She is also the guardian for her granddaughter, as her daughter died from an overdose, but that was brought into question by the loss of her job. The authorities were concerned that she would not be able to provide for her granddaughter and also the previously unknown fits."

Pamela shifted slightly in the chair, "Her granddaughter is eight years old; her name is Katie. She is a gifted musician, very talented. Freda is forty-nine. The identity of Katie's father was never known."

I couldn't hold back any longer, "She lost her job? She may lose custody? We must," I stopped when I noticed the look on Pamela's face. Part smug, part concern.

"What did you do, Pamela?"

Pamela surprised me again by moving around to my side of the desk, pulling her chair around and sitting next to me. She took my hand.

"You were not yourself, Mr Morgan, and quite rightly so, you needed to concentrate on Alex. However, I knew that sooner or later you would want to know, and when you knew you would want to help."

"Pamela," I squeezed her fingers gently, then lifted and kissed her hand, making her giggle, "Best PA in the known universe. What did you do?"

"I went to Sadie."

Sadie. My amazing cousin had arranged job, transport, lawyers, and health support.

When I spoke to Freda on the phone I found a lovely woman who was besotted with her granddaughter and determined to work hard and provide for her.

Sadie had placed her in one of John's companies, and John it seemed had already started taking advantage of her ideas and common sense and was using her to proactively improve his employees welfare.

She was almost impossible to console regarding Alex though.

"I'm so sorry about your husband, I feel terrible. How is he doing. If there is anything I can ever do."

"Actually, Freda," I smiled down the phone, "There might just be."

I told her my problem and we agreed a plan, arranging to meet the next day.

-X

Returning home that night, I decided to start putting my plan into action.

Operation 'get back the real version of Alex' was on.

The evenings were particularly difficult for Alex, as whoever was on overnight duty needed time to themselves, as did we. They would either go out, a phone call away, or go to their room.

We had Lou on call tonight, but he was at his sister's place, not too far away and said he would be back by 2am but to call if we needed anything.

This meant Alex was reliant on me for his needs.

It was pretty early, around 9pm, when Alex quietly asked me if I could help him to the bathroom and to bed.

He was still quiet once we were done and I went into the bathroom to clean up myself.

Instead of sliding into my side of the bed and arranging myself along the side of Alex, as I usually did since the accident. I pulled the sheet back (Alex always sleeps naked, as do I) and crawled over him.

He had been pretending to doze, so I took him by surprise.

"What are you doing?" he asked, bemused, gripping my arm, with his one working hand.

"Haven't decided," I mumbled, "but I'm going to start here," I lowered my head and kissed Alex's neck. He has a sensitive, tickly spot just above his collarbone.

"Leslie!" he exclaimed on a giggle.

"Alex!" I returned in the same tone, before moving up his neck, to his jaw.

"We can't!"

"Why the fuck not?"

Alex frowned and waved a hand down his body. Indicating, I assume, his left side

I kissed him, "Am I hurting you?"

"No," he breathed into my mouth.

"Then I can't think of any reason I can't kiss my way down your beautiful body until you fall apart in my mouth."

I kissed Alex again and then pulled back, holding my weight braced over him. He looked at me wide eyed, and then smiled sweetly, his dimples flashing, "You really want to," he sounded amazed.

"Let me show you," I said, taking his mouth again.

I kissed Alex into a swoon, then began my journey down.

Taking my time. Lingering over known sensitive and ticklish spots. Tasting and nipping.

As I moved over his chest, licking, sucking, biting one hard nipple and then the other, my cock lined up with Alex's. We were both rock solid.

"I think this is going to get a bit messy," Alex mumbled. He seemed a bit dazed.

I grunted an agreement, quickly pulling the sheet back over his cast to protect it from the evidence of my amorous attentions, and then paused just to look at him. Just look.

His head was back, he was smiling. Breathing fast, but pretty relaxed.

His right hand was caught in his hair, but not gripping. He was soaking up everything that I was giving him.

I kissed his abs, enjoying the soft gasp and trembling muscles.

Alex was still toned, having been in such good shape before the accident. Plus Craig was already working on his fitness and using some sort of device that tones muscles with electrical pulses.

Craig had laughed when I asked if they were the same sort of thing that were advertised in magazines, get toned without needing to work out.