Silver Fox Pt. 02

It might not seem like something that would make a difference, but it did. It did because it made me realize that I was still me. I might have stopped the sex with sadism thing, but I was still the same person with the same memories. I was still the same bartender who knew masochists in all their interesting forms, still the same guy who had the same experiences that had brought me to that point.

Maybe it was poetic that I should find the comforting answer to my own problem when I quit thinking about my perspective and thought of someone else's to help them. Sometimes people did change.

But the saying that said "people never change" probably had some truth in it, too, even though it was most often meant as a negative saying. For me, for my case, it was a comforting notion, that my bullshit would have an end and that end would be okay.

Thank God for redheads. It gave me another realization. I kind of liked the thought of having a little redheaded masochist to train in my own way, one that could get into trouble with Lily.

Especially when that redhead sang "Animal Crackers in my Soup" while getting out of bed in the mornings.

————

Essie

I do remember Lily messaging me that night. I think we're in trouble. I think something is up.

I'd been on the verge of breaking for a few weeks. I'd had conversations with Lily where I texted her in the midst of my fears, trying to understand what was happening to me. I hadn't gone to Isabelle because I thought Isabelle was the most likely to go to Jackson, but Lily was an experienced masochist. She wasn't a top so she was approachable. She was adorable, friendly, and sweet and she'd had her proclivities for a while, had adapted to having them so that she was happy with them.

But I didn't tell her everything and I wouldn't because I was afraid of Jackson finding out whatever was wrong. I don't know why, but I didn't understand these dark moments I was having. I didn't understand whatever was going on that was making me enjoy thoughts of long term conditioning. As for the erotica I'd taken to reading?

That really scared me sometimes. It made me afraid of myself, of what I was willing to submit to. What might happen to me if Jackson and I didn't work out? What would I do? Those were the real thoughts, the thoughts I hadn't told Lily. Actually, the conversations were innocuous enough. They started with me messaging her to ask her if being a masochist ever scared her. I asked her if she knew of masochists who ended up hurting themselves and that had prompted her to ask a lot of questions.

Self harm is a totally different sphere, honey. Don't do that. Some masochists can do things like use clamps on themselves, but they're ones who know the ropes, so to speak, you know? Where is this coming from, Essie?

I hadn't been completely honest with her, either. I just... I could barely face these things myself and I was falling in love with someone and that was confusing, too. Was it too soon after my divorce? Was this something to do with moving so soon after an already strange life change? Why did I love it so much that he whipped me harder to tell me those three unspoken words? Why did I kind of want them to remain unspoken, so that they remained in that pure language of his, that language that seemed less capable of lying than words were? I knew lies. I knew lies all too well from a failed marriage and that special language that he used wasn't part of those kinds of lies, but what if I felt that way because I was confused?

There was one thing I did know. He was starting to be something of a calming presence, someone I associated with the ability to make my mind finally shut up. I smiled when I went to Sulfur's midweek, for the date we'd planned.

And, of course, I wore the latex gloves again. "Good evening, Sir."

"Hey, sweetheart." He smiled over the bar at me and that time, Christopher was the one covering, something that made me blink. I paused at the sight of him already sitting behind the bar.

Christopher frightened me a little, but that wasn't because of him. It was because everyone who wasn't Jackson was starting to frighten me. Even Isabelle made me shift on my toes lately. I don't know if this was a side effect of getting used to bowing or if it had anything to do with how I had started to prefer to remain in a masochistic headspace at the end of scenes. It felt like parts of me were staying perpetually horny for more control and pain and there was one person I trusted more than any other with those needs. I hid at his side lately and after his scenes, there were moments where he would lift water to my lips and I would obediently take from his hand, only to hide against him again when I realized someone noticed.

"You okay, Essie?"

I shifted closer to Jackson even though Christopher's voice was kind as could be. "Yes, thank you. And you?"

"I'm well, doll."

His eyes were as soft as his voice, even, but something about that made me hesitate. It wasn't anything direct or specific. It was just this side feeling that something was... off.

"Come on, sweetheart."

I took Jackson's hand, glancing over my shoulder where Christopher watched with a small smile, then let it go as one of those things that I just wasn't going to address for the time being when I had enough to think about since I'd discovered the strange, wonderful world of Sulfur's. "Please don't get me off?"

He hugged me close outside the dungeon door. "Tonight is going to be a little different altogether, actually, so that's a lost request this time. Essie, before we start, I have a question." I met his eyes, fearful and adoring of him by that point, and he smiled, smoothing a hand through my hair. "Jesus, that shade of red is my fantasy, baby. But is there anything wrong that I can help you with? You've seemed a little stressed at times."

I don't know why I didn't answer when he gave me the most direct opportunity to do so, when the moment was right there. I only knew that I couldn't face it and wanted to escape in his strange sadism. Of course, it wasn't lost on me that the effectiveness of escaping in his pain only served to make me more afraid later. "No, Sir. It's just... getting used to somewhere new and new things, I think."

His eyes were cute with his smile, his scar twisting on his face with it, too, and where that had once seemed novel, it was a feature I was used to now. I stroked it with the latex gloves so that his smile widened and he kissed my fingertips. "I gave you the chance, starlight. Come on, then."

Later, I felt like an idiot. He was even telling me right to my face. But I still didn't want to face it, even if he had guessed something.

You know, later I would also realize a character flaw involved in using a sadist for escape from masochism. You shouldn't do that. That's bad. It doesn't make sense.

Also, they're sadists.

————

At first, the scene was similar to what we'd had so far. He used a set of cuffs to tether my wrists at the small of my back and pressed me forward over a table. "Keep your legs spread wide for me and take what I give you, sweetheart." And there was no more bondage help. I fell happily into that place that was always so near now.

And what he gave me was the paddle he loved so much, nice and hard, really hard. His caresses were softer than ever and his strikes were filled with love and pain. I remember at the beginning I had the thought that he must have been feeling really romantic and affectionate that night, because he paddled me with the intent of tanning my ass.

My cries devolved into shouts, then screams, then moans, then whimpers. I could take a lot by then, too, and that made me happy to get to feel it, when he always talked about how strange he was about affection. It made me happy to feel his form of love and to be able to understand it as that, to be able to accept him in this way, even if he was strange enough that he didn't blend it with sex anymore. It was one of the things that made it so easy to use his pain for my escapism because everything made so much sense when he hurt me. It felt okay when I was under him, okay for me to be whatever it was that I happened to be. It was only outside of that headspace that my mind tormented me.

"That's what your hundred feels like, starlight."

And that. I liked his new nickname for me. "S-sir?"

That was the same as all the rest, too. The way my mind was so gone, so empty. My voice sounded so far away and I was emotionally gutted, laid bare in the best kind of way. "When we first started, you asked me what it would feel like to have a hundred strikes with that paddle. It's nice and spaced this time, 25 for each side and for both your ass and thighs."

I moaned with the thought, then lifted when he tugged me up, following without question. "Thank you, Sir."

He smiled, holding me from behind while he walked me forward to a chair. "You're very welcome. And now I think I have you in the space I want for the rest."

The rest? I didn't even question. I just knelt when he had me do so in front of the chair, waiting for whatever Sir wanted. I watched with a kind of vague curiosity when he set up toys to attachments on the chair, a butt plug and a dildo that screwed into place. He lubricated both of them and fitted a kind of spiky padding to the chair. My ass and thighs suddenly burned all the worse with the thought of that, but I didn't have a way to resist him. I lifted when he guided me, whimpering a little, but he was as steady as always, gently stroking my hair while he helped me sit down.

He fitted the toys to me with a kind of perverse detachment in his eyes, something that made me have to take deep, steadying breaths with the wave of heat it gave me that even the things that were sexual for me were something that he wouldn't take advantage of. He met my eyes and chuckled when the moment passed between us, as if well aware what I was thinking of. "S-sir."

He pressed my shoulders, working me down so that I moaned. "I know. It's a tight fit and it will hurt a little when it feels too deep, but you can take it."

I moaned louder while he kept pressing, then whined when my ass finally reached the spiky padding. The paddle must have really done its job because it burned something fierce, but then there was the toys filling me up so... damned... much. And I couldn't think straight enough to process and didn't want to, even though this was so different from usual for Sir's tastes. I didn't understand... but I was deep in that headspace that only wanted to submit.

He looked extremely satisfied when he stood back, while I stared up at him in a world of conflicted sensation. "Poor little starlight. It's so odd to be given pleasure with the pain in this form when I'm something of a purist about sensations, I imagine." I nodded, so that his smile widened, and he wasn't done yet. "I'll explain in a minute. First, let's make sure you're not going anywhere." Like I could do that anyway. Like I'd ever escape him by that point. In that headspace, I was as owned as a toy doll.

"Yes, Sir."

"Good girl." He worked with straps, starting at my wrists, wrapping them with leather around the chair arms. "Would you like to know a strange thing about some sadists? Their love of giving pain outweighs their domination tendencies. Some sadists just aren't into the commanding side of things, but they know that it holds hands with the atmosphere and they'll work a scene at a time. That's something along the lines of what I've always been. But you, starlight. You make me... very dominating." He stroked my hair when he tugged my head back, using my collar and a chain to do that. He strapped me at the thighs and ankles and used a belt around my torso with more chain. "So much that I asked Christopher about being a Master."

I shuddered in my bondage, so much so that it flared the fire in my ass when I shifted on the spikes, so much so that the toys rubbed inside of me and I whimpered again. God, I was pathetic for him at that moment. "That... sounds good, Sir."

He finally circled around to my side, finished with his tying me down, and he leaned forward to kiss me the softest kiss. "In a way. It's not quite the right word for what it seems like things would be between you and I. It seems more like you and I will be a steady balance where you'll be something more under control when I hurt you and when I leave us both unsatisfied and then you'll end up a submissive or girlfriend, maybe, when we're both ready to touch that valve or when it releases eventually. I'm still not quite sure yet, but we'll talk about that afterwards. For right now, what matters is that it gave me a different problem.

"Now, as the kind of sadist I am, how would I go about punishing my little strange mix of a potential slave and a submissive? I can't use pain. Pain is how I love on you and it'd ruin all the conditioning work between us. So that left me in a bit of a strange place I hadn't been to before."

"Punishment?" I couldn't think. I could only accept, but I knew that was a word I hadn't heard from him before.

He smiled ruefully. "Lying to Sir gets you nothing but trouble, dear heart. A submissive who is too afraid to tell her fears or to ask for help is in error. It's an understandable error, but it's error. You tell me when you have fears that have to do with these games. It's something a top needs to know and you do one wrong when you hide things when the games get more serious or continue. When you play darker and deeper, it's not something you fuck around with."

I shifted, emptied of any emotion, but with the thought that he knew and I'd been bad. I blinked when he came back with a vibrator.

That wasn't what I expected with descriptions of the word "punishment". "It's also disrespectful." He tapped my lips gently when I made to open my mouth. "No, I gave you the chance, so it doesn't matter right now. I'll give you another chance once we're done and you're recovered." Recovered. Now, that word made me eye the vibrator more warily. "You're not going to like this, starlight. I had to think about it for a long time, but I finally came to the conclusion that, as someone a little newer to more of the long term domination aspects and as someone who wants to go farther with you, I'd want my submissive to know that I still loved her, but that I wasn't a happy sadist."

He held the wide head of the vibrator to my clit so that I blinked in shock and then moaned, still wondering where this was going. He was soft even then, too, pressing one palm to my abdomen in a caress while he rolled the vibrator over that heavenly spot. "S-sir? Sir, I- I- Oh!" He was silent and that made it worse. He didn't command. He forced instead, even though I tried to fight the tide of pleasure with the uncertainty of what I was supposed to do. It was useless, though, even though he used a somewhat lower setting.

Because eventually it just built whether I wanted it to or not. I jolted in the chair with the force, especially with the toys holding me so stuffed and, of course, I squeezed on those and it only shot my arousal higher. And then it made me cringe away when I was partially through the comedown with how sensitive it felt.

He shushed me and forced the vibrator over my clit still, so that my eyes went wide with this pain that wasn't his pain, this kind that was awful for the fact that it wasn't the kind to go with the force he loved most. He spoke of that, how he loved the sharp impact of pain, how he loved all the reactions.

I didn't know how I knew, but these weren't the right reactions and this wasn't the right kind of pain. "No! No, please!"

He was unforgiving and stoic, his touch still gentle, but he didn't soothe me with those words that went with all my favorite moments of intensity. Instead, he just softly said, "Yes," and kept going so that it built again. I fought, wondering how many he was going to put me through and how long this would last, wondering if it would be better to try to get it over with or not. What if he just had an amount of time in mind and that only made me suffer worse? He wasn't giving anything away and that vibrator was so damned undeniably good, so much so that it built and I-

"Oh, please!" The toys made it worse, too, made me cringe when I pulsed on them too soon after the first one. "I'm sorry! I'll tell you everything, I swear!"

But of course, he didn't answer that because he'd already answered it. He'd already said it, hadn't he, that after punishment, he'd give me another chance. I already shuddered at the thought of what would happen if I didn't tell him the truth then. It wasn't entirely that it was multiple orgasms either, because I'd had those with him, when he fucked me. It was the way they were given, with that steady vibration forced to my clit, when orgasms from clitoral stimulation were intense and something I always needed a while to recover from before indulging in another one. It struck me as all the more awful that I had once had fears of being frigid and now I was too hot.

I shook with the torture of those overly sensitive few seconds immediately after and then sobbed when it started to rise again, already crying.

It was a shift that made the torment in my ass flare all over again that calmed my crying into soft, broken sniffles. It made me remember his words.

I'd want my submissive to know that I still loved her. It... made it a little more bearable, at least. I gasped quietly when the build started again, then shrieked when I went over with all the more sporadic lack of control after the first two. At least the first one had followed what I knew about my orgasm builds. The next ones seemed to take longer to get me started but once they did get started, I had no idea what they were going to do.

I struggled with the start of the next one, ripping at the restraints, but I was too tightly held to the spiky pads and could only thrash on those, fucking the toys as I did, as that reminder. By the build of that fourth one, I was convinced those spikes were the only things that were going to keep my sanity intact.

Wait, was it the fourth one? Did that mean I was on five? I lost track and only cried for mercy. "S-sir. Sir, please, I can't-" I squealed.

I think there were two after that, but I really couldn't have told you. I only knew that I'd take those hundred paddle strikes three times over instead of going through it again, especially when the last one felt like it took an hour where every second felt like an eternity.

————

I stared at him through the bars of the cage he'd locked me in when he'd let me up. I'd practically scampered into the cage, actually, even though I would have thought I'd never want to have something like bars between him and I. His embrace was the best part about his pain.

Not that time. He sat against a wall, watching me back while I recovered, as he'd put it, and that word made a hell of a lot more sense afterwards. I knew why he'd punished me, too, knew what lie he already knew about.

I shivered in the cage, with the thought that a sadist like him already gave me quite a bit of pain and we had the game where I didn't even want him to get me off at the end most of the time. Oh, but he'd found a way to give punishment.

Jackson had been strange before and he'd scared me a little bit, sure, but it was a sexy fear, one that went with nights of being hurt in his weird form of love. After that, I wasn't just scared of him. That made him terrifying, that he could be so limited and still find a way to make punishment that effective. It had been awful and he'd done it with orgasms.

I loved him more than ever. And I didn't know how that worked, but it did.

He finally broke the quiet. "Are you thirsty, starlight?"