Twisted Oak

A Sexual Odyssey

Neige Blanche

Copyright © 2014 by Neige Blanche

Two Harbors Press

322 1st Avenue North, Fifth Floor

Minneapolis, MN 55401

612.455.2293

www.TwoHarborsPress.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

ISBN: 978-1-62652-737-9

Table of Contents

- Prologue

- 1.

- 2.

- 3.

- 4.

- 5.

- 6.

- 7.

- 8.

- 9.

- 10.

- 11.

- 12.

- 13.

- 14.

- 15.

- 16.

- 17.

- 18.

- 19.

- 20.

- 21.

- 22.

- 23.

- 24.

- 25.

- 26.

- 27.

- 28.

- 29.

- 30.

- 31.

- 32.

- 33.

- 34.

- 35.

- 36.

- 37.

- 38.

- 39.

- 40.

- 41.

- 42.

- 43.

- Epilogue

For my family,

without whom I am nothing.

PROLOGUE

“Damn it, Mom. Where’s my car?”

“Don’t worry about it. Steve just took it to run errands.” Her voice, coming from behind her bedroom door, was thin.

“You know I have to be at work in a half hour.” I paced the narrow, cluttered hallway. “I can’t keep my job if I’m late all the time.”

“Susan, don’t worry, there’s plenty for you to do around here for Steve. He’ll be back in a little while,” she said.

I kicked the dirty laundry out of my way, opened her door, and let it bang against the thin wall that held up the trailer we lived in. I knew the doorknob would make a hole in the cheap drywall, but I didn’t care. Steve had already punched a few through.

“I’m sick of this, Mom. I’m sick of seeing you like this.” I stood in the doorway. “Look at you! You’re not even forty yet and you look like an old hag, lying there, waiting for your next fix. I’m sick of taking care of you.”

She sat up and the blankets fell to show her rail-thin, pale body. Bruises dotted her upper arms and track marks were left behind from injecting heroin. The strap of her dingy white tank top dropped to her boney left elbow. Her fair hair was matted, and so dirty it almost looked brown. She said wearily, “It’s only for a little while longer until I can get it together.”

“You’ve been saying that my whole life. How many men, Mom? How many times do I have to watch some asshole beat you to a pulp? How many times have I hid in fear or protected you, only to receive the beating meant for you? And you do nothing! I’m done. You’ve made your choice, Mom. You love getting high more than you love me.” I turned to leave.

“Susan, please understand . . . ,” she began, but I slammed the door in her face, went to my room, and sat on my bed. It would have been easier for me if she had physically abandoned me, left me on some doorstep. The idea of being born only to experience her absence was more than I could take. Now that I was twenty-one, I understood that she would never choose me; sobriety was too difficult for her, even if it meant she could then love me. My heart had been broken so many times; no one could find the pieces, let alone put it back together again. Instinctively, I reached for the small glass pipe and ball of cocaine I had in my nightstand. I was shaking so badly that I could not manage to place a bit of the cocaine in the pipe, so I reached into the drawer to find a diazepam tablet to dull the pain. Breathing deep and trying to relax, I knew I had to leave this place; I saw my future in my mother’s eyes.

I put the cocaine back in its small plastic bag, grabbed another small plastic bag of heroin, along with the pill bottle and pipe, and placed it in an old sock I found on my floor. I threw the sock into the bottom of my backpack that I’d had since middle school. I packed some clothes and my toiletries and went into the kitchen where I knew Steve kept his stash in a big blue storage bin behind the fridge, the stash that I knew he would require me to sell that week. Guilt and shame entered my psyche. How many lives had I ruined because of this man? The bin was filled with bricks of marijuana and a couple kilograms of cocaine. Powdered heroin made up about one-fourth of the stash. A gun lay atop the drugs. I pulled the gun and the stash to one end of the bin and discovered a brown paper sack full of money, the earnings from my last week’s ugly work. Blinded with emotional pain dulled to an ache thanks to the diazepam, I was sick and tired of being a junkie. I decided it was a great day to make my escape.

* * *

In 1987, Kansas City was dirty. Anyone worth his or her salt had moved on to the suburbs or left for cities that held more promise. I tried the suburbs for a while until the lily-white bread culture about decimated my identity. Working eight to five Monday through Friday and pushing my stepfather’s drugs on the side left me empty, guilt-ridden, resentful, and addicted to pills, heroin, and cocaine, that great 1980s answer to a world that moved too slow for those of us ready to move fast.

I left without saying good-bye to my mother and walked to work. I was two hours late by the time I arrived and my boss was waiting in his office. He was a kind man, maybe fifty years old. I contemplated telling him the whole story, but decided against it. I knew he would want to help me, but I had to get away.

“Susan, I think you know what’s comin’,” Mr. Clementon said as he sat down behind his desk.

“Yes, sir. That is why I’m here. I have to quit, sir. I mean, I know you’re gonna fire me anyway, so let’s just call it quits.” I sat in the chair opposite his desk.

“Susan, you’re a bright, hard-working young lady,” he said earnestly.

“Thank you, sir, but I’ve decided to relocate, to go to—” I had to think quickly of a place, so I glanced at the map of the United States on his wall and read the first city I saw. “I’ll be relocating to New Orleans to go live with my cousin,” I lied.

“I see,” he said as he rose from his chair. “If you give me a few minutes, I can have Joanne draw up your termination papers and we can get you set up for some severance pay to tide you over until you find a new job. You’ll at least let me do that, won’t you?”

Mr. Clementon told me he had a delivery in the area of the airport, so he was kind enough to have one of his drivers to drop me off that afternoon. I cashed my two-hundred-dollar severance paycheck and blew out of Kansas City on a leafless, cold St. Patrick’s Day buffeted by a northern wind. I landed in a green, damp, noisy city filled with unfamiliar floral scents. Brilliant azalea bloomed everywhere. The heart of the city, the French Quarter, was old. The leftover garish hues of Mardi Gras season hung on musty old buildings. The smell of cooking, stale beer, and urine floated through the air like the music: clarinet, trombone, a guitar, a trumpet, a voice singing, Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?

A Mardi Gras clown smiled at me. He was dressed in rags, with a pure-white painted face. Bowing, he handed me a pink carnation; when I handed him a half-dollar and looked into his eyes, I saw real tears blended with the painted ones.

1.

The youth hostel was near the old rice mill. For $12 a night, it was adequate, with a view of the river if you went out on the fire escape and looked beyond the wharf. The Mississippi River was so wide here that barges the size of small towns passed by like prehistoric monsters on sentry duty. This was a good base for my job search. My Midwestern sensibilities told me that as long as I could earn, I could live. I gave myself a week to get out of the hostel and into an apartment or other living arrangement. I wondered if anyone back in Kansas City missed me or even knew I had left. I doubted it. Junkie friends would only miss me when I was not there to make their connection. I thought about the clown and wondered if anyone missed him. If worse came to worst, I could be a clown. I crushed the pills and inhaled them through my nose using the airplane boarding ticket that I had rolled up into a cylinder. The world sunk and spun in heavenly escape.

My sleep, if you want to call it that, came in fits of visions and voices in languages I could not understand: Clowns, tears, Mardi Gras masks, and food haunted me. It did not help that I slept in my jeans and t-shirt because I was not comfortable taking my clothes off.

I checked my watch. It was about 4:00 a.m. and I was hungry, so I tied my long blond hair up, packed my stuff, slung my pack over my shoulder, and inhaled the last of my cocaine before I headed for the door.

I checked the mirror in the bathroom at the end of the hall. I looked thin, pale, and strange with my newfound curly frizz, but the whole scenario was odd and exciting. Somehow, I felt okay venturing out alone in a strange city at four o’clock in the morning. My body needed motion and my mind needed something to occupy it.

The yellowish light from streetlamps punctuated the darkness as I made my way through mostly residential neighborhoods—the Bywater and Faubourg Marigny, as I would learn later. It was quiet except for the sound of crickets and a far-off trumpet . . . Moon River. The sweet, heavy smell of jasmine was intoxicating and the sound of my footsteps on the sidewalk echoed among old walls and garden gates. The narrow streets were almost claustrophobic; magnolia, jasmine, and crepe myrtle brushed against my head and shoulders, giving me the sensation of hands reaching from the shadows to lead me on. I had no idea where I was going, only that somewhere up ahead there was light and that trumpet.

“Whatchyoo hustlin’?” The male voice came from behind a wall of fragrant jasmine and I stopped in my tracks.

“Nuthin’. I don’t hustle. I can’t see you and I don’t like it,” I said to the jasmine blooms.

A lithe young man stepped out from behind the wall with star-shaped jasmine flowers stuck in his dark silky hair, which fell in short ringlets all around his face. He was about five inches taller than I was, and even though his olive skin was yellowish in the lamplight, it was perfectly clear that he was terribly handsome. His exotic pallor against his white linen shirt coupled perfectly with the dappled jasmine flowers that dotted his hair. Any fear I felt melted away. I guessed he was younger than me, maybe fifteen or sixteen.

“What you doin’ out here dis time of night?” he asked. “Not many white girls venture over here even during the day.”

“I just got into town and I’m hungry. I figure there must be something open for business up ahead.” I pointed toward the light and noticed the trumpet had stopped playing. His gaze followed my hand and the lamplight silhouetted his chiseled features. I had assumed since he was black that his eyes would be dark brown, but I could almost see through his light amber irises. Certainly this had to be a trick of the lamplight.

He stepped back and looked at me from head to toe and cocked his head. “You don’t look like you have much money, and you goin’ the wrong way. Come on. I know a place where we can get some good food fo’ free, but you gotta let me do the talkin’.” I followed him around the corner of jasmine. “This be a shortcut and don’t worry. You can trust me. I’m done hustlin’ fo’ the night and ain’t playin’ no games. I’m hungry too, and girl, you really shouldn’t be round here.”

His long legs created a quick pace and I worked hard to keep up. My exposed skin felt dewy and refreshed in the damp air. It made me feel like a flower petal, soft and sweet.

The close residential street gave way to a wide thoroughfare lined with ancient live oaks with branches covered in Spanish moss. The shadows under those trees were as dark as pitch. We sprinted across into the French Quarter district. Here, the trees were gone and the lights were brighter; people were dancing about in drunken revelry. I glanced back the way we came.

“Hey, what’s your name?” I asked breathlessly.

“Tyrone. My friends call me Ty, though. Man, you were so goin’ the wrong way back there.”

I smiled in thanks. “I’m Susan, and thanks for helping me.”

“You have no idea how thankful you should be. You need a map of dis place so I can show you where not to go. Come on. My cousin should be gettin’ ready to open her stall at the market. She have somethin’ fo’ us to eat.”

Wow, an instant friend willing to give me something to eat and show me the ropes without my even asking. No wonder they call this town The Big Easy. We followed the split road for a few blocks and came to a large brick building.

“That’s the mint,” Ty said in reference to the building. “Not sure why dey call it dat because there ain’t no money dere. What time is it? Is it six yet? She won’t be here till six.”

My watch told me it was five-thirty. I had been wandering around for ninety minutes already. “It’s only five-thirty. What now?”

“We wait. Nuthin’ to do but wait. Most folks is closed just now so they can clean up da mess. This town never sleeps, so they always a big mess.” He chuckled. “And sometimes the people is what needs clearin’ out.”

Suddenly a large garage door sprung open behind us. The noise startled me, and Ty laughed. Men began loading crates of fruit and bread on dollies, wheeling them across the narrow street under a permanent concrete pavilion. Mostly they spoke Spanish. Another bay opened up and more men, crates, and dollies poured out, but this time they spoke in a language I had never heard before.

“Hey, Ty, what language is that?” I asked.

“You ain’t from round here, cher, I can tell. Those men be speakin’ French. Look at ’em. They ain’t black, they ain’t white, and they ain’t brown, neither. Like me.” He smiled a gorgeous broad white smile.

“Ty, whatever you are, I gotta say, it is pretty!” I smiled back. “How old are you?”

“How old you think I am?” He held his chin high and flexed his bicep, fluffing his curls with his left hand.

I had never seen a young man, especially a black one, with such a feminine display of vanity. I lifted up a ringlet to appreciate the perfection of his skin and his light amber eyes with green specks.

“I’ll guess you are around seventeen.” I added a year to my actual estimate because I did not want him to be offended if I thought him too young.

“I love you, girl,” he laughed. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart, cuz my youthful good looks is my game and you just proved I still got it.” He slapped his knee. “You ain’t from here, but you alright.”

“Well, hell, Ty, how old are you?”

“My birthday’s in February and I be twenty-six! Did you really think I was seventeen?”

“To be honest, I thought you were fifteen or sixteen. You fooled me.”

“That’s the gig, that’s the gig. Where you from, girl?”

“Kansas City.”

Another garage bay opened up and a female voice yelled out something indecipherable. I felt as though I were in another country or on another planet.

“Hey, Mizz Dee! Whatchyoo got all up in dere dis mornin’?” Ty said with his charming smile.

“Who’s that you got wit you?” Her voice sounded harsh. “Now you thinkin’ you all high and yellah hangin’ wit white girls?” She laughed and hugged Ty with thick black arms squeezed into her green t-shirt. I just smiled and shoved my hands in my pockets. Mizz Dee had kind eyes that were as dark as Kansas dirt and her hair was short and covered in a red bandana. “I reckon you is hungry again. Ty, when you gonna settle down and go legit, son?” She went to the back of her old rusted Ford truck and rummaged through a well-used cardboard box.

“I dunno, Mizz Dee. It don’t feel right yet,” Ty said apologetically.

“You know your momma and ’em shoo like ta hear it,” she said as she sifted through paper bags in the box.

Their conversation suddenly changed to Creole French. Periodically, an English word popped up before they slipped back to Creole. N izz Dee would glance over, give me a polite smile, and Ty would distract her.

“Okay, okay, N izz Dee, I know. I know. I will someday, but that ain’t no place fo’ me. I don’t fit. Never have, cher. Nuthin’ against the folk. I just don’t belong.”

“I love you, son. We all do.” She sighed and handed Ty a brown bag full to the brim with something that smelled delicious. “You better feed that girl ’fore she eats you for breakfast.”

I didn’t know how to take her comment until I saw her smile. “Cher,” she said to me, “any friend of Ty’s is a friend of mine, but you min’ dat boy. He a heartbreaker.”

Ty bowed his head in thanks. “N izz Dee, I love you too. Thank you, sister. Bless you.”

“Yeah, bless yo heart, bless yo heart,” she said and shook her head.

We waved good-bye and Ty took my hand and led me across the street through the pavilion bustling with the men, crates, fruit, and dollies. I estimated it to be about thirty or forty feet wide and its length went for blocks. “What is this place?”

“You in the world-famous New Orleans French Market. Dey open at seven.”

He brought me across a wide road, through a broken wire fence, over some railroad tracks, and up a hill where the mighty Mississippi River greeted us under a low moon.

“Sun’s gettin’ ready to rise and this da best spot.” He ushered me to a bench on a boardwalk along the river. It was strange to look back and see the city lower than the riverbank.

“Hey, how is it that we came up a hill to the river?” I asked.

“See dat?” He pointed from where we came. “We just come through da levee. If it floods, they close da gates.” He handed me a big fluffy biscuit and a thick hunk of bacon. “See dat?” He pointed to the boardwalk to the left of us a few feet away. The biggest rat I had ever seen scurried across and hid under the boards.

“Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed.

“Yeah, and it gets worse,” he giggled. “Look here.” He pointed to our feet. Hundreds of cockroaches skittered about.

“Fuckin’ hell!” I lifted my feet. “What the hell, Ty?”

“Hey, don’t worry, girl. Dey go to sleep when the sun rises. You better get used to ’em cuz you real low now and all these things, they just be part of the family down here.”

2.

The moon finally vanished behind the buildings, bringing a moment or two of oppressive stillness. The black, deep river moved silently and captured the pink glow of dawn. The Crescent City sits at the apex of a wide bend in the river and fans out from there in a crescent shape. The river is constantly pushing toward the city and the city pushes back. A half million people lived in that crescent and one could assume the city had overcome nature. A closer look illustrated that the city was the nature of the place; the people and nature intertwined so tightly that you could not have one without the other.

The sun arrived upon a river blanket of fire orange. Shore birds sang and ducks dotted the riverbank where large crushed pieces of concrete kept the river at bay. The damp, dark cracks and crevices provided safe haven for the rats, roaches, and other creatures of the night. A mangy cat sat on a promontory waiting for her breakfast to crawl by.

“It’ll warm up good today,” Ty said as he stretched his arms high into the air. “Sunny, too.” He appeared no less beautiful in the light of day. “Whatchyoo lookin’ at?”

“You got flowers stuck in your hair and I wanna thank you for breakfast. I haven’t had anything so good in ages,” I said. I hoped he was not hustling me because I so desperately needed a real friend.

“So, why’d ya leave Kansas City?” He rolled the paper sack in his hands.

“I dunno. I hit a major dead end.”

“Were you legit?”

“Yeah, I guess. I had a real job as a receptionist at a shipping company, but the pay was shit and I hated it. Then I got into a little trouble with coke and my days were numbered. I started feeling sick about it, about my life and that place. I wanna get clean and go legit.”

He laughed aloud. “You the first person ever told me dey come to New Orleans to go legit.” He shook his head. “Baby girl, you got it totally backwards. What about your family?”

“I don’t fit in with them. They don’t get me.”

“Oh, you gay too, like me? My folks hate me cuz I be a fag. Dey think I choose to be dis way.”

I was surprised at his matter-of-fact statement about his sexuality. I had never encountered gay people in Kansas City, let alone someone who would just come out and say it.

“No, I’m not gay, and Mizz Dee said your family loves you. How can you say they hate you?”

“Long story, cher, and it is fucked up, trust me. You don’t wanna hear it and I don’t wanna talk about it. Why your family hate you?”

“I don’t think they hate me. They’d just rather not fool with me. My dad is long gone and my mom remarried again last year. I don’t even think she knows I’m gone.”

“Dat’s weird,” he said. “I got family everywhere and even though dey hate me, we still talk. I left the parish and come to the city to live my own life, but some of my people have legit business here, like Mizz Dee. She my momma’s sister’s kid. My auntie had a whole slew of ’em by the time she was my age and dey all different colored, too. Dey scattered all around the Gulf Coast from Pensacola to Lake Charles. Seem like anywhere I go, dere dey are. I can’t imagine not having a family.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Look, da market’s open.” He got up and tossed the paper bag into a trashcan.

“Okay. I guess I’ll see you later.” I was already feeling lonely thinking about my day without his company. I would head back to the hostel, catch a couple winks, and clean up to go find work.

“Na-na, cher. You come on with me. I think I know somebody might be able to help you go legit. I just need to get dere befo’ eight.”

I followed his quick pace along the boardwalk while he filled me in on his friend Sunny, who owned a bar on Bienville Street.

“He like you and me, dat Sunny, he come to the city cuz he run away cuz he gay and his daddy beat him silly over it every day. He a white boy and very handsome. I reckon his daddy had dreams for his boy and so he try to beat them into the child. Toughen him up and make him a ‘real man,’ you know?”

Darkness crept over Ty’s expression. It was obvious he was no stranger to beatings. “Eventually, Sunny just up and leave. I think he was only about fifteen or so then. He around twenty-five now, I think. I dunno. I don’t much care how old people are.”

I enjoyed listening to Ty’s voice. Maybe I just liked hearing that other people had it worse than me. I wondered if everyone in New Orleans had their personal tragedies; maybe that was why the town felt so good to me. We came to a big building called Jax Brewery and hung a right across Decatur Street where carriages and mules were lined up for a day’s work. We stepped off the street and into a cool, shady wooded square.

“So anyhow, Mr. Delacroix, now he fin’ Sunny on da side of da road just right over dere.” He pointed to a cathedral that overlooked the square. “That’s St. Louis Cathedral and dat dere be Andrew Jackson.” A large bronze statue stood in the middle of the square, Jackson atop his horse as it reared back. Gardens full of flaming azaleas, roses, and oak trees obstructed my view. “Dat’s why dis here square be called Jackson Square.”

People were streaming in from everywhere: artists, palm readers, jugglers, clowns, musicians, tourists. It was like a carnival.

“Is there some kind of festival going on?” I asked, looking about at the spectacle.

“Naw, pretty much dis is normal. Mardi Gras is over. Anyhow, Sunny come here to the square, I guess cuz where else he gonna go, and he fall asleep on da side of da church. Well, I guess it’s more like the alley, and Mr. Delacroix jog there in da mornings and he fin’ the boy layin’ dere. From what I hear, little Sunny was pretty messed up. Some man got him all strung out of his mind and abused him bad and then dumped his sorry ass on da street. Dat’s what I hear anyway, but I don’t dare ever ask Sunny or Mr. Delacroix about it. In fact, I try not to be too close to Mr. Delacroix. He kinda funny. Dat’s why I gotta see Sunny ’fore eight, cuz dat’s when Mr. Delacroix come back from his joggin’.”

We stood under the shade of an oak tree. “Look,” he said, pointing. I followed his gaze to see a tall, barefoot, shirtless man on a second-floor balcony, silk pajama bottoms hanging loosely over what looked to be an exquisitely sculpted body. His blond hair was lighter than mine, and about as long. It cascaded over one shoulder and his chest shone golden bronze. I was not sure which was brighter, the sun over my shoulder or the man who gazed down at me.

“Good lord,” I said.

“I know. I tol’ you he be a good-lookin’ boy.” Ty smiled and waved to the man.

“That’s Sunny?”

“Yep, and we gotta get up dere and outta dere ’fore Mr. Delacroix come back.”

“What’s the deal with Delacroix?” I asked.

Ty turned and took my shoulders in his hands. God, his eyes were beautiful, something of the earth, real and deep. “Hey, baby girl. His name is Mister Delacroix, and don’t you ever forget it.” Ty’s voice was grave. “Let’s go, and let me do da talkin’.”

He took my hand and pulled me over to the apartment building call box. He pushed the number 101 and a sharp click of the gate was our welcome to enter. The heavy wrought-iron gate was about twelve feet high. You could see where rust had tried to come through the black paint over the years, only to be painted over until finally the rust gave up. The intricate scroll design had pineapples and leaves with a single fleur-de-lis at the top. The hinges were squeaky. No way could anybody sneak through this gate unnoticed, even with all the noise from the square.

The short enclosed walkway inside the gate was dark, with only one gas lamp burning high on the brick wall, but soon it opened up to a bright lush courtyard with a fountain tinkling with water. An angel was bathing a little boy, and her bucket never ran out of water; one hand held her bucket, the other lay on the naked boy’s head in a caring embrace. Unfamiliar trees lined the courtyard; one had orange-colored citrus hanging heavy on its branches. It was so quiet; all you could hear was the fountain and your breath.

“Come on,” he whispered, and up a flight of iron stairs we went. The banister was thick and cool under my palm. “Come on, man, we gotta hurry,” Ty whispered. The gallery that took us around the courtyard to apartment 101 was more like a narrow catwalk and our footsteps sounded upon iron planks. The heavy wooden door had brass curlicue numbers on it: 101. Ty knocked on the door five times and then waited and knocked two more times. The door opened to reveal Sunny, the perfect sun god who awaited his subjects.

“What have we here?” he asked.

“Sunny, this here’s Susan. She lookin’ to move here from Kansas City. Susan, this here’s Sunny and he live here.”

Sunny held out his hand. When I put mine out to shake, he lifted my hand and gently kissed the back of it, bowing his head slightly. I almost giggled, thinking his kiss to be a contrived joke, but he and Ty were serious. I was beginning to feel the familiar pangs associated with coming down off a high. I would definitely let Ty do the talking.

“How nice to meet you, Susan.” He smiled and looked me in the eye. “Come in, please. Ty, where’d you get her?” He asked this like a little boy whose friend just showed off his new puppy.

“Oh, she ain’t mine. I find her on the wrong side of town. She a lost girl, Sunny, and so I was thinkin’ maybe you could help her out. She wanna go legit, and you know ain’t nuthin’ legit ’bout me.”

“Yeah, Ty, ain’t nuthin' legit about you,” he said. He bent over and kissed Ty long and hard on his mouth. Sunny’s thick golden arms crushed Ty’s lithe body into his. “I was expecting you earlier at the bar, but you never showed. Where’d you go?” He released Ty and it took a few seconds for Ty to begin breathing again.

“I know, I’m sorry. I meant to come back but then I hustled an extra job. I need a couple extra bucks cuz I got bills. This guy, he could pay in cash. I was on my way back when I found Susan here. She was hungry, so I brought her by to see Mizz Dee so as she could eat somethin’. She only just got here last night and don’t know nuthin’.”

“Ty, I’ve told you to clean up your grammar, haven’t I?” Sunny looked down on Ty in admonishment.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget and fall back into my habits. Um . . .” Ty took a moment to collect his grammar gremlins. What gives about the grammar, I wondered. Who cares? And that kiss, what a first. I had never seen an interracial kiss, especially one shared by two men. Toto, we are not in Kansas anymore!

I could count the times I had been kissed on one hand and I was fine with that. Back home, my mother gave it up all the time to any man who would have her and provide her next fix. There was no way a man—or woman, for that matter—was ever going to get me to give in.

“Ty, do you have something for me?” Sunny asked as he took Ty’s chin between his fingers.

“Yeah, Sunny, it’s all here, plus a cut from my extra job. I know it’s only fair considering I was supposed to be back at the bar before you closed.” Ty handed Sunny a wad of cash.

“No, cher. You keep your hard-earned money. I understand how it is when you need more cash, and it isn’t easy, is it, doing what you do?” Sunny peeled off a few bills and handed them back to Ty.

“No, sir, I reckon it isn’t. Thank you.” Ty took the money with shame shadowing his pretty face.

“Consider it a bonus for your loyalty.” Sunny put his arm around Ty’s waist and ushered him into the dining room. “Stay and have a cup of coffee. I want to meet your new friend.”

He glanced in my direction and I followed them into a large room with a crystal chandelier that sparkled against dark mahogany panels inlaid with beveled mirrors. The reflections were mesmerizing. The table, big enough to seat eight people, was ornate, with carved cornices and claw feet. The chairs were upholstered in crimson brocade. I felt like I was on a movie set.

We walked through the dining room and into a small galley-style kitchen that opened up into a living room of bookshelves overflowing from floor to ceiling, broken up only by a fireplace and mantle in the middle. The furnishings were contemporary, but tastefully accented with Queen Anne–style end tables adorned with Tiffany lamps. The balcony Sunny was standing on earlier allowed morning light into the room, and the sounds of the square echoed through the French doors. Somebody outside blew a whistle.

“Susan, did the cat get your tongue?” Sunny took my hand and led me to the soft, sweet-smelling sofa. I was sure I smelled like rats and roaches and suddenly became very self-conscious in the presence of such beauty. I felt shaky and weak.

“I, uh, hello,” I stammered.

Sunny’s laugh was genuine and kind. He sat me down and did not let go of my hand. His gaze became a stare. I no longer felt like a stray puppy. Rather, I was a stray dog that had fleas. I looked down at my worn Reebok sneakers.

“Sugah, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, and he seemed to shake himself free of a memory. “Do you like coffee? Do you have to use the restroom? I bet Ty didn’t bother to think about that, did he? The powder room is down the hall to your left. I’ll make you the best cup of coffee you have ever had.”

I thanked him and walked across the room to the hall. Someone was laughing in the square as I entered a narrow, dark hallway. The deep maroon walls met with four feet of dark mahogany wainscoting. Gilt-framed artwork hung along the wall in a straight line, each with its own little light to illuminate the picture. The antique boudoir scenery, upon closer inspection, was pornographic: gay and straight, full nudity, orgies.

The small bathroom was all mirrors, even the ceiling and shower enclosed in glass. There was not a single fingerprint to be found. The small space and the mirrors made me dizzy and I felt slightly nauseous. It was becoming more difficult to focus my eyes.

I carefully set my pack on the floor and examined my jeans in the mirrors. They looked okay, but I decided to change my shirt and do something about my hair. I pulled a navy blue t-shirt from my pack and shook it out, hoping the wrinkles were not too bad. I rolled up the white one I had on and shoved it into my bag. I found a little bottle of perfume stuck in one of the side pockets. I sprayed a little on my bare skin and bra, then a little more after I put my clean shirt on. My hair was a crazy mess of unruly curls. All I could do was redo my ponytail. I searched frantically for a pill or a small stash of cocaine that may have fallen loose from the old sock, but there was nothing there. I splashed cold water on my face.

I was carefully opening the door when I could hear Ty pleading, “Please, Sunny. I just thought that maybe you could give her a job at the bar, you know, the real deal as a barmaid or something. She’s a good kid that got caught up in bullshit back home. She wants to get clean and go legit.”

“Ty, you know that isn’t my call. I’m not sure I can do anything to help.”

“What the hell, Sunny? That kid about got herself killed last night. Is that how you roll now? You don’t give a shit? Where do you think you’d be if Mr. Delacroix had that attitude when he find you?”

The sound of the slap was loud; I jumped and almost dropped my pack. Memories of my mother falling victim to so many men flooded my mind. I wanted to run and hide, find a safe place, but I was in unfamiliar territory. I had to settle for a safe place within myself, but my emotional wall was thin, my sack full of mortar empty: my heroin was gone.

“I’m sorry, sir. Oh lawd, I am so sorry.”

“Ty, that hurt me more than it hurt you. I promise.”

“I know it was a hurtful thing to say. Please forgive me,” Ty said quietly.

Sunny’s voice softened. “You were kind to the girl and she is sweet. Let’s see what Mr. Delacroix has to say when he gets back. He may have a position for her.”

“I have to go. I can’t stay. I’ll just leave her.” Ty’s voice was shaking.

“Oh, no, you won’t. You found her. She is your responsibility. You’ll stay right here.”

“Sunny . . .”

“Ty, get yourself together. He’ll be here soon,” Sunny said.

“She ain’t mine, Sunny.”

“Well, she ain’t mine, either. Now sit up!” Sunny’s voice was harsh again. “And really, Ty, the Ebonics has got to stop, especially when Mr. Delacroix gets here.”

I heard Sunny get up and so I walked into the living room trying to pretend not to have heard the conversation. “Ty, you okay? You don’t look so good,” I said.

“Yeah, cher, I’m fine. I’m fine like powdered cocaine.” He smiled a sad smile, his face reddened by the hitting.

Sunny walked in looking as beautiful and relaxed as ever. You would never know he just beat a man half his size. The tray he carried had four coffee cups and spoons, a large French press, cream, and sugar. “Shall we sit on the balcony and wait for Mr. Delacroix?”

Ty and I followed obediently and sat in the morning sun around a small iron table. Sunny poured cream in the cups and then filled them to the brim with coffee. The caramel-colored concoction was, indeed, the best cup of coffee I had ever tasted, but I was afraid to ask why, so we sipped in silence. Ty kept his head low and I worked to keep my hands steady.

“No sugar, Ty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Moments passed quickly as the juggler came by and a man played the guitar for us. A young woman waved hello to Sunny and knew him by name. I felt like royalty looking down on loyal subjects, like nothing could touch me or affect me.

Sunny gasped and gazed toward the alleyway where Ty said Mr. Delacroix had found him. I followed Sunny’s gaze and my eyes fell on a tanned shirtless man donning red running shorts and black running shoes. His thick, dark hair was sticky with sweat and morning shadow darkened his jawline. The people cleared a path, as it seemed he expected them to. Seven hundred years ago, I would have heard the words, “The King approaches!” but it was 1987 in New Orleans, where the only kings were Mardi Gras kings and even they were clowns.

I never dreamed Mr. Delacroix would be so young and beautiful. Even from there, I could see and feel his electric blue eyes. I understood why Sunny gasped in admiration, but I did not understand why Ty cowered.

3.

“Let me do the talking,” Sunny instructed as he rose to press the button that unlocked the gate below.

I looked at Ty and he smiled. “Now ya know where I get it. Just hush and be honest when he aks you somethin’. You be okay. Jus’ wait till he aks.”

I could not tell if Ty was talking to me, or himself. He was shaking like a leaf. I squeezed his hand to let him know I would be okay and he quickly drew it away.

“Don’t be touchin’ nobody,” he said.

Sunny was standing at the door with a glass of water when Mr. Delacroix arrived breathless and sweaty. Delacroix was almost as tall as Sunny, but not quite. His body was as solid and wide as Sunny’s, all hard muscle and sinew, but his complexion was darker. His forearm flexed as he drank from the glass. Sunny handed him a towel to wipe his face and neck. Mr. Delacroix handed Sunny the empty water glass, flung the towel around his neck, and walked past Sunny without a word, holding each end of the towel with hands that were strong like a boxer’s, but soft like a woman’s.

“Ty, what have we here?” Mr. Delacroix’s voice was steady, cordial, and steely with an essence of the South. His eyes fell to mine and my heart stopped. They are electric.

“Good morning, Mr. Delacroix,” Ty stammered.

“Tyrone, it’s a glorious morning, indeed. Now tell me about your friend. Where did you find her?”

My thoughts were reeling. Sunny was just like Delacroix and Ty was just like Sunny. A bicycle bell went off in the square. I felt like Alice in Wonderland sitting with the Mad Hatter, the Dormouse, and the White Rabbit. The dizziness came in waves.

“Mr. Delacroix, I find . . . found her on the other side over near Washington Park this morning around four-thirty. She say she . . . said she was hungry.”

Mr. Delacroix glared at him impatiently. “Ty,” Mr. Delacroix said sweetly, “you’re such a bright and beautiful and talented young man.” His tone turned to disgust. “If only you could speak.”

The electric blue eyes laser-pointed at Sunny and Sunny looked away. “It makes Sunny look bad too. It was his project to break you of that street trash talk, and it looks like he failed.”

The moments of silence that followed were heavy and thick. I felt physically weighed down.

“Tyrone, you found her near Washington Park and she said . . .”

Without lifting his eyes from the floor, Ty recounted slowly, in very nearly perfect grammar, the story of our early morning odyssey. Mr. Delacroix stood behind Ty’s chair. Ty closed his eyes and jumped when Mr. Delacroix’s hands fell on his shoulders, but when Mr. Delacroix stroked his face and neck and kissed the top of his head, he melted into the caramel goo I had seen when Sunny kissed him earlier.

“See, Tyrone, how wonderful you can sound? I don’t think you realize the nature of your voice. It’s a gift that you should not ruin with that black boy vernacular.” His fingers went white as he squeezed Ty’s shoulders. I could see Ty’s body shudder. “Sunny, this coffee’s gone cold. What does my day look like?”

“Sir, you’ve got a meeting at the exchange at nine-thirty and then your afternoon is blocked from twelve-thirty to two-thirty for meetings at Twisted Oak.”

“Okay, Sunny. You know this means I’ll need you here by six. Don’t be late and don’t be distracted.”

“Yes, sir,” Sunny said.

“I know you have business at the bar, so I’ll free you by eight.” He sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if that bar is a good idea. For the time being, I’d like a fresh pot of coffee and my regular breakfast ready by the time I get out of the shower. And keep your schedule open today unless I tell you otherwise. I may have a project for you. Tyrone, I’d like to speak to you alone regarding the treasure you’ve found,” he said with a wide, gleaming smile that set his blue eyes off like rockets. He glanced at me with intense curiosity. “Come, Tyrone, it looks like you’re my personal valet this morning.”

I was puzzled when Ty followed Mr. Delacroix without hesitation down the hallway and into the master bedroom. I thought he did not like Delacroix and I could have sworn he was terrified a moment ago. Sunny cleared the table. I watched the circus in the square, not knowing what else to do, and became fascinated by the palm readers. Maybe I could learn how to do that.

“So, Susan,” Sunny said as he sat down next to me, “what do you think about our freak show circus?”

I was not sure if he meant the goings-on in the square or the goings-on in the apartment, so I decided to be diplomatic. Everything was becoming a blur. “It’s all very interesting to me.”

“Certainly this is better than the youth hostel. I’ve been in that rat-infested roach motel and I assure you that Ty has done you a great service by bringing you here. In this family, we’re in the business of helping folks just like you reach their highest potential.”

“Family?” I asked. My head was swimming now.

“Mr. Delacroix, if he chooses, will explain it all to you in good time. In the meantime, let yourself relax. You’ve found yourself in the safest place in New Orleans. I want you to know that whatever happens today, whatever decisions you make over the next few days will change your life one way or the other in dramatic fashion. Rest now. That way, when the time comes, you can think thoroughly with eyes wide open.”

I needed some rest all right; nothing seemed to make much sense to me.

He went to the kitchen and I heard the clang of pots and utensils and the fridge open and close. A cupboard opened, shut, and water began to run. I was feeling tired and every inch of my body ached. I wondered if Ty could score me something. I hated the feeling of withdrawal.

Ty and Mr. Delacroix entered the living room and walked toward the French doors. “Like I said, Mr. Delacroix, I don’t lay no claim to anything. I only ask you to please live up to your side of the deal.” Ty’s melodious voice boomed; he sounded like a different person.

“Would you prefer something in writing? I’ve got something handy that I can easily produce right now.”

“No, sir. Verbal is fine. I trust you.”

“Thank you, Ty, I know you do.”

They shook hands and hugged like brothers. “I know I’ve done the right thing, Mr. Delacroix.”

“You’re a good friend. I’ll make sure she understands that from the get-go.”

The two men joined me on the bright balcony. It was getting warm, and sweat was beginning to make my jeans stick to my legs. I was feeling slightly sick.

“Susan,” Mr. Delacroix spoke gently to me, “what exactly brings you to New Orleans?” His eyes in the sunlight were bright blue. “You can be honest with me about everything. What happened to you?”

I was visibly shaking now and it was hard to think clearly. “I’m not sure where to start because I don’t know where it really started. My life’s always been fucked up. I tried hard to stay legit with my job, but it didn’t pay, and then I got tied up with some drug dealers.”

“Tied up?” he asked urgently.

“Well, not tied up literally. I mean tied up financially. And I think I got addicted.” This was the first time I had admitted to this. I felt relieved and ashamed. My stomach hurt.

“Addicted to what, Susan? You can tell me. There are no judgments here, not in my house.”

I glanced at Ty, and Sunny looked at me sympathetically. They had both worn my shoes and look at them now, so beautiful and successful. It was clear they owed their success to Mr. Delacroix.

“If you want my help,” he began, and I was sure he was reading my thoughts.

“I do want help.”

“That’s the first step, then, isn’t it? And your friend here, Tyrone, he brought you to the right place. Don’t ever forget how he saved you, okay? Can you say thank you to Tyrone for me?” Mr. Delacroix asked, sipping his coffee.

“Oh, Ty.” The tears came from nowhere. I never cried, and now I felt like a fool. “Ty, thank you so much.”

Mr. Delacroix nodded to Ty as if giving him permission to hug me and I fell into his arms with relief. Ty held me as I lay my head in his lap. My head hurt so bad it felt like someone had taken an axe to it. I could feel fingers taking the ponytail out of my hair. I did not care.

“Susan, you have to sit up because we have to have this conversation now.” Mr. Delacroix’s voice was firm, but soft around the edges like southern grass or clouds.

I dragged my sore head out of Ty’s warm nest and sat as best I could on the hard iron chair in the harsh sunlight. Ty continued to rub my back.

“Susan, I can take care of you. I think it’s best if you stay here for a few days until you’re feeling better, but I need to know what you’re coming down off of so I can be prepared.”

I know I must have looked terrified, but Ty assured me, “Cher, he know what he doin’.”

“Ty,” Sunny said, “speak well or don’t speak at all. We all know you can.”

“Sorry, sir,” Tyrone said. “Susan, Mr. Delacroix has helped so many people like you and he is good at it. He can help make you better.”

“Just mostly cocaine, but I was into barbiturates, too, and something else to help me sleep. Now I’m just a damned mess and I can’t seem to do anything.”

I could not bring myself to be fully honest about my drug use. Heroin was a large part of my problem, but was it that bad? Maybe I was lying to myself.

“I’m here, Susan. I’ll see you through this, but you have to trust me.” Mr. Delacroix’s voice was earnest and his eyes filled with . . . what was it? Hope? He was so dear in that moment, so real with me. He asked, “How long has it been since you’ve used?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.” Another lie. How could I be honest with a complete stranger? I began sobbing again. My arms hurt.

“Let’s take this one moment at a time for now, beginning with new friends having breakfast, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered, “thank you.” I shivered even though I was sweating.

Mr. Delacroix looked down to his plate of three eggs, one sitting in a small cup with the others lying on their sides, and a few fresh raspberries scattered around artfully. Sunny poured the coffee as he had earlier: first the cream, and then the coffee. Ty gladly took another cup when Sunny handed it over, and Mr. Delacroix gingerly capped the top off his egg with a knife and sprinkled pepper on the inside.

“Ty, did she use when she was with you?” he asked.

“No, sir, not one bit. She seemed okay, but it was fucked up, her being out that time of day, especially where she was headed. God, we don’t even wanna know what coulda happen.”

“So this means it’s at least six or seven hours without if you found her at four-thirty like you said.”

“Yes, sir, it was right at four-thirty. I checked when I saw her because I couldn’t believe my eyes when I seen a white girl just then in that place.”

“Thank you, Ty. You’re excused. Go to the hostel and collect Susan’s things, as she’ll be moving in here.”

“Oh, there’s no need to do that,” I said. “All my stuff’s in my bag.”

All eyes were on me and not a word was spoken.

“Susan, don’t interrupt,” Mr. Delacroix finally said in a matter-of-fact tone.

I took the cup with trembling hands and sipped the magic potion. “Sorry.”

Ty leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Cher, remember what I said about waiting to be aksd?”

“Tyrone, the word is asked,” Sunny said.

Mr. Delacroix interjected, “Okay, Tyrone, I suppose you’re off the hook. Sunny, you’ve got your project now and its name is Susan. I think you know what to do. Recall fondly your first days here with Miss Collette; how she cared for you.”

Did I sense a wave of sadness in those blue eyes?

“Sir, shall I have her ready at six as well?” Sunny asked.

Mr. Delacroix laid a tender hand on Sunny’s cheek. “Ah, na-na, cher, that’s our time. Just you and me. But I have to run now because I can’t be late.”

Mr. Delacroix was so dark and beautiful, and Sunny was a boy god surrounded in light. A trombone cried out from the square and people cheered. All I wanted was one pill to make me smaller.

4.

“All right, girl, let’s get cleaned up,” Sunny said. “You’re a mess, but at least you aren’t as bad as I was when I came here. Hell, I’d spent a few nights on the street before Mr. Delacroix found me. I don’t know why I came to the cathedral other than I guess I felt like I needed saving.”

His words trailed off as he lifted me from the chair. I looked around and noticed Ty had left. I wondered aloud where he went.

“Don’t worry, cher. He isn’t far away. He had to go pay his bills.”

“He saved my life. Was I dying, am I dying? I hurt, Sunny.” I remembered the beating he gave Ty. “Don’t hurt me.” I was finding it difficult to finish a sentence.

“Yes, Ty saved you and nobody’s gonna hurt you now.” He carried me to a bedroom and lay me on a soft bed that smelled like roses. “Come on, baby, I’m gonna help you undress and then we’re going to have a bath. You have to trust me, Susan. Do you trust me?”

“You hit Ty. Why’d ya hit Ty?”

“Ah, na-na, cher, don’t you think about that now. You need to tidy up and get some rest. All that’s between Ty and me. Everything’s all good now, but you have to trust me. I will not hurt you because if I do, Mr. Delacroix will disown me and I know you trust him, right?”

“Where’s Ty? I want Ty.” I began to cry again and I was so ashamed but I could not move. I was so tired and every cell in my body hurt.

“Shhhhh.” His arms came around me gently. “Shhhhh.” He stroked my hair and rocked me like a baby. Maybe Sunny was okay. Maybe I misunderstood his violence. Maybe it was all a dream. I wanted it to end.

“Oh, Sunny, I feel like I am dying.”

“I know, I know. But the more pain you feel, the more you’re alive. When you stop hurting, you stop living, so the pain is good because it helps you grow. It’s not gonna be easy getting clean. Remember, you want to be clean and legit. You can’t be legit if you aren’t clean.”

He lay me down gently and I closed my eyes. The physical pain was so great now that I could not care what happened next. I felt him move away. I heard a bath running.

When he came back, he sat me up on the bed, got on his knees in front of me, unlaced my beat-up Reebok shoes one at a time, and gently pulled them off my feet. My feet were cold. He methodically unfastened my belt and my jeans and then pulled my t-shirt over my head. My bra fell to the bed. Sunny pushed me back and I lay still while he pulled my jeans and panties off. My skin hurt and I was freezing. I was terrified of the withdrawal.

He wrapped me in a warm towel as he escorted me to the adjoining bathroom. “Oh baby girl, baby girl. You got it bad. The bath’ll help, but it’ll hurt at first and I am so sorry about that, but we can’t have a dirty girl sleeping in my bed.”

I was thankful this bathroom did not have so many mirrors. The lights were low and the colors muted. Everything had an amber hue from the candle that burned on the vanity. The warm steamy air was welcome to my chilled bones.

Sunny reached over to turn the water off. The silence was heavenly as he dropped the towel from my body and lifted me like a baby into the bathwater.

I wanted to scream. Every nerve ending came alive at once. I thought I was suffering electrocution. I fought, but his long, strong arms pinned my arms and legs under the water like a professional wrestler. I realized then that he was naked and I screamed as loud as I could.

“What the fuck are you doing? Get off! Get off!” I kicked and clawed. “You faggot! Get the fuck off me!” Dizzy memories of my mother being pinned down, her screams echoing in my mind.

Sunny held fast against my struggles. Eventually, I was exhausted and gave up. Nothing I could do.

“Trust me, little girl. Breathe. Just breathe. Look at me and breathe. I’m breathing with you. See? It’s okay. The pain says you’re alive. You’re alive. Breathe and feel the pain. Look at me. Look at my eyes. See? I am breathing with you.”

The excruciating pain was in every molecule of my body. My head was against the tub and the hard porcelain hurt my skin.

“Listen to me. Open your eyes and look at me. Keep breathing. Feel the pain. Breathe through it. Be alive.”

My eyes opened and his light blue Adonis eyes were an inch from mine. They were not electric like Mr. Delacroix’s. Sunny’s eyes were like ice, crystalline and transparent. His blond hair was wet at the ends and stuck to his hard shoulders. I felt his steady, even breath against my mouth.

“Breathe with me,” he whispered.

“Are you an angel? Am I in hell?” I asked.

“You’ll wake up in heaven, but we’ve got to go through hell first. I’m your angel to get you through.”

“Mr. Delacroix?” I asked.

“Shhh, na-na, he isn’t here now. It’s our time, just you and me. Keep feeling the pain, Susan. The pain means you’re alive. Breathe with me.”

I met his breath with my own and it helped. I kept my eyes glued to his and we breathed together. Memories came to my consciousness of mean schoolgirls, wicked women, parties, and shame. So much cocaine. My mother and her boyfriends, the beatings; street corners, money, cars, heroin, smoke, and mirrors. I wanted anything to stop the pain. I missed my mother but I was a little girl lost in the grocery store. She forgot me. Police Officer, my mother forgot me.

My head was spinning and a wave of cramps traveled from my calves through my intestines. “Sunny, I’m gonna puke. Please make it stop.” He freed my arms and legs, pulled me up, and held a large enamel bowl under my chin. “Puke it out, little girl. Get rid of those demons. Feel the pain. Embrace the pain. You’re alive.”

I was so empty, but I could not stop retching. I had never hurt so badly in my life.

“Breathe, little girl. Breathe with me.” He lightly pet my head. “That’s it. This part’ll pass.” He set the bowl down and got out of the tub.

I was shivering again, so he added some hot water to the bath. I could feel the warm water traveling up the length of my body. He was on his knees next to the tub, and with a luxurious washcloth filled with fresh-smelling lather, he began to rub my neck, arms, back, my breasts. His deft hand moved down my back and belly and gently between my legs. Every move he made hurt, but I breathed through it. I felt the pain. I was alive.

“Here, cher, lay back now.” He placed a pillow made of terry cloth behind my head and helped me comfortably recline as supine as possible in the tub. He rose up on his knees and washed my left leg, then my right leg, my feet, even between my toes. “You trust me now.”

I opened my eyes and saw him smile.

“Yes,” I said.

“Good. Things’ll be easier.” He put a steady hand behind me and helped me to the sitting position. “Look up now so the water doesn’t go in your eyes.” I sat up straight and looked up.

“There you go,” he said as he poured water over my head so that it ran warm down my back. His hands were full of lather and he was rubbing my head and behind my ears. It occurred to me that he had done this before.

“Okay, little girl, I’m going to rinse you, so look up for me.” I followed his instruction, eagerly awaiting that warm water traveling down my back. “A little conditioner and we’ll be through, little girl.” His hands rubbed and massaged. I felt as though my head were floating off my body: no pain.

“No pain,” I panicked. “I’m dying!”

He gave me a small slap on the arm. “Shhh, look up, little girl. Let me rinse.” I looked up eagerly.

As if I were a rag doll, Sunny lifted me up to the standing position. “Stand up now so I can give you a real good rinse.”

Everything hurt again. He loosened the removable showerhead and gently sprayed my body down from head to toe. The water stung me like needles and I began to cry.

“Breathe, little girl. The pain means you’re alive. Feel the pain. Good. Breathe.” His face was in front of mine, keeping me focused on those icy eyes.

He wrapped me in a towel and effortlessly carried me to the bedroom. His hands were swift as he patted me dry, even in my most private places. I was shivering like mad. He blew my hair dry as I sat naked, vulnerable, exposed. His hands never ventured further than needed to introduce me to the pain I had spent so many years medicating away. Cramps moved up and down my torso and legs. My back screamed with pain and the axe hit my head again.

“I hurt . . . the pain . . . I am alive,” I said like a mantra. Sunny joined in with his sweet angelic voice. This went on as he lifted my body to the edge of the bed. He held me in his arms and rocked me as we chanted, “I hurt . . . the pain . . . I am alive. I hurt . . . the pain . . . I am alive.”

* * *

There were muffled sounds of male voices, furniture being disturbed, the creak of bedsprings, the dropping of some heavy object. Sun came through a crack in the shutter. My body hurt. Someone rolled my body this way and that, and pushed my legs; I felt pinching in my arm, something cold inside my vagina, then drifting sleep.

Male voices again. “She is fine physically, but there is something you should know, Mr. Delacroix.” Voices trailed off, a door shut, darkness, nothing.

My mother left me. I left this time and she's the one who's alone now. The family. Everyone has a family. I'm alone. I hurt . . . the pain . . . I am alive. I hurt . . . the pain . . . I am alive. Please god, make it stop. Oh, let me sleep again.

My eyes clouded in darkness. Everything was blurry and twisted, my blankets heavily sodden.

“Ty.” My voice was weak and hoarse, my throat so dry. “Ty, where are you?”

The door opened and Mr. Delacroix came to my side and turned on the bedside lamp. A piece of red silk lay over the shade to dim the harsh light. He bent over and kissed me gently on the mouth. I saw him drink from a cut crystal glass; pink light bounced off the facets. I tried to pull away but he took my face in his hands, held me still, and forced my mouth open with his tongue. From his mouth, cool, sweet water flowed. I wanted more, so I held my mouth open. His mouth flowed into mine once more.

“Bonjour, Blanche Neige. Par sa peau blanche comme la neige.”

I reached up to touch him. “Are you real?” I asked as I touched his dark curls.

“Oui.”

5.

Mr. Delacroix threw open the shutters and lifted the sash. Wild white light and the street sounds and smells filled my senses. Clop, clop, clop. The sound of a mule pulling a carriage along the pavement under the window. The light breeze was succulent.

“Are you still in much pain, love?” His voice was a half whisper.

I tried to sit up and he scrambled to my side to assist me with his soft boxer’s hands.

“Yes, a little. How long have I been out?” I looked around and vaguely remembered Sunny bathing me and Mr. Delacroix’s electric eyes. The memories were dotted with amber light and shadows.

“Five days, cher, only five days. Can I get you anything? Do you need help to the toilet?”

“I’m thirsty. I don’t know what happened.”

He reached to the bedside table and brought a crystal glass to my chin with a bendable straw. “It’s iced water.” He smiled and looked me in the eye. “You seemed to really like it a minute go.” He guided the straw to my lips with his thick fingers. “Drink, cher.”

I sucked greedily on the straw. The cold water broke the dam of dryness that had been blocking my breathing. I felt astonishingly refreshed and took a long, deep breath.

“Hey, hey, let’s slow down,” he said, setting the glass aside. “Do you want to know what happened, what is happening now?”

“I can only imagine that I’ll find out sooner or later.” I leaned back on the pillow and closed my eyes.

“Do you want more sleep? We can speak to one another later, if you like.”

“No, Mr. Delacroix, I’m ready to hear it,” I said, though sleep beckoned.

“Cher, the good news is that you’re clean. The doctor says another two or three days of rest and you should be completely purged of the poison. From now on, the pain will lessen.”

“And the bad?”

“Bad news? There is no bad news. Only that you have a bit more work to do is all, but you’re on your way.”

“Thank you, Mr. Delacroix.”

“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. Additionally, as I mentioned, I took the liberty of having a doctor come look at you just to make sure everything is okay. You frightened us there for a while, as we couldn’t wake you up. We feared you’d gone into some kind of coma. We thought we might lose you, and poor Ty—he was hysterical.”

I smiled. “Is he here?”

“No. I’ll have Sunny call him in a bit, but Sunny’s here. Do you recall how Sunny helped you?”

I was suddenly ashamed remembering how I’d called him a faggot and puked and god knows what else.

“Neige, please remember there’s no judgment in my house. He was happy to help you and he’s the only one who knows how because he’s walked in your shoes. He came here much like you have, but in much worse shape.” He turned toward the closed door and called for Sunny to enter.

Immediately the door opened and there stood my angel of mercy. His smile was genuine and he laughed to see me awake. “Aw, little girl, I knew you could do it. I knew it. How is the pain? Is it still there? Are we still alive?”

“I feel like I’ve been lifting weights and doing sit-ups for a month straight.”

A pause. “Susan, you weren’t honest with us before, were you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were a heroin addict as well, weren’t you?”

I was ashamed. These men helped me out of their own goodness and I had lied. Sunny knew because he had been like me.

Sunny sat next to me opposite Mr. Delacroix, Delacroix like night on my left and Sunny like day on my right. “Little girl, you’ve still got work to do and it’ll be so much easier if you’re honest with us. We’re here to help you because we care. Didn’t I prove how much you can trust me?”

I was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. Three men I hardly knew had taken me in and cared for me when I was at my worst. I started to bawl and mew as the sick kitten I was. “How can I ever repay you?” I asked between sobs.

“Ah na-na, not to worry about that, child,” Mr. Delacroix said as he bent to kiss my forehead. “There’s plenty of time to talk later. Sunny, call Ty. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see Miss Susan awake and alert. Par sa peau blanche comme neige, cher.” He looked at me lovingly. “I hope you’ll be with us for a long time. Rest now so when Ty gets here you’ll have your strength to listen. He has a story for you.”

He got up from my side and the vacancy he left hurt my soul. I did not want him to go, but I was glad Sunny stayed. I squeezed his hand, startling him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay. I was just lost in thought. Is there something you need?”

“Sunny, why are you doing this?”

“Because Mr. Delacroix believes it to be the right thing to do.”

“I don’t understand. I really don’t understand any of this.”

“Just chalk it up to Southern hospitality. When Ty gets here, he can help explain.”

* * *

I must have dozed because when Sunny opened the rest of the bedroom shutters and threw open the sashes, evening was at hand and the sun was golden through the window. The street sounds were comforting. I was hurting, but I was alive.

Who were these people and why were they interested in me? I was thankful but still distrustful. Were they going to sell me into some kind of sex trade or ransom me? Probably not the latter, as I did not know anyone who would pay for my freedom. If they had ill intent, why would they go to such expense and extremes to spoil me?

Knock, knock, knock. I knew right away it was Ty and I raced to the door, but had steady myself with my hand on the table. Ty was quickly at my side helping me sit back down.

“Cher, sit, sit. You got to be clean first ’fore you go runnin’ about.”

I hugged him fast and hard. “How can I ever repay you? Sunny said you saved my life.”

“Well, well, dat boy finally say sumpthin’ nice ’bout me,” he laughed. “Cher, you just be goin’ da wrong way is all.”

Sunny came in carrying a tray with a bowl of soup, some crackers, a glass of water, and a cup of the best coffee I ever had. “Miss Susan, I’ve made you some consommé, but eat the crackers, too, because they’ll help fill that emptiness you have in your gut.”

“Thank you, Sunny. But you don’t have to call me Miss Susan. I’m just Susan.”

“Mr. Delacroix prefers I call you Miss Susan and you’re welcome. It’s veal, the consommé, that is.”

“Sunny, you been tellin’ Miss Susan nice things ’bout me?” Ty asked through his wide smile.

Sunny let go a heavy, tired sigh. “Ty, grammar, please. We need Miss Susan to understand every word you say.” Icicles dashed from Sunny’s eyes.

“Okay, hold it, guys,” I said. “What gives with the Miss Susan bullshit and the grammar crap? What the hell is going on here?”

“Ty, that’s your job to answer, and do it well.” Sunny turned and left without acknowledgment.

My eyes pleaded with Ty for an explanation.

“Miss Susan, now all you got to do is eat your food and listen and then I’ll answer all your questions as best I can, okay? It’s good that you eat sumpthin’.”

“Sure, Ty. God knows I have a ton of questions.” I sat at the little round table where Sunny had placed my tray, and Ty sat opposite me.

“Mr. Delacroix’s family been round here for centuries, and they have a country home in Lafourche Parish near the border with Terrebonne Parish called Twisted Oak. The family has long since sold much of the local land and commercial agriculture program, but the Delacroix family still depends on the farm to provide for their needs at Twisted Oak,” Ty said.

Ty went on to tell me about how Mr. Delacroix’s grandfather had long ago had business with his friend and naval compatriot L. Geoffrey Scott, who had lost his wife in a horse-riding accident. Mr. Scott had a son named Jackson who desperately needed a motherly home, so the Delacroix family had welcomed Mr. Scott and his son, Jackson, to live at Twisted Oak. Jackson and Mr. Delacroix’s father, James, were the best of friends and grew up on the plantation together.

“Those boys were tight like family,” Ty said. “When you go to Twisted Oak, you gonna meet Mr. Jackson Scott. He live there. We call him Mr. Scott.”

“What happened to Mr. Delacroix’s parents?” I asked.

“Aw, cher, dey dead. Dey bote dead.” He shook his head in sadness. “Mrs. Delacroix, they say she die of cancer. That’s the official version, but mostly it’s thought she kill herself. She buried in Lafayette Cemetery. The elder Mr. Delacroix, he live for a while longer, but he die when his boy, our Mr. Delacroix, was just little.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yeah, it’s a sad case to be orphaned like dat. From what I hear, he love his daddy very much. Those men, Mr. Jackson Scott and our Mr. Delacroix’s daddy, they were close like brothers, but some folk say they were too close, like fag close, and dat why da momma kill herself, but that just rumor.

“Mr. Scott, he has his cheri, but he ain’t ever had no kids because he got our Mr. Delacroix. His woman, Mrs. Marie-Louise Scott, she fine like powdered cocaine,” he smiled. “Oh cher, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be remindin’ ya.”

“So, if I have this right, Mr. Scott lives at Twisted Oak, the Delacroix family home?” I stayed on the topic of Mr. Delacroix and ignored his comment. Just the thought of cocaine brought waves of undeniable cravings. I would have gotten high at that moment, but the thought of going through withdrawal again stemmed the urge. Mr. Delacroix had given me a chance at sobriety. The pangs lingered, but unlike my mother, I would choose a better life.

“That’s right, he the patriarch.”

“Shouldn’t Mr. Delacroix be the patriarch of his family estate?”

“That ain’t how the elder Mr. Delacroix set it up. He leave it all over to Mr. Scott when he die until our Mr. Delacroix be old enough to manage things. He get it all pretty soon when he turn thirty.”

“So Mr. Delacroix and Mr. Scott still have business together?”

“Oh, yes. They carry on what was goin’ on before.”

“It’s sad that the only family Mr. Delacroix has is really just a family friend,” I said. “What kinda business are they in, Ty?”

“Oh, now, that I don’t know. Something to do with boats and shipping. Then there is land, and some medicine companies, and I think farming, maybe oil, too. It all kinds of things. I dunno that kind of big business, but I reckon it isn’t very different from small business other than you have to know big numbers.” Ty’s infectious smile burst again.

“I reckon so,” I smiled back.

“So you ask me why I tell you all this and I say because Mr. Delacroix think it the right thing to do. Miss Susan, Mr. Delacroix been knowin’ his whole life that when he turn thirty, he got to step up and run Twisted Oak. He been knowin’ that by then he want to settle down and maybe find someone to start a real family with. He has a way about him when sumpthin’ get set in his mind. He is persistent, as they say.”

“Do you and Sunny do everything that Mr. Delacroix thinks is right?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation.

“Why? Doesn’t anyone ever ask him why he thinks this is right?”

Ty shifted in his seat and thought for a moment. He took a sip of his water. “Well, he save us both like he saving you right now. Sunny and I are part of the family and we loyal.”

“I don’t understand.”

He stood and looked out the window. “See, cher, the Delacroix family has a unique and powerful kind of loyalty. That part of the family tradition is hard to explain, but it’s the way it’s been since the beginning.”

He lingered in front of the mirror on the armoire and fixed a rogue ringlet. “Once you sign on and be part of the family, you expected to serve the family. In return you receive much in the way of opportunity, loyalty, and security.”

He checked his backside in the mirror before he came and sat again. “There are different levels of fidelity, but each in their own way serves the family well. Miss Susan, he be a powerful man with resources, if ya get my meanin’.”

“You do everything Mr. Delacroix asks of you?”

“Mostly.”

“How about Sunny?”

“Oh, yes. He do everything he asked to do.”

“I don’t understand at all. This almost sounds like a mafia family.”

“Naw, it’s nuthin’ like that. None of us do illegal things, except, I guess, me, but Mr. Delacroix’s business is all legit, every bit of it. Mr. Delacroix, he just like to have family around to save him from bein’ lonely and it’s what we sign on for. I help out and get some benefit. Mr. Delacroix is a generous man. I know now since I be part of the family, I never live in the street again.”

“And me, do I have to sign on?”

“Oh no, cher, nobody have to sign anything. Nobody forced to do anything they don’t wanna do.” He stood again and appeared to examine the lamp on the bedside table. He ran his fingers along the edge of the red silk. Without making eye contact he said, “That ain’t how Mr. Delacroix rolls. That would make him a bad man. He is kind and he show you before you sign.”

He looked at me for a long time as if he was trying to decide what to say. I was patient with him. I felt as if he wanted to tell me something, but I could not tell if he was struggling with his speech or if he was contemplating whether he should say it. Finally, he gave into his decision.

“He show you everything and explain everything clear as crystal so you have no doubt about serving the family. If you don’t want to, you can go anytime. I can go anytime and so can Sunny. Anybody can, but once you in the family, it’s good and secure because there ain’t no real worries no more and you never, ever alone.” He sat down again and looked at his hands that he had folded up onto the table.

“Mr. Delacroix, if he wants me to be a member of his family, what would I have to do? I’m not sure I have much to offer, although I am looking for work.”

He giggled. “Na-na, I don’t think it anything like dat, but you know, I here to tell you, Mr. Delacroix, he say I found the treasure this family been waitin’ for. I think Mr. Delacroix would like you to be his special friend. He looks for something more personal with you, if you are willing, that is. He say Mr. Scott is so pleased, I can even go to the roast this weekend. I ain’t ever been inside Twisted Oak, and it all cuz I find you.”

Ty gave the impression that he was trying to think of more descriptive words, but he gave up. “We all get lucky sometimes and you, my cheri, are a lucky lady. It’s late and Sunny needs me at the bar. Miss Susan, I like you and I pray you sign on.”

I stood to hug him, but he stepped back and put his arm out. “Sorry, cher. Our huggin’ days are changin’, but I can fetch Mr. Delacroix so he can help you back to bed.” He left without turning back.

I could not imagine what all the fuss was about, and my thoughts about being a “special friend” went immediately to the dark side. I assumed Mr. Delacroix told Ty he could not hug me and I resented it a little. My mind worked to make sense of it all. I was not to be sold or ransomed, but rather kept like the stray I was. The idea of being a kept woman unsettled me. How many women did Delacroix keep? Ty was a prostitute. Was this a prostitution ring? Ty said Delacroix was legit, though. I had a million questions, but for the moment, was also grateful for the help and kindness I received. I told myself that when I got better, I would assess the situation with a clearer mind. I was tired and still feeling a little sick, and the bed was warm, clean, and soft. I could get used to this.

Mr. Delacroix entered almost immediately with a stack of small books in his hand. He placed the books on the nightstand and turned on the lamp. He offered his hand and I held it as I stood.

“You’re doing so much better,” he said.

“It was so wonderful to see Ty.” I steadied myself with the table as he drew my blankets back.

He laid me down softly. “Neige, tomorrow we’ll explore the possibility of you helping me write my new family history. Get some rest, but take a minute to read some of my family writings.”

“Mr. Delacroix, what do you mean by Nez?” I asked.

“Aww, cher, you pronounce it the Creole way.” He paused. “I like it that way.”

“What is it?”

“It’s your new name.”

6.

I lay back and thought about the last week. I suddenly panicked, as I had not seen my backpack anywhere. I wondered if anyone had found the $5,000 I had hid in the lining. I kept hearing Sunny’s voice telling me how I have to trust him, trust them. I saw his angelic smile asking me if he had proven himself. Lord knows, he had. No one had ever been as kind to me as Sunny. From my perspective, even Ty would not have been able to help me through those first few hours.

I remembered the money that Ty gave to Sunny on the day I arrived and decided I would tell Sunny about the money I had in the morning. I closed my eyes, but I could not sleep.

I looked over at the books Mr. Delacroix had given me to read. The ornate leather bindings were faded, cracked, and peeling away at the corners, but I could see that at some point in the distant past, they had been precious items. I took the top one off the stack and carefully opened the yellowed pages to find handwritten journal entries. I was stunned to find these books were Monique Delacroix’s journals from when she left Houma, Louisiana, to become the wife of a French merchant named Jean-Pierre Delacroix. These two French immigrants began the long Delacroix legacy in America.

Her entry on July 12, 1765 reflected on her voyage from L’Acadie in 1755:

Ten years to the day passes and not a word from Mama and Papa.

She feared her family was dead and she pined for her little sister and older brother:

I hope my prayers travel through the grace of Christ and into their hearts that I am alive. After all this time, I am resolved I will not know the fate of my Acadian family, God rest their souls, and may they know the kingdom of heaven.

The next entry was from September 24, 1765:

I am now twenty-two and lonely for a family, and Mr. Delacroix has offered me an opportunity.

My heart skipped a beat. I could be the one writing these lines. I continued reading.

He is strange, but then again, he is French, and Frenchmen have their peculiarities. I will do as he wishes, for it is my personal commandment to have many strong children from whence my family will prosper. In this, Mr. Delacroix and I agree. He commands and so his will shall be done, my monsieur. I trust him and will marry him as I have signed his contract. He has offered me his kingdom.

Did this mean Mr. Delacroix was offering me his kingdom? The idea of wealth and power was intriguing to me. I wondered what it would be like to be rich, but how rich was he?

I read the next entry, from October 20, 1768:

I cannot live without my monsieur. He is my every dream and my every nightmare. I hurt. Oh, the pain, but I live! Please bring him back to me. I carry our first child and his name shall be Philippe.

I hurt . . . the pain . . . I am alive.

I wanted to read more, but I was tired. I hurt, but I was alive and clean. I was warm and safe. My eyelids grew heavy with thoughts of Monique, kingdoms, castles, and Twisted Oak. I dreamed heavenly dreams of warm, clean covers, good food, trusting friends and loving family, real home, the finest life.

“Nez,” he said, his voice a gentle whisper.

“Mr. Delacroix? Monsieur, are you there?” I opened my eyes to see Mr. Delacroix smiling.

“You read them, my love?”

Being called “my love” conjured notions of being kept. I was curious, but cautious about this idea. Ty and Sunny seemed to have found comfort here and lord knows I was more comfortable than I ever remember being. I would take Ty’s advice and listen to what Mr. Delacroix had to offer.

“Not all, but enough to understand the basics.”

“The basics?”

“Yeah,” I said as I struggled to sit. As expected, Mr. Delacroix rushed to my aid. “The basics, like your family has this tradition of picking up lost puppies and helping them out.”

“Monique Delacroix was no lost puppy. She knew exactly what she was doing.”

I was tired, my body hurt, and I wanted to know what he wanted from me. “Yeah? And exactly what was that?”

“Ah, cher, you haven’t read it all.” He fluffed my pillows. “Keep studying and soon you’ll understand the complete nature of the contract.”

“She said something about that, but then when I skimmed through, a later entry said she couldn’t live without Monsieur Delacroix, so she must have loved him very much.”

He regarded me with intense emotion. Was it anger or frustration? His blue eyes glistened in the morning light. He closed them for a moment or two and when he opened them, the fire was gone. “Let me help you to the toilet.”

“I don’t have to go.”

“Yes, you do.” He took my arm in a brusque fashion, nothing like his gentle manner moments earlier.

“Okay, okay.”

I was annoyed and allowed him to guide me to the toilet. He stood there as I sat.

“Are you going to stand there and watch me?”

“Yes.” He steadied his gaze. His electric eyes seemed to penetrate my brain. Against every ounce of my will, I instinctively peed. Surprised and ashamed, I looked away.

“That’s it,” he said.

My insides lit up as if a bolt of electricity ran deep inside my groins, and my stomach knotted. When I wiped, I found the toilet tissue was slippery. I was aroused, angry, and incredulous. This made the waves of electricity even more intense. My body still hurt from the withdrawal and I began chanting to myself, “I hurt . . . the pain . . . I am alive.”

“Finished?” His voice was sharp.

“Yes,” I said as I was getting up. “You treat me as if I were a china doll, Mr. Delacroix. You know, I won’t break.”

He stepped in front of me, both hands gripping my shoulders, his face inches from mine.

“You, my love, couldn’t be more wrong.”

“You’re confusing,” I said and looked away. I had seen men like Mr. Delacroix before, with their empty threats and vain attempts at appearing macho, always having to be in control. My mother fell for this all the time, but unfortunately, for her, not all threats were empty. Steve beat my mother on a regular basis, but Mr. Delacroix confused me; unlike Steve, he was helping me get healthy. What did he want?

“Nez,” he began.

“Stop calling me that!” I yelled. “It isn’t my goddamned name!” I blurted it out without thinking and immediately regretted it, unsure of his reaction. My inner world flashed with vignettes of my mother making contact with the wall, her head hitting the coffee table. Sunny hitting Ty. Did they defer to Mr. Delacroix because they were grateful, or fearful, or both?

His breath stopped and the pain in his eyes pierced my heart. A single tear fell from his eye, but he never dropped his gaze. I was even more confused now because I expected anger, not pain. I had never seen a man cry. He spun away from me and put his fisted hands to his eyes to hold back more tears.

“Mr. Delacroix,” I attempted to apologize. I touched his shoulder, but he recoiled.

“No! Don’t touch me.” Stepping away from me, he hit my hand with surprising force.

“I am sorry. I don’t understand,” I said, rubbing my hand.

“No, you don’t understand any of it.” His voice softened and his posture went limp. “I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sorry. Sometimes I get carried away with my own . . .” He was at a loss for words.

“I don’t understand because you haven’t told me. Just tell me straight up what this is all about. I’m here, and as far as I can tell, I don’t want to leave. But I gotta know what the hell is going on.”

“I want you,” he said with anxious eyes. “I see so much potential in you. You’re so beautiful. Don’t you want me?”

With a moment of unexpected clarity, I blurted out, “Yes, I want you.” I was not sure what came over me. I never knew I could make a man cry.

With that, he lifted me, carried me to the bedroom, and threw me to the bed in one fell swoop. My midsection was on fire. I was bursting with some inner light.

This is why people make love.

I must have spoken my thought aloud because Mr. Delacroix replied with a heavy growl, “Na-na, cher, I fuck.”

With that, the beautiful robe was open and the nightie was in tatters. Before I knew it, he had pinned me down. I tried to fight him off, but I was still weak. His right hand caressed my breasts and my body responded without warning. I was warm, cold, tingling, and curling up inside. He pinched my nipple so hard it hurt. The pain radiated to my groin, electric and sharp. I wanted him to do it again. He bit my nipple and the sensation traveled to the tips of my toes. My hips began gyrating beyond my control. I was lost in ecstatic madness.

“Please take me,” I whimpered.

“Why should I, when you think Monique Delacroix was a whore?”

“No, I don’t think that. Please.”

“Please what?” He laughed at me.

“Make love to me.”

“No, Nez.” His hand traveled down my tummy and began to tickle and pull my pubic hair; the juices flowed even harder.

“What is your name?” he said.

“Susan!” I cried. He pulled harder and the wetness flowed more. I could feel it trickle toward the bed and settle in my anus.

“What is your name, whore?” he asked as he yanked.

“Susan,” I cried.

He bit my left nipple just hard enough to zap another shockwave to the end of my being.

“Do you want it?”

“Please. Yes.”

“I like it when you beg. What is your name, you little begging whore?” He plunged his fingers into me. My hips went wild.

“Tell . . . me . . . your . . . name . . . now,” he said, each word emphasized with a twist of his hand. His wide, deft fingers spread out and stretched me as if I were made of Silly Putty. I felt as if my insides were on the outside.

“Nez, I am Nez.” The tears flowed from my eyes as fast as the love juices from my vagina. God, I wanted him to fuck me. Sobs jerked my body.

“Stay, don’t move. Leave your hands where they are or I swear I will leave this room.”

Through the sobs, I saw him drop his silk pajama pants. I did not dare move my arms. He quickly put on a condom and, standing above me, said, “Nez, I’m going to fuck you now. Is that okay?”

I was panting like a dog. “Please, yes. Please.”

“Good girl. Keep begging. It’ll make it better,” he said as he pushed my legs apart with his hands and dove into me. The pain was brilliant, exquisite, spreading me and making me scream. He stopped. I begged him to continue and so he did. In and out and around, slow, fast—then he stopped. I was empty but for him. I moaned and he plunged back into me so hard that I lost my breath.

“Baby girl, you’re so wet for me. That pleases me.”

I lay helpless, open, free, except for his left hand pinning my wrists above my head. He made his command and I obeyed. I was his vessel to do with as he wished.

His rhythm became steady, his dark curls wet with sweat that dripped onto my face and into my eyes. His breath caught with every thrust. He was squeezing my hands hard, but even that pain was glorious. He gasped and his eyes misted over as if he had entered another realm. He shoved himself painfully deep and then collapsed on top of me. He was heavy, relaxed, and smelled of sweat and musk.

I opened my eyes, and knew Sunny was right when he said I’d wake up in heaven.

“Now do you understand?”

“Yes, I think I do, Mr. Delacroix.”

He pulled out of me and rolled over onto his back to catch his breath. We lay in silence for a few moments.

“You okay?” he asked.

“A little shaky, but yeah, I’m fine.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you like it a lot?”

I thought about it for a few moments. “Yes.”

“Good.” He rolled over on his side to face me and suddenly jumped to his knees. “I’ll be damned,” he said.

I looked over my shoulder to find him examining my bloody robe soiled with sweat, come, and the blood that used to be my virginity. I began to cry.

“Nez, Nezzie, I thought you said you were okay! You said you wanted me. You begged me!” He threw the robe aside and rolled me over.

“I feel like an idiot,” I said.

“Why? This is beautiful. You were a virgin and I was too, in a way.”

“How can you say that?”

“Well, my love, I’ve never had regular sex before.” His smile was so wide and excited, he resembled a little boy.

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that you weren’t all tied up in knots for me.”

“Oh, yeah, I was!”

“Not literally.” He gave me a sideways glance.

“You mean like bondage and that kind of shit? Is that what this is all about?”

“That’s only a small part of it, Nez. No pressure. If you want out, you can get out. No one will force you into anything. That isn’t how this works at all. But you’re meant to be here, I know that now. Please consider my proposal. Please.” He sat on his haunches with his hands together like a kid at a candy store.

“I like it when you beg,” I said, and his grin went from ear to ear.

“So you will consider it?” he asked eagerly.

“Yes, Mr. Delacroix, but I have one question.” I looked him in the eye.

“Yes, my love. Anything.”

“Is the story of Monique Delacroix true? Was she really a refugee?”

“From her journal to your eyes, every word is true as the sun rising in the east. I swear it on her grave.”

He glanced away. “Another first. See what you do to me?” His expression was one of puzzlement. “If it helps, I can call you Susan until you sign on. From that point on you will be Neige.”

“What does it mean, Mr. Delacroix? What did you say to me yesterday, that French phrase, and when will I be able to call you by your first name?”

“Par sa peau blanche comme la neige means you are as pure and white as snow. I named you this after the doctor told me you were a virgin. Neige means snow. It is even more fitting considering you’re a cocaine addict.”

His last words stung, but he was speaking the truth, so I could not argue it. “You can call me Nez, if I can call you by your first name.”

“You can use my first name after I collar you and not a moment earlier,” he said in a stern, hard voice. “I’ll stick with Susan for now, if it helps.” His eyes filled with that painful melancholy that tore my heart to shreds.

“Mr. Delacroix, you can call me Nez.”

He got up and shot around the room like a jackrabbit. “We have a big day ahead of us. I have so much to share. Oh, Nez, you have no idea what you’ve done,” he yelped. “Thank you, cher. Thank you.”

7.

I was still lying in bed naked and giggling when Sunny came in.

“Sorry, Miss Nez.” He diverted his eyes and turned his back.

“Oh no, come in.”

“I should have knocked. Mr. Delacroix is taking you out today, so I’m here to help you get ready.” He went into the bathroom and started the water and I could hear him singing. His singing voice was more angelic than his speaking voice.

Surely, he had better things to do. “You know, I can bathe myself. I’m feeling a lot better now.”

He came into the bedroom and opened the armoire to retrieve fresh towels. I spied my backpack, thank god.

Sunny was shirtless as always and wearing his purple silk pajama pants that hung from his perfectly sculpted hips. He chuckled. “It’s my pleasure, and I assure you I won’t sit on you in the tub again.”

Words escaped me. I might have died without his care. I had not realized how far gone I had been on the poison, as Mr. Delacroix called it. “Come, sit for a sec.” I patted the bed next to me.

Sunny sat down. “Miss Nez, I know this all seems surreal to you, and you probably have a billion questions. I know I did. Spend the day and evening with Mr. Delacroix and you’ll see what a good and kind man he is. I love him more than anyone does and I haven’t seen him this happy in ages. Today I think you’ll find the bright side of things very appealing, and with bright light, your questions will be answered.”

“Why are you so good to me? You don’t even know me. Honestly, I don’t understand what all the fuss is about.”

“I’m good to you because you’re good. You’re good for Mr. Delacroix, you’re good for the family, and therefore you’re good for me.” He got up, took my hand, and led me to the warm bath. I lowered my body into the tub. The hot bubbly water reminded me of the tender spots Mr. Delacroix had awakened. The memory rekindled the pleasure and my breath caught.

“Miss Nez? Is it too hot?”

As I settled in, I said, “No, but I think Mr. Delacroix might be,” and smiled.

“Oh yeah, he is!” Sunny sat on the toilet seat. He put his elbows on his knees and then hung his head in his hands. His thick, wavy blond hair fell about in a waterfall of sun.

“You okay, Sunny?”

“Yeah, just a busy night at the bar. Fridays are busy this time of year and we had a fight around three in the morning. The cops had to come.”

“Oh, shit!” I said.

“Yeah, I hate it when the cops have to come around. I mean, I don’t have anything to worry about. The place is legit, but still, I don’t know what some of my regulars are up to and I don’t wanna scare them off. Goddamned hicks. I have no idea why they come here and stir up so much trouble.” He sighed. “Mr. Delacroix said he’d bring you by later for a drink to see the place. I think you’ll like it. It’s small, but we have a good group of locals and great music, nothing elaborate.”

“I can’t wait to see it. I can see how proud you are to have your own business. You sure work hard enough at it.”

“Keeps my ass outta trouble for sure.” He sat looking at me as I washed my body. “Here, cher, let me wash your hair for you.”

His hands were already filled with floral cedar shampoo. His strong fingers gently rubbed my scalp. “Miss Nez, if you ever have any questions or need to talk, I’m here for you, okay? Mr. Delacroix is a private man, but he and I don’t have secrets and he gave me permission to be your confidant should the need arise. I may be able to answer some questions if he isn’t available. Look up now.” He poured the warm water down my hair and back.

“I have a question now, Sunny.”

“I’m ready for anything you ask.” He squirt conditioner into his hand.

“I read some of Monique Delacroix’s journal entries last night. Mr. Delacroix is going to ask me to sign a contract, right?”

“Yes, probably tonight or tomorrow.”

“What can I possibly have to offer him, other than sex? I don’t have money or skills or anything of value.”

Another pitcher’s worth of warm water ran down my back. Sunny rubbed my shoulders with the soft washcloth.

“I can say the contract includes rules and expectations with regard to your relationship—not a working relationship, a personal one. Miss Nez, he likes you. The contract helps sort things out before you get too involved. It promotes harmony, which is a good thing because Mr. Delacroix has peculiarities. I’ll tell you right now that it is not legally binding and it’s totally negotiable.”

“Ty told me you signed a contract with him.”

Sunny nodded.

“Would you do it again?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Why?”

He lifted me up and wrapped a towel around me, escorting me to the bedroom. I could tell he was thinking about his answer very carefully.

“Miss Nez, when I came here I was ten times more fucked up than you are and I didn’t care about life; I didn’t care if I died or what. I was full of hate for my family and myself. I would rather die than try. You know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose I do, but what did you get out of the agreement? I mean, clearly you didn’t get a kingdom, like Monique did.”

He sighed. “Actually, I did. I have my self-respect, education, discipline, and I value my life and other people’s lives. I have a business and friends and I feel good now. I’m healthier than I’ve ever been. My body is my temple and I know I can do anything. I guess my kingdom is my empowerment. Really, cher, it was the best thing I have ever done and I recommend you sign on. But don’t forget that you can negotiate. Now, come on, he’ll be waiting.”

He dropped the towel on the floor and went to work on my hair. There was a noticeable bulge in the front of his pants. I was so worked up from the activities of the morning, it was all I could do not to grab it. My insides twisted in knots.

Sunny kneeled, holding a pair of cream-colored panties, thong style, into which I stepped. His hands brushed my calves, thighs, and buttocks as he adjusted them. I started to feel wet between my legs. Still on his knees, he adjusted a white garter belt around my hips and eased a pair of silk panty hose of the same color up to my thigh, where he fastened them to the garter—the sun god bowing before me.

“Okay, cher, settle down now. Your legs are wobbling on me.”

He laughed as I stepped into the lightweight cream-colored silk skirt that flowed with layers of gossamer fabric to just above my knees. He stood slowly in front of me as he pulled the skirt to my waist. His face was only inches from mine, and his eyes were like white ice. My heart was beating wildly.

“This isn’t fair,” I whispered.

“It’s just the way it is.” Sunny lifted a white silk brocade bustier around me. “It takes two to tango with this one.”

“You had to say that, didn’t you?”

He tugged the strings tight, recalling the delicious force Mr. Delacroix had used. He pulled especially hard and asked, “Would you rather it take three?”

The thought of both he and Mr. Delacroix at the same time excited me to the point of incoherency. I did not know what to say as he reached down and lifted my breast so that it would sit properly in the cup. His hand went for my other breast and I moved toward him.

“Nope,” he snapped as he tightened the last rung of lace, causing me to stumble. “Ya gotta sign on first, Miss Nez. Then we’ll see.”

He touched the tip of my nose with his finger. “It’s all up to you, and ultimately to Mr. Delacroix, but I promise, once you sign on, I’m your friend and confidant for life. I mean that.”

The sheer white blouse flowed over my body to add a bit of modesty to the otherwise risqué outfit, and the cream-colored riding boots were just the right touch. Half my breasts were sitting atop the bustier and I was afraid my nipples, hard as little pebbles, would peek out. Thank god, I had the blouse.

Mr. Delacroix was standing in the living room waiting for me, dressed in black pants and a silvery-gray linen shirt that hung loose. He gasped when he saw me.

“Neige! Par sa peau blanche comme la neige! Mon cher! Sunny, she looks good enough to eat.”

Mr. Delacroix handed me a white riding crop.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“We’re going riding!”

8.

As we left the apartment, it dawned on me that I had not been out in days. The iron gallery going around the courtyard hardly seemed as strange or ominous. I looked over the railing to see the garden.

“The fountain is beautiful.”

“Yes, it is. I had it made. The little boy is Sunny.”

“Really?”

“Well, not really, more figuratively, but the angel, she’s definitely my dearest Collette; friend, confidant and dependable submissive.”

“Collette?”

“We’ll get into the details later, but it’s safe to say that she wasn’t as strong as we all thought. God rest her beautiful and generous soul. It’s wise to keep in mind as we go forward, Nezzie, that there’s a point where we can give too much.”

The gate shut with a clank behind us. A trumpet and clarinet duet was playing; music was everywhere and people were singing and dancing. The square was a lot louder down here than it had seemed from upstairs. Mr. Delacroix pulled my hand and we ran between groups of people until we took a left around the corner out of the square, where my carriage literally awaited.

The white carriage, adorned with painted flowers, gold gilt with black trim, and bench seats, was pulled by a white mule with a hat covered in flowers. There were even special holes in the hat so her ears could peek through. I had never seen anything so cute.

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix,” I said with delight.

“Madam.” He bowed and offered his hand to assist me into the carriage.

“Thank you, sir.” His eyes lit at the salutation and he jumped up beside me.

“Good morning, George,” he said to the driver. “This is my friend, Nez, and this is her first time in the city. Let’s give her the grand tour of our wonderful home.”

George was a middle-aged black man with skin as dark as Mr. Delacroix’s hair. He was dressed in work pants, a flowered shirt, and a floppy wide-brimmed hat. He had a long piece of grass in his mouth and did not seem able to take his eyes off me. It made me uncomfortable and I checked my pebbles. Everything was tucked in. I had to admit my get-up was a little crazy, until I looked around and found that I fit in perfectly, even looked tame compared to some other people. Men were dressed in drag, a woman was wearing a Wonder Woman outfit, and various hybrids of vampires wandered about. One young woman about my age had nothing on but a lace bra and blue jeans. Bums dressed in rags sat on the bench in front of the cathedral. A shirtless man with torn overalls was riding a unicycle in circles. One strap was broken so that his private parts were visible.

“Right, Mr. Delacroix. We’ll do the deeeeeluxe tour.” With a click of George’s tongue, the mule started out. Clop, Clop, Clop . . . the noise I had heard outside my window all week.

Each building had history that George would illustrate with vignettes and personal stories. Little alleys and tucked-away courtyards; carriage houses turned hotels, restaurants, bars, and shops.

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix, will we see Sunny’s bar today? He seemed anxious for us to go.”

“Yeah, cher, we’ll head that way around cocktail hour when it’s fine and proper for a lady to be at a bar.”

His serious tone made his remark seem contrived and old-fashioned. I chuckled.

“Na-na, I’m serious about that, and don’t ever go unescorted.”

“I didn’t take you as the old-fashioned type.”

“You’d be surprised.” He took my hand. “Now look here, cher,” he said as he pointed a perfectly manicured hand toward a building we were approaching. “George, hold up.”

“Wooaaah, now.” The black man pulled on the reins and the white mule stopped.

“‘Look here’?” I pretended to sound incredulous. “That’s bad grammar, Mr. Delacroix.”

“Will I be punished?” he asked with an evil grin. “You have a riding crop to use.”

My face was bright red. George sat looking straight ahead.

Mr. Delacroix jumped off the carriage and offered his hand. We stood before an iron gate to a beige stucco building walled in with matching stucco about twelve feet high. The plaque on the wall said Ursuline Convent, 1752.

“This is the oldest existing building in the Mississippi Valley. French Colonial architecture,” Mr. Delacroix said. My eyes took in the lonely majesty of the place and its solid hold to the ground.

Mr. Delacroix continued, “This is where Monique came when she first landed in the Louisiana Territory. The boat actually dropped her off not too far from the hostel where you were. Back then that area was all wharf with gristmills, ice and fish houses, and big cotton and rice warehouses, not to mention slave exchanges.”

My heart stopped. “Was Monique a slave, Mr. Delacroix?”

“No, thank god.”

I gazed at the building. “Why are all those shutters closed on the top floor?”

“Ah Nezzie, that’s the best question, but before I answer, I’ll tell you that if you ever need proof of Monique’s existence, it’s found behind those walls. But you must take it upon yourself, if you wish. Monique doesn’t give up her secrets easily.” Mr. Delacroix sighed. “As for the shutters, they remain closed and will for eternity. They’ve been that way for about a hundred and fifty or so years; that was when it was discovered the priests had made the upper floor of the convent into their den of inequity and untold cruelties.”

“God,” I exclaimed.

“Does it turn you on? I should think the nuns very lucky girls,” he smiled. His eyes caught the sunlight.

“You’re shitting me, right?”

He frowned at my expression, but I could not wrap my head around any of it.

“No, actually, it’s true,” he shrugged. “Monique wasn’t here when that was going on, though, because she was a virgin when she came to the family just like you. So,” he said firmly, “what do you think? Does a den of inequity and untold cruelty turn you on?”

Laser-blue eyes drilled my insides and made my panties damp. I looked away and jumped in the carriage. He followed and picked up my riding crop I’d left on the seat.

“Nezzie, baby, you didn’t answer my question,” he said in a singsong voice as he whirled the crop in the air. “How does your garden grow, Miss Nezzie, with inequity or cruelty?” His expression instantly dark, his face in mine, he slapped the crop down hard next to my thigh.

“Carry on, George.”

“Yes, sir!” said George and off we went.

We passed a fine hotel, restaurant, and an old bookstore, and ended up at the opposite end of the square from the apartment.

“Thank you, George, you’ve outdone yourself today. Hug the wife for me and kiss the babies.” Mr. Delacroix held his hand out for me, and handed George money.

Very pleased with his tip, George hollered, “Thank ya, sir, will do. You all enjoy the rest of the afternoon!” He waved, tipped his hat, and clop, clop, clop, clopped down the road.

“Let me introduce you to President Jackson, my lady.”

Mr. Delacroix led me across the sidewalk. We passed a French bakery that smelled divine and stood in front of St. Louis Cathedral. “Catholic people, mostly French, have been worshipping here since 1720 or so, but the original church burned in 1788. I’d take you in, but I think there is a mass going on.” He swung the riding crop to and fro as he walked.

He took my hand and we scrambled up the steps to the center of Jackson Square.

“Mind if we sit for a bit? I’m feeling a little worn out,” I said.

Mr. Delacroix was at my side immediately. “Nez, you okay? I thought maybe the fresh air would do you good.”

“Mr. Delacroix, you’re the most interesting, weird guy I’ve ever met.”

“Why thank you, Miss Nez. Thank you kindly.” His Southern drawl melted me, but he seemed to correct himself. I wondered how he could turn his dialect off and on like a light switch. “Shall I run up to the house and get you some water?”

“I think I may be hungry. Breakfast was kind of a blur to me this morning.”

“Miss Nez, you need to get accustomed to eating three squares a day. It’s part of the agreement, ya know, and we need to make sure you increase your stamina.”

“Mr. Delacroix, about that agreement.”

He sat up on the bench and leaned in with intense eyes.

“Look,” I said, “I have three friends in the world right now—Ty, Sunny, and you. You guys have all helped me in ways I could never pay back.”

“No one is looking for paybacks. That isn’t what this kind of contract is about at all.”

“I know. Both Ty and Sunny explained that to me.”

“It’s a simple agreement between us that outlines specific details ahead of time, so we don’t get bogged down with them later on.”

“And you have your peculiarities,” I interrupted.

“Don’t interrupt, Nezzie.” Sharp eyes, sharp tongue, not a hint of Southern, he held the riding crop across his lap.

“Tell me about them.”

“I wasn’t sure you were ready. You know this morning when we . . .” he paused as if he didn’t know the right word, “. . . made love, I told you it was my first time, right? That I only fuck and that I don’t make love.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well, I usually don’t get aroused unless I am in total control of the situation, like having my partner immobilized, or in other instances, like if my partner has me immobilized.”

“Immobilized? You mean, like, tied up?”

“Yes. Your pain pleasures me and it helps me know I am in control.”

“You want to hurt me?” A wave of fear rose in me and I moved away from him. I thought of the last time Steve beat my mother for oversleeping. “Oh god, no, I want you to want to hurt for me.”

I kept my distance. “I always kinda wondered how all that worked.”

“The thing with you, though, is our experience this morning was totally new to me, so spontaneous and explosive. I didn’t plan on fucking you at all.” He moved closer to me. “It just happened so naturally and I wasn’t in total control like I usually am.”

“Well, you seemed like you were. You were kinda rough, too.”

“If you think that’s rough, you have no idea how wonderful it can be. We’ll explore your limits together and when you reach them, we’ll go from there. Oh, Nez, it’ll be truly blissful and exciting for both of us.” He paused. “And really, baby, as with anything in life, if there’s no pain, there’s no gain. You have to like it or it isn’t pleasurable to me. Do you understand?” He took my face in his hands and his eyes were all I saw. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Mr. Delacroix, I’m getting there.”

He jumped up and whooped like a madman. “Come on, let’s go meet Mother and get some lunch.”

“What?” Just when I thought I was getting somewhere in figuring him out, he would throw another curveball.

“Mother’s waiting on us. She’s been waiting an awful long time, too.”

Either I was out of my mind, or I had misheard both Ty and Sunny when they told me his mother had died when he was a young boy. We meandered through Pirates Alley and Mr. Delacroix showed me the spot where he had found Sunny barely alive.

“God, Nez, I thought the kid was dead. Someone did such a number on him. He was beaten and raped, all covered in bruises and whacked out on heroin, barely breathing. See, love, that’s not the kind of pain we’re talking about here. The only pain that pleases me is the pain you want to give me. My pleasure comes from knowing that pain helps you reach your sweetest potential. It’s the kind of pain that you’ll live for, and it is the kind of pain that helps me live.”

He pulled me on and we came out on lively, loud Bourbon Street. “Here’s the real carnival. I don’t venture over here too much because it is all tourists, but when I was younger and stupid, I’d come over here and get my jollies.”

We hung a left and passed tourists of all ages milling about the drink stands, bars, and strip clubs. Periodically, Mardi Gras beads would rain down from a balcony.

“People can just walk around here drinking alcohol like it’s a Coke?”

“Yep, pretty crazy.”

We approached Bienville Street in a slightly quieter area and jogged right.

“Here it is, cher, Sunny’s Bar.”

It was small, but cute and cozy. Live blues music came from the back. The neon sign was yellow and bright, beseeching all to Visit Sunny's Bar! I wanted to go in, but Mr. Delacroix yanked my arm. “Not till five, Miss Nez.”

We came to the next road and took another left until we approached a four-lane split thoroughfare. The traffic was heavy, so we went one block to our right and crossed in the crosswalk. Modern high-rises and a mall and hotels like you see in most cities. I was disappointed; I had hoped all of New Orleans was as beautiful and tragic as the French Quarter.

We stood on the corner of Carondelet and Canal to wait for the streetcar.

“Nezzie, baby, have you ever heard of A Streetcar Named Desire?”

“Mr. Delacroix, if you don’t stop it, I will punish you!” I smiled.

“Promise?” he asked eagerly and handed me the riding crop.

“Oh, give me that thing!” I grabbed the crop, and people, mostly tourists, stared at us. I shook it at them.

Mr. Delacroix laughed so hard he could barely stand up straight. “Gotta love your sense of humor, Miss Nez. You’re just what the doctor ordered!”

* * *

The trolley came to a halt and scores of tourists got off while others got on, a ruffle of street maps and camera cases. We found a space for two near the rear of the trolley. The windows were open and the metal seat was cool under my hot bottom. Once the trolley started moving, a delightful breeze entered through the window. Mr. Delacroix allowed me to rest my head on his shoulder as we passed Lee Circle, and then a commercial district with modern fast-food outlets, churches, and drugstores. The track ran down the center of St. Charles Avenue.

“Welcome to the Garden District in Uptown New Orleans, my mother’s neighborhood,” he said. I was astonished by yet another city within the city. Gardens enveloped mansions with Spanish moss-covered oaks.

“Mr. Delacroix, this place is so lush. It’s beautiful.”

“Lush like you, my sweet.” He ran his finger up the side of my exposed neck. I watched the world go by as his hand found my right pebble. He lightly rolled it between his fingers. My groin churned.

He moved his hand from my breast. “The next stop is ours.”

We made our way at an easy pace down Washington. It was a gorgeous sunny day and the surrounding homes seemed like exhibitions from an architectural garden catalogue. We came to a city block enclosed in a tall wall that was old, gray, and stained with mildew. It seemed out of place in such a picture-perfect neighborhood.

“That’s where Mother lives,” Mr. Delacroix said, pointing beyond the old wall.

Across the street was a Victorian home turned restaurant, Commander's Palace, the house painted greenish-blue with white trim and matching striped awnings.

“I think we should meet Mother before we eat, if that is okay with you. That way, we don’t have to hurry through lunch,” he said as I looked at the restaurant. “I know you’re hungry, Nez, but it won’t take long.”

Finally, I just had to ask: “Ty and Sunny told me your mother was dead.”

“She is,” he smiled as we entered Lafayette Cemetery through an iron gate.

The cemetery was not big, but it was full of mausoleums and crypts. Nothing was underground. The tombs and crypts, angels, crosses, and fleurs-de-lis were the same gray color. Some were so tall they rose above the oak tree limbs and Spanish moss. Every so often, you would see one that had been freshly painted.

Fences surrounded most crypts; some had benches made of concrete or iron. Each was its own petite garden, some well-kept and others disheveled with large cracks where small lizards darted.

We walked on the gravel walkway between crypts. Azalea, magnolia, live oak, and other trees shaded the graveyard. It was as if Lafayette Cemetery had been there from the beginning of time.

“Here she is,” he said as we approached one of the larger family crypts. “She and all the rest of her family too. They go back hundreds of years.”

He pointed out the oldest plaque. The name was barely legible, but the date was 1749.

“Mother’s family, like my father’s, has been around here forever, but the two families never really got along very well. I think Mother’s family didn’t think my father was right for her. The Delacroix family had a reputation for being a bit different,” he chuckled. “For one, we didn’t go to church ever. Never have, never will, and in a Catholic town, that can get you blackballed pretty easily. It didn’t help that we have a lot of money.”

“Do you still?” I asked.

“Have a lot of money?” He looked incredulous.

“No, I meant do you still have a reputation?”

“Depends on the part of town you’re in,” he winked. “Around this part, I’d say the reputation still sticks. We’re a fucked-up old rich family as twisted as those crepe myrtles.”

“And you like it that way?”

“We sure do,” he laughed. “How many other guys bring a girl to the graveyard to meet their mother?” His expression changed. “You know, if you were mine to have, I would take you right here. Fuck you silly right here.” He still had the riding crop and he flicked my blouse open so he could see my chest heaving atop the bustier. He tickled my cleavage with the tip of the crop. “Yep, I’d hike up that skirt of yours, slam you into the wall and fuck you from behind.” His laugh was guttural. “Goddamn, that sounds sweet.”

He closed the four-foot gap between us with one long stride. I backed up into the wall of his mother’s family crypt. My heart skipped a beat. I was appalled and turned on at the same time. I ducked under his arm and ran around the crypt. I heard the riding crop strike the wall. It was close, but he missed.

“Catch me, you son of a bitch.” I laughed at the irony of saying that in front of his mother’s grave.

“Hey, you little whore, she can hear you, ya know.”

“Find me, Mr. Delacroix. Hunt me down and I’ll be yours, but you have to hunt. Or are you scared of your helpless prey?”

“Nez, you’re about as fucked up as I am.”

“Maybe, but you’ll never know unless you catch me, old man.”

He started coming around after me. “Now you’ve done it. I’ll hunt you down, find you and devour you as an appetizer, you little bitch, but not until I whip your ass.”

If this is what the contract was all about, I was in. I had made up my mind.

His family crypt was one of the largest in the cemetery. Certainly, this indicated great wealth. I ran across the gravel walkway and hid behind an oak tree. I heard his footsteps crunch on the gravel. I could not climb the tree, so I sprinted behind another older crypt with a cracked cross and quickly ducked behind a statue of an angel. She looked down at me as if she did not approve, so I ran over to the next crypt. I was getting tired. I circled around the back where azaleas and ligustrum bushes gave cover, and found him waiting with crop in hand.

His stance was wide and his glare reproachful. “I will punish you now.” He slapped the riding crop in his hand.

“Hey, I haven’t signed yet,” I said, backing up.

“Do not interrupt.” He came at me and spun me about as if we were dancing, and in one motion lifted my skirt and smacked my right cheek with the crop.

“Damn,” I said. He still had me in his grip. His fingers pulled my thong aside and he shoved them into my vagina so hard, he almost lifted me off the ground. I melted in ecstasy and very nearly swooned. He pulled his fingers out and spanked me with an upward motion that electrified my crotch.

“Against the wall, hands above your head. I would grab your hair, but we have a lunch date and you need to look presentable. Do it now, Nez.” His tone of voice was a low growl.

Silently, I followed his command and turned to face the wall, hands above my head as if being arrested. He grabbed the condom out of his pocket.

“Don’t move. Don’t you move a fucking muscle.”

I could hear him unzip and in an instant he was at me from behind, plunging into me growling, “I’ve hunted your cunt and now it’s mine. I take it as I am entitled and you give as commanded, bitch. Spread your legs.”

I spread them wider and he lifted me off the ground with each thrust. I let out a yelp.

“Silence, whore,” and without a sound, he fucked me hard. When it was over, I fell into his arms in blissful release. He held my full weight and gently rocked me. “You certainly are an insistent little bitch, aren’t you?”

“Does it please you?” I asked.

He gave a long sigh and said, “I think you get how this works.”

* * *

Commander’s Palace was a charming Victorian structure. The foyer was dark wood paneled with French toile cloth wallpaper depicting rural scenes. Someone had embroidered bright colors onto some of the people in the print. It was odd and enchanting. A young woman dressed in black slacks and a white shirt greeted us.

“Mr. Delacroix, it is so nice to see you again.” She handed him a dark suit jacket.

“Thank you, Ana. This is my friend Nez.”

“Hello,” I said and she smiled back.

“We have your table all set with the regular accoutrements.”

“Lead the way, cher,” he said as he put the jacket on.

She took some menus and a wine list and led us through the crowded main dining room. The big bay window facing Lafayette Cemetery housed a bass player, trumpet player, and singer playing Dixieland jazz. A carpeted flight of stairs in the back brought us to the second-floor dining room, nearly identical to the one below, though this one was nearly empty. The bay window on this floor was like a private dining area, and featured its own table. It was set for two with a wine cooler that held a bottle of champagne. You could see the entire graveyard.

“Can I get you anything, Mr. Delacroix?” Ana asked as she sat us, placed our napkins on our laps, and opened the champagne.

“I’ve got everything I need, thank you.”

“Enjoy, Mr. Delacroix.”

“I sure will,” he said and turned to me. “Nez, the restroom is over there to your right.”

“I don’t have to go.”

“Yes, you do.” He stood, expecting me to leave the table at his command. The sound of the music playing below us echoed through the old ductwork.

The reminder of this morning’s happenings made my private area twitch again. I got up and went to the bathroom. I pulled my panties down and sat on the toilet. The pretty lace panties were now a mess of fluid, and smelled musky. The toilet paper did a decent job of drying my tender spots. The pain I felt there made me want more sex. I put myself back together as best I could and joined Mr. Delacroix.

“You are radiant.” He stood as I approached the table and helped me with my chair.

“Thank you,” I said and patted his hand.

“I took the liberty of ordering us a dozen raw oysters.” He sat and poured the champagne.

“I don’t think I like them,” I said.

“Have you had them?”

I admitted I had not.

“Then how do you know you don’t like them? Besides, you’ll eat at least one because it’s a test. If you really don’t like it, you don’t have to eat any more.”

“A test? Surely, I’ve passed a test or two already today.”

“You sure have,” he laughed, “but this one is much easier.”

“Your wish is my command,” I smiled.

“Did you mean it when you said if I caught you, you’d be mine? That you would sign the contract? I just want to make sure I understand. I tend to take things very literally.”

I could tell he was at his last nerve. His gaze was intense but he was trying to look calm. His hand rested on the table, caressing the riding crop.

“Yes, my lord, I’ll sign on.”

He exhaled in relief and kissed my hand. “Aw, Nez, you’re a dream come true.”

“It does feel like a dream and I trust you to maintain it.” My voice was surprisingly sharp.

His eyes widened and he whispered, “You’d be a delicious dominatrix. Will we ever have fun with this.” A dreamy look came across his brilliant eyes.

“It appears that you have my destiny in your hands. Please be kind.”

“Aw, cher, you give so completely.” Tears flowed down his cheeks. “Your psychic surrender is poetic. Your physical surrender will bring wholeness to your life. You have my word that you’ll experience ecstasy few others will ever know.” He groaned. “And I love it when you beg.”

“I love to beg you,” I whispered.

The large tray of oysters appeared in the center of our table. I was not sure where to begin with them, so I let him take the lead.

He lifted an oyster with a small fork. “Here, I’m giving one to you plain. This is the test, so pay attention. Open up.” He put the oyster in my mouth. “Don’t chew, just swallow.”

The taste was not too bad, though overwhelmingly salty, but the texture made me gag.

“Ugh, Mr. Delacroix,” I said as I sipped my champagne, “that was terrible.”

He shook his head. “Baby, you failed the test.”

“Oh no, I’ll try again,” I said in earnest. I liked the challenge.

“Na-na, it’s not good to train your gag reflex with oysters,” he laughed. “Believe me, I know. Besides, it’s an awful waste of good oysters.”

“How do you train for it? How do you train for any of this?”

“Very carefully, my newly plucked flower. When we get home I can show you some of the training aids and apparatus. That way, you won’t be as surprised as we move forward.”

I sipped my champagne as he smeared red sauce, horseradish, and lemon juice on his oyster and popped it in his sexy mouth. He seemed to relish every one.

Puzzled, but intrigued, I moved on, knowing greater understanding would come in time.

“I’ve learned a lot already. You’re a good teacher.”

“Tell me, what have I taught you?”

“Mostly, that if I trust you, I’ll come to a fuller understanding naturally.”

“Brilliant, my lady. I want to fuck your brains,” he laughed. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

I wanted to keep things serious because I had questions, so I let that one go, but my insides were aflutter and it was difficult to concentrate.

“Sunny told me this morning that he’ll be my confidant; that you said he could be.”

“Yes, I told him that in the event you sign on, I want him to be there for you to talk to and to answer questions that may come up. He may very well be the only one who can answer them; after all, he’s been my sub for years now. He probably understands my peculiarities, moods, and needs more than anyone else does. As it goes, I suppose, with anyone, sometimes I don’t understand myself from others’ perspectives very well.” He scooped another oyster into his sexy mouth. I wanted his mouth all over me.

He swallowed the oyster. “Did he talk to you about being collared?”

“No, I don’t know what that means.”

“Maybe tomorrow he will. You should ask him.” Another oyster. “By the way, tomorrow is the family roast at Twisted Oak, so I’ll be there for most of the day. I’m leaving you in Sunny’s care.”

“I’m not invited?”

“Not this time. You’re too new. Give it time. There’ll be one next month and by then you should be ready. As I said, I wanna take it slow with you. Trust me on this one, babe.” His slight Southern drawl made me melt inside.

“Sunny doesn’t have to miss it on my account,” I said, hoping not to appear selfish.

“It’s okay. I think these days, he’d prefer a break.”

“Is Sunny still your sub?”

“Yes, but we broke the collar awhile back.” A twinge of pride and sadness was evident in his eyes.

“I’m not sure what that means, but I’m sorry.”

“Ask him about it tomorrow. It’ll give you some perspective.”

“Do you and Sunny have sex?”

“He’s my sub, so what do you think?”

“One more question?”

“Sure, Nez, this is good, honest communication, which to my way of thinking leads to trust. Your questions give me an idea of what you know, where you are with all this.” He was enjoying his last oyster.

“You said you wouldn’t ever ask me to do something you haven’t done or wouldn’t do. I don’t understand. Am I correct to assume you’ve been a sub before?”

“Nez, I am a sub.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We can go over the details later when we discuss the contract. For now, I’ll give you the Reader's Digest version. I’ve been Mr. Scott’s sub since high school.”

“God, you were young!”

“Yeah, about the same age as Sunny was when I took him. I didn’t collar Sunny till he was eighteen, though.”

“Did Mr. Scott collar you?”

“Yes.”

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Is your collar broken?”

“Yes.”

“Is it okay if I talk to Sunny about it? Does he know?”

“He knows, but I don’t know how much he knows about Mr. Scott and me. This evening we’ll talk about this in more detail, as my being his sub has some bearing on our contract, but don’t worry. You’re my world.”

“Mr. Delacroix?”

“Yes, my dream?”

“This is a good thing, right?”

He was so young when he was with Mr. Scott and I wondered how this affected him going forward. I appreciated his honesty and his attempts at being traditional, but I felt this was overcompensation for his unnatural upbringing. I could not help but think deep down inside of him, he had regrets. He had so much more to lose than I did, but I did not want to have any more regrets in my life and I did not want to add to his.

“Better than anything. Trust me on that one, babe.” He poured the last of the champagne. “That’s it. No more bubbly for us.” He lifted his glass toward the window and I followed suit. “Cheers, Mother. She’s finally come to me.”

I was puzzled, but I drank without asking what he meant.

“We’ll have water with the rest of our lunch because we have one more stop after this before we head to Sunny’s. Let’s have gumbo and eggs Sardou. After all, we’re celebrating.”

“Mr. Delacroix?”

“Yes, my dear?” he smiled.

“Have you ever been in love?”

He looked puzzled for a moment and then mystified. “My dearest Nez,” he said as he shook his head and looked me in the eye, “I haven’t a clue what love is.”

I wondered how a person could have so much and still not know love. I felt his shame and loneliness. I wanted to make it go away.

“Can I show you love?”

His sad smile reminded me of the Mardi Gras clown.

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

9.

After lunch, we walked around the Garden District, and Mr. Delacroix showed me the stately Victorian house his mother’s family gave his father for dowry, another old-fashioned notion that I did not think existed anymore. The pale yellow home with white scalloped trim was nestled among magnolias and live oaks. The shady understory teemed with magenta blooming azalea and lavender hydrangea. The tall wrought-iron fence topped with sharp points surrounded the compound, which included a pool house, gazebo, and a carriage house.

“Thank god, Father had the sense to sell it. I can’t imagine growing up here,” he said. “Could you see me going to those preppy Uptown schools with all those preppy Uptown kids? This place would have smothered me.”

“Did it smother your father? Is that why he left?”

“Oh, no doubt about that, and it doesn’t help that Mother’s family lives all over this neighborhood.”

We walked a few more blocks and he showed me his grandparents’ home, one of the largest in the neighborhood.

“Mother had a brother who was killed in the war. She had aunts and uncles who still live around here, but I don’t know them very well.”

“Does everyone have big families around here, Mr. Delacroix?”

“This is a very Catholic place, so yes, but not so much anymore. However, back in the day, it was normal for a family to have six or eight kids. Monique had thirteen.”

“Unreal.”

“I know. Of course, back in her day, not all of them made it. Only ten survived. Keep reading her journals.”

We came upon a busy business district called Magazine Street. It was charming, with antique shops, restaurants, galleries, and boutiques. “This is where I do my shopping for you.”

“You shop for me?”

“When we get home, you can check out your new wardrobe. Your dress code is detailed in the contract. It says that I’ll dress you. I’ll purchase all your clothes and you’ll wear what I lay out for you in the morning. You’ll have certain things that you’ll wear when we’re home and when we go out.”

“Okay,” I said, feeling a little apprehensive.

“Don’t overthink it. Just know that I’ve got you covered. The only thing you’ll need to concern yourself with is pleasing me and the rest will fall into place; a little lagniappe, as they say around here. All your cares will disappear when your signature is on that document.”

“I hope I can live up to your expectations.”

“I have no doubt you will. You’re a smart woman. Just let it flow.”

“Thank you,” I said demurely.

Our shadows lengthened as we walked. “Mr. Delacroix, I’m curious about your business. What do you do?”

“We’ve had the same basic business since Jean-Pierre came here. He was a merchant, bought and sold commodities and owned a few merchant ships. His wealth stemmed from old family money in France. Those days, the new merchant class was really coming into being. He was a real bourgeois, our Jean-Pierre.”

He picked an azalea flower as we passed by a garden overflowing with them. He spun the flower between his fingers as he spoke.

“Anyway, the modern business, Delacroix Global Enterprises, started back in the early 1800s and really took off with rail construction. This is when the family starting purchasing sugar and coffee plantations in Central America.” He placed the flower in my hair. “Isn’t this boring to you?”

“Not at all, sir. Delacroix Global Enterprises, is that the same as DGE?”

I had seen the insignia numerous times on trucks and trains, but had never known what it was. I recalled Mr. Clementon having an account with them.

“Yep, that’s me. Mr. DGE. And, of course, Twisted Oak is its own enterprise as well. It all keeps me pretty busy. Right now, we’re expanding in the Pacific Rim and we’re looking into investing in some research and development in pharmaceuticals. Did you know that the rainforest offers medicines and cures that so far we have only been able to dream of?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” I said, appreciating his enthusiasm.

“God, there’s so much out there for people. I guess I’d like to see DGE on the forefront of getting people the goods they need for better lives. I mean, so many people in underserved regions just don’t have access to life-saving food and medicine, and that goes the other way too; people like us who are privileged don’t have access to the goods produced in some of these poorer regions. I mean, if the little guy over there, the small farmer or artisan, could sell his goods in the global marketplace, he could do really well.”

He glanced in my direction to make sure I was still listening. His walking pace picked up when he realized I was interested.

“We’re in the process of expanding our aircraft fleet too, but even with more aircraft, it’s a logistical nightmare. Yeah, trains, planes, trucks, and boats, but still the logistics of getting raw material to the producers is a big job. But, this is what I do. I’ve got big plans about how to expand, to bring the small producers in. I think it’s important for everyone who is willing to work hard to at least have the chance to achieve their fullest potential.”

“So, your personal philosophy about tapping our greatest human potential carries over into your business as well. I really like that about you, Mr. Delacroix. No wonder you’re so successful.”

“I’m only as successful as the people around me.” He slowed down and pulled a bunch of jasmine from a vine overhanging a wall. “If the people I surround myself with aren’t successful, then it affects me. It’s good for everyone to promote success. Nezzie, ya get what ya give in this world. It’s getting late. We better grab a cab. I wanna show you something before we go to Sunny’s.”

I was relieved to be in a cab. We headed back toward the French Quarter. I was happy to be back in familiar territory, so familiar that it reminded me of where Ty had found me. Mr. Delacroix paid the driver and we got out on a narrow street lined with houses and familiar jasmine-lined walls. As we headed toward the heart of the quarter, the music and revelry grew louder.

“Is this the area where Ty found me?”

“Yes, but you were way back there,” he pointed behind us, “and you were headed up there,” he pointed to our right.

“And up there is not good?”

“That’s right. Had you gotten up there, you’d most likely have been gang-raped, robbed, or worse.”

I needed to give Ty another big hug.

“Is that what happened to Sunny, do you think?”

“Probably. There are areas of this town where normal folks shouldn’t go, but you don’t have to worry about that now.”

“Why, because I’m no longer normal?” I asked.

“God, I love that sense of humor,” he laughed. “That’s part of it, but what I really meant is that you won’t be going out alone anymore.”

“Part of the contract?” I asked.

“Yes. I told you we have a lot to go over before you sign.”

“I should say.”

“Here we are.” A sign for Lorraine's hung in swirly hand-painted letters on a sign above the door.

“Hi, Lorraine! How’s my girl?” Mr. Delacroix said as we entered the store.

The tallest, most beautiful woman I had ever seen came to him and gave him a dramatic kiss on his mouth. Her long, flowing arms and dark hair enveloped Mr. Delacroix.

“I have a new friend I’d like you to meet.” He turned to me and said, “Nez, this is Lorraine.”

“Nez, what a lovely name.” She took my hand in hers and shook it. Her voice was odd, kind of a half whisper, and she wore a ton of makeup. Her hand was bigger than Mr. Delacroix’s.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said.

Lorraine’s painted eyebrows arched in Mr. Delacroix’s direction and he nodded.

“Is there something I can show you?” she asked.

I looked around the shop. It was filled with sex toys, costumes, wigs, and makeup; another section almost looked like a hardware store. I looked to Mr. Delacroix for guidance.

“Darlin’, how about Nez and I just browse for a bit.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Delacroix, take your sweet time.”

“Thank you, sugah,” he said.

I held up what appeared to be a necklace made of silver chain, but there were fasteners on each end that resembled small rubber-coated clothespins.

“What’s this?”

“That, my sweet, is a nipple clamp.” He took it from my hands and pretended to attach each fastener to each one of his nipples. “And if you look here, the clamps can be tightened so you can reach your perfect limit; not too much, but just enough. And then the chain, see?” He lifted the chain. “It has a hook so it can be fastened to a collar or to some other clamp.”

“Some other clamp?”

“Yes, they have them for your clit, too.”

The idea made me shiver. “Do you have one of these?”

“Yes, but mine is much prettier—eighteen karat gold. Only the best for you.”

My pebbles were now standing at attention and I had a tingle below.

“What are these?”

Displayed on the wall were various-sized strands of beads, some made of metal, some of plastic, and others of brightly colored rubber.

“Beads.”

“But what are they used for?”

“To enhance your orgasm.”

My imagination was running wild.

“They’re good for anal training, too.”

“How do they work?”

“I’ll show you soon enough. I have a nice pair at home, pink rubber. I think you’ll enjoy them.” He was clearly enjoying watching me. “You’re like a kid in a candy store who’s never seen candy before.”

“This is so cool. What are these?” I pointed to a wall covered in what appeared to be very short, fat dildos with handles on the end.

“Which one do you like? I’ll buy one for you.”

“What are they?”

“Just what the package says; they’re good for anal training as well.”

I picked up a package marked butt plug.

“Choose one, but be mindful of where it’ll be placed,” he warned with a grin.

I chose a smallish one.

“One more item we need before we go to Sunny’s.” He took my hand and led me to the hardware-looking section. It gave me a fright, this mix of hardware and sex.

“Here you go, love,” he said, handing me a package. “This will help with training that gag reflex.”

The package was marked medium ball gag. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. I was not sure if I could handle this type of thing.

“Who the hell makes this shit?” I asked, hoping to add some levity to the situation.

“I’m quite sure the Chinese do, my love,” he laughed as we headed over to the checkout, where Lorraine was reading a magazine.

“Find everything, Mr. Delacroix?”

“For the time being, but we’ll be back, I’m sure.”

“Take care, Nez, you lucky little bitch,” she smiled.

“You too, Lorraine,” I said, not knowing what to say as she handed me the small black shopping bag.

Mr. Delacroix took my hand as we headed back toward the center of the action on Bourbon Street. The street and bars were filling up, and jazz, blues, and rock and roll came from every direction. There were other shops similar to Lorraine’s all along the street, but they were smaller and the window displays looked old, dim, and dingy. Some of the windows were plastered with posters of centerfold girls. These shops appeared seedy in comparison to Lorraine’s brightly lit, clean shop. Young scantily clad painted women stood at the doorways of some shops, enticing passersby to come in. Mr. Delacroix explained to me that those shops used live models.

People were buying alcohol from stalls set into the sides of buildings. Mardi Gras beads fell from balconies and women were lifting their shirts below.

“Mr. Delacroix, this place is wild!” I had to yell because of the noise.

“I know, and it is pretty tame right now. You’re lucky you showed up when you did. If you came here a couple weeks ago, you’d never have been found in the Mardi Gras madness. Now is a nice time to be here, probably the best time.”

A man was selling roses and Mr. Delacroix bought a white one for me. “I think in a few days, I’ll take you here to eat. It’s kind of touristy, but it’s a New Orleans landmark and the food’s pretty good.” The elegant, golden letters on the building read Galatoire's.

“Are you spoiling me?”

“In every way,” he said, but he was not smiling. He took his role seriously, and even though I had trepidation, the thought of being spoiled was attractive to me. I was being pampered for the first time in my life and I liked it.

Sunny’s Bar was already busy, but he had saved us a table by the window away from the music. He was behind the bar when we walked in and waved us over to the table. His hair was in a ponytail and he had jeans and a black t-shirt on. He was laughing with a man and a woman at the bar, shaking a cocktail and whispering something in his barmaid’s ear.

“If I sign on, I’ll be your submissive, right?”

“God, yes, Nez, in the most delicious way.”

“So if Sunny is your submissive too, what does that make Sunny and me?”

He smiled. “You’re overthinking things.”

“No, I was just wondering because I don’t know how to think of him—like a brother or what?”

“Oh god, no, don’t think of him like a brother. Just think of him as your best friend.”

“Why not a brother?”

“Because at some point, you two will fuck, and in this family, cher, we don’t fuck our brothers.”

I had a mini orgasm when Sunny brought us drinks and sat down.

“You just came, didn’t you, Nez?” Mr. Delacroix asked in his matter-of-fact way that twisted me up in knots. My face was hot and I knew I was beet-red.

“I take it you guys had a fun day, then?” Sunny asked, donning his bright smile.

I sat looking dumbstruck.

“We sure did,” said Mr. Delacroix. “It was the best day. We headed to Uptown to visit Mother’s grave and had lunch at Commander’s. Then we walked around the neighborhood, checked out Magazine Street, and stopped by Lorraine’s before we got here.”

“Wow, you guys covered some real estate.”

Mr. Delacroix patted me on the knee, reminding me of the supreme pleasure of the crop making contact with my rear. “Sunny, you have no idea.”

“Oh my god, Mr. Delacroix, we left the riding crop in the cab!” I exclaimed.

10.

Twilight had fallen when we reached the apartment, and gas lamps burned all around the courtyard and along the gallery. An uplight gave the fountain an ethereal look.

The chandelier was set to low and the dining table set for two. Smooth jazz played in the background. The apartment glowed, a fire burning in the fireplace.

“Time to dress for dinner, cher.”

“Dress for dinner? What does that mean?”

“My dear, it means that you have an outfit waiting in Sunny’s room to change into for dinner. You’ll dress for dinner every night that you dine with me or you don’t dine at all.”

I went to Sunny’s room and turned on the overhead light. A full-length white strapless cocktail dress hung on a dress stand; its silk chiffon bodice was covered in lace, and the skirt was pencil thin.

I slipped the dress on over my skin. It fit like a glove, but I could not zip it all the way. I let my hair cascade onto my shoulders. Mr. Delacroix had also left white satin gloves that went nearly all the way to my elbows. I felt like a dress-up doll, especially when I placed the gold rings he had put out for me on my fingers over the gloves and fastened the thick gold chain around my neck. The rings had huge stones—ruby, emerald, sapphire— and I wondered if they were real. I slipped the white stiletto pumps on and stepped out of the room.

I did not realize he was standing outside my door and I ran into him as I was trying to find the dress’s zipper. “Can you help me, please? I can’t seem to get it.”

Mr. Delacroix was dressed in a black tuxedo and white tie with tails and a waistcoat. He held what looked like another riding crop in his hand, this time a black one. “Come, let me help you, my love.”

I turned my back so he could zip me. As he did, he ran his finger up my spine and leaned in.

“I love the smell of you. I want to lick your cunt like an ice cream cone.”

He took my hand, led me to the dining room, and pulled out a chair. I sat as he poured champagne.

“Mr. Delacroix,” I said, and he looked at me with anxious eyes, “thank you for a lovely day. I have to say, it was the best day of my life.”

“I thought maybe you’d think the whole thing was over the top. I love to show my city off to a captive audience.” He winked with that warm and inviting smile, that sensuous, full mouth that looked so sweet.

“May I ask a personal question?”

“Only if I can touch your personal parts,” he grinned.

“When is your birthday?”

His demeanor changed slightly. “I’ll be thirty next month. I like your questions, by the way.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you what?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“You must address me properly.”

“Which is how?”

“You have a choice. You may say ‘Mr. Delacroix’ or you may call me ‘sir’ or, as you did earlier today, ‘my lord.’ I’ve never been called that before and I like it. So when you say thank you, say, ‘Thank you, my lord.’”

“Yes, sir.” My nether regions were melting again.

“What’s your question?”

“What was your favorite part of today?”

“You’re delightful! What an incredible thing to ask. Let me think,” he said as he sipped his champagne, “seeing the riding crop sink into your delicate ass, god, that was so fucking hot. When we were at Commander’s and you said that my wish is your command. When you surrendered to me . . .” He got very serious. “Do you know the sweetness there?” He held my hands on the table. “Thank you, Nez.” His eyes misted over with tears.

We sipped in awkward silence for a few minutes and then, as if he had been replaying every detail of the day’s events, he said out of the blue, “You have a smart mouth. I have half a mind to suck that tongue right out of it.” His voice flattened. “When you sign, there’ll be no more cursing out of you, Nez, or I promise, next time you do will be your last.”

“Okay.”

Crack! The riding crop hit the tabletop and I jumped. “Okay what?”

“Okay, my lord.”

“Well done, Nez. Would you like some beef Wellington and tossed salad?”

“I’d love it, sir. I’m very hungry, actually.”

“You got a lot of exercise today and you didn’t eat for days when you were so ill. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, my lord. My lord, I don’t want to be forward, and you don’t have to answer, but just how wealthy are you, if I may ask?”

“That is a forward question, Neige Blanche, very forward indeed, but since you appear to have a real interest in what I do . . .” He looked at my expression as if trying to determine where my interest really was. “I’ll answer as best I can.”

I sensed a level of distrust. “I understand, sir, if you don’t want to answer.”

“No, it’s okay. I just haven’t really thought about the big picture in a long time.” He took a bite of his meat. “Overall, including Twisted Oak, I’m probably worth between thirty and eighty million, depending on markets and the exchange rates.”

“Wow, sir.”

“I know it’s a big disparity there, and I should probably get a better handle on it, especially since I’m taking the whole thing over soon.”

His casual manner indicated that he did not find his situation exceptional, but I was stunned. I never would have thought he was so wealthy; his lifestyle was so austere. I reflected on his earlier words about how he owes his success to those around him. I was impressed with his ability not to allow his wealth to insulate him from the common person’s struggles, and my admiration for him grew.

During dinner we talked about everything from the weather to not wearing panties—“All to be discussed during contract time, my love, but right now it is dessert time.”

“What are we having?” I asked.

“Nothing for you, my dear, not tonight, not until we get that gag reflex of yours trained. Besides, I think you’ll like this just as well.”

He got up, bowed in my direction, and showed the way to the living room. As I stepped before him, he pulled the zipper down on my dress and it fell to the floor. I was naked but for my shoes, gloves, and jewelry. “Leave the rest on and go sit on the sofa.”

“Okay.”

He smacked my backside with the riding crop and I yelped. “Nez, say it: ‘Yes, my lord.’”

“Yes, my lord,” I replied, and moved quickly to the sofa. I tried to rub my rear end, but he whacked my hand away with the riding crop and followed me to the sofa.

“Sit, my love, and lean back with your pussy at the edge of the cushion. Put your feet on the coffee table.”

When I turned to sit he was standing in front of me with that familiar wide stance, crop in hand. Without hesitation, I did as I was told. He moved a big square pillow to the floor between my legs. “Spread your legs more, my love, so I can see your world.”

I did as told without comment.

“Nice, cher.” His smile was infectious and I smiled back. He kneeled before me and said, “You’re beautiful when you smile. Hell, Nez, you’re beautiful no matter what you’re doing.”

He leaned in and licked my nether region from stem to stern. “Like a kid with an ice cream cone,” I sighed.

“But so much better, my love. Keep your feet on the coffee table.”

I slid down and his tongue ran up from behind my anus all the way to my clit. I could not believe how indulgent it felt and how wonderfully relaxed I was. Repeatedly he licked, and then put his tongue inside me and sucked my vagina. My insides were doing cartwheels.

He put his beautiful mouth on my clit and said in a rumbly voice, “Mizzzzzzzzz Nezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz” as he shook his head back and forth. The vibration from his voice made my muscles clinch in pleasure. I wanted this to go on forever.

He stopped abruptly, kissed my anus, my labia, my clit, my tummy, my right breast and then my left, said “Excuse me,” and left.

I sat with my feet on the coffee table, legs open, unable to move. My heart was racing and my legs began to shake. I closed my eyes and thought about his wealth. Being a whore would not be a bad occupation, especially considering his kindness toward those less fortunate. He genuinely helped people. I could get used to this. Sunny’s voice said, Breathe, baby. Just breathe through it, and so I did, and came back from the ecstatic brink.

When I opened my eyes, Mr. Delacroix stood before me, shirtless, dressed in black silk pants. He held a sheer, chartreuse robe that resembled gossamer butterfly wings because it shimmered with gold as it moved under the low light.

“Okay, Nez, time to get down to business,” he said as he handed me the robe. “You can take your gloves off now, but I like the shoes, so keep them on and sit here on the pillow.” He pointed to the floor. “If the pillow isn’t comfortable, let me know. This is where you’ll spend most of your time. I want you to feel comfortable and cherished,” he said, placing a manila file folder on the coffee table.

“Thank you, my lord.” I sat on the pillow, placed my legs together, and leaned back on the sofa.

He smiled wide. “You’re welcome, my dream.” He sat behind me on the sofa, straddled my back, and rubbed my shoulders gently, pulling me into him.

“If there is ever anything you need or want, let me know. Your pleasure is my utmost priority.”

His hands were magic on my shoulders. “Thank you, sir, I’m very comfortable.”

“Good. Now let’s have a look at our contract, shall we?” He reached over and opened the folder to reveal an official-looking document. “First thing, cher, is this document isn’t legally binding, okay? You can negotiate points or break the agreement anytime you want, as can I, so neither one of us is ultimately forced into anything we don’t want to do. All of this is for our mutual success. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Very good. We can start with expectations and behaviors. As we’ve already discussed, you’ll call me by my surname, or ‘sir,’ or ‘my lord’—” he stopped to write “my lord” on the contract, “but I reserve the ‘lord’ salutation for when we’re at home.” He was writing the words as he was speaking. “When we’re here in our home, I am your lord. Do you understand?”

“Our home, my lord?”

“Yes. My home is your home.”

“Indefinitely?” I asked.

“Indefinitely what, Nez?”

“Indefinitely, my lord?”

He patted my head. “For as long as our agreement is intact, my home is your home. The contract renewal is upon review by both parties every six months. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

We went through other various behaviors for when we were home and in public and at Twisted Oak.

“Will we spend much time at your plantation home, sir? Is it far from here?”

“I hope as time goes by, if you’re comfortable with me, we’ll spend a lot of time out there, especially after I take over next month. It isn’t far, but it is a world apart. It’s my family legacy, Nezzie. The most important thing in my life is to keep that place going, to bring it back to the way it once was. And I want you to be a part of it. But we’ll take it one step at a time and get used to one another first.”

He leaned over and looked me in the eyes. “I want you to understand the importance of being part of my family legacy. Nez, I’ve never felt like I do about you being at Twisted Oak. I feel as though you belong there somehow, so I . . .” He paused and I was unsure whether he was speaking to me or himself. “One step at a time.” He let out a long sigh. “There are a lot of things to consider; namely, the family that extends beyond Sunny and Ty.”

His demeanor unnerved me and reminded me to proceed with caution. “Like Mr. and Mrs. Scott, sir?” I asked.

“Especially Mr. and Mrs. Scott.”

I wanted to ask him more about his contract with Mr. Scott. I was curious about him taking over the family estate. When would it happen and what were his responsibilities? I wondered in the back of my mind if my signing the contract would bring me closer to his fortune, but his words interrupted my thoughts.

“Mostly, when we’re with the family, you still answer to me and I will be your guide and teacher. You’ll take no orders from anyone but me unless otherwise specified. I don’t want there to be any confusion as to whom you belong to. As far as your public behavior, I will dictate how you address me on a case-by-case basis, but you will never venture out in the city on your own. You will always have an escort, between Sunny, Ty, or anyone I see fit. Once you’re comfortable at Twisted Oak, we will discuss the freedoms you may or may not have while we are there. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Before we go any further, I want to talk about safe words and actions. The universal safe words are ‘yellow’ for getting close to your limit and ‘red’ which means you’ve reached your limit and I need to stop. We can use those words or, if you prefer, we can make up something else.”

“What do you prefer, my lord?”

“I’d like to stick with these. That way there is no confusion, especially if there are more than two participants.”

“Okay, my lord,” I said, making a mental note to ask about the multiple participants before the discussion ended.

“In cases where you cannot speak, there are safe actions to use: a single pointer finger for yellow and two fingers like a peace sign for red. Nezzie, this is important. The use of safe words and actions are at your discretion and you must use them if you feel you have reached a physical limit. I don’t want to hurt you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, my love, so on that note, we get into my obligations to Mr. Scott and the family. There may be a time when I give you to him temporarily. During this period, you’re contracted herein to take orders from him; however, for the time being I’ll include a no-lending clause in our contract because frankly, I’m not sharing you unless I’m a participant. This portion of our agreement, yours and mine, will be settled once you sign, although in the nature of full disclosure, I have to inform you that this portion of my agreement with Mr. Scott is currently under negotiation. Do you understand?”

“My lord, does this mean he can command you to give me to him at any time? What if I don’t wanna go?”

“Indeed, this is why it’s important to make it very clear in our contract that you do not agree to be lent out to other doms. Once this happens, my negotiations with Mr. Scott will reflect your wishes; after all, we don’t force people into scenes they don’t agree upon ahead of time. It’ll be okay now because I have a point from which to negotiate with him. Do you understand?”

“Is there a chance you would ever lend me out, sir?”

“Not in the foreseeable future, my love, and if it ever comes up that I may, I’ll only do it with your permission after we have negotiated the terms.”

I was relieved, but concerned for my friend. “Have you ever lent Sunny to anyone?”

“Yes. You may want to ask him about it. Additionally, my work, as well as my contractual agreement with Mr. Scott, will take me away from you periodically, at which time I’ll leave you in Sunny’s care, not as your dom, but rather your guide. You are to abide by his wishes when I am absent. I will not tolerate you having sexual relations with Sunny or Ty at any time without my permission and presence. Do you understand?”

“Sir, I don’t wanna have sex with anyone but you,” I said.

“Nez, it’s best to be honest with yourself, and with me. You’ve gone from virgin to oversexed in a day. I advise you to expect a complete loss of control. It’s my goal to help maintain that frame of mind for you without making you a total slut.”

“Oversexed?”

“Oversexed what, my dear?” He took my cheeks in his palms and bent over, looking at me upside down. I felt his hard penis on the back of my neck.

“Oversexed, my lord.”

“Yes, good girl. You’re oversexed and I’ll venture to say that you would fuck anyone or anything right now. This includes having sex with yourself. No masturbation, Nez. All your pleasure belongs to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, tomorrow when I’m at Twisted Oak, no sex with Sunny and do not touch yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sunny knows this rule and he has very good self-control. He’ll report to me if you try to touch yourself.” Mr. Delacroix casually read over the document. “Nez, don’t ever underestimate Sunny’s loyalty to me.”

“Yes, my lord.” Now I was thinking of having sex with Sunny.

“Pay attention, Nezzie.”

“Yes, sir.”

“‘Overall fitness and health,’” he read from the document. “I know you’ve been through a lot physically these last few days, and in all honesty your withdrawal process isn’t complete. According to the doc, you’ve got a couple more days to go until you’re totally purged. I’m disappointed that you weren’t honest with me about the depth of your drug problems, but I understand. Not to negate its importance, but we’ll talk about honesty later. How are you feeling, by the way?”

“Well, sir, I feel pretty good. Still a little tired and my muscles are still sore in places, but overall I feel okay.”

“You still have cravings, I imagine,” he said.

“Sometimes, but when I think about how terrible those first few days of withdrawal were, I’m able to keep it in check, sir.” I hesitated. “That was the worst thing I have ever experienced, my lord. Fighting the cravings is easier than going through that again.”

“Well, the doc says you still have a couple more days to go, so don’t push yourself too hard, Nezzie, and don’t let me down.” He scanned the document. “Additionally, the doc tested you for sexually transmitted diseases and AIDS, as I had feared you’d used needles. I was pleasantly surprised to find that you were a virgin and that in his opinion you weren’t a needle user. I’m tested every six months and you will be too. Everyone in the family is, so there’s no worry of getting sick. Doc will come Tuesday morning for a follow-up checkup and at that time, you’ll discuss birth control options. The contract requires that you practice birth control. Do you agree to this responsibility?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, in keeping with fitness and health, your fitness regimen begins Monday morning with your trainer. She knows your history, so she’ll be easy on you at first. She’ll come every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for ninety minutes. The alternative days either Sunny or I will accompany you on walks. Hopefully, you’ll be joining me on my morning runs soon,” he smiled. “I’d love that.”

The contract agreement went on to cover the issues of oral sex, anal sex, and sex toys, all of which I agreed to. I wanted more sex, but truthfully, I wanted it most with him.

“I initiate all sexual activity, Nez. I have no doubt that you will be satisfied with the amount of sex you receive. It is my responsibility to keep you satiated and in that, I assure you, I will excel. You’ll have no need for more than I choose to give you. If it so happens that I choose to cut you off for whatever reason, you will accept it as your fate. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“‘Apparatus,’” he read. “Do you know what that means?”

“No, sir.”

“From time to time, you’ll be bound, gagged, and tied to apparatus including bedposts, furniture, benches, pulleys, and other equipment to help you maintain sexual positions per my request. Additionally, on occasion, such apparatus may be used in punishment scenarios. However, sometimes apparatus aren’t used. In that case, don’t move once I position you whether or not you’re being punished. I place you in a position for a reason and it is not yours to change. Do you understand?”

“I think so, sir, but I’m unclear on the whole punishment thing.”

“First, do you agree to the use of apparatus?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t overthink punishment. Put your role-play hat on and remember that ‘punishment’ isn’t really punishment; it’s just a name we use for small but powerful corrective measures to promote mutual pleasure. It never hurts more than is good. There’ll come a time when you actually ask to be punished. No need to fear it.”

“Is it like when you hit me with the riding crop?”

He glared at me with his blue laser eyes.

I swallowed hard. “My lord?”

“Yes, but better. For example, punishment may not always be physical. I may decide not to fuck you for a while as punishment. Punishment is for your own good.”

“Okay, my lord. I’ll agree.” I swallowed hard.

He squeezed my shoulder in encouragement. “Just know, Nezzie, that I have faith in you. I know you have it in you to please me. You’ve got a lot of human potential. All you need to do is please me. Listen to my instruction and know that what I do, I do for you as well as for me. We’re in this together. One last thing that’s important for you not to forget, so I’ll repeat it.”

He grabbed the back of my neck with one hand. I felt the pressure from his strong thumb and fingers underneath each of my ears. Arousal, fear, confusion, and curiosity flooded my brain in a chemical wave of emotion. I felt light-headed, euphoric, and acutely aware of every detail that surrounded me, reminiscent of the first time I tried cocaine. His voice beckoned, my cocaine craving disappeared, and my legs opened.

“I initiate all of our sexual escapades. I call the shots. I say when, how, who, and why we fuck, not you. That responsibility is all on me. I’ll push you, but I won’t do anything I haven’t done or that I don’t feel comfortable with when it comes to you. I trust you to let me know when things aren’t good for you, and you have to trust that I know your limits. It isn’t my intention to hurt you physically or mentally. I want to see you grow.”

He leaned back on the sofa cushions and his hand fell to his side. My head lolled as I steadied myself.

“This is the nature of the contract. While it may not be legally binding, it is deeply physical and psychological for both of us.” He leaned in and placed his hands on my shoulders again. I looked into his blue eyes as he spoke. “I know this might feel like a game to you and in some ways it is, with the role-play and all, but for me, it isn’t a game. It’s a way of life. It’s how I live, how I have lived most of my life.”

He positioned himself on the sofa so that we could look at one another more easily. “Nez, I guess what I want to say before you sign is don’t take this lightly. It’s real. As you rise to my expectations, you will know pleasure unlike you have ever had. But think about it. Do you understand what I have said to you? Do you need more time?” He flipped through the eight-page document.

“No, sir. I’ll sign.” My voice went to a low whisper. “But I have one more question.”

“Ask anything. There are no secrets here.”

“My lord, why me?”

He turned me around to look me in the eyes; those brilliant blue beacons pulled me in. “I knew from the instant I saw you on the balcony that you were a gift.” A tear welled up and slowly ran down his cheek. “I saw you just as I was coming out from Pirates Alley. I almost couldn’t breathe.”

“You saw me from way over there?”

“Yes, my love, and I knew that finally I had a reason to come home.” The silence was punctuated by the sound of the gas fireplace and our breathing.

“My lord, I want to show you love. I think I’m ready to learn.”

Mr. Delacroix handed me a pen and I noticed his hands were trembling. “Sign here with your real name and then here is where you sign as Nez.”

“Do I use my last name, sir?”

“No, love, for now, you’re just Nez.” He bent and kissed the top of my head. “I hope later we’ll talk about your last name.”

My heart skipped a beat. For someone who said he wanted to go slow, Mr. Delacroix was going very fast. I signed and handed him the pen.

“Congratulations, my love! Welcome to the family. You’ve just made my every dream come true.”

“Thank you, sir, it’s my pleasure.”

“The best part is that it’s my pleasure too. Stand up now with your back toward me.”

I followed his command without hesitation and my heart raced. My first official command from my dominant.

“Your ass is so perfect.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Bend over and grab your ankles.”

I did as told. His tongue licked my anus, then around the edge and inside. My labia pulsated and my clit was standing at attention when he inserted the butt plug to its full length and breadth. It hurt, and I was happy that I’d picked out a small one.

“Stand up now, Nez, and spread your legs.”

Doing so made the plug move slightly deeper.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Remember the safe words.”

“I’m a little shaky, sir, but I’m okay.”

“Do you need to sit down?”

The idea of sitting down with that butt plug in gave me a start, but my legs began to shake again and I feared I would collapse. “Yes, please, sir.”

His hand rubbed my buttocks, left and right and left and right, and then he spanked me.

“I love it when you beg.” He tickled my ass with his hand rubbing lightly in circles; another spank, this time in an upwards direction that made my anus pucker around the butt plug.

“Should I make you come like this, Nez?”

I wanted him to fuck me, but I was enjoying this painful pleasure too much. “Yes, my lord.”

“I’ll keep doing this and I want you to beg me to fuck you.”

“Yes, sir.”

His hands rubbed, tickled, spanked, and played with the handle on the butt plug. I was about to beg when he stopped.

“You okay?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He pinched my clit. “Beg for it.”

“Please, my lord, please fuck me.”

“Not yet.”

“Oh please.” My voice was low and hoarse. “Fuck me, my lord. Please.” Tears came to my eyes; my hips moved involuntarily. “My lord, please! I beg you, please!”

With that, he took my hips in his hands and pulled me down hard on his erect penis. His hands moved to my neck and he lifted me up and down like a rag doll. I could feel the butt plug against the head of his penis through the thin membrane of my perineum. He grunted every time I came down on him. My body shuddered when he pressed me down hard, his cock so deep it hurt.

I was forever changed.

11.

Rain was hitting the windowpanes and thunder rolled across the sky. Gray light shone through the cracks in the shutters. Mr. Delacroix was asleep next to me with his leg across my torso and his hand on my breast. I could feel his breath on my neck and I felt warm and secure. Lightning and then thunder, closer now. I closed my eyes. Did I finally have a chance at the finest life?

A distant whisper: “Nez.” A closer whisper: “Nez.” Louder: “Nez.” The whisper penetrated my sleep, his luscious mouth on my breast.

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix,” I said.

“Nezzie, baby, I wanna stay here like this with you all day.” He buried his face between my breasts.

“Then stay, my lord.”

“I wish I could.” He pushed himself up, rolled over, and sat on the edge of the bed.

“What if I begged you to stay, my lord?”

“Oh, you little bitch.” He smiled as he looked at me over his shoulder. “You’re gonna make this difficult for me, aren’t you?”

“Please, my lord, stay,” I begged. “Please, sir. I’ll be so lonely without you.” I tossed the blankets off me to expose my sprawled bare body. “Na-na, as much as it pains me . . .”

I rolled over and kissed the head of his penis. He took a handful of my hair and pulled my head back so that I could see in his eyes.

“Nez, don’t interrupt and don’t initiate. I thought I was clear on that. I explained my contractual duties to you last night as well. I have to go to the roast. Mr. Scott expects me.”

I lay back, disappointed.

“Nez, think of it this way. If it was me expecting you, would you just not show?”

I pouted like an insolent child.

“Nezzie, are you asking to be punished or are you really this selfish?”

I was silent and looked away.

“Why are you putting me in this situation after I explained the agreements?” His eyes turned the color of gunmetal. “Do I have to put you over my knee before I go, and show you real punishment?”

I looked away, partly because I was being stubborn and partly because I was terrified. His eyes were frightening. In an instant, I was over his left knee with his right leg pinning both my legs to the bed.

“Hands over your head, Nez.”

Instinctively they went up. Instantly they were bound with a necktie.

“You know damned well I have obligations.” He brought the new ball gag over my head and tied it tight. It depressed my tongue and made me gag. “Don’t start something without my permission that you aren’t ready for.”

His hand caressed my backside in that familiar circular pattern and I began to get aroused. This time, he hit me very hard on the left cheek, straight on. He did the same on my right side but harder. I wanted to cry, but I would not give him the satisfaction, so he did it again. A wave of fear traveled through my mind as I flashed on the beatings my mother suffered. I knew he would leave a mark, but I would not cry. He turned me over, threw me on the bed, and tied my ankles together with a leather belt. He bound my tied hands to the headboard. I tried to kick, but he blocked me and slapped my breasts hard. He slapped until they were bright pink and I sobbed. I worked to erase the image of my mother from my mind and remembered the safe words. I could make him stop at any moment. I still had power.

“Accept your punishment and open your legs.” I followed his command, spreading my knees out from bound ankles. “Don’t you dare move a muscle.” He went into the bathroom and started his shower. I closed my eyes and relished the burning on my ass and my breasts.

The rain fell and the air felt good on my exposed genitals. I had experienced my first punishment and I was okay. I contemplated my behavior. I could not explain my own actions. I had never been tied up before and I hated it, the helpless feeling of having no control, but at the same time, I was hyper-aroused. I pulled at the tethers. I was angry and ashamed to have allowed myself to get into such a situation, but I wanted more.

I heard Mr. Delacroix’s voice in my head. Don’t overthink it, Nez. Don’t overthink it. Remembering the safe words and the sound of his voice helped me feel safe. The thought of pleasing him made me wet. I gave in and stopped fighting.

“That’s better, just the way you’re intended to be.” He stood in front of me with damp, combed hair and a towel wrapped around his waist. “Are you okay?”

I nodded yes, as I could not speak. Humiliation, anger, lust, and liberation danced their way around my being. I focused on him, the center of this adrenaline rush. I loved the way it made me feel. I did not want safe words.

“Good. Now I’ll give you your first punishment fuck.”

He unbuckled my feet and released my hands from the headboard, checking to see that they were securely tied together. He flipped me over onto my stomach and dragged my feet over the bed so that my hips hinged over the side. I was terrified, especially because he was behind me and I could not see what he was doing. I closed my eyes anticipating a hard spanking, but instead he pushed my face into the bed, reached underneath me, and lifted my hips with one hand on my belly.

“On your knees,” he commanded. My bladder was full and it gave a twinge of pain. “This is better. Now I can see all of you,” he said as he ran his finger from my clit to my anus. I was surprisingly wet.

I steadied myself in this position and waited for what, I did not know, but I could hear him rip the condom package.

“Nez, you can’t come, do you understand?”

Puzzled, I nodded my head.

“If you come, I’ll be very disappointed. You don’t want to disappoint me, do you?”

I shook my head no.

“Good girl. You’re nice and wet for me, but this will be quick and painful.”

He grabbed my hips with his hands and rammed into me as hard as he could. I grunted. He pulled completely out. My labia burned and pulsated with pleasure; the weight of my full bladder added pain to the pleasure. Again, he plunged into me. The gag diminished my scream to a grunt. He pulled out again and I pulsated with need. Two very hard thrusts and out again. I was breathing hard and knew if he did that again, I would come. I began to cry for fear of disappointing him.

He filled my anus with cool lubricant and his finger found my sphincter and pressed out in a wide circle, causing new uncomfortable pain. He set the head of his penis against the small opening and gently pushed at the door, wanting to break it in. My breath caught in horror at the thought of him thrusting into my anus as he had my vagina. I was not ready and I began to panic, when he switched back to my vagina and thrust hard three times, climaxing without me. He shoved me off abruptly and tossed me aside. He put my feet back up on the bed, picked me up, and put my head on the pillow facing him. Tears warmed my cheek.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

I said that I was, and he went about binding me to the headboard, cinching my feet together with the belt, tighter this time.

“I’ll be back later this afternoon between three and four. Sunny’s here and he’ll tend to you after I have my breakfast.”

He was getting dressed into black pants, a white poplin shirt, and a black belt that he tickled my breast with before putting around his waist. “I bet the sound of this belt going across your tit would be fantastic.” He bent and sucked hard on my nipple. “Next time, perhaps.”

I nodded and he left the room. The rain on the window fell harder, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but my full bladder.

I looked down at my breasts, decorated with bright red handprints. I wondered what my ass looked like. I felt ashamed, but I also felt liberated. I did not want to displease Mr. Delacroix. In fact, I wanted to be the best sub he ever had; the best ever that he would never forget. To hell with the people at Twisted Oak, I would be the best whore Delacroix ever had.

I must have dozed because the next thing I knew, Sunny was running bathwater and opening shutters. Shirtless and looking like a Greek god, he reached down and took the gag off.

“Thanks,” I said through my dry throat and mouth. “I gotta piss like crazy. Untie me, please!”

He laughed aloud as I ran across the bedroom. “You must’ve done something pretty good to get this kind of punishment.”

Never in my life had going to the bathroom felt so wonderful.

“Ya know, Sunny,” I said as I came back into the bedroom, “this situation is pretty fucked up.” I rubbed my rear end and gave a little smile.

“Don’t forget, Miss Nez. It’s the only thing Mr. Delacroix knows. It all seems pretty normal to him, and to me for that matter.”

“You’ve never had a regular relationship?”

“Nez, I was only fourteen or fifteen when I came here, so no, not really. How about you? Have you ever had a relationship? You were a virgin, so what do you know? Come on,” he said as he handed me a douche and led me back to the bathroom, “use this and then hop in the tub.”

“So I guess for us, this is normal,” I said. I sat on the toilet, inserted the nozzle of the douche, and squeezed the bag. The solution smelled like roses and was ice-cold. “Damn, are you trying to freeze me out?”

He laughed. “Define normal. There is no normal.” He paused. “Speaking of not being normal, tell me what you did to deserve such a great punishment.” He turned off the tap, put the toilet seat down, and sat while I bathed.

The water was hot and burned my tender bottom and breasts, but it felt good to relax and have some space, even with Sunny there. I lay back on the terrycloth pillow and began washing my legs. Sunny handed me a razor.

“I’m here to give you some pointers. Mr. Delacroix hates hair under your arms, on your legs, and on your pussy, so we’ll have to get you shaved today.”

I looked at the razor.

“Not to worry, little girl, we’ll only use that for your legs and underarms for now, then from here on out, you’ll be waxed. You’ve got an appointment Thursday morning.”

“Damn, Sunny, doesn’t it hurt to be waxed?”

“It can, but nothing you won’t get used to.”

“I suppose,” I said as I looked at my pink breasts. “Is my ass as red as my tits?”

“More so,” he said as he sat back on the toilet. “So did you get a punishment fuck, too? Are you in much pain?”

“Yeah,” I said wistfully.

“Pretty hot, isn’t it?”

I shaved my legs and armpits slowly. “Tell me about collaring.”

“Well, for most it means your relationship is exclusive per your agreement. Usually when a sub is collared, they can be sure their dom isn’t fucking other people or having other subs—unless, of course, the particular agreement specifies. You get a collar, too.”

“Seriously?”

“A collar from Mr. Delacroix is one step below having a ring on your finger.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Marriage?”

“Don’t overthink it, but once he sets his mind to something, it’s rare he doesn’t get his way. He’s persistent when he sets a goal.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Sounds weird, but collaring is basically a psychological thing; coming closer with emotions once you’ve broken through some physical limits.”

“Mr. Delacroix collared you, right?”

“Yep, when I was eighteen, and I wore the collar until I was about twenty-one, when it was time to break it.”

“Why? What happened?”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? I’m gay and he isn’t. Collaring was about as far as we could take it. Mr. Delacroix wants to marry and have children. Clearly I am not the one to provide him that dream.” Sunny smiled with a hint of sadness. “So when we broke the collar, I decided to stay on and continue being his sub while he searched for his dream girl.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, sensing that this had been a traumatic breakup.

“Na-na, no need to be sorry, I was ready. He taught me more than anyone could have and he provided the opportunity for me to develop self-respect and discipline. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without him and his hard lessons. I love him and I always will, but our relationship’s more like mentor and protégé at this point. He has my back and I have his. Collaring, if done well, creates the closest trust between two people next to marriage or blood relation. It was the best thing to happen to me. Having gone through it and broken it, I have power and freedom now that I didn’t have before. The bar was part of my release settlement. That way I can maintain a decent lifestyle if I decide to get totally out or if Mr. Delacroix should move on.”

“Move on?”

“Eventually he’ll marry and move back out to Twisted Oak. That’s the general plan, anyway, and it’s okay because I need to find my own way. But for right now, I’m happy where I am and so is he.” He paused and added, “I hope you are.”

“I am, but I can’t figure him out. He’s nothing like I thought he was at first, and you’re right, I’ve never been in a real relationship before. All I have to go on is what I know, which isn’t much considering my lessons came from watching my mother. She . . .” I paused. “Her husband is abusive and I worry sometimes that this might be the same kind of thing.”

“I’d try not to look back if I were you. Your relationship with Mr. Delacroix is nothing like the relationship between your mother and stepfather. Mr. Delacroix isn’t abusive. If you feel this way, you might need to rethink things. You were punished this morning. Do you feel abused?”

I thought about Sunny’s question. “No, actually, I don’t feel abused at all. For some odd reason, I feel appreciated. I can’t tell you why though.”

“You are appreciated. Trust me.”

I thought about the five grand in my backpack and figured now was a good time to tell Sunny.

“Sunny, now that I’m thinking clearly there’s something I have to tell you.”

“I’m all ears.”

“Not sure how to say it, so I’m just going to say it. There’s five grand in the lining of my backpack. It doesn’t really belong to me.”

“Damn, girl, whose is it?”

“It’s money from a front I was involved in,” I said as I rinsed my hair. “I stole it.”

“Fuck, cher, someone’s pissed off at you.”

“Yeah, I know, and he’s not a nice guy, either.”

“No doubt. Does he have resources to track you down?” His concern seemed genuine.

“Probably. I mean, wouldn’t you have resources to track someone down who took five grand from you? I know I would.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Come here. Stand up in front of me.”

I stepped out of the tub and he grabbed a pair of shears and snipped away at my pubic hair. He took the electric shears next. “Spread ’em a little, cher.”

I spread my legs and squatted. He came precariously close to some very sensitive spots.

“Okay, time for the bikini bare,” he said as he smeared thick white goop over my private areas and into crevices. “Sorry, but you have to stand like that for about fifteen minutes.”

“I really don’t know what to do about that money. I took it because I thought I’d need it to get settled, but I’m not in need of anything thanks to Mr. Delacroix. Maybe I can mail the money back.”

“Maybe,” Sunny said skeptically.

“Should I tell Mr. Delacroix?”

“Definitely, and the sooner the better. Maybe he’ll have an idea of what to do so that the guy won’t be tempted to find you.”

“Will he be mad about the money?”

“Who, Mr. Delacroix?”

“Yeah.”

“Only if you don’t come clean about it as soon as possible. He should understand that up until now, you didn’t have a chance to catch your breath, let alone talk about the money. Talk to him as soon as you can. He’ll protect you. Trust me on that one.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“You’re welcome.” He towel-dried my hair and combed it for me. “I sure am curious about what you did this morning.”

“You’re a snoop.”

“I can’t help it. You’re the only person I can really talk to about him like this. Not since Collette died, anyway,” he said, sadness in his ice-blue eyes. “Ty doesn’t like to talk about Mr. Delacroix very much.”

“Who was she? Mr. Delacroix only told me that he collared her, and that she wasn’t strong enough.”

“They were young, only about your age, and things got out of hand. Neither of them was grownup enough for the responsibility of it,” he said, examining my crotch, “and as much as Mr. Scott tried to intervene, Mr. Delacroix was rebellious.”

He turned me around and started braiding my wet hair. “Cher, don’t ask Mr. Delacroix about these details. Sometimes it sends him into a rage and sometimes he succumbs to despair. He’ll talk to you about it when he’s ready. Collette was here when I came and took care of me like I am taking care of you now. She was a good person, very kind, giving, but she wasn’t a natural-born submissive, and I’m sure there were other problems I don’t know about. She never spoke about her past and couldn’t bring herself to let Mr. Delacroix in, even after she agreed to wear his collar. Looking back, he never should have collared her. Don’t tell him I said that, but I think he’d agree. I have no idea what happened to her before she came here or where she came from. I think she was a local girl, but she was damaged goods. It wasn’t Mr. Delacroix’s fault one bit. He tried to help her as much as he could, but things got confused and one night she killed herself.”

“Oh Sunny, that’s terrible!”

“Worst night of our lives.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Yeah,” he said, holding back tears, “I was so afraid because I was certain Mr. Delacroix would follow suit. He was so distraught given his family history of suicide.” He stopped abruptly, not knowing what I knew.

“Ty told me that it’s thought that his mom killed herself.”

“Yes, so you can imagine the hell that man was in after Collette,” he said, tying my braid.

“So what did you do?” I asked.

“I called Mr. Scott and we went out to Twisted Oak for a few months. I was scared, but Mr. Scott was good to me. It was shortly after that when Mr. Delacroix collared me. I still have my collars, if you ever want to see them.”

He pulled the plug in the tub and the water gurgled down the drain. “Stand in there and I’ll rinse your twat off and see if it is nice and smooth for Mr. Delacroix. Use this stuff to keep it smooth between wax jobs. I do.”

“You do?” I asked, wide-eyed.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Can I see? Nothing sexual, I just wanna see.”

“Let’s rinse you off first and then we can compare our bald booties,” he smiled.

The water was warm and he turned the nozzle to give a hard spray that made me jump.

“Sorry,” he said. He turned the water off and hung the showerhead. “Let’s have a look.”

He dropped his pants and we stood hand in hand in front of the full-length mirrors to compare our bald booties.

“We have to move your shit out of my room today and get you settled in here,” Sunny said as he turned away from the armoire in Mr. Delacroix’s room, a silvery gray fabric cascading over his arms. “This is what he wants you in today. He said it matches the weather and his mood.”

I did not want to talk about his moods just now, but the memory of his eyes and the quick work he made of binding me to the bed made me wet again.

“I guess I have to get used to wearing nothing but fancy lingerie all day, eh, Sunny?” I smiled. “This feels so indulgent! I feel like a Victoria’s Secret model.” The light silk fabric brushed across my newly shaved skin and felt delightfully cool and luxurious.

“Can I ask you something?” I asked as I tied the transparent robe around my waist. The nightie underneath was opaque and just long enough to fall midway down my buttocks; the front was so low cut that my breasts were visible except for my nipples’ raised points hidden in the gray mist. “Sure,” Sunny said. “Hey, that looks nice.”

“You know what a punishment fuck is like,” I said.

Sunny leaned back on his elbows across the bed. “Just spit it out, cher. What happened?”

My groins rushed with pleasure thinking about how Mr. Delacroix had thrust into me.

“Okay, so he had me on my knees on the bed and he was hammering me, and then he put his dick against my ass like he would hammer it. The idea of it made me totally panic.”

“Did you use your safe words?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I hadn’t reached my limit.”

“Maybe it’s a good time to remind you about the safe words. Use them if you feel like you need to, even during punishment. He won’t do anything that propels you beyond your limits. I promise you, if you would have said the safe word, he’d have stopped immediately. This is why this situation is so different from your mom’s.”

“But it was such a mind fuck, what he did.”

“And so now here you are talking about it, and hopefully I can help you prepare psychologically. You have power here, Miss Nez. This is nothing like what went on in KC.” He sat up on the bed. “Maybe it’s different for a girl, but I understand the trauma you’re carrying around. I was no stranger to beatings when I came here.” His hand went through his hair. “My old man beat the living fuck out of me a lot. He was a terrible man. He expected me to be someone I wasn’t, someone I couldn’t be, but Mr. Delacroix’s good and caring. He wants you to do well. He’ll never try to change who you are. It’s hard to explain, but he wants you to be more of who you really are.”

He stood and looked out the window. “He sees the beauty in your nature and he wants you to see it too. Does it ever hurt when he fucks you?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yes, especially the first time, and even now I’m pretty sore.”

“And the pain makes you want to stop?”

“No.”

“Does it make you want more?”

“Yes.”

“Miss Nez, he’ll never do anything that he doesn’t feel you are ready for, and you can always use the safe word. He expects you to use it so he knows your limits.” Sunny took my hand and we went into the living room. “Miss Nez, did you like your punishment this morning?”

“Yes, very.”

“Two days ago would you ever have conceived of liking something like that?”

I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes. “Hell, two days ago I couldn’t even conceive of such a thing, let alone whether I’d like it or not.”

“But you liked it, right?” Sunny held me to his chest and cradled my head. “Honey, you’re overthinking it.”

“I’m just a little scared because of what has happened to my mother, Sunny.”

“God, little girl, why didn’t you tell him?”

“I just want to please him. I don’t want him to be mad or disappointed.”

“You think your feelings of fear are pleasing to him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, they aren’t, and I really think you should talk to him about this. I know he didn’t mean to scare you. And don’t forget, my sweet, in the dom/sub relationship, the reality is that you, the submissive, hold ninety percent of the power. Ultimately, you decide the direction of things, not him. The more you bend, the more pliant you become, the more he becomes you; he’ll fall into you, even become you to a point. This is when you have all the power, and that exchange, when it happens naturally, you’ll feel it. You’ll have all the power. Hell, you have most of it now.”

“An exchange of power,” I whispered.

“Yeah, cher,” he said with his wistful eyes, “that’s exactly what I’m talking about. When you both find your limits together and become one.”

“What if I break like Collette?”

“Na-na, cher, you won’t if you’re honest with yourself and honest with him. You’re nothing like her. Talk to the man and for god’s sake, use the safe words. He can only go on the information you give him. Come on, kid, you need to eat. It’s almost lunchtime.”

The table was set and the chandelier’s brilliant amber light danced among the crystals. I followed Sunny into the kitchen because I felt awkward just sitting in the dining room by myself. He moved about the kitchen as he moved behind his bar: fluid, methodical, and with purpose. He put the electric teakettle on, and ladled oatmeal from a small saucepan.

“You like to cook?” I asked.

“Not really cook per se, but I like to be in the kitchen putting things together. To me, this is a lot like making a cocktail. I put in a little of this and a little of that and a dash of something else, and voilà! You’ve got breakfast!”

He placed the French press, two coffee cups and saucers with teaspoons, a small glass of orange juice, the oatmeal, and some raisins on a silver tray. “Come, ya gotta eat.”

“Aren’t you having anything?”

“No, I ate breakfast with Mr. Delacroix.”

We sat at the table and Sunny poured out two cups of coffee, cream first.

“This coffee,” I said as I sipped, “what makes it so good?”

“New Orleans dark French roast with chicory. The chicory takes the bitterness out.”

“What’s chicory?”

“Some kind of plant. They use the root. It grows wild around here. During the Civil War, when coffee was running low, folks found out they could make it go further by adding chicory to it and now it’s become a taste that some prefer. I like it too. Ya know he’s in the coffee business, among other things.”

“He and I talked about it and I have to say, I had no idea how big his company was. It’s interesting. It seems like he is into everything.”

“Coffee, sugar, cotton, soybeans, bananas; if it grows and you can eat it or use it in medicine, he owns it.”

“Wow. Like actual farms and stuff?”

“Yeah, he has farms all over the place, in the southern US, Central America, and the Caribbean, too. He’s a commodities man, I suppose you could say. He’s into the shipping part of it as well. The whole supply chain has his family name on it. Logistics is his middle name.”

“He must stay pretty busy.”

“He has full days, but he also has good people working for him so he pretty much makes his own hours. One thing about Mr. Delacroix is that he isn’t one of these trust fund types who doesn’t think they have to work. He’s pretty involved in the business, he and Mr. Scott.”

The oatmeal was warm, rich, and soothing. The hint of cinnamon and maple was delightful. I continued to eat and wondered how to tell Mr. Delacroix about the money. “He’s moody, isn’t he, or is that just a put-on?”

“No, it’s real. He’s moody as hell and I think it causes him a lot of strife, but he can’t help it. I’m not sure what happens exactly to set him off, and I don’t mean to say that he always gets angry or has a bad temper. But sometimes he gets so sad. Just wait till you see it. It’ll break your heart. Then sometimes he’s as happy as a kitten in a milk factory, like he’s been lately since you’ve been around.”

“Then what was his deal this morning and how do I know he won’t flip out when I tell him about the money I stole? I can’t imagine thievery is something he tolerates well.”

“I dunno about this morning. You won’t tell me what happened.”

“All I did was ask him to stay home from the roast. Well, I did more than ask, I kinda insisted, and he went berserk. I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You know he’s Mr. Scott’s sub, right?”

“Yeah, but they broke the collar years ago.”

“Right, but they’re like me and Mr. Delacroix. They still have an agreement, a contract similar to the one you signed. And aside from that, he has duties to Twisted Oak. I know he wanted very badly to stay with you today, so he was likely pissed off at the situation, not at you.”

“It’s not like Mr. Scott would hate him for the rest of his life if he didn’t show once, and really, Twisted Oak isn’t even Mr. Scott’s at all. Couldn’t Mr. Delacroix tell Mr. Scott to take a long walk anytime he wants to?”

“Yep, but the proper and disciplined thing to do is answer your obligations; it’s basic respect and self-discipline. Fact is, cher, you made a difficult thing more difficult for him, but you didn’t mean to. Above all else, you need to respect his obligations.”

“Should I never say I want him to stay?”

“Oh no, by all means say it. He needs to hear it from you.”

“So what do I do when he spins out in a bad mood?”

“Nothing. If he needs you, he’ll say so. Just be still in your heart for him because that’s what he needs, a still and true heart to keep him steady. And another piece of advice: let Mr. Delacroix and Mr. Scott work out their power struggles. It’s best we let that play out the way they see fit and not butt in where we don’t belong. Your only concern should be getting healthy again and pleasing Mr. Delacroix. With his pleasure, you’ll find yours. I promise, it’s not as complicated as you think it is.”

We spent the rest of the afternoon moving my new clothes from Sunny’s room to what became “our” room. Everything was very grand, oversized, and masculine. Interior shutters closed out the daylight when needed. A writing table sat along the wall opposite the bathroom between two French doors that faced the square. Gowns, dresses, lingerie, garters, stockings, shoes, and boots took up nearly half of the large antique-mirrored armoire that stood on the wall opposite the foot of our bed. The grand piece of furniture was ten feet tall and had intricately carved oak feet and molding around the mirrors. Drawers built in underneath the shelves held leather cuffs, belts, cables, silk ropes, scarves, chains, and whips.

I placed my backpack on the large throne-like chair that sat in one corner of the room. The bed was the focal point; four posts with small spiral spindles across the headboard upon which I had been tied that very morning.

“You’ll be spending a lot of time in here,” Sunny said, “so feel free to add your personal touch. He likes it that way. He wants you to feel it’s as much yours as it is his. This is your home now, Miss Nez.”

12.

I settled back into bed as the rain began to fall heavily again. The shutters were open, but the room remained dark. Monique’s journals beckoned me and I found myself compelled to learn more about the ancestor Mr. Delacroix deified.

July 1, 1765: Jean-Pierre fears I will be lonely, so he gave me this journal to keep me company. What he doesn't understand is that loneliness has become a way of life for me since coming to Louisiana. He is well intentioned and anticipates my every need. He says I am his treasure and he will care for me and protect me with his life. I suppose this means he loves me, but he never says he does. His attentiveness makes me feel like Madame de Pompadour and it will take time for me to adjust to it. I have never had a man serve my every need as he does and it makes me feel fragile. I am anything but.

Do I love him? Yes, I do, enough to leave the servants' quarters and come to Twisted Oak and wear my golden collar and my wedding ring. In his way, Jean-Pierre loves me and I love him in mine. He promises to protect me and our children, as he wants many. He sometimes behaves as if he were Catholic. He built a chapel at Twisted Oak, but there are no icons to Jesus or Mother Mary, only the family crest. We've never attended mass, even though I miss it. He commands we perform our duties not for the grace of God, but rather for the grace of our mutual human pleasure. There is no higher calling than that of two human beings who live for the enjoyment of one another, he says. He explains that through our shared experiences, we will reach our highest human potential. This, he says, is all we can possibly hope to achieve. He says that I am the virgin mother from whence all creation comes and that it is his duty to plant the seed of life.

He has shown me impeccable desire, impenetrable need, and untold depth and beauty of human spirit, body, and mind. I have never been as clear or driven to live life to the fullest. With him by my side, I will succeed in creating a family and dominating the region by force of will and land acquisition. I have no doubt my decisions, though grave, have and will continue to serve me well. My body is his temple.

This expanse of Twisted Oak is larger than the Houma plantation and we have not found a full domestic staff yet. When Jean-Pierre arrives home in two days from his trip to New Orleans, he will bring me a woman-in-waiting, a personal valet, as well as a chef from the city. We will begin to fill the servants' quarters with local well-trained laborers. He assures me there are many quality, trustworthy workers who, once trained, will understand our way of life. The farms, currently well tended by the blacks, assure we want for nothing. Every day brings us blessings of the bounty of this place, but if not blessed by God, then by whom?

The home itself has yet to be finished. They still work on the north wing. More bedrooms for more children, he says. We will staff the north wing with nurses, tutors, and teachers of the arts and sciences. He says our children will thrive with the gift of insight and knowledge that only he and I can give. He tells me our children will be beautiful. I pray to the gods, any god who will hear, that I will be prolific.

How courageous she was to leave everything she had to go with a man she barely knew. I wondered to what extent her relationship was similar to my own, and whether I could love anyone enough to stay with him forever. Maybe Sunny was right when he said I did not know much about relationships. How could I possibly show Mr. Delacroix what love is if I did not have a clue?

July 28, 1765: Jean-Pierre punished me today. I urged him to do it, as I felt lonely while he was away. I wanted all his attention and he gave it freely and generously. I love him and became selfish for his time.

The top floor of the main part of the house is finished and he designed rooms meant to complement his peculiarities. He fashioned parts of it from rigging on sailing vessels; various pulleys, ropes, hanging apparatus, and sails in the shape of a swing hang from the low ceiling. Benches, beds, tables, and pillows are scattered about the place with mirrors on every wall. He bound my hands and feet and laid me in the sailcloth, which allowed him to enter me and exit repeatedly in blissful agitation as I swung back and forth. My body aches for more. On my knees, I brought him into my mouth hungrily and swallowed his sacred seed. I am pleased we will share the bed tonight. I am cold without him, even in the heat of summer.

I wondered if those rooms still existed at Twisted Oak. I wondered if Mr. Delacroix was in those rooms now. What was Mr. Scott doing to him? The thought of Mr. Delacroix bound in blissful agitation suddenly brought my excitement to a new level. My insides were churning with desire. The vision of two men having sex created a gush of dampness between my legs. My hand instinctually went there, but I remembered my orders and I dutifully followed them.

I shook it off and began to think about oral sex and whether this would soon be on Mr. Delacroix’s agenda. I wondered if I could hungrily swallow his seed. I remembered my reaction to the oyster and went to the drawer at the bottom of the armoire to find the ball gag. Tying it tightly around my head, I pushed the ball down firmly on the back of my tongue. If Monique could swallow, so could I. Wondering what other tips she might have, I continued to read.

July 30, 1765: Only now do I get out of bed. For two glorious days, Jean-Pierre and I explored our pleasures. The heat outside was unbearable and so we threw open the windows and allowed the bayou breeze to flow over our bodies. He is so eager to discover every square inch of me and give me the highest pleasure. He knows no boundaries and travels his temple with ease and comfort. I am open for him and fall to my knees in thanks.

There is new pain this time as there is always, but this time Jean-Pierre discovered a new avenue of pleasure. The so-named “unnatural” act he performed is no more unnatural than it is to find a bird in flight. We have been working toward this goal now for weeks, and yesterday, I found I was finally ready to bend fully for the life-giving pleasure of Jean-Pierre.

I find in general I prefer to be bound for the sexual act because it allows me to relax my body. Jean-Pierre, being deft at the art of binding, is expert at setting the position so that my entire body is available for experiencing pleasure rather than the distraction involved in maintaining a position.

For anal sex, being bound is paramount and exemplifies the pleasure. Yesterday, Jean-Pierre laid me on my back and bound my hands to the top of the headboard. His sweet, swift hands gently secured me with leather cuffs similar to those used for the blacks, but tanned to a much softer texture. He cuffed my ankles individually, brought each one to my wrists, and fastened them together with carabiners.

He sweetly supported my shoulders and back with piles of pillows, constantly asking if I was feeling well. He seeks my comfort on every level, at every moment. His smile is intoxicating. He asked me to relax as best I could, every muscle, starting with my head all the way to my toes. He reminded me to breathe and so we breathed together while his hands worked magic and his tongue tickled my world. He brought sweet floral oils to my vagina and massaged my buttocks and anus with his deft fingers. He helped me relax and breathe while he dripped more oils inside me.

He mounted me with his hands on top of the headboard and slowly entered my anus, always conscious of my well-being. As I bent to his will, I understood the extent to which I could do so without breaking. I felt the fullness of him inside, pushing slowly, opening me anew, exploring a new human expression of submission, bending, obedience, giving pleasure. The pain at first was difficult, but through even breathing and relaxation against the bindings, I soon found the pain was not pain, but pure pleasure. God in heaven, I gave this temple to his every whim. I was his completely. As he pulled back and then forward, faster and harder, my body responded miraculously. The juices flowed as hard, if not harder, than when he took my virginity. Now I have a new pleasure, a new gift to give to my love whenever he so desires, and I shall be eager to do it again. Thank you, Jean-Pierre, for showing me this new expression of our mutual pleasure.

I lay in bed, gazed at the headboard, and wondered if it would be here that Mr. Delacroix would bind me in preparation. My groin roiled and my hips moved. I held my hand steady on the journal, remembering his electric blue eyes as he commanded my pleasure. I was concerned I would not be able to hold out until he came home.

It all seemed to make sense now, working with the bindings for my own pleasure. Even though Mr. Delacroix said it excited him, tying me up was meant not for complete domination, but for the complete experience of pleasuring me. I had never thought of this before and only Monique in her gentle way could explain it so well.

My thoughts went back to Mr. Delacroix. While I did not want him to be with anyone else, I understood the level of giving and pleasure, his experiences with Mr. Scott. How selfish of me to try to deprive him of this. How very wrong and spoiled I was. Only, I hoped he was indeed with Mr. Scott and not some other woman. A wave of jealousy took hold of me and I knocked it away with a stiff mental riding crop. He and I signed together. He wanted me more than he wanted anyone else.

My hands gripped the journal. Monique, I thought, let me be strong like you.

13.

“Sunny, did you do this?” I heard Mr. Delacroix say as he left the room. My eyes opened to see his back as he walked away and I realized I had fallen asleep with the gag in my mouth. The gag reflex was gone.

He returned with Sunny on his heels as I sat up and removed the gag. My mouth was terribly dry and I could not speak.

“Do what, sir?”

“Gag her, Sunny. I don’t recall giving you permission.”

“I didn’t,” Sunny said.

I raised my hand and in a half whisper said, “I did it.”

Their mouths fell open and four blue eyes looked at me in surprise; two electric and two like arctic ice.

“Sunny, go get Miss Nez a glass of water. Apparently she has something to tell us.”

Mr. Delacroix tossed my backpack on the floor, sat in his throne chair, and took off his shoes. He leaned back, crossed his left ankle over his right knee, and closed his eyes. “Nez, I missed you today, my love.”

“I missed you too, my lord.”

Sunny brought cool water and I sipped greedily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now tell us why you gagged yourself,” Sunny said.

Mr. Delacroix opened his eyes and looked at me with a wide smile. “Yes, Nezzie, whatever possessed you?” His giggle was infectious.

“I guess Monique possessed me, sir.”

Mr. Delacroix smiled even wider. “You’ve been reading her journals?”

I looked around for the precious book and found it tucked under the duvet. “Sir, she inspired me, possessed me, if you will.” I held the book to my breast.

“Oh, Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said as he rose from his chair. “Sunny, I knew it. I knew she was the one.”

“Sir,” Sunny said, “I tend to agree, but shouldn’t you give it more time?”

“Time for what?” I said to no one in particular. I waited for the other shoe to fall. Nothing could be this good without a hitch.

Mr. Delacroix’s eyes shaded over and bore into Sunny. I cowered, but Sunny stood fast, his eyes narrow and gray. Was Sunny protecting me or himself?

After what seemed like an eternity, Mr. Delacroix conceded. “You’re right. I’m sorry, friend, you’re right. I have to stop getting ahead of myself. I sometimes get so wrapped up in how I want things to be or how I think they should be that I forget there are others to consider. I lose my sense of reality.” His hand rested on my leg. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to delay gratification. I have dreams of how I want that place to be, of you being there, but I forget that it’ll take some work to get there. I just can’t shake this feeling that you belong there.” He trailed off as if listening to that internal voice in his head.

He turned to Sunny again. “I need you here for supper tonight.”

“I’ll call Abby and let her know she’ll have the bar tonight, sir.”

“I’d like to have supper with my family,” Mr. Delacroix said. “It’s been quite a day. Ty will be joining us for supper too.”

“Yes, sir,” Sunny said, and left the room.

“My lord, are you tired? Would you like to sleep for a while?” I asked.

“No, my love, I’m too wound up to sleep. These family get-togethers are draining. There’s so much pretense and honest-to-goodness bullshit,” he said.

I wanted to touch him, to caress his body and show him what I learned today from Monique. But before I could do anything, he took the gag, washed it carefully, and set it out on the vanity to dry. “So, do you think sleeping with this helped you?”

“I think so.”

He came back in the room and sat on his throne. “Come over here and show me what Monique taught you, but take your clothes off first. Don’t forget, this is our room now. When you’re in our bedroom, you’re to be naked, my love, unless you’re dressing.”

“Yes, my lord.” It felt odd to hear him refer to this room as our bedroom. I had never shared such a personal space with anyone before.

“I won’t tell you again.” He smiled and rubbed his hands together.

“Oh yes, my lord.” I disrobed quickly and went to him, falling to my knees as Monique described.

“Good girl, you’re a very good girl.” He lifted his hips from the chair and pulled his pants to his ankles. Before I knew it, he had a handful of my hair and was pulling my head back firmly but gently. “Did Monique show you how to kneel before me?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You are the sweetest thing.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Show me what you learned today.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I said as I bent in to kiss the tip of his shaved hardness as it grew in my hand. I was astonished at the metamorphosis. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth wide, and hungrily took him as Monique had described. I did not gag, but rather I challenged myself to see how deep I could take him in my throat without suffocating. I got on all fours so that I could more easily move him in and out of my throat and mouth. I sucked him and ran my tongue around the throbbing head of his beautiful cock. I was enjoying giving him pleasure and my privates got so wet I knew I would drip on the floor.

He groaned, his hips moving in rhythm with my head as his grip on my hair guided me.

“Nez,” he whispered, “I’m gonna come soon. Can you swallow it? Are you okay?”

I nodded my head yes. He immediately shoved his hard cock deep into my throat, pushing my head further than I had gone before. I thought I might suffocate but he held me in a vice-like grip. I began to struggle. His cream coated my throat in a salty sweetness. He pushed again and then released me. I sucked hard as I pulled my head away and fell back on my heels.

“That was beautiful. Just what the doctor ordered. Thank you, my dream, you’re a quick study, intelligent and sexy.”

“You’re welcome, my lord.” I snuggled into his thigh and he twirled a lock of my hair in his fingers.

“Nezzie, I’m gonna ask you something and I want you to answer honestly.”

“Yes, my lord. I’m always honest with you.”

He smiled. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m glad I did it.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“The feeling’s mutual what?” He grabbed my hair and pulled.

“My lord,” I said quickly. His pull of my hair made my nether regions light up. I kissed his thigh again and he relaxed.

“Do you think this whole thing, the way we live, do you think we’re fucked up, depraved?”

I thought for a while because the truly honest answer was yes. How would he respond if I gave him that answer? Moreover, what did that answer say about me?

“Be completely honest, Nez. Don’t be afraid to give it to me straight.”

“Yes, this is fucked up and depraved,” I said, and I felt him tense, “but given the culture and traditions your family has, it isn’t so fucked up. It makes sense in its own way, in a real way. Sometimes it’s a game, but it isn’t really at all. It’s more real than anything I’ve ever known, so no, it isn’t fucked up or depraved in this context.”

“You aren’t feeling ashamed or appalled or guilty?”

“No, my lord. May I ask why you ask?”

“Yes, but I won’t answer until later when Sunny’s around so he can hear. Do you trust me?”

“With my life, sir. I trust you completely.”

Mr. Delacroix lifted me up to his lap and held me tight. I listened to his heartbeat as my head lay on his chest.

“You suffer so sweetly for me, don’t you?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You’re my world. When I see your suffering, I know I’m alive. We’re alive together for each other,” he said, caressing me as if I were a most precious treasure. “You’re the sweetest thing. I’ll never let anything happen to you.”

* * *

The guitar sounded melodious against the backdrop of rain on the roof and windows. I followed the sound to find Sunny sitting on the floor next to the fireplace, strumming absent-mindedly. He was a vision in the firelight.

Mr. Delacroix sat on the sofa. “Sunny’s a guitar virtuoso,” he smiled. “Come, my love. Sit.” I took my place on my pillow at his feet.

“Hardly a virtuoso, sir, I just like to play.” Sunny strummed a few chords.

“He sings, too, Nezzie.”

“Sing something for us,” I said with a smile.

“I dunno, Miss Nez. It’s been awhile.”

“Please,” I begged. I saw something in his eyes melt.

“Mr. Delacroix, now I see what you mean about when she begs.”

“Yes,” Mr. Delacroix said, “she cannot be denied.”

Sunny closed his eyes, thought for a moment, and said, “I know. How’s this?”

He strummed a few chords and then began in earnest to sing. I was awestruck by his talent.

“Brava, my dear,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Thank you, sir. Shall I play another?”

“Yes, if you’re up to it,” Mr. Delacroix said as he twirled a lock of my hair in his fingers.

Sunny strummed a few chords and then performed. His fingers positioned themselves and smoothly moved along the neck of the guitar in a melancholy chord progression that seemed random but harmonious.

“Where did you learn?” I asked.

“I’ve always had music lessons, even as a little kid. My mother wanted me to play the violin. I picked up the guitar after I came here. Mr. Delacroix felt it was good for me to have my own hobby.”

“Passion, Sunny,” Mr. Delacroix corrected him. “Each of us needs our own personal passion.”

“My lord, what is your personal passion?”

“Aside from you, my personal passion is Twisted Oak and the business. We need to find your passion, my lady love.” He playfully tugged my hair.

“I have one now. It’s you, sir,” I smiled.

“Na-na, you need something to call your own. Think about something you love to do and I’ll make it yours to master.”

“Okay, my lord.”

“Ty should be here soon. I told him to bring us a little surprise. I feel like we all deserve it after the week we’ve had, especially you, my love.” Mr. Delacroix ran his hand down my throat and into my low-slung neckline. His hand fell on my breast with fingers finding my nipple, rolling it gently between soft, thick fingers. I arched my back, allowing him easier access. “Nez, you’re a natural.”

“Only for you, my lord.”

Knock, knock, knock.

Sunny set his guitar aside and went to receive Ty, who blew in like a caramel-cream Creole breeze, his tight curls sparkling with raindrops. He added such levity to the room.

“Miss Nez, you look so beautiful!”

“Thanks, Ty, and you’re handsome as ever. I’ve been missing you. Where’ve you been?”

“Aw, Miss Nez, I been workin’, ya know. Takin’ care of business. I been meaning to come by, but I know things been crazy for you and I thought maybe some time for you to adjust would be good.”

He sat on the floor opposite Sunny on the other side of the fireplace. “It would seem, Miss Nez, that you adjustin’ well. You just lookin’ so fine.”

“I am, thank you.” I meant every word.

“Miss Nez, I’m never far, ya know. I’m never too far where you can’t find me. Sunny always know how to find me. Oh, hey now, Mizz Dee asked after you and I told her you was fine. She say hello.”

I waited for Mr. Delacroix to correct Ty’s grammar, but he said nothing. Maybe he was too worn out to care or maybe Ty had pleased Mr. Delacroix that day.

“Ty,” Mr. Delacroix finally said, “what’s your first impression of the inner workings of Twisted Oak? Did you have a good time today?”

“Aw, god, Mr. Delacroix, yes indeed, I did. Cher, in all my days I ain’t never seen anything like it.”

Sunny laughed. “Ty, I should think you were in your element.”

“No way, I was way outta my element, sir. Shooo-ey, man, they a crazy bunch, but fun as hell.”

“You should have seen him,” Mr. Delacroix said, “he was such a treat! No one really knew what to think when he and I walked in, but soon enough, he became a novelty and everyone wanted a piece of him. And Ty, I gotta say, you obliged more than I expected.”

I raised my eyebrows and waited for an explanation, but Ty was silent.

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix explained, “Ty’s very well-endowed. You wouldn’t know it by looking at his skinny ass, but he is, and the ladies, not to mention a few gents, went wild. Up until yesterday, blacks have never been allowed to play at Twisted Oak.”

“Play, my lord?” I asked.

“Did Monique tell you about the upstairs rooms at Twisted Oak?”

“She mentioned the rooms, my lord, but she didn’t describe them in much detail.”

“Oh, she will as you read more. The space is still there. Usually at the roast, a few of us end up upstairs and we play around.”

“Like group sex?”

Another tug of my hair. “Like group sex what?”

“My lord?”

“Yes, something like group sex. Ty was the star of the show today. What do ya have to say, Ty? Was it as good as it looked from where I sat?” His smile was broad and gleaming.

“Mr. Delacroix, I never dreamed of anything so crazy. I honestly didn’t think I would be into doing the ladies—no offense, Miss Nez—but everyone was just so loose and fun. You white people are plumb crazy.”

“Last time I saw you, Ty, you were tied up and twisted between a man and a woman having the time of your life,” Mr. Delacroix laughed. “Glad you made it out alive is all I can say.”

“Well, sir, I be kinda wore out.”

“Me too.”

“I bring you that thing you wanted,” Ty said, and handed Mr. Delacroix a small envelope.

“Great, thanks,” Mr. Delacroix said as he took the envelope. “Sunny, got some fire?”

Sunny took a long match from a box that sat atop some books on the bookcase, lit it on the fireplace, and handed it to Mr. Delacroix, who lit the joint he took from the envelope. He inhaled deeply and handed it to me. I gladly partook, handing the joint to Ty.

“Nezzie, we only do this on occasion. Using drugs of any kind to get high, even alcohol, is to be avoided. I trust you realize this and can exhibit some self-control. If you don’t think you can handle it, just say so and we’ll never do it again. Don’t you agree that getting high from one another’s pleasure is much more fulfilling?”

“Yes, my lord, and I’m okay with this. I never really smoked a lot of pot,” I said as my limbs began to feel thick and heavy.

“Personally,” said Sunny to no one in particular, “sometimes I find it easier to get it up after I smoke a little, but then I get tired too soon, so I guess it’s a trade-off.”

“Nezzie, baby,” Mr. Delacroix crooned, “are you thirsty? I know I am.”

“I could use something to drink, my lord.” I began to get up but he pushed me down. I looked up into his glassy blue eyes, dimmed now with the fog of marijuana.

“Ty, run and get that bottle of sauvignon blanc in the fridge, will you please, my dear?”

“Sho’ thing, boss.” Ty got up from his cross-legged position and immediately went to work in the kitchen.

“Sunny, you shoulda seen Ty today, man. He had a blast. I thought Mrs. Scott was gonna have a cow when he and I walked in together.” His voice was slow and low. His Southern accent flowed under the influence of the marijuana.

“Sir, if I may say something now that we are all stoned?” Sunny began.

“Go ahead, kid. I know what you’re going to say.”

“No, sir, it isn’t that. I think it’s high time folks like Ty be welcomed at Twisted Oak. For god’s sake, it’s 1987. I think over time folks have forgotten who runs things is all. I know you and Mr. Scott are solid, so there aren’t any worries. I just hope Mrs. Scott gets to feeling better. You’ll be thirty soon and you’ll hold the reins.”

“Sunny, Mrs. Scott’s demons are brought to us by Mr. Scott. He holds a lot of blame from where I sit, so give her a break. I am very well aware of where I am when it comes to the trust. I’m ready to take over anytime.” His tone became cross. “I think things are lining up well for it.”

“Sir, can I ask a question?” I interjected.

“Yeah, doll, you can ask anything. I’m sorry if we’re talking about things you aren’t aware of. What is it?”

“What’s wrong with Mrs. Scott, my lord?”

“Nothing that Mr. Scott can’t fix, and he could very easily, but I suppose it was part of their agreement. See, Mr. Scott never wanted to have children. Anyhow, when he took Mrs. Scott, she signed on very much as you have, saying she would practice birth control. I gather when he collared her, part of their new agreement was that she would continue to do so.”

“I see.”

He glanced at me and went for my hair.

“My lord.”

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever thought about kids, Nez, but around here, women are expected to have children and are brought up measuring their identity with motherhood. It’s kind of a Catholic thing, but it’s also a cultural thing: women have children. And she wants to, but he doesn’t.”

“Is that what the matter with Mrs. Scott, sir?” Ty set the tray down with the bottle and four glasses.

“Among other things, yes, Ty, but this fancy of hers will pass like most things do with her.”

“I thought they were older. Isn’t she too old to have babies, my lord?” I asked.

“Oh no, Nez, she’s about Ty’s age, just ripe to have kids.”

“They’re about eighteen years apart,” Sunny said. “I guess he’s about forty-five or so; somewhere around there.”

“Forty-four, Sunny, and she’s twenty-six,” Mr. Delacroix said. “She got on this tangent with me today about how Twisted Oak is nowhere to raise a kid and Mr. Scott was too ‘homosexual’ for her and would be a poor father and on and on. She even said he wasn’t a ‘real man,’ but as I say, she’ll change her tune. She always does.”

“Damn,” said Ty, “he a real man to me.”

“Even though she has her issues, she may leave; but then again, I can’t imagine her doing so,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Break the contract, my lord?”

“Yeah, Nez, break the contract, break the collar and get a divorce. It’s looking like that scenario is inevitable, but getting out once and for all is another thing. I’m not sure where she’d even go.”

Ty said, “Miss Nez, she ain’t ever been nowhere else. She bone there.”

“She was born at Twisted Oak?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I remember when it happened. I was around four or so. Her momma worked for us. Her family lived—still lives, actually—on the grounds,” Mr. Delacroix explained. “I can’t imagine she’d just go live with her auntie out in that shack where she was born. She didn’t have a great childhood out there.”

Sunny poured the wine and sat to strum his guitar.

Mr. Delacroix continued, “Ty, this may sound like gossip and maybe it is, but don’t go repeating it.”

“Yes, sir—I mean, no, sir.”

“After my discussion with her today, I’ve decided I’m gonna make a conscious effort to move my life in the direction of Twisted Oak. It’s time for me to have more direction in my life. As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t think their arrangement’s gonna last. I dunno, maybe it was the gloomy weather, but Mrs. Scott is getting worse, and he’s miserable too. I’m disappointed in Mr. Scott for not at least trying to understand her. It’s his job to look after her, but he’s too damned busy playing around and she requires special attention.” He sipped his wine and faced Ty. “I noticed he fucked your ass silly today.”

“Oh yeah he did,” Ty said, his smile as wide as his head. “He was the first one.”

I shook my head in amazement and wondered how many people had fucked Ty that day.

“It’s time that place saw some real happiness again, and now with Nezzie here, I might have a decent chance at it. I hope all of you will join me, especially you, my dream, my love, my lady Nez.” He held his wine up as in a toast. “Who’s with me?”

No one but me raised their glass.

“Sunny,” Mr. Delacroix said, “it’s not like it’ll happen overnight. There’s a ton of stuff that needs to be sorted out. No matter what happens, Twisted Oak will take care of Mrs. Scott, so you can see there’s a lot that needs to happen. First off, I don’t even know if the Scotts are going to stay once I go back out there full-time. I have no idea where they’d go if they chose not to; at least he’ll get his share of the trust. There are so many personal issues, not to mention legal details. I’m just saying that over the next few weeks I’d like to get back out there and run things. I’m ready. I feel good about it and I haven’t in so long. You’ve known all along, my dear Sunny, that Twisted Oak is where I’ll end up. It’s what my father wanted. It’s what I want, and I always thought you’d be there with me.”

Sunny slowly raised his glass and Ty followed suit, asking, “Mr. Delacroix? You ain’t gonna get rid of that room, is ya?”

“The room stays, Ty.”

“Then I be in, boss.”

Mr. Delacroix rolled his eyes and glared at Sunny. “You have got to clean this boy up, son.”

14.

After Ty left that evening, while Sunny was loading the dishwasher, I swallowed my fear and told Mr. Delacroix about the money I had stolen. I was sure he would react in anger.

“Nezzie, you should’ve told me right away. This is serious. You’re lucky they haven’t found you. God knows I wasn’t ready for anything like that.” He ran his hand through his curls. “Give me the money.”

“I’m truly sorry, my lord. Sunny told me I should tell you right away, but I got so sick and I was afraid of what you might think, how you would react. I was many things when I came here, but I’m not a thief.” I gave him my backpack. “It’s all in the liner.”

“You haven’t spent any of it?”

“Not a dime, sir. I promise you that.”

“What’s his name? This drug pusher that got you hooked.”

Mr. Delacroix was visibly angry, so I tried to downplay the role Steve played in my addiction. The last thing I wanted was for him and Steve to have a face-off. “Sir, I don’t think he did it intentionally.”

Mr. Delacroix’s eyes shaded into that terrifying gunmetal color. “Nez, don’t you ever make excuses for a man who would ask a young girl like you to be his front. He fully intended on fucking you up one way or the other. You think that pile of shit gives a crap about you?”

“No, sir.”

“Fuckin’ hell, clearly to him you aren’t even worth five fucking grand. He hasn’t even come looking for you!”

“We were never in that kind of relationship, my lord. I was just a front.”

He turned on me with those eyes and took my chin firmly between his thumb and fingers. “You’re never just anything. You’re precious and he almost destroyed you. I have half a mind to have him shot, the fucker!”

“My lord?” I was terrified to think he was capable of murder. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

He leaned back and thought a moment. “Aw, na-na, I won’t kill him, it’s not my style. He’s not worth my time.”

He leaned forward and fingered the backpack, looking for the liner seam. “In a way, you were right to steal it. He doesn’t fuckin’ deserve a dime. For all intents and purposes, you earned this, not his sorry ass.” He ripped the lining and pulled out a thick wad of bills. He looked at the money thoughtfully. “What do you think we should do with this? Give it back to the fucker?”

“I dunno, my lord. Going back there will just stir things up, and honestly, I’d rather my mother think I disappeared. I really don’t want her to know where I am. Not that she’d care.”

“Your mother knows this man?” His eyes were getting angrier. “Yes, my lord.” I was scared to death of his expression. He began to shake.

“Does she know what you were doing for him?”

“Yes, my lord.” I looked away in shame and embarrassment. His angst gave me chills.

“Aw, honey. No wonder you ran away.” He pulled me close. “No worries, my dear. It’s all okay now. I’ve got you. No one can hurt you now.” He threw the money in the fire and tossed my backpack aside. There was no turning back.

* * *

My days filled with the wonder of Monique’s journals. She shared her most intimate experiences of love, punishment, and sexual escapades. She helped me understand the value of humble servitude. She bent further and further and she never broke. Her love for Jean-Pierre kept her alive, and his devotion to her was the lifeblood of the family. I was looking forward to reading about their exchange of power. After days of training with Mr. Delacroix, I understood now the power she held; I began to understand my own.

February 26, 1766: My belly swells and Philippe is very active by night. He keeps us awake with his acrobatics. Last night he kicked so hard, he woke Jean-Pierre, so we lay together with our hands following the baby's movements, so close and yet so far away. It won't be long now.

Lately we have decided the best position for us is like the beasts in the field, I on my hands and knees as he enters from behind. This position allows him free access to either port of entry and for that, I am grateful. Jean-Pierre promises to bind me again after the baby comes; I miss the security and comfort of it. In the meantime, oral sex has been very satisfying. I am a goddess in his eyes.

The birth of their first son, Philippe, changed Monique’s life in ways I found to be unimaginable. I never thought motherhood could propel a woman to such heights. She became the queen of her castle, and gained more power in her relationship with Jean-Pierre. It happened gradually, the exchange of power, as naturally as the changing of the seasons. I wished in my heart that my mother were like Monique, strong, reliable, and faithful to her children. If I ever became a mother, I’d be like Monique. My children would love me because I’d love them more than life itself. I hated my mother, but I missed her too, because she was the only mother I knew.

My reflection on Monique’s life kept me strong during training for new sexual adventures, namely anal sex. Monique’s journals gave me perspective and helped me understand the bigger picture. I could very well see how this kind of lifestyle could lead to total self-indulgence. It was so hedonistic, but Monique saved me from this fate. Her reflections on her life—how she arrived at Twisted Oak with nothing, and her longing for a family—kept her focused even though her world was small. But outside of the master suite, she was diligent in the creation and administration of Twisted Oak. She had goals of her own, broader goals that included wealth, prestige, and power.

I was beginning to understand that my Mr. Delacroix’s vision included a world well beyond the bedroom. His dreams centered on the resurrection of Twisted Oak, his place of birth that existed in historical purgatory. He shared Monique’s goals: wealth, power, and prestige through family. He understood in the center of his being that he could ultimately not achieve his goals alone. Allowing me to read her journals was his way of expressing this to me.

“Nezzie, I wanna try something,” he said. “Are you ready for some fun?” He took my hand without waiting for an answer because he knew the answer was yes—always yes for his pleasure—and he took me to the bedroom.

I immediately disrobed, as was expected. I was in my second week of training, and my body was already stronger and my mind was clear. “There’s my girl. Just stand there for a bit and let me look at you.”

I stood and smiled. I loved it when he admired me. It made me feel strong.

“Turn around and let me look at that cute ass of yours.”

I did as he asked.

“Remember those beads we saw at Lorraine’s?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Let’s play with them. I’ll start with the smaller ones.”

He leaned over to the bedside table and took something out of the drawer. “I think you’re gonna like this, Nezzie. Hold still now. No wiggling. We have to get you to stop wiggling. I want you to shut your eyes and lift your ass in the air for me.”

I closed my eyes, put my face into the bed, and lifted my backside up a bit until he used his leg to stop me.

“Perfect. Fuckin’ hell, your ass is perfect.”

The lubricant was cool as he filled my anus with it. “Okay, baby girl, relax now as best you can. Do you need a pillow under you to help hold you up?”

“Yes, please, my lord.”

He grabbed a pillow and shoved it under my tummy. “You can keep begging, too. Beg me to shove these beads up your ass.”

I was beginning to get very nervous. “Please, my lord. Shove the beads up my ass. Please, I beg you to.”

“Relax, Nezzie. When you aren’t relaxed, I think you don’t really mean it when you beg.” He began to massage and tickle my rear cheeks and drove his fingers into my exposed vagina. He brought his fingers down, one on either side, and massaged where my legs met my nether regions, then ran his finger around the rim of my anus.

“Relax now, my love. Trust me. Breathe, my love.”

“Please, lord.” I breathed deep and let it out. “Please.”

“There you go. Open up.”

I felt one bead pass my sphincter and I automatically tensed up. “Breathe, my love, and relax. Trust me. You’re gonna absolutely love this. It’s me, Nez. You know that I know how much you’ll love this.”

My breath deep, and again another bead.

“Stay relaxed. There ya go.”

Another bead entered me and I began to fully appreciate the sensation. Mr. Delacroix pushed gently to make room for the fourth, fifth, sixth . . . I lost count and relaxed, opened up.

“How’s that feel? You okay, my love?”

“Yes, my lord, but . . .”

“Na, shhh, we aren’t finished yet. Come on up here and get on all fours.”

I didn’t quite understand.

“Nez, do it.” He gave me a spank and the beads bundled together, giving me the most exquisite sensation. I was nearly at climax.

“Okay, girl, good. You’re gonna have to be strong and not collapse on me when the time comes. You need to be ready for a very intense orgasm. Are your arms and legs strong? I don’t have pulleys to hang you from, so you have to do it yourself.”

“Yes, sir, I’m strong for you. Please begin. I beg you.”

“Aw, Nez, for fuck’s sake, you’re a dream come true.”

He plunged into me, moving the beads slightly, making everything feel so full. With each move he made, the beads adjusted. It felt so strange and good.

“Please,” I begged.

“Yes, my love, I’m here.” He began to pound. “You like it?”

“Yes, my lord, it’s so good.” My center was starting to unravel. The anticipated orgasm merged my mind and body into a singular focus of desire. “It only gets better, my love.”

His hands were on my hips. He created the rhythm hard and fast. I began to lose myself. My breasts swung freely as my nipples brushed against the bed, heightening my pleasure. I was swimming in the high, the quickening in my groin, that familiar windup to climax.

“Are you getting ready to come, Nez? Are you coming for me now?”

“Yes, my lord, oh god, yes! Please!”

He shoved himself into me hard and simultaneously pulled the beads from my ass. I screamed in ecstasy and my whole body shuddered, but he held me up with his arm wrapped around me. He shoved into me again, almost lifting my knees from the bed, and I heard him grunt.

My body was still shaking in ecstatic spasms of pure pleasure, and for as strong as I felt before, I was as weak as a twig. He tossed the beads to the floor, took me in both arms, and flipped us over on the bed so that I fell on him, my back to his chest. He crossed his arms over me, caressing each breast. I was still catching my breath.

“Nez, babe, you okay?”

“Never better, my lord, never better.”

He held me for a while and then tucked me in and kissed me on the forehead. “Nezzie,” he whispered, “you really don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

“No, my lord, I don’t, but I like it. Do you?”

“Yes, my dearest, love of my life. I like it.”

I reached up to touch his face and he responded by leaning into my hand like a feline. “Mr. Delacroix, what are you doing to me?”

“Sleep now, cher. Sleep and dream of all the things we’re gonna do to each other. We’ve only just begun.”

15.

I found my solitary existence comforting, but relished Sunny and Ty’s friendships. Mr. Delacroix kept precise work hours every day. He left at nine in the morning and arrived home at exactly six every weekday. Sunny and I knew, down to the minute, the amount of free time we had during the day. He and I would take walks on nice days before Sunny took his afternoon nap. Ty came around periodically in the afternoon, but his nocturnal lifestyle was not in keeping with ours. Ty was like a satellite orbiting our world. I knew he was out there looking after me, but I did not see him as much as I would have liked.

My world was small, simple, and easy to manage. Mr. Delacroix spent as much time with me as he could, considering the effort he was making toward a move to Twisted Oak, but as he said, it would take time. There was much to consider and I had grown accustomed to city living in the short four weeks I had been in the family. I was ambivalent about the move to Twisted Oak, but for the first time, I felt comfortable with myself. I had never looked forward to the future before. This was an epiphany for me.

The days went by in a haze of sunlight and warmth. The magnolia trees were in full bloom and the crepe myrtle and oleander were budding, paving the way toward summer. There was stillness in the air. My body felt healthy for the first time in my life and I began to understand Monique’s clarity of mind. My spirit was soaring.

One of Ty’s many aunties cleaned the apartment every Friday. I looked forward to her visits because she loved to talk about her family and their life in the city, not far from us but very different. She started working for a housekeeping company years ago, but soon left and went into business on her own. She had been working for Mr. Delacroix since he moved into the apartment, and before that, she worked for his father who only came to the city a few times a month.

I was sitting on the balcony watching the tourists in the square while she dusted the living room. “Auntie,” I said, because that is what we all called her, “does everyone know the Delacroix history?”

“No, baby, don’t everyone know, but those of us who work there know. My family been dere a long time, but nobody live dere no more. We lef awhile back and come to the city when I was a child, but I still work for the elder Mr. Delacroix when I got old enough after school keepin’ his apartment here. I been coming to dis place now every Friday since I be about twelve or thirteen.”

“What was he like?”

“The elder Mr. Delacroix? Oh, baby, he was a handsome man like his son, hear? He was quiet though, and didn’t do much partying, not like that Mr. Scott. I used to hate it when he come to town with Mr. Delacroix cuz dis place be a mess.”

“Did they come together often?”

“Oh yeah, I say at least once a month, if not more. After Mrs. Delacroix die, God rest her soul, they come together a lot. Some say they together too much, but I don’t pay no mind to that talk. Mr. Delacroix pay me well and I keep quiet about such things. When ya clean a man’s house, ya know things about him and that’s private business.”

“Did you know Mrs. Delacroix well?”

“Na, not really, cuz like I say, Momma lef Twisted Oak when I was a child and Mrs. Delacroix didn’t ever come here.”

“I wonder why. I love it here.”

“Baby girl, I think she rather not be in the city with Mr. Delacroix, especially when Mr. Scott here. Her family and his, well, they don’t get along so well.”

“I know, Mr. Delacroix told me that the other day. He said her family didn’t think Mr. Delacroix was good for her.”

“Mmmhmm, and truth be tole, they probly right, but he was a good man. Just not right for marryin’, I suppose. Like some mens, they better off being bachelors.”

“Why do you say that about Mr. Delacroix’s father? Was he a womanizer?”

She laughed as she picked up my pillow and stepped outside to shake it. “Naw, baby girl, everybody know it wasn’t the ladies he like.”

“Oh, I see. So he and Mr. Scott were . . .”

“Hey now, dis is gettin’ too personal, but yeah, you get my drift. Mostly when the two of ’em here, only one bed be messed up, but sometimes the whole place be tore up like they go crazy or somethin’. I never aks and dey never tell.”

“And Mrs. Delacroix never knew?”

“Now dat I can’t say cuz I don’t know her and like I say, I never aks, but Momma say Mrs. Delacroix go crazy like insane.”

“So you were around when his son, my Mr. Delacroix, was born. She wasn’t crazy then, was she?”

“I recall when he was born. Mr. Delacroix was so proud. He come and show pictures. I think things were good then for him and his wife. I saw pictures of the three of them together and dat baby always so happy. He was a good little boy, but I suppose like some mommas, things got too hard for her. Not everyone be a good momma. Some womens, they don’t need to be mommas.”

“I certainly know what you mean,” I said, reflecting on my own mother. That familiar stab of pain pierced my heart.

Auntie went back inside and put my pillow back down on the floor where she found it, no questions asked. She went about dusting the coffee table and sang softly while she worked. “Six feet of water in the streets of Evangeline . . . they tryin' to wash us away.”

“Auntie, Mr. Delacroix was only about nine when his mother died, right?”

“Yeah, about that old, but his daddy do his best. He got the best teachers for his boy and eventually he went to the best universities, thanks be to Mr. Scott. He grew up fine, but being raised by his daddy and then Mr. Scott wasn’t ideal, but dey do da best dey can by dat boy. Your Mr. Delacroix be a good man like his daddy. He reminds me so much of him.”

I followed her into the kitchen and poured us glasses of iced tea.

“You and Mr. Delacroix . . .” She paused and looked down at the rag in her hand.

“Yes, Auntie, he and I are together.”

Her look of relief was both puzzling and comical. “I’m so happy to hear it. I wasn’t sure if you was Sunny’s girl or Mr. Delacroix’s or what. Those two are about as confused as his daddy and Mr. Scott were, but I be glad to hear he doing something right. No offense to Sunny. He a good kid, but Mr. Delacroix need a woman in his life and lord knows, this place need a woman in it.” She lifted her glass in a toast to me. “You’re a good woman, Miss Nez. I’m glad you here.”

“Me too, Auntie.” Our glasses gently kissed and the ice rattled in its tea bath. “Do you know why Mrs. Delacroix died, Auntie?”

“Yeah, I got my ideas about dat and it ain’t in keepin’ with what the papers say neither. Like I say, she went crazy. Momma say she die of insanity and I got to believe my momma.”

“Do you think she killed herself?”

“I know she did.”

“Damn,” I said, “that’s terrible.”

“Ya know, Miss Nez, I hear things and I just listen. I never talk, but I figure you be around here long enough now you and me can talk,” she whispered. “I ain’t sayin’ nuthin’ to nobody, ya heeah?”

“Thanks, Auntie, I won’t either. This is just between you and me.” I sipped my tea. “How’d she do it?”

“Miss, I don’t know for sure, but Momma say they find her in that room hangin’ by her neck from the ceilin’.”

“Good god!” I said.

“So you know about dat room?” she asked.

“Yes, but I’ve never been to Twisted Oak, so I haven’t seen it.”

“Me either,” she said, shaking her head. “Those folk are just plumb crazy. I’m glad your Mr. Delacroix ain’t like that.”

“Me too,” I lied. The visual of Mrs. Delacroix hanging from the ceiling of the playroom shook my senses. I wondered who found her, but I was afraid to ask for fear of putting Auntie in a compromising position. She wrung her rag in her hands and wiped the same spot on the counter repeatedly.

“Things can go terribly wrong sometimes, can’t they, Auntie?”

“Yeah, when we least expect it, too.”

I pictured Mr. Delacroix’s father finding his wife. I could not imagine the pain he must have felt, pain and guilt because he could not save her and because maybe it was his behavior that sent her over the edge.

It was then that I realized my passion. I loved reading Monique’s journals and the other history books in Mr. Delacroix’s library. I decided that studying and writing history—in particular, the family history—would be my passion. I was excited to tell Mr. Delacroix that I had something in my heart to call my own. I knew he’d be pleased, and he was.

“That’s excellent,” he said that evening as he undressed after work. “I never dreamed you would like her journals so much.”

“My lord, I do, but it’s more than that. I like all history. I never knew until now, really. I suppose I’ve never been exposed to it, not like I’ve been here. It’s everywhere in the city, in your family and Ty’s family and even Sunny’s. Everybody has an interesting history around here. This city is so historic; I guess it’s gotten me under its spell.”

“She can do that to ya, this place. Just wait till you go out to Twisted Oak. It’s got a history of its own. Parts of it haven’t been touched since my dad died. I told Mr. Scott he’s to keep it just the same.”

“Wow, my lord, nothing’s changed out there in all these years?”

“No reason to change things. It’s full of old antiques and relics, but they’ve all been preserved and maintained. You’re gonna love it.”

“That has to cost a fortune, my lord, to keep it up like that.”

“It’s worth it.”

“Sometimes I forget what year it is when I’m with you, my lord. Even this place is timeless in a way.”

“Yes, these apartments have been here since 1840 or so. They’re the oldest apartments still in existence in America.”

“Wow!” I exclaimed.

He leaped onto the bed next to me and pinned my arms down. “Wow what, Nez?”

“Wowee,” I laughed.

He sucked on my nipple hard. “Say that again and I might have to punish you.”

“Wowee!” I said as I spread my legs.

“Now you’ve gone and done it.”

“Done what?”

“You surly little bitch,” he said. He rose to his knees and flipped me over on my stomach. Before I knew it, my feet were tied to the bedposts and he was binding my hands together above my head. “Keep them up there, Nez.”

“Yes, sir,” I giggled.

“Good girl.” He shoved all the pillows under my midsection and began to pat my ass slowly and softly, which drove me mad.

“Please, my lord,” I begged as I tried harder to raise my backside higher.

He spanked with an upward motion, licking my labia with his hand, but I could not move because my feet were bound. It stung.

“You like that?” he said as he rubbed my ass gently.

“Yes, my lord.”

Whack! Whack! Twice on the same side. “Nice and rosy your cheeks are.” Whack! The other side now.

“My lord.” He smacked me up in the middle again, and I swelled with longing. “Please.”

“Nope, not this time. You’re gonna walk around all evening with a girl hard-on.” He whacked me twice more in the middle, each time hitting me more directly on my swollen parts.

I started to struggle against the ropes in hopes that it would release the tension and he smacked me again. “Sir, please, I need it.”

“Hell yes, you do, but not tonight. You’re in big trouble. Besides, you wiggle too much.”

Another smack and then he tickled and teased my clit to the point of madness.

“Sir, please, this isn’t fair.”

“Nobody said life was fair, my dear.” He pinched this time with just enough pressure to make my vagina ache for him. I was disappointed when he untied my feet. “You talk too much. Roll over.”

I lay flat on my back with my hands above my head. He got off the bed and guided me by pulling my hair to the edge of the bed, letting my head and shoulders fall over the side. I watched him upside down until he was out of sight. He walked around to the other side of the bed and secured my feet to each bedpost with long ropes. The blood was beginning to rush to my head. I closed my eyes imagining what he would do next.

“Open up,” he said.

I opened my eyes to see him upside down in front of my face. He had dropped his red silk pants. “Not your eyes, Nez, your mouth.”

I opened my mouth as wide as possible and he proceeded to fuck my throat. I was insane with longing. I wished so hard that he was fucking my vagina and the thought of it made me come like crazy. I was moaning between thrusts and found it hard to catch my breath. Would he suffocate me this time? The feeling was exhilarating and when I saw him smile, I knew he understood my pleasure. He pinched my nipples and flicked them with his fingertips, making them sting and stand at attention.

“Don’t have anything to say now, do you?”

I tried to agree with him and he shoved his cock in further.

“You’re wiggling. Hold still.”

I tried to stay as still as possible.

“I just don’t get how you can fully enjoy me when you’re all squirmy. Now hold still, Nez. Stop it!” He slapped my breast and I worked hard to relax as I had when he’d used the beads. I found that he was right. When I was fully relaxed, I could feel more of him in me. The pleasure multiplied. I opened my mouth wider for him.

“See? There you go. See how much better it is?” He continued his rhythm, finding the back of my throat. I found I could breathe between thrusts when I relaxed. I remembered Monique’s comments about satisfying oral sex; she may have been correct, but I longed for him to fuck me.

He pinched my breast. “Where are you going, Miss Nez?” I spiraled back from my thoughts. “Don’t think of anything but my dick choking the shit out of you.”

My vagina dripped and I felt the dampness on the sheets beneath me. He thrust into me deeply and held it there until I was certain I would pass out. Familiar panic rose up in me, but I feared he would hit my breast again if I moved. Finally, he pulled back, allowing me to breathe. I was panting between thrusts now and he moved his hand over my labia and pinched my clit.

“You’re so wet, my dear,” he said, and jammed his cock into my throat and came; the sweet, salty cream coated my throat and I tasted it as it dripped through my mouth and onto my face.

His release was complete as he moaned, “I like you like this.” I was silent because my mouth was full and it wasn’t easy to swallow in that position. “Cat got your tongue?” he giggled. He backed away from me and enjoyed watching me struggle. “Finish swallowing it. Drink up, my love.”

I could not swallow, so I hung there and breathed as best I could.

“You may move now,” he said. I tried to sit up, but he pushed me down. “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. Stay. I said you could move, but I didn’t say you could get up.” He went around the bed and freed my ankles.

“Turn over,” he commanded. I did as asked and I could finally swallow and clear my throat. I heard him rattling around in the armoire and waves of excitement erupted in my deepest region.

“Let me see that ass of yours,” he said.

I arched my back and got slightly on my knees so I could lift it as high as I could for him without changing my position.

“Damn, you got your asshole all nice and wet. You came all over yourself. How convenient,” he said, and shoved a large butt plug into my anus with a shot of pleasure pain. “I wish you could see what I see. Your cunt when you’re coming, it’s stunning, Nez, it’s beautiful. Like a dewy rose.”

16.

The music from the square was unusually somber, so I went out on the balcony to see what was going on. The morning sun was warm and heavy and the air was hazy. Black people were marching in columns; some were crying and others were singing words that I did not understand. Dressed in black, some women carried fringed parasols of black lace. They held each other as they followed the small jazz band. The men carried a coffin and more people followed.

“It’s a funeral march, a real New Orleans jazz funeral,” Sunny said, and put his hand to his heart out of respect as they passed by.

Soon, though, in a trumpet blast of insanity, the music changed to a happy march that reminded me of the old Dixie jazz I usually heard at night. The trumpet riff set the people off and they began to dance like there was no tomorrow; parasols moving up and down, handkerchiefs waving in the air, the people’s cries turned to whoops and hollering. It made sense in a way that can only make sense in New Orleans. I looked at Sunny and he was dancing on the balcony in his purple silk pants.

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen,” I said.

“Yep, it always is.” He grabbed my hand and twirled me around. “Ya gotta dance, Miss Nez. It’s the right thing to do.” So we danced until we could no longer hear the music.

“Why do they do that?”

“If you’re goin’ to heaven, ya may as well dance your way there,” he smiled. “Honestly, I really don’t know; maybe we’re all going to hell.”

“Ya know, Sunny, I feel bad about keeping you here. I’m sure you’ve got something else to be doing with your days.”

“I usually hang out here because I work till three or four in the morning sometimes, so it works out real well.”

“You’re always up before eight. That’s only four or five hours of sleep!”

“That was part of the agreement when Mr. Delacroix bought the bar for me; that I’d be here every morning to have breakfast with him.” He sat down at the iron table. “Having you around to keep me company is kinda nice. I don’t have too many friends other than Ty and my employees, but they aren’t really friends.”

“I guess this lifestyle doesn’t allow for having a lot of friends.”

“Oh, I dunno, later if you are granted more freedom and make an effort, but then you can’t be totally honest with them because they aren’t part of the lifestyle and they don’t understand, they think you’re a freak or something. Or they are part of the scene and you wanna keep your distance. But that’s just me. I’ve never made friends very easily, but you’re different.”

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying. Even if you aren’t living like we do, it’s hard to know who your real friends are,” I said.

I sat looking out over the square at all the tourists and hawkers and wondered about their lives; where they came from and where they were going, all the good people doing good people things.

“Do you ever wish things were different, Sunny?”

“I used to sometimes, but now I just look ahead. Looking back only hurts and there isn’t a damned thing any of us can do about the hand we were dealt. Not a fucking goddamned thing.”

“I suppose not. And thank god for Mr. Delacroix.”

“Yeah.” Sunny leaned back on his chair. “It’s nice out. We should take your walk.”

“My legs are sore,” I said as I rubbed my quadriceps. Sunny’s body was about as perfect as a body could get. I wondered if I would ever measure up. “What about Ty? Where is he today?”

“I bet that kid walks twenty miles a day. His physique comes naturally to him, I think. He’s got some pretty genes in his family,” Sunny said wistfully. “He’s probably at home sleeping.”

“It’s sad about his family not wanting him. I asked him about it when we first met. He said his father was in prison.”

“He raped Ty’s mom. That’s how she got pregnant with Ty and that’s why he’s in prison.” Sunny shook his head. “I can relate to Ty so much in that our parents can’t stand us for who we are, but man, Ty carries his father around like Jesus Christ carried that damned cross. No matter what I do, I can’t get Ty to forget about it. Ty believes he’s a bad seed that’ll never amount to anything, but he’s so wrong.”

“Wow, that’s heavy.”

“Yeah, I’ve never met anyone who hates himself so much for something he has no fucking control over. He’s a great guy and so smart, but he sabotages himself all the time.”

“You really care for him, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yep, he’s the closest thing to a friend I’ve got, except now you’re here. If there was anything I wish was different it’d be that Ty and I could be together.”

“What does he do? Where does he go? Why can’t you be together?”

“He’s a prostitute, so his hours are all over the place.”

“How long has he been a prostitute?”

“Ever since I’ve known him. Mr. Delacroix and I have both tried to help him get out of prostitution, but he won’t. He’s the most frustrating human being I know. I’ve offered him work at the bar, too, but he won’t take it. He thinks he deserves to be what he is. I guess this is why Mr. Delacroix won’t offer him more. He just won’t step up.”

“What’s he been offered?”

“We—well, Mr. Delacroix mostly—take care of him. He’s tested every six months and is considered part of the family; he’s loyal as all get-out except for when it comes to his lifestyle. I mean, he answers to me, mostly, and sometimes, I come close to getting him straight in the head. But then he just backs out and closes the door. He knows I love him. I’ve offered him my heart. He doesn’t think he measures up, but he could if he tried.”

“It’s nice that you all look after him.”

“Oh, we get a return on it. Thanks to Ty, if anything is going on in the street, we know about it. He knows everything about everybody, so if something’s going down, we hear about it. A few months ago, he came into the bar and told me about a guy who came into town and was setting up a prostitution ring. Just last week, he clued us in on a new street drug called crank. He just knows everything, but most important of all, he knows who is involved and they trust him. It’s just nice to know what’s going on in the underbelly of things. If I ever need anything, he’s got contacts all along the coast.”

“I guess I ran into the right guy when I came into town.”

“You sure did, but at the same time, I’m not surprised you did. Ty has a very uncanny way of figuring out when things are about to happen. I tell ya, he just knows everything.”

“Does he work for someone?”

“Sort of,” Sunny smiled. “In reality, he works for himself, but it depends on who you ask. Word on the street is that he works for me, but I’m no pimp! We just feign that so others leave him alone. Just another way we take care of him. Once you’re part of the family, you can’t be touched, and so it goes.”

“But he did give you a cut the other morning.”

“Only because I allow him to front at my place. I don’t like it, but I’d rather see him base himself there than somewhere else. I can look after him, but he pays. No such thing as a free lunch.” Sunny shook his head and ran his hand through his hair. “My thing with Ty is that he won’t change his ways. The guy is so damned frustrating.”

“Maybe things will change if he comes out to Twisted Oak.”

Sunny looked at me with questioning eyes. “What do you mean?”

“The other night when Mr. Delacroix asked us if we were with him in wanting to go out there, Ty raised his glass. Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, I guess I do, but I don’t take that too seriously. Ty’ll never leave the city and he’ll never go legit.”

“Let’s go to the Riverwalk,” I said. “You’re right; we need to get out of this place for a while.”

The weather warmed up, so I was dressed in a short cream-colored skirt, light green tank top with a plunging neckline, and light brown leather sandals that Mr. Delacroix had set out for me before he went on his run that morning. “No makeup,” he had said; he told me that he prefers me not to wear it because he wants to wake up with the same person he goes to bed with.

Sunny wore natural-colored linen pants and a faded blue button-down shirt with rubber flip-flops. He pulled his hair up in that thick ponytail he usually wore at the bar. “Let’s grab some beignets and coffee first. We’ll call it lunch, but we can’t make a habit of it or Mr. Delacroix will have both our asses in a sling.”

“How delightful,” I smiled.

“Stop it, you little slut. You’re in for one helluva night tonight if you keep this up.”

We made our way around the square on the church side because the mules and carriages along Decatur Street made a crowd. They were busy this time of year, with tourists lining up for rides. I’d see George out there almost every day with his white mule. He’d wave to me with his hat in hand.

“He said he’d never expect anything of me that he hasn’t already experienced.” I was looking for insight from my friend.

“Prepare yourself for absolute debasement; complete objectification of your body. You’re a walking fuck machine for him and nothing more. Here’s the mind fuck: you’re nothing but a fuck hole, or in your case, fuck holes plural. When you’re stripped down like that, when there’s nothing left of you physically, this is when you find your greatest and most powerful potential; your true self, your true strength and power.”

“Has he been stripped?”

“I dunno. You have to ask him.”

“Have you?”

“Yep.”

“And you’d do it all over again because you found your powerful center?”

“Yep, I’d do it in a heartbeat, but only with Mr. Delacroix, because he’s good. See, this is the thing with Ty. He doesn’t think he can handle it and he’s probably right considering how this rolls.”

“Is that why Collette killed herself?”

“No, cher. It’s a lot more complicated. And remember, you can get out anytime you want. She didn’t know when to leave and like I said, he made a mistake. He’s good, but he was young then, and so was she. He shouldn’t have collared her to begin with.”

“Is that what’s happening with Mrs. Scott? She’s scared to face her inner self?” The question tapped on the window of my mind: Am I afraid?

“Not sure what’s going on there, other than Mr. Delacroix blames Mr. Scott and I tend to agree. Mr. Scott’s always been a player, but she’s different. She has challenges. You’ll see what I mean when you meet her. But I’m not sure Mr. Scott has it in him to bring someone to their fullest. That takes a special talent, and our Mr. Delacroix’s got it.”

* * *

The Riverwalk Marketplace, a shopping mall along the river, was full, as usual, the tourists and locals alike relishing the nice weather and cashing in on a good deal. Large windows facing the river lit the interior as we wandered about gift shops and t-shirt vendors.

We decided to walk outside along the river on our way back home. The riverboat’s calliope provided a surreal carnival atmosphere. Tourists were disembarking the vessel.

“I guess we should take advantage of being here while we can before the move to Twisted Oak,” I said.

“I think it’s gonna be awhile before the big move. Don’t be in a rush, either, because it’s nothing like being here.”

Was my fantasy about a utopian Twisted Oak completely out of sync with reality? “You’ll miss being here?”

“I probably won’t go. Most likely I’ll stay at the apartment.”

“I sure will miss you.”

“It’s not like you’ll never see me. Twisted Oak is only two or three hours away, and besides, my life’s here with the bar and Ty. I dunno, maybe I can get him to move in with me after you all leave and get him to go legit.”

“I hope so; he deserves a good life. But we’ll miss you. I know Mr. Delacroix will.”

We bought a cup of coffee and made our way toward the side of the mall facing the river. The light coming through the large doors glared off the tile floor. Sunlight dazzled the surface of the water.

“If I can get him to sign on with me totally, I can work with him; otherwise I doubt he’ll ever get real. And he won’t do that unless Mr. Delacroix moves out. For some reason he’s freaked out by Mr. Delacroix. I can’t figure out why.”

We stood along the railing overlooking the steep bulkhead that kept the river at bay. “I have a hunch as to why.”

“Do tell,” Sunny said, and rested his elbow on the warm metal rail. Shore birds were diving and calling to one another.

“You said Mr. Delacroix has a talent for getting us to face our demons. Ty’s just not ready, but he will be, I think, with you, because you get him. Be patient with him.”

“I know you think we’re hard on him, but it’s for his own good.”

Cyclists, joggers, dog walkers, and families passed us as we walked along the river toward the apartment. A young boy dressed in dirty clothes sat on the grass and played a guitar. Sunny tossed a dollar bill in his guitar case.

“I get that now, but he isn’t all that strong, ya know. He plays it up like he’s all good with everything but he’s not. Be kind to the man.”

“You’re nothing but a bleeding heart.”

“For Ty, you bet I am.”

“I guess I am too. Hell, he isn’t even my sub yet and he has me right where he needs me.” His smile was warm. “I really love that guy.”

We hooked a left at Jax Brewery and entered the square. The daily circus was in full late-afternoon swing. We stopped to talk with a friend of Sunny’s, a palm reader named Talisman. He was an older man with a swath of bushy gray hair and a long beard.

“Hey there, Sunny,” the man said in a surprisingly youthful voice.

“What’s going on, Tali?” They shook hands.

“Not a lot just now. Your friend want her palm read?”

“Miss Nez, this is Talisman. He’s been reading palms here since before I came to the city.”

“Nice to meet you, young lady,” he said, and reached out and shook my hand. I noticed he was sitting in a wheelchair. “Yep, I recall when Sunny first got here. He was a skinny little runt.”

“Yeah, well, Tali, you weren’t the cat’s meow either,” Sunny said.

“Never have been, kid. Not since my accident. Before, I’d be out dancin’ all night with the ladies. Life’s like that, it changes things. So, how about it, Miss Nez, you want to see what life has in store for you?”

I looked at Sunny and he shrugged. “He’s pretty good at it, from what I hear.”

“Pretty good?” Talisman said incredulously. “I’m the best in the square.”

“Okay, I suppose so,” I said.

“Come sit, my dear,” Talisman said, so I sat in the folding chair opposite him. A folding card table covered in a black bedsheet separated us. On the table were a deck of tarot cards, a candle inside a piece of clear glass to block it from the wind, a couple of beat-up spiral notebooks, a crystal ball, and incense.

“Give me your hands,” he said, so I lay both my hands on the table. He held them and continued. “Hands not made for manual labor; no farmers or carpenters in your family.” He turned them over and examined my palms. “Sorry about your dad,” he said.

I was astonished that he knew something about my dad.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re better off not knowing him and it doesn’t look like he’ll ever be a part of your life. I’m just saying that so you won’t have false hope. I’m here to help you, not upset you.”

He was not telling me anything I did not know about my father, but it was curious that he knew the situation.

“No siblings, I see. When’s your birthday?”

“May 15th, 1964,” I said reluctantly.

“Don’t worry, everything we discuss is confidential, I assure you.” He went to his notebooks for reference. “Do you happen to know what time you were born?”

“I think maybe in the afternoon sometime.”

He looked at my palms again and ran his crooked finger along the center of my right hand, from my middle finger down to my wrist. He lightly rubbed his dry fingertip where Mr. Delacroix’s ropes had been.

“A gentleman has captured your heart,” he said as he lightly tapped the spot, “and you are bound thus.” He looked me in the eye and I noticed his left eye clouded with cataracts. “You’ll follow this man, but you won’t go far from here. New Orleans is your home now.”

I looked at Sunny and he smiled. “I told you he was good.”

Talisman’s finger followed the crease back up the center of my hand to my middle finger. “You’ve lived a long time, cher, a very long time. See here?” He indicated a break in the crease. “You’ve got a few lifelines.”

“You mean like reincarnation?”

“Sure, if that is what you believe. It’s beyond my scope to get into beliefs and interpretations. I can only tell you what I see, and I see something broken early, a time of either loneliness or loss. Either your mother is dead, or she’s abandoned you, or you lost your family. Something caused you to be alone.”

Was he talking about me or Monique? I supposed it could be either one of us.

“Here it picks up again very strong. A happier time, I suspect. See how life is? How it changes us? You’ll marry twice but only after your love, this gentleman, dies.” He tapped my wrist again. “See here?” He pointed to another break in the line. “This is a widow’s line.”

I must have looked distressed because he quickly interjected, “Don’t worry, this is far into the future. You’ll have a long life with him and the widow’s line doesn’t last too long because someone’s there—a good friend, a friend for the rest of your life. You’ll marry him and you’ll grow very old together.”

He ran his fingertip from the outside by my pinky to the area above my thumb, his scraggy, thin nail lightly scratching my palm. “Look here,” he said with a smile, “you’re gonna have four children. The first one will be a boy followed by two girls and then another boy.”

He flipped my hand over again and examined the back. “You’ve got some travels in your future too.”

“Will I be happy?”

“That’s completely up to you. Happiness resides in the heart. Others can’t make us happy, only we can do that. If I was an advice-giving man, I’d tell you to keep things simple and value your family and the rest will fall into place. Be gracious and thankful. From where I sit, you’ve got a very fulfilling future ahead of you.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Aw, girl, you’re welcome. He’s a lucky man.” He tapped my wrist again. “He cherishes you.”

“Does he love me?”

Sunny put his hand on my shoulder, urging me to leave.

“He’d give his life for you,” Talisman’s voice was grave, “but be careful with him, my girl. He’s powerless in your love.”

Sunny put thirty dollars on Talisman’s table. “Keep the change, Tali. You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Thank you, Sunny. Enjoy the day.”

17.

The apartment was as we had left it, except for the briefcase on the sofa and the closed bedroom door. I could hear Mr. Delacroix’s voice in muffled groans, and another man’s voice too. I glanced at Sunny.

“Sometimes Mr. Scott comes to town,” Sunny said.

“I know, Auntie told me, but I figured he wouldn’t come with me here.”

“Don’t forget, Miss Nez. Mr. Scott dominates Mr. Delacroix. He’ll come here when he wants to.”

I felt jealous that he was in my bedroom. “I didn’t realize he would just come in here and act like that’s his bedroom.”

“I know how you feel, but don’t worry. That room and that bed are still yours and Mr. Delacroix’s. The best thing for you is to get over it. This is nothing but an obligation for Mr. Delacroix, nothing more.”

“Like when you have sex with Mr. Delacroix?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The thought of Sunny and Mr. Delacroix having sex excited me. I felt that familiar dampness between my legs.

“It’s a real turn-on to think about them fucking,” Sunny said as we sat on the balcony. “Mr. Scott is an excellent lay. He’s experienced and knows all the right buttons and he’s got a great dick. I guess that is where Mr. Delacroix gets it.”

“Kinda like you and Mr. Delacroix, mentor and protégé?”

“Yeah, some skills are best passed down to the next generation. Damn, this makes me hard.” He unzipped his pants and his dick stood straight up.

“God, Sunny,” I said, somewhat embarrassed, but very aroused.

“You can’t say you aren’t excited,” he smiled. “Who knows? Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll get part of the action.” He zipped up and rubbed himself, but quickly stopped. “It’s been a long time since Mr. Delacroix fucked me, a real long time.”

“I’m sorry. I feel like that’s my fault,” I said.

“It’s okay. It’s not like I didn’t see this coming, and I fuck Ty anytime I want, but I miss being dominated. It’s hard to explain. I guess when things are a certain way for so long, it’s hard to change.”

“I was reading Monique’s journal about how she missed being tied up while she was pregnant. How it was difficult for her to climax without his domination. She said being dominated gave her security and comfort, and I get that now.”

“I know he’s got Mr. Delacroix all tied up in knots right now. I’d give anything to be in that situation. I miss it to hell.” Sunny’s hand went to his crotch again and I gave him a look that said he better not, so he grabbed my hand and put it there.

“Hey!” I said as I pulled my hand away. “You’re supposed to be Mr. Self-Control.”

“Can’t help it, I’m horny,” Sunny sulked.

The bedroom door slammed and Sunny and I both jumped. I turned to see a bronzed, well-built man, shirtless, with dress pants unzipped. His blond hair was dappled with gray at the temples. Large, deep brown eyes that resembled a doe’s offset his aquiline features. He moved in stealthy silence. He lifted his briefcase from the sofa with nary an acknowledgment of Sunny or me and went back into the bedroom.

“Just you wait, Miss Nez. That guy is the best fuck you’ll ever have.”

“You’re pretty confident he’ll fuck me.”

“Oh, he will, you can count on that—and you’ll love it. God damn, I could blow my wad just thinking about it.” He sipped his tea from a trembling hand. “Let’s just hope when they’re done doing whatever, we can get in on some action.”

“Like a group thing? I dunno, Sunny, I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Don’t worry. Stop overthinking everything. It’s just fucking, for god’s sake. I better go change.”

He got up and went toward his bedroom and I followed.

“You don’t have to come with me,” he said quietly over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I do, otherwise you’ll jack off.”

“You fucking bitch,” he smiled. Sunny took his shirt off and dropped his pants to reveal a painfully hard penis. It was all I could do not to jump on it. It was a sweet feeling, one of delicious anticipation. He slipped on some silk pants, the color of his famous coffee.

“I guess I can’t change because I don’t have anything out here to change into,” I said. “Will Mr. Delacroix be angry if I’m still in my street clothes when he comes out?” I worried about displeasing Mr. Delacroix. I wanted him to look good in front of Mr. Scott and I wanted him to be proud of me.

“I think I have something left over from when you were sick. I hung it up after I had it cleaned and forgot about it. I think I left it in here.” Sunny rummaged through his armoire. “Here, look, this is perfect.” He held a silk butter-colored teddy in his hand. “Truth be told, I was saving this for Ty, but technically it’s yours and I doubt it would fit him.” He was serious, but I giggled at the thought of Ty wearing it. The furry white trim along the scalloped bottom came up in the front and back, offering a peek at my genitals, my backside. The neckline came to my nipples and the matching robe was transparent.

“That’s sexy as hell,” Sunny said as I examined myself in the mirror. “Now maybe we’ll get in on it.”

He and I both went into the living room. I sat on my pillow and he sat next to the fireplace cross-legged, picked up his guitar, and began to strum. “I swear in another life you were a troubadour,” I said admiringly. “I love to hear you sing.”

“Thank you, sweetness,” he said with a smile and kept playing.

“Boy, I’ve missed you out at Twisted Oak.” The voice was steady, comforting, and sexy. Mr. Scott was still shirtless. His pants were fastened but the belt hung loose. The sound of the buckle rattling as he came around the sofa entranced me.

“Thank you, sir,” Sunny said, but he did not look into Mr. Scott’s eyes.

I looked around for Mr. Delacroix.

“Don’t worry, Miss Nez, your master will join us momentarily. Sunny, I hear you’re flying solo these days.”

“Technically, Mr. Scott, I still belong to Mr. Delacroix.” Sunny’s eyes were on me.

“Nez, do you know who I am?” Mr. Scott asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Are you pleased to meet me?” He sat down on the sofa where Mr. Delacroix usually sat. My heart was racing and I wanted to run away. Sunny’s eyes told me to stay put.

“Yes, sir, I’m very pleased.”

“How do you like the city?” he asked, petting my head. I heard Mr. Delacroix’s voice in my head telling me to stop wiggling, so I tried to be still.

“I like it very much, Mr. Scott. It’s beautiful, and so full of rich history.”

“Are you aware of the family history?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Knowledge is power, Nez.”

“Yes, sir.”

He got up and approached Sunny. “Stand up, boy.”

“Yes, sir,” Sunny said and set his guitar carefully aside. Mr. Scott swiftly took Sunny’s wrists and held them behind Sunny’s back. Sunny lithely bent to his will.

“See my eyes, Sunny?”

“Yes, sir.”

Mr. Scott kissed Sunny hard and let go of Sunny’s wrists, which stayed put. Still kissing, he reached down and rubbed Sunny’s dick through the silk pants.

“You haven’t had any good dick lately,” Mr. Scott said, still rubbing.

“Yes, sir,” Sunny whispered.

“Keep it up, son.” He rubbed a moment more and left Sunny standing there with his erection at full attention.

“Miss Nez, do you think Sunny’s got a nice dick?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So you’ve seen it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Have you fucked it?”

“No, sir.”

“What a shame, Miss Nez. It’s a worthy fucking dick.”

Sunny’s pants stretched tight around the erection.

“Play me something. Play me a tune,” Mr. Scott said.

“Yes, sir.” Sunny picked up his guitar and strummed a chord, then began to play in his absent-minded way as Mr. Scott began to pet my head. Mr. Delacroix was correct when he said I was oversexed, because all I could think about was Mr. Scott kissing me the way he kissed Sunny.

“Nez,” Mr. Delacroix said from behind the sofa, “come.”

I was immediately brought out of my reverie and went to his side. Mr. Delacroix stood behind the sofa shirtless, donning royal-blue silk pants. Mr. Scott’s hand fell along my body as I rose and I heard him sigh. Mr. Delacroix pulled my hair and kissed me hard, as Mr. Scott had done to Sunny. I let my hands fall to my sides in total submission.

“Good girl,” he whispered, “you’ve been a good girl.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I whispered back.

He took my hand and led me into the living room back to my pillow. I sat dutifully at his feet.

“Sunny, I love the last verse of that song because it’s true, isn’t it, that spirit cannot be destroyed?” Mr. Scott asked.

“Yes, sir, it’s true.”

“And what of pride?” asked Mr. Scott. “My dear Miss Nez, can pride be stripped away?”

“Yes, sir, I suppose it can be, but it’s okay because only then can we see our true spirit, which can never be destroyed.”

Mr. Scott leaned over me and took Mr. Delacroix by the hair; his gentle kiss fell on Mr. Delacroix’s open receiving mouth. Never again would I see Mr. Delacroix as enraptured as I did in that moment. He bent beautifully, naturally, in Mr. Scott’s hands.

“You’ve done well, my love.”

Mr. Delacroix’s silk pants stretched in hardness.

“I hope to see all three of you at Twisted Oak soon,” Mr. Scott said as he put his shirt on. Mr. Delacroix stood. “Gregory, you’ve been good to me all these years, like a son,” he said to Mr. Delacroix and kissed him again. Sunny stopped strumming and the air was thick with emotion. Mr. Scott continued through tears. “Your dad,” he paused and swallowed hard. “Your dad knew when you’d be ready. God, you’re so much like him. You’ve learned so much.” Mr. Scott closed his eyes tightly and then opened them as if he were trying to erase the sight of Mr. Delacroix’s father from his mind. “Twisted Oak is waiting for you. She’s yours just as your father wished. The student surpasses the teacher and so now I learn from you.”

“I love you, Jackson,” Mr. Delacroix said and Sunny looked stunned. “I love you too, Gregory-Michel.”

Mr. Scott walked out. The only noise came from the square and the ticking grandfather clock. Mr. Delacroix collapsed on the floor in a heap of sobs.

I looked at Sunny, but he did not go near Mr. Delacroix. I froze with fear on my pillow. I did not understand and I don’t think Sunny did either, not completely. I reached for Mr. Delacroix, but he pushed my hand away, went to our bedroom, and gently closed the door.

“Just leave him, Miss Nez. He’ll let us know when he needs us.”

“Is this one of his sad times, like you said?”

“Yeah, best to leave him be.”

“Is it always like this?”

“Actually, no, I’ve never seen anything quite like this.”

“I can’t imagine what happened. He was fine this morning.”

“I’ve never heard them use first names like that, not in front of me, anyway. This is something different,” Sunny said with worry in his eyes.

“What do you think happened? He’s in there crying and I’m not helping him. This is terrible. Listen to him. We’ve got to do something.” The sound of Mr. Delacroix’s cries were audible even over the goings-on in the square.

“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you, Miss Nez.”

I could not sit still so I went outside to get some fresh air and brought the iced tea glasses into the kitchen. I looked in the fridge to see what might be available for dinner and found grillades and grits; fresh salad greens were left over as well. Good enough, I thought, as it appeared I would be the one taking care of Mr. Delacroix this evening for once. I was happy to repay his kindness.

“Are you going to work tonight?” I asked as I came back into the living room to find Sunny sitting on the sofa where Mr. Delacroix usually sat. I was hoping Sunny would not leave.

“No, I better stay in case he needs me,” Sunny said, and went to call Abby. I heard him tell her that Mr. Delacroix was ill and that he needed to stay in and take care of him.

The crying stopped, but the room was silent. I feared Mr. Delacroix had done something rash. “Sunny,” I said when he’d got off the phone, “he’s too quiet. I gotta go in there. What if he hurt himself or worse?” I was near hysterics thinking of all the stories of suicide in his past.

“He won’t do that to us, not after what he’s been through. I know he won’t. He’s too strong for that.”

“I wonder what the hell happened. What that fucker did to him,” I said. I was feeling protective of Mr. Delacroix and angry with Mr. Scott for causing him so much pain.

Sunny had a knowing look on his face as if he’d suddenly figured the whole thing out. “It kinda seems to me, babe, that it was the other way around.”

“What the hell do you mean? Didn’t you see him? He was a mess after Mr. Scott left. That man did something to him, something bad.”

“Hey girl, it seems to me that Mr. Scott was doing some crying too. About the student surpassing the teacher and all that. I think it was Mr. Delacroix who taught Mr. Scott a lesson today, not the other way around.”

“Then why is he crying? Why is he so sad?”

“It’s pretty emotionally charged when power is exchanged, and think about it. Mr. Delacroix has been under Mr. Scott for all these years and now suddenly he isn’t. That’s pretty huge.”

“You think that’s what happened just now? He hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

“I can’t say that it happened, but if it did, he wouldn’t talk to you about it. It’s between the two of them. As I said, it’s a pretty personal thing between two people.”

“God, Sunny, what does all this mean?”

“Sunny?” Mr. Delacroix called out. “Come, please.”

“Stay here, Miss Nez.”

“But—”

“Stay, I’m telling you. Stay the fuck here. It’ll be okay.”

He went to the bedroom door and knocked.

“Please, Sunny, come in.”

I heard Mr. Delacroix’s voice strong and clear and then hushed voices and Sunny’s soothing croon. He was a good friend.

If there was an exchange, that meant that Mr. Delacroix did not belong to Mr. Scott anymore, released from years of bondage. Mr. Delacroix had been Mr. Scott’s submissive since he was fifteen, his formative years spent living and behaving according to the commands of another. The gravity of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks and it was all because Ty found me going the wrong way.

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix called, “come.”

I shook it off. I was overthinking things again. I went to the bedroom door and knocked. “Come in, please.”

I entered to find Mr. Delacroix standing next to our bed, naked. His penis was erect in one hand, and he was holding a strand of beads in his other. Sunny was tied up, trussed more like it, to the top of the headboard, right ankle to right wrist and left ankle to left wrist, eyes closed in blissful sedation. I remembered Monique’s description of the same position. My breath caught.

“You’re in my bedroom. Take off your clothes, whore.”

I followed Mr. Delacroix’s forceful command. “Sunny?” I asked, but got no reply.

“Shut up. No one asked you to speak. You want my cock down your throat again, slut?” Mr. Delacroix raised his hand.

Sunny strained against the restraints. “Mr. Delacroix, no!” he shouted.

My body was shaking in fear and I fell to my knees. Cursed flashes ran through my head of my mother dropping to the floor before Steve hit her. All I could do was get as small as I could, face to the floor, but when nothing happened, I looked up and saw Mr. Delacroix looking at me, lowering his trembling hand.

“I’m sorry, I forgot.” He seemed to be talking to someone else, someone floating above him.

Sunny relaxed and Mr. Delacroix turned to me. “Forgive me, please, both of you. I’m in control now, don’t fear. Get up, Nez. I’m sorry. I just . . .” He looked up again. “I’m okay.”

I stood at his side and watched Sunny sink into the ropes. Sunny’s expression was meditative. This is what he’d been missing. This is where he was longing to be. Monique’s words filled my mind.

“Do you trust me?” he asked longingly. “I’m sorry. Please, I need you to trust me.”

“Yes, my lord.” I looked at his eyes, no longer darkened but misted with tears.

“Thank you, my love,” he said, relief in his voice. “Nezzie, I require your help this time and it’s my hope you’ll learn a thing or two. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I want you to watch carefully and follow my every single command exactly as I say it, the moment I say it, do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good.” He handed me a tube of lubricant. “Take this and fill Sunny’s ass with it just like I did yours the other night.”

I climbed on the bed and squirted a glob of it in Sunny’s ass. To my astonishment, he opened wider than he already was. He let out a long sigh and his arms lengthened.

“Good, Nezzie, see how he relaxes against the ropes? How he uses them for comfort? Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good girl. You’ve been such a good girl today. Thank you, my love.”

“You’re welcome, my lord.”

“I want you to carefully watch as I enter Sunny’s ass. Note how pleasurable it is, not painful. Nez, listen to my commands carefully. Once I mount him, I will bend over and kiss him, at which time I want you to fill my ass with lube just as I did you the other night, but this time you put the beads up my ass. Put them in one at a time like the other night, but leave the ring out at the end so you can pull them when I say. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“So bright, my Nezzie, such a quick study you are and so beautiful. I want you to watch while I fuck Sunny in the ass. I want you to see how pleasurable it is. Nezzie, this is important, so listen. When I say now, you have to pull the beads out quickly as I did to you the other night. You have to do it right when I say, otherwise the timing will be off and it won’t be as good. Do you understand? You want to please me, right?”

“Oh yes, my lord, very much.”

“If you do this well for me, you’ll be rewarded handsomely. I promise.”

“Thank you, sir.” My insides were turning and I was wet between the legs.

“Okay, watch now.” Mr. Delacroix rose up and put his hands on the headboard. He leaned on his arms and was on his feet to mount Sunny’s bulk. His muscles moved in chiseled symmetry.

Sunny’s breathing was ragged, but when Mr. Delacroix slowly entered him, his opening widened in acceptance, and his breath came out in one long sigh of relief. He whispered, “Thank you, sir. God in heaven, thank you.”

“Sunny, you’re so good for me,” Mr. Delacroix said as he pushed deeper and bent to kiss his submissive partner. Sunny kissed hungrily and I filled Mr. Delacroix as he commanded, his anus welcoming my attention. He moaned in approval and spread his legs a little, opening for the first bead. I was nervous because it was big, but I followed his directions and found the bead slid in easily. I proceeded to place nine more beads, each sliding in until the last two or three, when I had to shove them in with my finger. He moaned in delight. “Yes, Nez, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my lord.”

“Okay, Nez, watch now. Look at how Sunny loves a good ass fucking.” Mr. Delacroix rammed into Sunny very suddenly, grunted loudly, and then rammed again. Sunny’s eyes flew open and he struggled against the ropes.

“Please, sir. Oh god, yes, thank you,” he said, and fell back into his relaxed state, letting out a long, low moan.

“You like that, Sunny?”

“Yes, sir, please don’t stop.”

“Sing for me, Sunny, come on.” He was ramming Sunny in hard, even thrusts. I watched as he went in and out. “Good boy,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” He grunted and breathed hard. His skin began to glisten with sweat. There was nothing gentle about the two men having sex. It was majestic and beautiful to me, a thing of grace like stallions running, hard muscle and sinew straining and pushing. Sunny opened wide and bent freely.

I began to breathe in sync with them, feeling their passion for one another. It went on for a few more minutes before they moaned in harmony. Mr. Delacroix exclaimed, “Now, Nezzie. Pull it now!”

I pulled the ring and the beads came out more easily than I thought they would. Mr. Delacroix let out a terrifying guttural scream. His body shook as if seizing as he collapsed on top of Sunny. I rushed to hold him up as he had done for me, but he was heavy. I was standing on the bed straddling Mr. Delacroix, holding him with both hands under his hips. Tears fell from his eyes to Sunny’s chest and I was afraid. Sunny still hadn’t caught his breath.

“Are you okay, my lord?” I asked.

“Nezzie, baby! Never better, as you say, my love. Never better.” He smiled weakly and lifted himself off Sunny.

He let out a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. Sweet southern breezes kissed his voice. “Now I am in complete control. I needed that.” He looked at Sunny. “You okay, boy?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Mr. Delacroix sat back on his knees. “Nezzie, untie Sunny’s legs for me, but leave his hands tethered to the headboard, my dear.”

I went straight to work. Mr. Delacroix’s knots were remarkably easy to untie considering Sunny’s inability to escape them. I apologized to Sunny for keeping his hands tied.

“Miss Nez,” he said, “I told you earlier how much I’ve been missing this. I could stay like this all night. Now I know that I truly live for this.” He unfolded himself and stretched his legs. His erection reached toward the ceiling.

“Oh, Sunny,” I said.

I did not realize that Mr. Delacroix had vanished into the bathroom until I heard the water running. The beads were gone. I stood at the foot of the bed watching Sunny sink further into an altered state. I hungered to relieve him of his pain.

Mr. Delacroix came to me and stood facing Sunny. He turned me toward him, kissed me wildly, and grabbed my breasts in each of his hands. He shook them as he spoke.

“You did so well. Thank you, my dream.” He kissed and sucked each of my breasts. “Now for your reward, my love.” His hand went between my legs and shoved them apart. His fingers rushed into me.

“Hey, boy,” he said to Sunny, “she is nice and wet for you.” He pulled his hand away and come dripped down my shaking legs.

“Nez, I’m gonna sit in my chair so I can watch you fuck Sunny, but you have to face me. You have to look at me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Go over there and shove his cock as far inside you as you can. Ride that boy until your insides come out. You’re allowed to pleasure yourself now because you pleased me very much this evening. Do you understand? Is this okay with you?”

“Yes, my lord, thank you.”

“Proceed as you wish, my princess, you’re the boss right now.”

He went to his chair and I climbed up above Sunny and recalled all the squats the trainer had me do. I crawled back down off the bed and Sunny let out a whimper.

“Don’t worry, Sunny. I’m just gonna put these pillows under you so I can get a better angle. Lift up your ass for me.”

He lifted and I shoved as many pillows under him as I could. I was starting to breathe heavily and my legs were weak. I wanted to squat on Sunny’s cock, slam into him, and come all over him.

“How fucking delightful, Nez.” Mr. Delacroix clapped his hands. “This is delish.”

I stood over Sunny, lined myself up with his manhood, and crashed into him hard. I sat with all my weight and ground myself into him.

“Nezzie, look at me. This belongs to me,” Mr. Delacroix said as my hips bucked and ground into Sunny.

Sunny’s breathy moans mixed with his expressions of gratitude. His angelic singsong voice tangled with pleasure.

“That’s it, son,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Sing for our lady. Good girl, Nezzie, see how you’re making him sing? See how you make us all sing?” The sound of Mr. Delacroix’s voice hastened the quickening and I began to pant.

“Oh please, Miss Nez, don’t stop.” Sunny was straining against his tethers. I slowed my rhythm and his moan turned into a long, melodious hum. I wanted to turn around and face him, but knew better, so I rode him imagining his expression. I closed my eyes and let myself go. The orgasm was sweet and slow, but I kept the rhythm because it pleased Sunny and I did not want it to end.

“Nezzie, look at me,” Mr. Delacroix demanded. His eyes locked onto mine. “That’s a very good girl,” he whispered. His gaze was engaging and yet he seemed detached. Minutes passed as he sat back comfortably on his chair while Sunny and I did our best to perform for him. He drank in the anticipation and I basked in his admiration.

“You’re beautiful, Nezzie. Come one more time for me, my love.”

“Miss Nez, I’m ready,” Sunny panted. “Mr. Delacroix, I’m ready. Please let me come now, sir. May I?”

“Very well, boy, fill her up.”

I came hard when Sunny filled me. Golden sun streamed through the window. Sunny and I cried together while Mr. Delacroix clapped his hands in delight.

Mr. Delacroix came to me and kissed me gently. “Nez, you’re my world,” he said as he untied Sunny’s wrists, kissing each one. “Sunny, I’ve missed you, my friend. I’ve missed you more than I realized.” He tossed the pillows out from under Sunny and pulled me down, falling between us. He put our heads on his chest and his arms under our necks.

“I believe with the two of you at my side, I can do just about anything. The two of you keep me focused.” He kissed my head and then Sunny’s. “I need you two.”

“Sir, I need you too. It’s good to be back,” Sunny said and wrapped his arm around both of us.

18.

Monique’s journals mirrored my life in so many ways that I felt bound to her with tethers that spanned the centuries. Sometimes I imagined I could hear her voice in my head. I thought I was insane with it, but Mr. Delacroix and I shared this insanity. On occasion, he and I would talk about Monique as if she were there giving us motherly advice. I loved that Mr. Delacroix and I had this secret space together.

Magnolia blossoms were beginning to fade from white to tan and the days were warm. Mr. Delacroix said this was nothing compared to summertime heat and humidity and how much nicer the days are out at Twisted Oak during the hot months.

“The city gets hot. There’s too much pavement and everything just gets sticky and grimy. At Twisted Oak, you can open the windows and get a bayou breeze even on still days.”

He was wistful when he talked about Twisted Oak and I wondered how things would change when we got there.

“After Dad died, Mr. Scott and I decided to retrofit her with central air ducts in some parts of the house, mostly the bedrooms and upstairs inthe playroom. The rest of it we left like it’s always been. I have fond memories of when I was a kid and we’d get naked and lie under the ceiling fans after we went swimming.”

“Did you have a lot of friends, sir?” I asked.

“I did, but they were kids whose parents worked the farm, employees’ kids. We all went to school together on the grounds. Did I tell you that Mrs. Scott and I were childhood friends?”

“No, my lord. Ty said she was born out there, but I guess I didn’t put two and two together.” I was curious now as to their relationship.

“She’s younger than me, though, about four years younger. Might as well have been light-years when we were kids, and when I was a teenager, I was convinced I was gay. I never showed an interest in her or any girls until I went to college, but she and I were friends. There weren’t many young ones that stayed on the grounds except the few who still come around. The ones who embraced the lifestyle.”

Silence followed and I could tell he was reminiscing. “Tomorrow when Sunny’s here we can talk about some of the new ideas I have concerning the new arrangement now that Mr. Scott has all but relinquished the management of Twisted Oak. I want us all to be happy. I know Sunny wants to put some work into Ty, maybe get him to come out to Twisted Oak. I’ve got some ideas that I want to run by you two.”

“Thank you, my lord, I’d like that.”

“You agree with Sunny? You think it’s a good idea to include Ty in all this?” he asked.

“Mr. Delacroix, I owe a debt of gratitude to Ty.”

“No, Nez, around here, we aren’t into tallying up debt and asking for paybacks. We give out of the kindness of our hearts. Ty doesn’t expect anything from you.”

“I’ve talked with Sunny, my lord. He and I agree. Ty has a lot of potential. Sir, Sunny really loves Ty.”

“There’s no doubt he does, but I don’t know if Ty’s willing to change, give up his freedom. I think it’s nothing but a heartbreak for Sunny. Ty’s set in his ways, and truth be told, I value his community connections here in the city.” Shades of sadness welled up in his eyes. “I don’t want to force a situation. I made that mistake before. I can’t travel that road again.”

“You mean Collette, sir?”

“You mean Collette, sir?”

“Her demons were too fierce and she was too weak to get out; other mistakes, too. Sometimes when I want something, I get too myopic. I forget about other people’s feelings and needs and that’s not good, Nezzie.”

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

“I am too. I should’ve seen it with her, though. Mr. Scott did, and poor Sunny was too young and new to know. He took a lot of the blame himself, that kid did. What I did was so wrong. I was wrong, Nezzie, and she died because of it. Never again, babe.”

“You can’t blame yourself, sir. No one can know what a person’s really thinking, and she could have gotten out. Anyone can get out of the agreement at any time.”

“The thing is, I know what my submissives are thinking, and I should have known with her.” He looked out over the square. The people were beginning to pack up to make room for the night crowd; the changing of the guard in quiet recession. “I like Ty too, but he scares me.”

“A little secret, my lord?”

He sat straight up and looked at me, eyes dazzling with curiosity. “You have a secret you’ve been keeping from me?”

“Ty scares you, but he’s also scared of you.” I paused, waiting for a reaction, but got none. “If I may suggest, my dear lord?”

“Go ahead,” he said as he sipped his tea.

“Spend some time with him without correcting him or making advances. Sir, tell him you care. Just use the words. Tell him you consider him a friend.”

He laughed. “Nezzie, for a smart girl, you sure are naïve. Ty doesn’t roll like that. He’ll only think I’m after something. He thinks everyone is hustling something. He can’t trust, baby girl.” He paused. “I’m very aware of the fact that Ty and I scare each other. It’s that way for a very good reason and I admit that I’m mostly to blame.”

“Maybe, but can you see about giving Sunny another chance with him?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Nez?”

“My lord,” I quickly responded.

“I’ll talk with him for you and only for you. Since it is so important for you and Sunny to include Ty, you have my permission to speak with him too.”

“I will. Thank you, sir.”

We sat in silence for a while as we witnessed the evening shuffle in the square.

“Sir?” I pressed gingerly.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Have you ever fucked Mrs. Scott?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

“When?”

“Nez, for fuck’s sake, when what?” He leaned over and tugged my hair.

“My lord, when did you fuck her?”

“Like, how recently?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“A few days ago at the roast.”

I felt jealousy creeping in. “When was the first time?”

“I’d come back from college. I’d been collared by then. I came back unplanned. I had a break from school and I missed Mr. Scott. I wanted to surprise him. I came back and that’s when it happened.”

“He made you do it?”

Hints of gunmetal in his eyes, he said, “Nez, address me properly or we can stop having this conversation. Would you have said no to me when I asked you to fuck Sunny?”

“No, sir.”

“Would you deny wanting Sunny? Because I’m not gonna sit here and lie to you and tell you I didn’t want Mrs. Scott.”

“No, sir.”

“Well, I did want her and every time I fuck her I want her, okay?”

The tears welled up and rolled down my cheeks. I felt like a fool. I had thought I was the only one.

“Nezzie, hey, don’t confuse want with how I feel,” he said, and his tone softened. “I’ve told you from the very beginning that I like to fuck, and it doesn’t matter who it is. I’m brutally honest and I won’t apologize for it. We’ve got to be honest with one another. When I dominate, I’ll take whomever I please whenever I please and wherever I please. It doesn’t mean they’re my world like you are, or that I would die for them like I would you. Nezzie, you belong to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I think so, my lord.” I was disappointed that he did not say he loved me. That he would die for me was not enough.

“If it helps, every time I’ve fucked her, he’s been involved. Every scene is like the one we played out the other night with Sunny. He’s always there. He won’t let anyone touch her unless he’s right there, as it will be with us. So it isn’t like she and I go off by ourselves and have anything special. She’s just a fuck; always has been and always will be, nothing more. She doesn’t belong to me. I don’t want her that way.”

“Will I always be with you when you’re fucking someone else now that I’ve signed on?”

“If that’s your wish, then it will be so,” he said in a sharp voice. “Please, Nez. I know when you’re upset you forget, but you must address me properly. Now would be a very bad time to be punished.”

“Sorry, sir. My lord, can you tell me about when Mr. Scott collared you?”

“Why so many questions this evening?”

“Sir, I think it’s the thought of going to Twisted Oak without knowing what’s happened there. It’ll help me adjust if I have some history.”

He smiled. “My gorgeous, edible, delectable historian. Can I eat your history? Can I eat it right out of you?”

“I’m serious, sir.”

“I am too.”

“Please tell me, my lord, about being collared. What’s it like?”

“It’s different for everyone. When I collared Sunny, we were at Twisted Oak and the family was there to witness me placing the collar on him.” He sighed contentedly. “It was lovely. Sunny was beautiful that day. You haven’t seen his collars?”

“No, my lord, he offered to show them to me, but I wasn’t interested at the time. I didn’t understand the significance.”

“When Mr. Scott collared me, it was just the two of us at my father’s grave. I’ll never forget what he said: ‘Blood binds us, heart binds us, spirit binds us. Gregory-Michel, you are my blood, my heart, and my spirit. I bind your body with love.’ That was the first time he told me he loved me.” Mr. Delacroix’s electric blue eyes were swimming in tears.

“You were fifteen?”

“Yes, but I knew what was happening. I understood the depth of it just like you will. I was loyal to him, true and devoted all those years, so you can understand my confusion when I came back and he was with her. She wasn’t Mrs. Scott yet, though. He’d taken her without even mentioning it to me. I had girls all over me at school chasing me around and I turned them all down out of love and respect for him.”

He grew agitated. “Mr. Scott has always been a player. He lacks the skills of a true dom. He much preferred being my father’s submissive. Dad died too soon to break him, but I will if it is the last thing I do.”

“Oh, so that’s how their relationship was, sir.” While this did not surprise me, up until this, I was unsure who had been on top. “My lord, so when you came back and he made you . . .”

“All I can say is Mrs. Scott and I didn’t get off on a very good foot. I was young and angry and took my frustrations out on her that first time. I was stupid. She had no idea what was going on.”

I recalled Ty saying what a dark time this had been for Mr. Delacroix and I began to see beneath his cool exterior insecurities creeping in.

“Nezzie,” he whispered, “I wasn’t well for a little while there, do you understand?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“I felt like he betrayed me. He didn’t care or understand how much he meant to me. He broke my heart. He was the only family I had left, the only one, and he changed that without even talking to me.” His voice was near panic. “I was alone.”

Mr. Delacroix made a conscious effort to settle down, but his hands shook. “Aw, Nez, that’ll never happen between us, I swear to you. It’s never my intention to lose control and hurt you, and if I do by accident, you have to tell me.”

I steadied myself. “Thank you, sir.”

He went to the liquor cabinet. He never drank unless we were celebrating with friends and it was rarely hard liquor. The ice cubes crackled as the bourbon flowed over them. He shook the glass and took a large pull from the sweet liquor.

“In the spirit of full disclosure,” he said as he turned to me, “I can see it’s puzzling you. You are my world and I command that there be no secrets between us. You have the right to know about this imperfect being that stands before you.” He drained the glass and filled it again.

How melodramatic, I thought, yet he was so beautiful in his suffering. I was coming to understand the beauty in it all, in the suffering and the sadness. I had never seen him look so radiantly sublime than at that moment of torment. I had no words for him, only my fuller understanding.

“So, after that episode,” he continued, “I left Twisted Oak and I haven’t returned other than as a guest in my own house. It’s Mr. Scott’s to run until I turn thirty, as dictated by the family trust, a smart move on my dad’s part, because I was very confused when I was younger. Back then, all my plans were fucked because I thought I would come back home and be with Mr. Scott. I loved him so much. I still love him.”

He came back to the balcony and sat with his legs apart, elbows to his knees, cradling the glass of bourbon. Sunny’s voice reminded me to give him his space, so I remained silent.

“That night, I came here and went to Bourbon Street to fuck anything I could. Hell, Nez, I’d never been with a girl until Mrs. Scott. I was fucked up and damned confused. Everything came down at me all at once. I missed my dad and I never knew my mother. My family was gone and I felt like I had lost Mr. Scott. And that’s when I got really drunk and met Ty.”

He laughed sardonically and drank more bourbon. “Shit, Nez, he must have been like sixteen or something. He was young, I was young. Anyway, I got him up here and,” he paused and sipped the bourbon, “I dunno, so much is a blur, but I stayed drunk for days and he was my fucking whipping post.” He dropped the heavy crystal glass that held his drink and cried like a baby. The smell of bourbon permeated the air and a man looked up from the square.

“So this is why Ty scares you, my sweet lord.”

“That kid, he could have had my ass in a sling. He could have had me arrested for what I did, and maybe he should have. Maybe I should be sitting in fucking prison for doing to him what some fucking asshole did to Sunny. Nezzie, I lost control and Ty just took it, but ya think he told anyone? Not a fuckin’ soul. Ya know what he said to me after I woke up and realized what the hell I had done, that I could have killed him?”

“No, sir.”

“He told me, that saint of a guy told me,” Mr. Delacroix said, “‘Mistah, you gots you a bad demon in yo mind an’ it ain’t goin’ away till you look it in the eye. If beatin’ me to death make you see dat demon, you go on an’ keep beatin’ but you recall I da one make you see it.’ Nez, he was so young, beaten, swollen by my hand, and he was so fuckin’ right. If anyone owes Ty anything, it’s me. I owe him my life.”

“Sir, you fear him because . . .” I led him on.

“Nezzie, he scares me because he makes me see the demons. Don’t you understand? He’s a constant reminder that I haven’t faced any of it.”

“My lord, I think you’re doing that right now.”

He sat up and looked to the twilight sky. He was still sobbing, his chest going in and out in desperate attempts to regulate his breathing. Tears glimmered on his cheeks. I wanted to kiss them away.

He continued, “He stayed with me for a while. I don’t know why, but he did, and I never laid a hand on him in that way, I swear to you. We worked a few things out, but we both realized that he needed to move on after Collette came. She was sweet and kind, but messed up, too. Damaged goods, Sunny says. By then, Ty helped me realize my limits and helped me stop drinking, my savior in every way. He changed my life. I really care for Ty, but why would he care for me? He should hate me.”

Mr. Delacroix’s hand ran through his hair. “He stays loyal to me because I gave him a house and got him set up on his own. I promised that as long as he’s part of this family, no one will touch him. So here we are, something like ten years later, in the same holding pattern of trust, but no trust; of caring, but not caring; looking after one another’s backs, but afraid the other will do the stabbing. It’s pretty fucked up, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I don’t blame the guy for using me for all I’m worth. I fucking owe him everything. It’s all his, for god’s sake.”

I knew Mr. Delacroix had had enough confession for the evening, but I needed to clarify one more thing before we moved on, for my own peace of mind. A week before, when Sunny was tied up, Mr. Delacroix had come close to hitting me in the same way Steve used to hit my mother. I felt the difference and so did Sunny. I needed to know that I was not placing all my trust with a monster.

“Sir, other than that first time with Mrs. Scott and Ty, have you ever hurt anyone else?”

“Aw, no, cher, I swear on my father’s grave that I’ve never intentionally hurt another soul. I’m not that guy anymore, thanks to Ty. I apologize. I know I scared you before.” He paused. “I’m sorry I almost lost control. I swear to you, I’m not that way anymore. You need to tell me if somehow what I do hurts you in any way. I can’t bear the thought of hurting you. We have to be honest with one another about everything.”

“And Collette?”

“Nezzie, Collette wasn’t honest with me or herself. If she had told me she was in such pain, if she had told me she was in over her head, I’d have helped her. I should’ve known. I should’ve saved her.” The tears came flooding again. “I couldn’t save her. Nezzie, she faced her demons and they won.”

I admired Mr. Delacroix; even though he feared the demons, he would not abandon Ty. He could have become addicted as my mother had, but he was not a coward like her.

“My lord,” I said as I took him in my arms, “I’m here now and I promise you, your demons will not win.”

19.

We undressed in silence and lay in bed as darkness filled the world. Mr. Delacroix curled up next to me with his back against my chest. I imagined Sunny smiling at a customer in his bar, cocktail shaker in hand. I understood how he could want to walk away from this and start anew, but was pleased he’d changed his mind. I did not think I could handle Mr. Delacroix on my own.

Ty was the missing puzzle piece. Mr. Delacroix’s spirit yearned to be free, but without Ty, it would never happen.

“My lord, I have to get up for a while. Is that okay?”

“Nezzie, don’t leave the apartment. I can’t be alone now.”

“I’ll be right outside on the balcony, my sweet man. I won’t leave you.”

“Nezzie, I—” he stammered.

I waited for him to say it. I longed for him to say it.

“Nezzie, thank you.”

Disappointment. “You’re welcome, my lord.” I kissed him and he returned the kiss sweetly, with meaning.

I slipped out of the bed and put my gossamer nightdress on without bothering with the robe. I took Monique’s journal with me. The lights were off, so the apartment was dark. The Tiffany lamp gave a warm glow to the dreary atmosphere.

Out on the balcony, I called Sunny at the bar.

“Miss Nez, everything okay?” A hint of alarm in his voice because I never called him at work.

“Yeah, yeah, I think so. Just the blues set in with Mr. Delacroix is all. You know how that goes,” I said, trying to downplay it. The music was very loud in the background and I wondered how well he could hear me.

“Need me to come home?” he said.

“No, we’re okay. Is Ty around?” I held the journal close to my heart in hopes it would steady my nerves.

“Let me check. Hang on.” He set the receiver on the bar and I could hear him holler, “Anybody seen Ty?” I heard a woman laugh and a man was talking. Somebody yelled, “Tyrone, your momma’s callin’!” More laughter.

“Miss Nez, he was here awhile back, but he left. I can send him a message if you want.”

“That would be great. Please, Sunny, tell him to come here to the apartment as soon as he can. Just to see me, not Mr. Delacroix.”

“Miss Nez, do I need to come home?”

“No, Sunny. I’m telling you. Stay the fuck there.” My grasp on the journal tightened.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll send him a message right away.”

I heard a customer yell, “Hey, Sunny, we’re dying of thirst here.”

“Call me if you have to,” Sunny said, and hung up the phone.

I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of chilled water from a pitcher we kept in the fridge. Back outside on the balcony, the moon rose across the square and I thought about how beautiful it must be along the river and how lucky the rodents and roaches were to have such a sight. Ty’s voice rang in my head: They be part of the family down here. How could I have ever known that night the depth to which Ty would change my life? I wondered if Ty understood how much he had changed us all. I settled under the balcony light to read.

April 3, 1768: A man came to visit today from New Orleans and he tells us that a young boy is alone because his family succumbed to yellow fever. This man was someone I had never met, but he and Jean-Pierre know one another well . . .

The young man is Creole, that mixed heritage that expresses itself with such biological artistry. The boy is alluring and dreadfully enigmatic. He draws me in with his presence and makes something inside me stir. Jean-Pierre's associate guarantees his health, but the boy is so slight, I cannot imagine he would be any use on the farm. I reluctantly acquiesced, as I always do with Jean-Pierre, when he suggested we take the boy into our home as a domestic servant.

May 1, 1768: Today Jean-Pierre presented the Creole boy to me as a gift. “To do with as you please as long as you're in my presence,” he said, as a reward for my loyalty. “He is yours, Monique, for your pleasure and mine.” I hadn't seen the boy since the day he came those weeks ago and I was astonished at how refined and polished he presented from stem to stern, skin smooth like creamed coffee. His shirtless form was resplendent in silken trousers. When I asked the young man his name, he said he hadn't one, that he would only answer to the name I give him. When I asked him what he thought I should do with him, he knelt before me and said that my pleasure is why he lives.

The familiar lope of Ty’s gait awakened me from my contemplation. He was gorgeous under the lamplight of the square, and graceful, too. He did not appear to weigh an ounce when he walked. He looked up and waved and I smiled down at him and waved back. When he was near the gate, I went inside and pressed the button on the wall next to the balcony door. Moments later, the familiar knock, knock, knock, knock, knock . . . knock, knock.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he entered the dining area. “Sunny about give me a fit tellin’ me you needin’ me right away and then you tellin’ him he can’t come.”

“I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t screw you up with work,” I whispered. “Na-na, it’s okay. Sunny say he cover it. What’s a matter, why we whisperin’?”

“Mr. Delacroix’s resting. We’ve had quite a night and I need to talk to you just between us, nobody else. Ty, can I trust you?”

“Miss Nez, if you can’t trust me, you can’t be trustin’ nobody.”

“You need something to drink?”

“Thank you, Miss Nez, that glass of cole watah you got look mighty fine.” We went through the kitchen and I poured him a glass before we quietly made our way out to the balcony. He balked when he saw the bourbon sitting out.

“Ty, I don’t know how else to start except to start, so here it is,” I said.

He flinched and coiled away from me defensively.

“I’ll never hurt you. Not ever, do you hear me?”

“Don’t you ever be lettin’ dat man drink no whiskey and don’t you ever be doin’ it neither,” he said, his eyes darting. I feared he might jump off the balcony, so I put my hand on his arm to steady him, but I startled him instead.

“I didn’t have any and I never will if that’s your wish, Ty. I’ll do anything for you, you have to know that. Do you trust me? Don’t leave me now, please!”

“Okay, Miss Nez, I trust you and I ain’t leavin’, but don’t be touchin’ dat shit. Did he drink it an’ hurt you?” He looked at my face, arms, and legs to make sure.

“No,” I answered. He relaxed and I let my hand fall to the table. “I know what happened the night you met Mr. Delacroix.”

“Miss Nez, I’m not knowin’ how it is you know all dis.”

“Mr. Delacroix told me.”

“He did?” Ty’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“It’s okay. He knows you and I are having this conversation. He doesn’t necessarily know exactly what I’m gonna say, but he knows you and I are speaking about it.”

“And what he have to say? That I lured him in and that I like it?”

“Not at all, and I refuse to make excuses for what he did. He didn’t make excuses either. As you said to me, it was a dark time for him.”

“Yeah, well, he like to kill me. Miss Nezzie, it go on for days. He don’t let me eat and only let me have watah and use the toilet. I didn’t know what to do, so I just prayed to live and I bent to his will as best I could.” His eyes clouded over, but not a teardrop fell.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was so bad.” A cold wave of fear entered the recesses of my heart. Mr. Delacroix had not been as honest with me as I thought.

“I knows the whiskey had him, so I figure my only way out was to agree with him, if you know what I mean, till he come out the other end of it. My worst fear was that he die of it and leave me tied there to suffer and die of thirst alone wit’ nobody knowin’. Fuck, cher, this the wors’ thing ever to happen to me, even worse than before wit’ my family. I know they never kill me, only beat me, but Mr. Delacroix, he had no idea what he do. He beat my body most completely.” Hysterics danced around his voice.

“Ty . . .”

“Miss Nez, why you bring dis up? Why you wanna bring in da hurt and shame like dis? Nobody wanna go there, not me, not Mr. Delacroix. Sunny don’t know and he ain’t needin’ to. What the fuck ya tryin’ ta do?”

The anger in his voice was palpable. I saw another side of Ty, the side that was not kind, the side of him that reminded me that he was, indeed, a whore.

“I stayed with him to take care of him because he begged me to stay. Begged me like a bum. So I figure if I was good to him, maybe I get something. I figured if I was good, he would let me be, and when he was so sorry he bought me my house and gave me money, I figure I’d stick around for more. I gotta confess, my plan was to get as much money out of that asshole as I could. I figure I earned it that night. You think it was easy? If dat fucker didn’t pay, I’d tell the world what he did and he knew it. And then came Sunny. Dat boy stole my heart and so I stay around. The money don’t matter no more. I get more than I need. What the hell, Miss Nez, why you bring dis up now?”

“Let me try and explain. This only came up because I asked him about Mr. and Mrs. Scott and we were talking about what it was like for him when he came here. I didn’t ask him to tell me, he just did. I told him how I miss you all the time when you aren’t here and how much Sunny and I want you to come to Twisted Oak with us, not like you are now, but to sign on totally with Sunny. To belong, Ty, to Sunny, to me . . .”

Ty interrupted. “An’ Mr. Delacroix, too. Fuck, Miss Nez, you know what you askin’? Aw, hell, yes, you do, you know. He tell ya. Think about whatchyoo sayin’.”

“Ty, he’s scared of you, ya know.”

“Oh, I bet his ass is fucking scared to damned death considering I coulda had him locked away after his crimes against me. You don’t know, Miss Nez. You don’t know what it was like.”

“I know, Ty.”

“You don’t! He treat you like some princess and Collette, too, but me? Hell no, he only abuse me. Sunny’s his golden boy, and I just a whippin’ post. But I got leverage. I bring you here because I thought Sunny would help you. I never dreamed you was so fucked up. I wasn’t thinkin’, I guess, other than Sunny could help. I never intended to get you hooked up with Mr. Delacroix. I wanted to tell you that first night after you woke up to leave, but I wasn’t thinkin’ you was well enough. I shoulda told ya. I messed up, but don’t worry. I call him out if he try anything. I got your back, cher. Don’t you worry. I got your fuckin’ back.”

“Ty, he’s changed.”

“Yeah, well, you jus tell dat to Miss Collette, now, ya heah? She dead, Miss Nez, dead as a fuckin’ doornail.” He got up and began to pace the balcony. “I’m sorry I brought you here.”

“Ty, please don’t leave. Hear me out.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“You changed him. He told me tonight that he owes you his life. That’s why he’s so scared of you; something you said that night.”

“Oh, what I say? I beg him not to kill me? He like that.”

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“Hell yes, I recall he about kill me.” Angry tears full of rage and fear finally came. “Miss Nezzie . . .”

I interrupted. “You told him that he has demons and that the only way he would be rid of them is to look them in the eye. Then you told him that if he must beat you to death to face them, to keep beating you, and you reminded him to never forget that it was you who made him face those demons.”

I grabbed Ty’s shoulders and spun him around to face me. He was light as air. “Listen to me, don’t you see what you did? You offered to sacrifice your life to save him. He sees you as his savior. That’s the exact word he used tonight, he called you his savior. Then you stayed with him and helped him dry out. He said he owes you everything.”

“Then why he hate me so?” Ty asked as he sat down. “Why dat boy hate me so much? I don’t hate him even though I should. I can’t hate him. I can’t hate nobody. Hate don’t come to my heart like it do some folk.”

“He fears you. He doesn’t hate you. In fact, I think he loves you, but he’s scared because he couldn’t look his demons in the eye and make them go away. He’s afraid he’ll end up like his mom and Collette. Your words made you the symbol, the representation of the thing that scares him the most. You were so right that night and he was so fucking wrong.”

“I don’t recall sayin’ those things to him, miss.”

“I don’t think you realize how much the things you say mean.”

“I just say things as they come, Miss Nez. Ain’t no thinkin’ involved.”

“You don’t have to think about it because you speak straight from your heart, true and free. From the moment I met you, I knew you were special. I love you. We all do.” My eyes ached with tears about to come.

“Miss Nez, ain’t nothin’ special wit’ me.” He sat back, relaxed now. “Can’t change the past, can we?”

“Nope, we sure can’t.”

“Sometime the truth, it hurt so bad it make us wanna die,” he said through trembling lips.

“I know. And for those of us brave enough to tell it, well, my friend, sometimes we get the whippin’.” I placed my hand on his thigh, which was in constant motion.

“Now ain’t that the god’s honest truth.”

A few minutes passed and someone in the shadows of the iron fence in the square whistled, “Hey, Tyrone, you got business.”

“I got to go, Miss Nez,” he said as he got up from the chair. I glimpsed a brief moment of Ty looking his age as he traveled under the balcony light; not a boy, but a young man on a mission.

“What’re you gonna do?” I pleaded.

“Well, cher, tonight I’m gonna roll around in a mountain of blow until I can’t feel a fuckin’ thang. And then tomorrow I’m comin’ home where I belong, right here wit’ you and Sunny. We all gots our demons and we needs each other to fight ’em off.”

Ty’s remark nudged at my demons. I had not thought of cocaine in weeks. The craving was brief, stabbing, and caught me off guard, but the high I experienced with cocaine paled in comparison to the high I received from my lord.

Ty didn’t wait for me to show him out, but rather took his time leaving the apartment, like a man who knew his way.

20.

The bedroom was dark when I entered save for a streetlamp giving light through the open window. I went to close the shutters when Mr. Delacroix’s voice gently brought me out of myself. “Nez, is that you?”

“Yes, my lord, it’s me,” I said in a whisper. “Are you feeling better?”

“Why are your clothes on?” he asked.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ve only just now come back in. The light was shining, so I thought you’d like me to close the shutters.”

“Nez, when you come into our bedroom, the very first thing you do is remove your clothes, no matter what you’re up to.” His voice sharpened just enough to make my heart rate go up and my nether regions tingle.

“Yes, sir,” I said, and I slipped the nightdress over my head.

“That’s better,” he said as he leaned over to turn on the lamp. “Now close the shutters.”

“Yes, sir.” I went about closing the shutters while his eyes followed my every move in steely silence.

“I think it’s time you show me your willingness. It occurs to me that you’re ready.”

“Ready, sir?”

“Come lay down on your back.”

I followed his commands and lay down on the middle of the bed. I was excited, nervous, and anxious all at once. My heart raced. My nipples were erect. I shivered as if it were freezing when in reality it was a warm spring night.

“Good girl,” he smiled. “You’re so impeccable at this moment.”

“Thank you, sir.” Thoughts of Ty’s story kept knocking at the backdoor of my brain, but I kept them at bay knowing that Sunny would be home soon, that it could never be like that with Sunny here. I needed to trust Mr. Delacroix.

He came to me with thick silken ropes in his hands and straddled me. His penis, only half aroused, lay on my tummy and his knees sunk into the mattress. His weight held me down. Silently he took my left hand, tied it securely to the headboard, and kissed it gently. Then he came down and kissed my mouth fully and for a long time, dampness seeping into my crotch. He took my right hand, secured it to the headboard, and kissed it. I remembered Sunny the night I watched them have sex and panic began to set in. He sensed it.

“See how smart you are? You already know what’s in store, don’t you?”

“I think so, my lord.” I had butterflies in my stomach.

“Nez, if you insist on overthinking things, you’ll suffer more.” He shrugged. “I guess if that’s how you want it, fine by me. I love your suffering and you do it so sweetly.” He kneeled next to me on the bed, licked my left hip, and then ran his tongue down the inside of my left thigh, calf, and ankle. My nether regions lit with excitement. He began tying one of his special knots around my ankle.

“You could be enjoying this; in fact, you should be, but you choose to overthink it, so your suffering is by choice. You choose it, no one else. You do it to yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” I said as he lifted my ankle to meet its mate on the headboard.

Gunmetal eyes met mine. “Leave your other ankle there and don’t bend your knee. I want you to stretch out.” He sat back and looked at me impassively as I struggled with the awkwardness. “I’d love to control what’s in your mind, but I can’t. I can only give you guidance, as any devoted dominant should, guidance that could help alleviate your suffering.”

He kneeled on the bed next to my right side, his tongue traveling from my hip to my ankle slowly and seductively. “You’re so fucking cerebral,” he said, securing the knot on my right ankle. “If I could, I’d fuck your brain. I really would. God, to know your thoughts, control them, to fuck your mind. But that’s impossible, isn’t it?” He lifted the right ankle and secured it to my right wrist.

“Sir, this is a bit of a mind fuck,” I said, hoping to add levity. After all, sex should be fun and I was nervous.

“Is it?” he said and smiled. “How wonderful to be fucking your mind. Do you like it?”

Trick question, so I decided to play it safe. “Yes, sir. Please fuck my mind.”

“Nezzie, you’re a sneaky bitch, aren’t you?” He shoved pillows up under my shoulders and back. “Nezzie, relax. Relax everything. Remember how Sunny did it, how he fell into the bindings? Don’t fight them. Use them for your pleasure. Start here.” He put his hand on my head. “Relax it back, Nezzie, all the way. Every muscle on your face, your eyes, your neck.” He ran his hand down the front of my neck and paused at my throat. “Relax here, too.”

I relaxed every muscle as his hand traveled my body and slowly became more comfortable.

“See, baby, I’ll never put you in a situation where you can’t find satisfaction and comfort. It’s about your pleasure too.” He took his hands and lightly touched my arms. “Relax them, Nezzie. You won’t fall. I assure you, my bindings will hold you securely.”

I attempted to turn my arms into rubber bands. He kissed me on the mouth gently.

“Thank you, my lord.” I was near that blissful zone I had seen Sunny in the other night.

Mr. Delacroix ran his hands down my legs where they bent sharply at the hips. “Relax now, Nezzie. Relax all of you.” He began rubbing my buttocks gently and he licked my clit ever so slightly. “Good girl,” he said, and then I felt his tongue travel through my nether region, splitting my lips and barely brushing the entrance to my canal on his way to licking consecutive circles around my anus. His fingers continued to tickle my most private estuary. I felt slightly stoned, but elevated at the same time. His finger tickled my clit as he kept licking the circle. Waves of physical change moved across my body, a new elevated sensation.

“Oh, my lord, thank you.”

He laughed that infectious laugh. “You’re welcome, but just you wait. It gets better.” His tongue slightly entered my anus and I involuntarily reacted. “You think what you like, my lady, but the more you relax, the better it’ll be. God, I love fucking virgins. Relax, Nezzie. It’s me, your master. I won’t hurt you. I know what you like. Breathe, baby. Just exhale for me nice and long. Let yourself go. Open up for your lord and master.”

When I did, he filled my anus with lubricant, that cold feeling running into me. I was surprised at how deep the lubricant went and I recalled Monique saying how she liked this position because she was so open. I focused on keeping my breath even and deep. I focused on relaxing my ass for him and gave myself over to his will.

“You can close your eyes, if it helps you relax,” he said as he rose to mount me. I saw his hands grasp the headboard and his weight on me added stress on my shoulders. “Stay relaxed,” he said, “I’ll go slow. This is gonna be so fucking succulent. Détendez, neige blanc. Par sa peau blanche comme la neige. Just relax. Let me take what belongs to me.”

I exhaled and he entered me slowly. I began to struggle. Then I recalled Sunny doing the same, so I focused on my breathing again and he pulled away slightly, but not all the way. “You okay, Nez?” he asked.

“Yeah, just a little surprised.”

“Just a little surprised, what?” He jammed into me hard.

“My lord!” I screamed. My breathing got shallow and swift.

“That’s better. Does it hurt?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Good. Give it to me. You belong to me. It’s your duty to submit.”

I tried to respond, but all I could muster was a low moan as tears came to my eyes.

“Good girl. Now relax, Nez. Look at me and breathe. Look in my eyes. See how much this means to me, to have all of your body for me?”

I opened my eyes to see his electricity alight for me. His gunmetal eyes were gone and those familiar brilliant eyes shown with such care and deep longing. I bathed in his light and fell helplessly into his soft silken ropes as the pain grew. I was on the cusp of using a safe word when the pain dissipated into pure pleasure. I moaned as he entered me, every inch of his manhood opening me and pushing me to a new limit, a new pinnacle, a new way of giving to him, a joyous cause.

“There you go, Nezzie. That’s my girl. Open your ass to me, submit.” He was moving in and out of me at a regular but slow pace. “Aw yeah, such a tight fucking ass. It feels so good, Nezzie. Does it feel good to you?”

“Yes, sir,” I gasped.

“You want me to keep fucking your ass?”

“Yes, please, sir.”

“Then submit yourself to me.” His smile was incandescent and I was on the precipice of the most overwhelming orgasm. Warm juices overflowed from my vagina. Visceral moans escaped my throat.

“See, baby, I told you, you’re a natural. Oh god, you are so fucking wet. Jesus, you’re coming all over yourself.”

He picked up the pace. With even, deliberate pounding, a jolt of pain pleasure traveled through my body. He held steady like this for a few minutes. Small grunts escaped my vocal cords with each heavenly thrust. My eyes rolled and closed in ecstasy.

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix, thank you, thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, my love.” He started going faster and he was breathing heavily. “I’m gonna come in your ass now, Nezzie. You’re gonna love this.”

His crashes into me became deeper and more vigilant, when at last he shoved into me so hard, I lost my breath. When I thought I would succumb to a pleasurable death, I felt his seed fill me. He pushed into me and then pulled out.

“Mr. Delacroix, more, please.” My body ached for more; my mind ached for more.

“Cher, unlike you, I am not a bottomless pit,” he laughed, “and besides, that’s enough for the first go. You’re gonna be sore, but I want it to be a nice kind of sore. Sorry, Nezzie baby, that’s all you get for tonight.” He lifted himself off me. “And let this be an enduring reminder of who is boss here. I say when, where, how, and what hole. You never do unless I give you permission. Do you understand?”

My body was still shuddering from the aftermath of such an incredible orgasm. “Yes, sir.” He left me bound and vulnerable as he began to pace the floor.

“You’ll be ready for anything at any time from now on. You’re mine. Your whole body is for me. Know in your mind that I can decide to fuck your body anytime and you’ll give it freely no matter what.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“You submit to me, no one else, Nez. Tell me.”

“I submit to you, no one else, my lord.”

His hand hit my exposed buttocks with a slap that took me by surprise. I could not move against the tethers. I was vulnerable in that position, completely debased. This was inequity and I loved it. He slapped me again and I groaned as I worked against the rope to gyrate my hips.

“That’s better, Nez.”

“Please, my lord.” I begged for something, but I had no idea what.

“So now you want a red ass, too?” He didn’t wait for my answer but kneeled on the side of the bed and smeared his hand on my wet vaginal portal and spanked me again, the wet hand making the sting all the more salient. Once more, he smeared his hand on me and smacked hard on my ass.

“You are right where you belong,” he said as he left me hanging there and went to the bathroom.

I cried as I hung there. He made me feel so good and so bad at the same time and I yearned for more. It was such a puzzling predicament. I heard the water run in the bathroom and reminded myself not to overthink things, to go with the flow and to fall back on the bindings. I wanted him to be proud of me when he came back so I bent willingly to show him my gratitude for the pleasure he provided.

My ass stung and my tender anus seemed like it was still wide open to the world, but I consciously relaxed my body into the ropes as Sunny had shown me. I was tender, but the hypersensitivity was delicious. My groin began to inflame again at the thought of what just happened and I knew I was ready for more. The familiar sensation of waves of muscle tightening indicated that I would climax again. I worked hard to stop it until Mr. Delacroix came back so he could see it. I thought of calling out to him, but at last he appeared.

Laser eyes, gleaming smile. “Nezzie, you’re coming again, you fucking little slut.”

“My lord, I was so afraid you’d miss it,” I croaked through irregular gasps.

“What should I do with it, your pussy that won’t stop wetting itself?”

“Sir, your wish is my command,” I whimpered.

He came to me and untied the tethers, leaving me in a free fall, cold, insecure, and wanting. I attempted to cover myself, but he took the blankets away.

“Now do you know the value in being bound?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord,” I said as I pulled myself up into the fetal position.

“Do you want to be tied again?” he asked as he went to his throne and sat facing me.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then crawl to me. Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me now.”

“Yes, sir.” I clambered off the bed, remained on all fours, and crawled to his feet.

“Turn around, stay on your knees, but spread your legs. Stick your fucking ass in the air so I can see how you’re still coming all over yourself.”

I followed his commands.

“Good girl. Your pussy is so wet. Nezzie, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you pissed yourself. Such a sight, such an inviting aperitif.” His thick fingers pushed and played with my nether lips, but never entered me. I ached for his hand inside me.

“Face me, Nez. Show me your devotion. Knees spread and I want to see your fucking ass in the air.”

I turned and kept my knees far apart, placing my head between his bare feet and lifting my ass as high as I could. I listened to him breathe. Minutes passed. Finally, he asked me to come closer, to stay on my knees and give him my wrists. I was relieved not to have to hold that position much longer, but was surprised when he tied my wrists to each arm of his chair in pulley fashion to pull me closer with a small tug of the ropes.

“Open your mouth, Nezzie. Time for your throat fucking.”

I was amazed at his ability to recover from his previous orgasm, but there was no time for contemplation. He shoved his sex into my throat and pulled the ropes tighter, immobilizing me against him. He hit the back of my throat, compelling me to pull away, but instead he pulled me tighter. When he loosened the ropes, I sucked as hard as I could.

He said in a guttural groan, “Good girl, such a hungry girl. Suck it dry. It’s why I keep you.”

I nodded in agreement, and he pulled me in again. I sucked as he loosened the ropes. The enjoyment I received from his pleasure was indescribable. This joyful cadence continued until my jaw was fatigued and his cock hardened and pulsated with pleasure. His cream flowed into my mouth, the sweet salt taste drowning my throat. He pulled me in and laid my head on his lap.

“Thank you, my lord,” I said.

His hands played in my hair for a few minutes and then he untied my left hand. “Nezzie, this is where you belong,” he said as he caressed my breasts. “I need you to reaffirm your status to me. I need your assurance that I have your complete trust and submission; that you’ll stay here below me, with me, under me. It’s important as we approach this juncture. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord. I am yours in body, mind, and spirit. I trust you and belong to you wholly, without hesitation. I am here below for your taking, for your pleasure and for your mind. Take me, my lord. I am yours.”

Ty’s words, I got your back, echoed in my mind. Sunny’s smile: He's a good man, Miss Nez. I said a silent prayer that I was not making the biggest mistake of my life.

21.

I had not told Mr. Delacroix that Ty was coming, but somehow he knew. Maybe Ty contacted Sunny and told him. Among the four of us, there were no more secrets and for the first time in my life, I knew I was safe. Everyone loved me, respected me, and valued me. Never had I known such acceptance. Wild horses could not drag me away.

“Good morning, my lady, I trust you slept well?” Mr. Delacroix came into the bedroom with a tray carrying a small French press, ornate porcelain coffee cup, a small matching creamer, and a bowl of fruit and yogurt. I sat, painfully, to receive my morning nourishment from my loving lord.

“Nezzie, are you okay?”

“Yes, my lord, just a little tenderness,” I said as I adjusted my back-side.

“Oh, Nezzie, your poor little delicate ass,” he said as he set the tray in front of me. “Not to worry, my dear. Eat up now and I promise I’ll make it all better.”

I pressed my coffee as he stood at the window, transferring his weight from one foot to the other as if he were rocking a baby. His ass was hard and his arms crossed in front of him showing well-defined triceps that flexed and relaxed with the movement. His hair was getting longer. The dark chocolate curls fell in skimming waves and touched his neck.

“It’s a cloudy day,” he said as he turned his electric blue eyes to me. He stopped midsentence and dialed into my admiration; his for me reflected in his eyes. “Nezzie, you have no idea how deeply you touch me,” he sighed.

I sipped my coffee in silence and watched him as he gazed through the window. The daylight was muted grays and greens, but the light in our room, the light he and I shared, was brighter than the sun.

He came to my side and fed me a strawberry with his fingers. “We’re getting close to the last of them for this year. It’s getting warm.”

“Are these from the farm at Twisted Oak, sir?” I asked.

“Yep, good old Louisiana strawberries, they don’t get any better than this.” He lifted another to my mouth. “Soon they’ll be your strawberries.”

I was confounded by his need for submission the previous evening, almost bringing me to the point of using a safe word, and now he was telling me that it was all going to belong to me?

“Is it your intention to be obscure, my lord?” I asked, feeling cross because my backside hurt. I set my empty bowl down and sipped the last of my coffee.

“Oh love, I am sorrier than you’ll ever know that I am a pain in your delicate ass this morning. Let me help you,” he said as he took the tray away.

“Don’t try to be funny and don’t change the subject, sir. I’m confused and I depend on you for everything, so I need you to be serious and clarify. My lord, if it’s my submission you want, you have it, but I can only give it completely if I’m not confused.”

“As you wish, my lady. It’s my job to maintain your dream, as you say.” He set the tray on the nightstand and went to the bathroom to start my bath.

I stood, stretched my arms, and rubbed my backside, renewing the illicit sensation of a hand wet with my juices spanking it. The pain I felt in my anus only elicited more memories. He gently urged me to come into the bathroom.

“Come and bathe with me, my sweet submissive being,” Mr. Delacroix said as he dropped his pants and stepped into the tub. “Let’s you and I sit and clarify everything, shall we?”

I took his hand and he gently helped me down into the hot, soothing water.

“How’s that, my love? Is it to your specifications?”

The water was hot, but it was a perfect antidote to the pain. I leaned back and allowed the water to move underneath my sore, excited ass as it now began to ache for more.

Mr. Delacroix sat between my legs and the water rose. “Penny for your oh so fuckable thoughts, cher,” he said, and began to massage my breasts.

“My lord, please clarify before you succeed in distracting me,” I said with closed eyes. I could feel his manhood floating around my vagina.

“You’re begging again.” His hands began to move to my thighs that were open to him.

“I’m begging for clarity, sir. I’m still confused.” I leaned back, making my breasts sink under the water.

“All right, I’ll clarify, and then after you’re set straight, I will impale you with my dick.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Didn’t I tell you from the very beginning that you have the power?”

“Yes, sir,” I said as his hands found the point at which my thighs met my groin. My hips moved. The sound of ripples in the water voiced my hunger.

“Neige, everything I do, I do for you. All your service and your suffering for me give you power. Very simply, I am for you.”

“But the strawberries, my lord, how can they ever be mine? They’re of the earth and not affected by power.” It seemed as if he had a secret plan. If he meant marriage or a lifelong commitment, I needed to know.

“So fucking cerebral; I wish I could stick my dick in your ear and fuck your brain. You drive me mad with it, Nez, sheer fucking madness.”

“There you go again, playing games,” I said.

“Playing games what?” He twisted my nipple and I winced.

“Sorry, sir, my lord.”

“Good girl. Now where were we?”

“Strawberries, my lord, how can they be mine?”

“Oh, my love, that’s easy. They’ll be yours because I’ll die before you do.”

I came out of my reverie and looked him in the eye. “Sir, how do you know you’ll die before me, and how do you know we’ll still be together when you do?”

“One step at a time, my love. But now you know that I intend to maintain your dream until I die.” His blue eyes were eager and childlike as he lifted me in a blissful embrace and lowered me onto his hardness. My insides crumbled and rushed to meet him. The orgasm came on quickly, but lasted an eternity, an expression of thanksgiving as he filled me with his juice of life.

We sat in our embrace until the water became tepid. We showered together, washing one another and enjoying the simplicity of getting clean.

“Got a big day planned today. Sunny and Ty will be coming around for a late brunch. I’ve got champagne chilling and a catered meal,” he said as he brushed his hair.

“I didn’t realize you knew Ty was coming, my lord.”

“Sunny told me this morning when he got up for breakfast, but I told him to go to bed till later, that I’d be serving you this morning. I guess he’s probably still in bed. His place has been busier lately since he put Abby in charge of finding bands. Sunny’s is turning out to be quite a rock and roll venue. I hope he doesn’t miss it too much when he leaves.”

“It’s not like Twisted Oak is on another planet, my lord. He can still come a few days a week, if he wishes,” I pointed out as I put one last curl to my hair.

“True, and we’ll always have this place for when we want to come too. I’ll miss the city, for sure.” He pulled a new pair of silken pants on, golden tan this time.

“I know I will, my lord,” I sighed.

“Don’t worry, it’ll still be our home. It’s not like in Monique’s time when it took over a day to get from Twisted Oak. It’s only a two-and-a-half hour drive. Come, Nez, lie down on the bed so I can put some medicine on that fine ass of yours.”

I laid face down while he dabbed some kind of sweet-smelling salve in and around my anus. The pain went away and then he rubbed it on my cheeks, giving me a tingling sensation. His hands massaged me delicately. He placed his hand up underneath and cupped my most sensitive parts; my legs instinctively spread, pushing my ass upward.

“Nezzie, I appreciate your eagerness, but we’ve got plans,” he said as he pushed his fingers into my vagina and then slapped my ass with his wet fingers. “Stay ready, though.”

He went to the armoire. “Wear this today. I need you to be comfortable. There’ll be some physical activity before we dine.” He winked at me and I raised my eyebrows. “I won’t remind you again, my love, that I fuck when, what, where, and how I want, so be prepared for anything at any time. You’re called on to maintain my dreams too, Nezzie.”

“Yes, sir,” I said as I slipped on a short gauzy silken teddy that matched the color of his pants. The neckline and short hem showed nearly everything I had to show.

“Nezzie, your body is so beautiful. I wanna show it off to everyone,” he sighed, “but I covet you too. I find your body best adored when seen, but out of reach. You’re ravishing, my love, simply decadent.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I said as I examined myself in the mirror.

“I wanna fuck you, but we have to wait. There’s more fun in store today because we’re celebrating again.” He smiled and opened the bedroom door to the sound of Sunny’s sweet voice and gentle fingers strumming. He looked up and smiled to see Mr. Delacroix and me listening. To my surprise, Mr. Delacroix left my side and went to him. Sunny set his guitar aside and stood to receive him.

“Sunny, I’m so grateful that you’re coming home with us.”

Their kiss was magical, every bit as soulful as when Mr. Delacroix kissed me. When two people are in love, that precious emotion transcends the physical. It does not matter who or what you are, only love matters.

They let go of each other, and Sunny sat on the floor. I was comfortable with their relationship because I had come to know the root of it, that they were family, my family, and this is how we love one another. I was secure in Mr. Delacroix’s devotion to me. I just wished I could be as secure with his ability to control his temper. I shook the negative thought from my mind.

“Good morning,” I said to Sunny as I sat on my pillow. “I guess Ty must have called you. I’m sorry. I should have called you back last night.”

“It’s okay, Miss Nez. When I sent Ty your message I told him he was to stop by after he left. He wasn’t here very long. He was cryptic about what was going on, but he told me you helped him decide to come to Twisted Oak. How’d you do that? What’d you say?”

“I said ‘please’ in my special kind of way that apparently you men can’t say no to,” I joked. Mr. Delacroix listened in silence, his expression neutral.

“Miss Nez, you’re something else. I won’t push it, though, because I’m glad he’s coming and I know your heart’s in the right place,” Sunny said as he set to work tuning his guitar. “I appreciate your special connection with Ty.”

“Just think of it this way, Sunny. I think Ty finally understands that he isn’t the only one with demons,” I said. Mr. Delacroix shifted in his seat, but remained stoic. Sunny did not notice.

“Ya sure got that right, Miss Nez. Ya sure got that right.”

Mr. Delacroix went to the kitchen to collect crystal champagne flutes, strawberries, and some sweet cream to dip them in. He came back with a tray adorned with a single white rose with pink edges. “Things are gonna be so much better at Twisted Oak when we all get there. It’ll be a happy place again like it was when I was a kid. Mr. Scott and my dad would have the best times together. The music you play reminds me of them sometimes, Sunny.”

Sunny began his soothing absent-minded strumming. The champagne was cold. It went perfectly with the strawberries and cream.

“Brandy cream sauce from across the square,” Mr. Delacroix said, popping a cream-covered berry into his mouth. “Good stuff, but to be eaten in moderation.”

The door buzzer went off. “Must be Ty,” Sunny said, and moments later, Ty was beaming when he entered the room. “Finally, we all where we s’posed ta be!” We all raised our glasses in unison.

Sunny sat down in his spot and patted the floor next to him for Ty to sit. “We’ve got a lot to go over this afternoon, so don’t get too high off that champagne.”

“No, sir,” said Ty as he sat dutifully by Sunny’s side. “I been havin’ enough a dat las night. My gettin’ high days is over now, ya heah? I be a clean machine.”

I recalled Ty telling me he was going to do so much cocaine last night he would not feel a thing. He looked okay, but somewhat shaky. I still could not completely shake the pangs of addiction myself.

“Ty,” Sunny said, “what would you like me to play for you?”

“Oh damn, boss, I dunno. Let me think a bit,” he said, and put his finger to his chin. “I know. Play ‘Wonderful World’ for me, sir. I’d like it if you did.”

Sunny began: “I see trees of green, red roses too. See them bloom, for me and you. And I think to myself, what a wonderful world . . .”

Ty was so pleased he almost spilled his champagne. Sunny sounded perfect. I looked at Mr. Delacroix and he had his head leaned back on the sofa and was listening with his eyes closed. I wondered how Sunny could remember all the music. He knew so many songs by heart, like a human jukebox.

Sunny set his guitar aside and reached over to the coffee table. Dipping a strawberry into the cream, he fed one to Ty. He watched closely as Ty chewed; when Ty was ready to swallow, Sunny gently put his hand on Ty’s throat. You could see when Ty’s Adam’s apple moved because Sunny’s hand responded as if cresting a wave. Sunny was on his knees when he pulled Ty in by the throat and bent to kiss him long and hard. Ty turned into that caramel goo I remembered from weeks ago.

My groin fluttered with excitement and Mr. Delacroix patted my shoulder. I ached for it and he knew it. “Patience, little slut,” he whispered. I closed my eyes. My clit throbbed.

I opened my eyes as Sunny, facing Ty, dropped his purple silk pants. Immediately, without Sunny saying a word, Ty got up on his haunches and had Sunny’s dick in his mouth.

“That’s good, boy, real good.” Sunny’s hips started moving. He had a great ass; solid, bronze, smooth, and perfect in complexion. The muscles tightened with each hip thrust. I began to fidget and Mr. Delacroix reminded me that wiggling is not nice by giving me a soft slap on the face. Of course, Ty was speechless, but I could see the painful-looking bulge in his jeans.

Sunny backed away and turned around, leaving Ty imbalanced and groping for more, the bulging jeans looking painful as ever. Sunny’s penis was long, but not as thick as Mr. Delacroix’s. It was stunning from this perspective and my breath caught. Mr. Delacroix put his finger in my mouth and I greedily sucked. I felt a stir inside; that familiar orgasmic wave. I sucked harder as Sunny sat against the bookshelves, his penis so rigid that he appeared to have difficulty bending to sit. He took a bottle of lubricant from the shelf and began to stroke himself with it.

“Ty, take your clothes off and come sit on my dick. Give me a lap dance, a nice deep one.”

Sunny’s voice had an unfamiliar tone to it, flat, firm, and uncompromising. It was difficult to imagine that voice in song only moments before.

Ty was trembling with need. He hastily kicked his shoes off and fumbled with his zipper.

“Ty, now,” Sunny demanded, unrelenting. “For fuck’s sake, you’re never wearing anything with a zipper again.”

“Yes, sir,” Ty said as he ripped his shirt off and finally got to his zipper.

“I hope your dick hurts,” Sunny said with unanticipated cruelty.

“It does, sir, very much.” He kicked his jeans off. His ass was thin, but surprisingly muscular.

“Turn your back to me and sit down. Squat your skinny black ass on my dick, boy,” Sunny said.

“Yes, sir.” Ty turned to face us. His penis was huge. The brown appendage was nearly the size of my forearm in length. The head was unusually pronounced and throbbing. Overcome with the sight, I groaned as my orgasm came. Mr. Delacroix took his finger out of my mouth, fingered my breast, and then lightly slapped my face when I unconsciously wiggled. I noticed my legs had come open and a wet spot on the pillow grew. Mr. Delacroix patted my breast and put his hand on my shoulder to steady me as we watched the show.

Sunny’s legs spread, knees bent. Ty squatted with his knees together as best he could with that huge dick between them. Sunny grabbed him by the neck with both hands, similar to the way Mr. Delacroix handled me on the sofa the night I signed on. Sunny slammed Ty onto him and Ty yelled out. Sunny lifted him and slammed him again as he grunted. Ty’s moans were alarming. His amber eyes were ablaze with desire and I could see his long dick protrude and bounce as Sunny slammed him repeatedly, breathing hard and grunting.

Soon, a calm relaxation came to Ty’s expression and his alarming sounds turned into deep, masculine purrs that made me think of a lion. Ty went limp with acceptance and subjugation. His legs fell apart, revealing that amazing cock.

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix whispered, “take your clothes off and go sit on Ty’s dick, but only in your vagina. I don’t think your ass can handle that. Besides, I’m saving it for later.” He nudged me off my pillow with his leg. “Go, Nezzie, now, and face me when you do it,” he said. “I told you to be ready for anything.”

I walked over to Ty as I pulled the nightie over my head. His eyes followed my movements. I turned to face Mr. Delacroix and squatted as Ty had done, but I had to reach back and right myself with his long cock.

I let myself drop a little ways. Exploding in delirium, I fell all the rest of the way on the long, dark pole. It hurt at first and I whimpered. I could feel hands help me rise up again and let me fall, up and down in rhythm with my partners.

Our breaths in time with one another, I could hear Sunny’s grunts turn to groans and Ty was euphoric, his purring so sensual in my ear. I kept coming and I ground myself onto him until it hurt. Ty came and I felt him shudder as Sunny moaned long and deep. We slowed to a steady rhythm and finally awakened from our shared ecstasy. Ty wrapped his arms around me and Sunny wrapped his arms around both of us.

“Wow, ya’ll,” Mr. Delacroix said, “that was just about the most erotic thing I’ve seen in a long time. Ya’ll look like an Oreo cookie but with the chocolate in the middle.” His voice dripped with southern Spanish moss.

We were all catching our breaths, still stacked on one another. It felt good to be so close to them, feeling their damp skin on mine.

“Nezzie, you come over here now and let’s show these boys what you’ve learned,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Come on now, get up.” His pants were off and he stroked his rigid penis.

Ty lifted me off with a sigh and I went to Mr. Delacroix with Ty’s come dripping down my legs.

“Yes, sir?” I said as I stood before him on shaking legs.

“Turn around, Nez.”

I faced the two men and noticed that Sunny had not let Ty off him. His white hands showed force against Ty’s broad, olive shoulders.

“Nezzie, sit on my cock just like Ty did to Sunny. Shove it up your ass,” he said as he placed his hands on my hips.

“Yes, my lord,” I said as I let him guide me onto him. The pain came again as it had before, but was a little worse since I was still tender from the previous night. I was not able to relax against ropes. I instinctively struggled to get away, but he held me firm with hands on my hips. Ty attempted to get up and help me, but Sunny held him down and kissed his neck. I longed to be bound secure and without pain.

“Breathe, my dear. Breathe and let me in. You know how much you like it,” Mr. Delacroix whispered as he pushed me down and flexed his hips so he would go even deeper.

I moaned in hopes that it would help me release my breath, but it only came in fits and starts. Sunny looked at me with intense arctic eyes. In my head, his voice: I hurt, the pain, I am alive. I began chanting this to myself as Mr. Delacroix moved me up and down his shaft. The pleasure pain was agonizing. I was on the verge of using a safe word when, like storm clouds breaking, I broke through and found that intoxication, that new zenith that I so readily welcomed. I was helpless and could not assist Mr. Delacroix. I longed to be tied in sweet constraint so that I could be free in my pleasure.

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix, please . . .” I begged, my voice primal.

“Come for me one more time, Nezzie. Show them how you come when my dick’s in your ass.” He slammed me down.

“Oh god,” I groaned.

Mr. Delacroix answered, “I’m right here. Your god is right here.” He slammed my body onto him once more and filled me up.

I came so hard that my body shook. When I regained composure, I noticed wet spots all over my pillow and wondered if I would ever walk again. Mr. Delacroix left me sitting on him for a long while and it took concentration to stay open for him.

“Stay relaxed, Nez,” he said as he moved my hips back and forth. “This is my ass and I’ll stay here as long as I want to.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and he allowed me to lean back against him. I closed my eyes, took my mind to another time, to Monique’s time, and wondered if she had been frightened or empowered. I wondered about my own state of mind because I was so subordinate to physical pleasure. Nothing else mattered. I sighed, but it came out as a moan.

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said, “you’re a good fuck, my love.”

22.

The Dormouse, the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, and me; each of us, wounded in mind and spirit, had found solace in the glorious sharing of our bodies, a kind of wonderland that made sense.

We were brought out of our relaxed state when Ty brought up the new talk on the street.

“I dunno, boss, all I knows is two white guys been goin’ round askin’ after Miss Nez. I stopped by Lorraine’s dis mornin’ on the way here and she say to me that Tali told her two guys was seekin’ our Miss Nez. They even have a picture of her.”

My skin crawled. They must have found out from Mr. Clementon. I cursed myself for telling him where I was headed.

“Ty, this is serious business. You just found out today? Anybody know how long they’ve been in town?”

“Yeah, just this mornin’ I found out. I can go ask Tali what he know.” Ty sensed our concern. “Miss Nez, you think it be the bad guys from KC?”

“I know it is.” I was shivering and very near tears. “What am I gonna do?”

“Not a thing, love. I told you, I got your back,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I’ll go down and speak with Tali and Lorraine. Ty, have you spread the word about Miss Nez? That she is to be protected?”

“Oh yes, sir, I got my people on it. They good folks who know how to keep things on the down low. Nobody in my network gonna say nothin’. They know she belong to you, and if anybody come aksin’ they tell me right away. This is how I know. I be checkin’ in every day with my people and they all over town, but I can’t say if the men only talkin’ to people in my network. Dat’s the worry.”

“Sunny, have you been taking Nezzie out a lot?” Mr. Delacroix asked.

“Some, but not too much, and only around the quarter where there are mostly tourists. I should think the locals are in the know. I don’t talk about you guys very much at the bar, so the locals there are probably pretty clueless about her.”

Mr. Delacroix left the apartment to speak to Tali. Sunny and Ty sat on the balcony and watched. I was too afraid to go outside, so I stood in the doorway and scanned the square.

Mr. Delacroix sat with Tali for a few minutes and listened to him intently. When he left Tali, he walked away from the apartment in the opposite direction and disappeared behind the buildings.

“Where did he go?” I asked.

“I dunno,” Ty said. “Maybe he go talk to Lorraine.”

About a half hour later, Mr. Delacroix was back with startling news. Steve and another man were staying at a hotel not far from the apartment. It was a streak of good luck that we had not run into them.

“At least I know where they are before they know where we are,” Mr. Delacroix said as he paced the room. “Nez, how do you wanna proceed? Are you ready to talk to him? I mean, there’s nothing they can do. They can’t force you to go back—not legally, anyway.”

“Sir, I just don’t know. Is my mom with them? I wouldn’t mind seeing my mom, but not them.”

“Sir, if I may?” Sunny interjected. “It seems to me that if this was all about Miss Nez getting back with her mom, her mom would have come.”

He looked at me, realizing only then how painful it was for me to hear his words. “Oh god, I’m sorry, baby girl.”

“No, Sunny, you’re right. She should have come. It’s all right.”

My tears betrayed my words. It was not okay. My mother did not come for me and I knew it. She was too sick to leave her room. How could she come for me?

“As far as Tali and Lorraine know, it’s just the two men,” Mr. Delacroix said, stroking my head.

Sunny’s expression turned grave. “It’s all about the money, then. God, girl, I am so sorry.”

“Sunny, you don’t have to tell me that. I know you are. I don’t want to see them, Mr. Delacroix. If my mom was there, then yeah, I’d probably go, but I have no room for him in my life. I’m through with that life, sir. I can’t protect her anymore. If she chose not to come, there’s not a damned thing I can do about it, but I don’t have to look at him.”

“You’re right, my brave soul. Let me take care of it. I’ve been devising a plan to get them out of town and out of your life.”

I tensed at his words.

“Without anyone getting hurt,” he clarified. “They might get scared, but they won’t get hurt.” He paused. “Unless they put me in a defensive position. You understand that, don’t you? That if I have to defend myself, I will.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

Mr. Delacroix was on the phone with his assistant from work. I could hear him, his business voice very similar to the voice he used to give me commands.

“What do you mean, the insurance is holding up the shipment? Tell Williams to go direct to Lloyd’s and not to fool with that agent anymore. I’m sick of this shit, Matthew. Our cargo is perishable. We don’t have time to play this game. If they can’t insure us for a reasonable price within a reasonable timetable, then we’ll take our business elsewhere.”

He sat on the sofa next to me and twirled my hair in his fingers as he spoke. “And, uh, let them know I’ll be taking the week off . . . yeah, family business. Scott will be out as well, but he may be in by Wednesday or so. It depends on how it goes.” He twirled my hair tighter. “You can reach us both at Twisted Oak, and if there’s anything urgent, just send the courier. Williams should be able to handle Lloyd’s and you all have everything well in hand with the Panamanians.” He tugged at my hair. “No, just stay firm on that price and they’ll come around. I’ve been looking at what’s going on in Guatemala. They’re not the only fish in the sea right now.”

I leaned into him, showing my appreciation for his attention. He pet my head. “Right, I’ll be at Twisted Oak tomorrow evening for the week. You can reach me there.”

He hung up and looked down at me. “Don’t worry, cher, you’re coming with me. Best to get you out of the city for a while.” He smiled and kissed my head and made another call. “Ed, it’s Greg Delacroix. Yeah, how are you? Good, good. Hey, listen, I’ll need a car and a driver this evening. A couple of your best men; two, please. Yes, I’ve got some unsavories in the neighborhood that need a persuasive escort out of town.”

I felt giddy at the thought of Steve being “persuaded.”

“Just have the car waiting in the riverfront parking area by JAX around seven forty-five this evening. Yes, a driver and two men. Yeah, armed.” He got up from the sofa and paced as he spoke. “No problem. Just stick it on the company expenses. I appreciate it, last minute and all. You’re a good man, Ed. I owe ya.”

He hung up and called another number. “Joey, hey. How’s it goin’? You on duty tonight? Nice, is Roddy ridin’ with you? Excellent, that’s perfect. Can I ask a favor of you?” He sat again and twirled a lock of my hair. “Appreciate it. I really do. I was wondering if you could do an extra long patrol of the square tonight, from, say, seven forty-five till around eight or so?”

Ty whispered, “Is he talkin’ to Joey Zimmer, the cop?”

Sunny said, “Shhh, yeah. Hush now.”

“Thanks, Joey. I really appreciate it. A friend of mine is in town, a real good girl, and some fellas from KC are after her. Real ugly drug scene that she is trying to get out of. I’d just like you there as a backup. Naw, not unless they decide not to cooperate with me. I can’t guarantee they’d have anything on them, but if they do, they won’t like the idea of you all arresting them.”

I wished I could hear the other end of the conversation. I leaned in to try to hear the other man, but to no avail.

“I didn’t have time and I don’t have time. Look, as much as I’d like to, I just want to get rid of these assholes for good, ya know? Just scare them enough so they won’t ever come back. My private guys will be on Decatur at eight. I’ll also have someone at each gate, so they can’t get out if they decide to be assholes. In that case, they’re all yours. Does the timing work for you? I can’t thank you enough, Joey. You guys are the best.”

He hung up and called Ed back. “Ed, Greg again. Have them pull onto Decatur at eight o’clock. Appreciate it.” He hung up. Ty, Sunny, and I looked at him awaiting instruction.

“Okay, it’s the square plan,” Mr. Delacroix said. I was puzzled, but Sunny and Ty seemed to know what he was talking about. “I’m gonna meet him in the square at seven forty-five to give him back his money. Sunny, I need you to go to the bar and grab two of the biggest, baddest men there. I’ll make it worth their while. While I’m having a little come-to-Jesus meeting with Steve and his sidekick, I need two men at each end of the square, including the two of you, to block their exit. I’ll need you there by seven forty. You get what I mean?”

“Yeah, boss,” Ty said, “like a canned hunt. We need to call this the canned hunt plan. I like your style, bruthah.” He smiled. “Miss Nez, we good at this. You just watch.” He looked at Mr. Delacroix. “What do I do, boss?”

“Find them. Go to their hotel and tell them you know where the money is. Use your street-talk charm and tell them to meet me in the square at seven forty-five and I will see you boys in the square at seven forty.”

“Sounds good, sir,” Sunny said.

“Joey and Roddy will be on horseback patrolling the square. If it all pans out the way I think it will, I’ll escort Steve and what’s-his-name to Decatur Street where Ed’s guys will be waiting to escort them out of town for good.”

“What if they don’t go, sir?” I asked.

“They’ll go, my dear, but if they decide to be dumb, Roddy and Joey will arrest them. They’re cops and on horseback, so nobody can outrun them.”

“Besides that, Miss Nez,” Ty said, “everybody be knowin’ they bad guys. There ain’t no way they get out of the square unless they go with Mr. Delacroix’s men or the cops arrest ’em.”

“What will they be arrested for?”

“Possession with the intent to distribute, and if there’s an unsolved murder, maybe that, too,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“They aren’t murderers, sir, and how do you know they’ll have anything on them?” I asked.

“We don’t, but we can make it so. We can turn them into murderers, too,” he said with a smile.

“You mean set them up? Plant evidence, sir? How is that possible?”

“Anything’s possible in New Orleans, my love, with a little money and the right connections.” He chuckled. “But hopefully they’ll be smart and it won’t come down to that.” He leaned back in the sofa. “Rest assured, though, they’ll have full understanding that they’ll never see the light of day again if they ever set foot in this town for any reason.”

“What should I do, sir?” I asked.

“Sit at the desk in our bedroom and write a nice long letter to your momma. Let her know you’re okay. She’s your mom, Nezzie. She has problems, but she is still your mother. As someone who has lost his parents, all I can do is encourage you not to burn the bridge with her, even if the bridge is about to fall down. She’s your mom and she’s sick. She can’t he held totally responsible for what’s happened. I’ll give the letter to Steve to give to her. If he has any shred of decency, he’ll deliver it.”

I shook my head. True to form, Mr. Delacroix read my mind. “It’s worth a try, Nezzie. Even if he doesn’t give it to her, you’ll know you tried.”

Sunny and Ty were dressing to leave the apartment. “Sunny, hurry back now,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I’ll stay here until you get back. I don’t want Nezzie to be alone. I gotta run to the office and get some cash.”

“How much do you need, sir? I might have enough at the bar.”

“Ten grand, Sunny. Please don’t tell me you have ten grand lying around over there.”

“It’s Sunday, sir. I haven’t made last night’s or Friday’s deposit yet and there’s no band playing tonight, so I bet I can cover you.”

“Ten grand, sir? I only owe him five!” I said.

“Insurance, Nezzie. A little payoff is all. It’s always good to have extra and I need to pay my help as well. And Jesus, Sunny, that’s no way to run a business, son!”

“All the better to give it to you then, sir,” Sunny said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Thanks, kid. I’ll make your deposit tomorrow morning before we leave for the farm.”

“Yes, sir,” Sunny said. He and Ty walked out the door. I stood inside the French doors and watched them leave the square. Sunny went left toward his bar and Ty loped across the square in his familiar way in the same direction Mr. Delacroix had gone earlier.

When I turned to Mr. Delacroix, he was standing next to an open drawer in the bureau. He held a small gun in his hand, inspecting the revolving chamber. I was startled by the sight.

“Mr. Delacroix, this is all too much. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, especially you or Sunny or Ty. I don’t know what I would do if you did. I can talk to Steve.”

“Too late for that now, cher. The plan’s in motion. Just go write that letter. It’ll be okay. It’s not the first time we’ve run somebody out of town. It’s okay. I promise. Nobody will get hurt.”

He slid bullets into the weapon and clipped the chamber closed.

“In fact, I should think you’d get a thrill out of Steve having the shit scared out of him. Ever since you told me about the money and what he did to you and your mom, I’ve been devising this plan. I got this. Don’t worry. Keep your wits together and go write that letter now.”

The desk sat underneath the window in our bedroom. The sash was open so the street noises danced around my mind as I sat to write. I was careful not to give anything away as to my exact location. It was difficult to find the right words.

Dear Mom,

Please forgive me for leaving. I had to go. I know deep inside you understand why I had to leave. I was getting too involved in it. I’m not sure how much you know, but I was getting to the point where I was almost always high on something. I was getting sick like you are, and Steve was pressuring me to sell more. I was afraid. It was time for me to go. Please understand that I love you, but I had to make a fast, quick break.

I’ve been fortunate to find myself in the loving care of a supportive family. They took me in without questions or judgment. I’ve been sober now for almost two months. I feel good, healthy, and strong. They’ve been kind to me and they continue to show me new ways to live with dignity and respect. My mind is clear and I don’t have too many worries anymore, except for you. I think of you every day. I fear for you and what Steve is doing to you. I always have, but I can’t change that. You have to.

In so many ways, I wish you were here to see the person I have become. You’d be proud of me, Mom. I’m doing well and I wish the best for you. I hope my words encourage you to get some help. I know it isn’t easy, but if I can do it, so can you.

I can’t tell you where I am yet, but just know that I am doing well and I will contact you soon.

I love you, Mom.

Susan

* * *

The clock read 7:30. Mr. Delacroix sat on the sofa in silence. His eyes were closed as if in meditation. I thought he was asleep and wondered how someone could sleep at a time like this, until he stood abruptly. “I guess it’s time to go,” he said and stretched his arms. So relaxed and nonchalant. I was a basket of live wires.

He went to the bedroom and came out with a big hat and a dress I had never seen before.

“Make sure you put the hat on so you won’t be recognized. I want you to sit on the balcony and watch everything.” He placed the hat on my head. “If you see me or Sunny or Ty jump up and down three times, come in and call the police. The jumping means we’re in trouble and you have to act immediately. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I was shaking.

“Don’t worry, kid. It won’t happen. Like I say, we’ve done this before and it always works. I see no reason for it to be different this time. I usually have a man up here looking out as a backup, but we never need it. Nezzie, I trust you to do the right thing if we get in trouble. Do you understand? Can I trust you?”

“Oh yes, sir.”

“We’re in this for you, ya know. You’re the main part of it.”

“I’m in, sir. I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

He tucked his gun in the waistband of his jeans and slipped his jacket over his shoulders. He checked to make sure my letter was in the inside pocket. “Nothing will go wrong, love. Just sit and watch.” He kissed my forehead and grabbed a walking cane from the umbrella stand as he left.

I went to the bedroom and put the dress on. I situated the hat on my head so it shaded my face and went out on the balcony to watch. The sun was low on the horizon, and golden light stretched across Andrew Jackson’s horse. I saw Ty and a very large black man standing at the gate in front of the cathedral. Sunny and another white man stood sentry at the gate along Decatur Street. George was there with his mule and carriage; it looked like he was ready to stay until the mission was complete. Tali was sitting in his wheelchair talking to some artists that were packing up their work for the day. Ty was right when he said everyone in the square would be on call to help us.

Iron fencing eight feet tall surrounded the rest of the inner square. If Steve was dumb enough to enter, he deserved what he got. The atmosphere was ripe with excitement, at least for the locals. The tourists carried on in ignorant bliss.

Mr. Delacroix entered the square through the Decatur gate. None of the men acknowledged one another. Mr. Delacroix leaned against the iron fencing surrounding the statue. A couple minutes passed and I saw Steve and his friend enter through the same gate. Ty let out a yelp as if he were cheering for the buskers playing in front of the cathedral, but this was his signal to Mr. Delacroix that Steve was in the square.

Mr. Delacroix swung the cane in front of him, apparently a signal to Steve that he was the connection. I watched in fascination. It was all so well rehearsed. Ty and his partner blocked their gateway and Sunny and his partner did the same. Steve was trapped and did not even know it.

George took his hat off and pretended to be looking at the cathedral. He noticed me and quickly turned his head. Mr. Delacroix shook Steve’s hand and they seemed to be carrying on a cordial conversation. Steve nodded and Mr. Delacroix smiled and directed the two men to sit on the bench, but Mr. Delacroix remained standing, swinging his cane. It reminded me of the way he swung the riding crop. He exuded dominance as he listened to Steve speak and he nodded once or twice before handing Steve what looked like an old-fashioned metal lunchbox. When he unzipped the front of his jacket to retrieve my letter, his gun was in plain sight.

Steve’s friend fidgeted, and I followed his gaze toward the church. Two policemen were in front of the cathedral doors, watching the exchange from atop their horses. When I looked back to where Mr. Delacroix was standing, the cane had somehow turned into a blade. The steel reflected the late-day golden light as he pointed it toward the Decatur gate.

Steve stood, his head darting from one direction to the other, and the men standing at the gates made their presence known. A long, sleek black limousine pulled up next to George’s carriage and Mr. Delacroix followed Steve and his friend out of the square; Sunny and his partner fell in line to escort Steve and his friend into the car.

I could not see very well because George was in the way, but Sunny and the other man stood on either side of Mr. Delacroix while he leaned over the open car door and spoke to the men inside. A half a minute later, the car pulled out onto the busy street and out of sight.

I leaned back in relief and watched Sunny, his partner, and Mr. Delacroix walk around the square to meet the mounted police officers directly under the apartment balcony. Mr. Delacroix gave me a thumbs-up and smiled. He handed each of the cops and Sunny and his partner an envelope. Ty and his partner walked up and got theirs as well. It was as if a heavy blanket lifted from the square. The hawkers started their shows again and the artists packed up and gave way to the palm readers and beggars. The tourists were none the wiser.

“See ya around, Delacroix. Glad to be of assistance,” one of the cops said as he rode back toward the church. The two big, bad men walked in opposite directions and Ty pushed the buzzer at the apartment gate. I looked at the clock; it was 8:05.

The three of them rushed in like boys back from an adventure. I ran and hugged Mr. Delacroix and he hugged me back.

“Did you see the fuckin’ look on that asshole’s face?” Sunny said as he opened the fridge. “You guys want a beer?” He handed one to Ty.

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said as he put the walking cane back in the umbrella stand, “I don’t think your boys will be comin’ back anytime soon.”

“What did you say to them, sir?” I asked, and went to the umbrella stand to examine the cane. It was ornate, with a wolf’s head on the handle atop a long shiny black shaft. Mr. Delacroix came to me and demonstrated how it worked. With a flip of a small catch, the blade easily slid out of the shaft. It was long, thin, and very sharp. I pulled it all the way out and held it in my hand, gazing at the blade. “Is this legal?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Mr. Delacroix said. “As far as your boys go, they get the drift; New Orleans isn’t the place for them. They won’t be coming back.”

“Thank you, sir.” I put the cane back in the stand and he handed me a beer.

“I wish I had a camera when Mr. Delacroix opened the car door,” Sunny laughed. “I thought the one guy, not Steve, but the other one, would piss his pants.”

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said, “Steve told me your mom was okay. He confessed that he owed the money to someone, which is why he came looking for it.”

“Typical, sir,” I said.

“He said he’d deliver the letter. He promised he would even before he was threatened, so I think you can rest knowing your mom will get your note.”

“How do we know they’ll leave, sir? For all I know he’ll come back for more money.”

“Oh, they won’t be back for fear of being set up.”

Ty chimed in. “I think they was freaked out when I approached them earlier. I told them that I knew where they were cuz I been tailin’ ’em since they got here. I told ’em I got eyes and ears everywhere and that I know who they are, where they come from, and why they here. I told them the cops were looking for them because word on the street is they killed somebody when a deal went bad. I said I know who they killed and why.” He laughed. “They ain’t too bright, are they, Miss Nez? Cuz they believe every word I say.”

“Miss Nez, believe it or not, our Ty here can be convincing with folks on the street,” Mr. Delacroix said. “He’s smart and has influence and he uses it well. Sometimes it’s good to have friends in low places.”

Ty smiled. “I told them two that they were like wounded fish floating around a shark tank not knowin’ where they are or who they dealin’ with. They lucky they ain’t been ate up yet.” Ty pointed to Mr. Delacroix and smiled proudly. “I say to them it’s best for their health to take what he give ’em and never come back.”

“Are you sure they left?” I asked.

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix replied, “my men took them away at gunpoint. They know full well that if they don’t leave town, they’ll be dead or framed for a terrible crime. Those two losers are not coming back.” He sipped his beer. “You won’t ever see him again if you don’t want to.”

23.

At long last, I would go to Twisted Oak. “For the entire week, sir?” I asked Mr. Delacroix in the days leading up to our departure.

“Depends on how it goes. I want you to get used to it before we move, so we’ll be spending more time there as the weeks go by. I want the Scotts to get used to our presence. It’ll be an adjustment for them, especially Mrs. Scott.”

“I’m confused, my lord. Is Mr. Scott still your dom? How do I proceed? What’s my role there?”

“Good question, my smart, cerebral Nezzie,” he smiled. “You’re right, he’s no longer my dom. This week I’ll be thirty and, as Mr. Scott said the other day, Twisted Oak is waiting for me. When I’m there, I’m the captain of the ship, so the Scotts will be calling me Mr. Delacroix just like you do. You may call them by their first names, Jackson and Marie-Louise, and I’ll have to remember to do the same after years of training otherwise.”

I must have gotten a funny look on my face because he went on to explain, “The pecking order in this is important, especially with Marie-Louise. Jackson gets it. His contract with my father is legally binding as per the family trust and my father’s will. He understands fully that he’s expected to step down, and if he doesn’t, he can be written off legally. Personally, I think it’s a relief for him. He wasn’t meant to run things forever. He doesn’t have it in him. He’s a natural submissive and as a result, he’s not a good dom or a good manager. He’s made some questionable decisions and Marie-Louise is—” He stopped to ponder his phrasing. “Just put it this way: Marie-Louise lacks proper guidance.”

“I’m not sure I understand, my lord,” I said, “but I’m sure it will become clear.”

“Oh Nezzie, it’ll be clear from the moment you meet her. Imagine this: Let’s say I brought you into this lifestyle and totally debased you, did all the things I have done to you physically but worse, and offered you no incentive for self-realization or discipline, no avenue for exploring your inner strength and beauty of character. Imagine if I allowed your most basic hedonistic instincts to run the show. Imagine, Nezzie, not having any rules to govern your processes.”

I sat for a while trying to imagine it, but I could not. “No rules, sir? So if I wanted to go over to Ty or Sunny and do something, whatever my imagination wanted, you’d just let me?”

“It’s more insidious than that; it’s like he gets off on her confusion. In his heart, Jackson’s gay. He really doesn’t get into women all that much. So she’s allowed too much idle time. He really doesn’t care what she does.”

“Then why did he even take her, my lord? It seems cruel to dominate someone you don’t even want.”

“It is Nezzie, very cruel. He said he got her for me. That night when I came home from school, he told me she was for me.” Mr. Delacroix’s sad eyes were of the bluest blues. His voice came to a whisper. “He left us alone and that’s when I completely lost control. It was terrible.” He sighed and put his head back. “I’m so ashamed. I made him keep her out of decency and obligation.” He paused in reflection. “Maybe I shouldn’t have, but what else could we do? You’ll understand when you see her, but his bad decision led to so many more, including mine.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said.

“And so here we are all these years later with some real damaged goods. Don’t get me wrong, Marie-Louise is a good person, but you’ll see what I mean.”

“Is there anything I should know regarding how to treat her, my lord?”

He sighed. “Just be patient with her. She’s an open book, almost childlike in her honesty, but she has a one-track mind. You need to know she signed on with Jackson when she was only twelve. Can you imagine how you would be if you experienced all this at the age of twelve? And your experience has been quite tame compared to hers. She was a child then and she is still a child; Jackson’s kept her that way.”

“Twelve? For god’s sake, my lord, that’s appalling!”

“Like I said, bad decisions, but don’t judge Jackson too harshly. The age of consent in the state of Louisiana is still only twelve years old, and Jackson got her out of a pretty bad situation.”

“Like out of the frying pan and into the fire, it sounds like, sir.”

“Maybe,” he said, “but we can’t change the past. Jackson’s tried at restitution, but he’s struggling, has been since my dad died. Twisted Oak will never turn its back on Marie-Louise and you need to know that I’ll always love Jackson. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

Sunny strummed awhile, and then asked, “Will Ty and I be coming with you to the farm, sir?”

“Not this time, Sunny.”

Ty shot me a worried look. I read his mind. He was nervous about me being away with Mr. Delacroix. I gave him a smile to let him know I would be okay.

Mr. Delacroix continued, “I think it wise to take things slow, especially with Marie-Louise. Let them adjust to Nezzie and me for a while first. Jackson and I still have some ironing out to do. It’s just logistics at this point, really.”

“I understand, sir,” Sunny said. “I hope Missus, I mean Marie-Louise, will be okay.”

“Me too, Sunny,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I think with patience and kindness she’ll adjust, but no doubt it’ll take time.”

“She kinda freak me out when I was there,” Ty said.

“My darling,” Sunny said, “she has a tendency to do that to people. That’s her MO and she does it well.”

“Sunny, I think it is more than just an MO,” Mr. Delacroix said with those gunmetal eyes, “but we can’t judge her harshly. She’s this way for a reason. Everyone deserves respect. Ty, you of all people must remember that.”

“Yes, sir,” Ty said.

“My lord,” I said, “I wonder how I’ll adjust to having another woman in the house.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yes, my lord. I’ve always been a tomboy. Most of my friends growing up were boys. I’ve just done better with men.”

He laughed. “Yes, my little slut, you do very well with men.” He grew serious. “Sweet girl, not everyone’s your mother. Women are good, kind, loyal, and strong. You’ll probably like the companionship. Did you read Monique’s writings about her Na’nie?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“She’ll help you understand.”

* * *

November 2, 1769: Jean-Pierre has left me in charge of Twisted Oak while he travels to France. He wishes I stay behind to mind the farm. I miss him with every ounce of me, but he graciously gave me permission to take pleasure with my Na'nie because I am not to have the boy while he is away.

My previous encounters with Na'nie and the boy have always been in his presence as he wished, but now I am on my own and unsure how to proceed. On earlier occasion, I enjoyed watching the boy and Na'nie perform for me. Now, I must be the catalyst.

November 4, 1769: I took Na'nie in my bed last night as I could no longer tolerate being alone. She was sweet, compliant, and very eager to please. The softness of her body against mine is anathema to Jean-Pierre's hard exterior, but no less satisfying. Her mouth on my breasts was soft, and her hands succeeded in performing their duty. Only a woman knows what a woman requires. I shall keep her bound in my rooms naked and available as I find she takes well to it. She bends to my will and experimentation. I enjoy learning her body and understanding her cravings and limits. She succumbs to pain with grace and undeniable thirst. She creates in me a rush of delight when she kneels before me and performs magic with her mouth and fingers.

“My lord?” I asked as he packed our suitcases.

“Yes, Nez?” He pulled the covers back and spread my legs with his hand. “Keep them spread for me.”

“Yes, sir.” I spread my legs as wide as I could, putting the soles of my feet together.

“Good girl. What do you need to know?”

“Lord, it seems to me that Monique was clearly in the dominant position with Na’nie. Am I to be with Marie-Louise?”

He examined my vagina. “Apparently, you got off on that idea,” he said with a smile. “You’re dripping again.”

“Yes, sir,” I admitted, though I wanted him.

“No, you’re not dominant, you are my submissive; therefore, you answer to my commands only, not to Marie-Louise or Jackson, and you are in no position to give commands whatsoever to anyone unless I say so. For now, you are her equal as you are Sunny or Ty’s. I’ll tell you what’s expected, but I remind you to be ready for anything. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I must have sounded a little disappointed.

“Nezzie, I see in you great potential to dominate, but you aren’t ready. Trust me. When you’re ready, I’ll know. Listen to me and the rewards will be great. Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“No, sir, but . . .”

“Nezzie, no buts.”

“I’m afraid, sir.”

“Of what?” He came to my side and sat patiently.

“What if she tries to dominate me?”

“Dominate me what?” A smart slap to my left breast.

Tears began to well up. “My lord.”

“I allow you to read Monique’s journals as a kindness, but I’ll take them away if they encourage you to disobey me.” He took the journal from my hands and shoved them in the bag. “These are a privilege, not a right, a learning tool that I choose to give you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t push it, Nez. Do you need another reminder of your position here?”

The rush of fluid to my groin was unmistakable. My insides waited for what came next.

“Yes, sir,” I said, wanting punishment. I deserved it after questioning his authority after the fine day he had given me.

“Roll over and keep your legs open. Your ass is mine. Your pussy is mine.”

“Yes, sir.”

I rolled over and spread my legs. He lifted me up on my knees so my ass was in the air. I felt silken ropes travel around my right knee as he secured it to the bed frame. He did the same with my left, spreading me wide. He bound my wrists together and secured them to the headboard. I was drawn, suppliant, and vulnerable as he pressed the back of my neck down into the bed with his right hand and lifted my midsection with his left, thumb in my anus and two fingers in my vagina.

“This is your position, nothing more.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, my voice muffled into the mattress.

He shook my midsection with his inserted fingers; it gave me a thrill, a tingling thrill that began at the soles of my feet. He abruptly with-drew his fingers. “You don’t deserve an orgasm. If you come, you’ll be sorry.”

He left me in that position until he was through packing bags for our trip. He untied my knees and turned me over, twisting my wrists in the bindings.

“Maybe I’ve made a mistake in giving you all her journals at once.”

“No, sir, I promise I understand now. I answer to you, not them.”

“I know you want to please me,” he said.

“I do, my lord. More than you know. I know how important it is to you to show Jackson and Marie-Louise that you’re ready to go home to Twisted Oak. My lord, do you know how honored I am to be part of it?”

“Show me,” he said.

Not sure what he meant, I turned myself back over and spread my legs, giving him access to my body for any pleasure he may want. I did not know how else to show him how totally I belonged to him.

His hand reached up inside me and pushed forward toward my belly, touching something that created pleasure mixed with mirth. I could not process my confusion of wanting to close my legs and open them at the same time. I was nothing in that touch; enslaved to his hand I would follow him to hell.

“Good girl. Don’t forget who’s captain of this ship, little lady.” He pushed harder for a moment and released me, spanking me hard with his wet hand. I elevated my ass as best I could.

“That’s better,” he said as he jammed his hand in again and pressed, bringing me to the brink of hysteria. “You’re mine to shape and mold as I see fit.” He released me and spanked harder. Familiar stirrings deep inside me foretold the orgasm to come. He smacked my ass again. “No orgasm, Nezzie.”

“Yes, sir,” I cried.

“Turn over,” he commanded.

I quickly followed his command; just as I lay back, he slapped my breasts.

“I can make you cry and beg like a little whore. Don’t you ever forget that you’re my whore, no one else’s,” he said with another slap. “Cry now. I deserve your tears, you little slut.” He straddled me, holding me down with his weight.

“Yes, sir,” I whimpered.

“Cry, Nezzie, and think about how easy this punishment is for you. This is nothing compared to what Marie-Louise went through, so you’ll be kind to her and you’ll always follow my instructions no matter where we are or who we’re with, unless you’d like a taste of where she’s been. If you want cruelty, Nezzie, I can give it in spades. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

He rubbed my breasts hard. His eyes were menacing as he examined my face. “Do you understand? You are below me.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Then cry for me.” He bent and suckled my breast and the tears flowed. “Thank you,” he whispered.

* * *

I had almost forgotten what it was like to ride in a car. The day was sunny and warm, so Mr. Delacroix lowered the top on his dark blue convertible. We made our way out of the city through neighborhoods of shotgun houses, row houses, and public housing complexes where most of the people on the street were black. I wondered what all these people were doing walking about in the middle of the day.

Mr. Delacroix avoided the interstate and took back roads out of town into a green world. Lush trees, grasses, mosses, and vines smelled of earth, life.

“This is the long way, but it’s the pretty way,” he said. He was flamboyant in his fancy car and expensive sunglasses. I felt like I was in a dream as I watched his hair blow in the breeze.

He had tossed my cheap sunglasses before we left and had given me a pair of Serengeti Drivers. I was dressed casually in a white blouse and short skirt that blew with tufts of wind as we drove. I kept my legs open; occasionally he would reach over and tickle my clit.

“Thank you, Nez,” he said. “Ever the quick study.”

After nearly three hours of driving, we came across a country store, one that you would see on a postcard, with a gravel parking lot, rocking chairs out front, and an old white man in overalls. Mr. Delacroix waved and the man waved back with hat in hand as we drove by.

“That’s old man Benjamin. He’s had that store forever. Second or third generation, but I fear he’ll be the last. His kids left for the city like so many of us have. I used to ride my bike over there to get a root beer almost every day. His grandkids came to the school at the farm and some of his relatives still work for us.”

“So, this is your neighborhood?” I asked in awe as we passed fields of sugar cane and cotton. Live oak trees lined the road.

“Yep, this is where I grew up,” he said fondly.

It must have been lonely. The sound of cicadas was loud and I felt a twinge of claustrophobia under the tunnel of trees.

“You okay, Nez?”

“Yeah, my lord, it’s just different. I haven’t spent much time outside of cities before.”

“This is why I wanted to start bringing you out here, so you can get used to it. It’s very different than what you’ve become accustomed to, but it’ll grow on you.”

I certainly hoped he was right because all I wanted to do was make him happy; I feared that unless I was happy, I would fail. We traveled a bend in the road, went past more fields, and then took a right down another road surrounded by manicured lawns and enormous oak trees laden with Spanish moss.

“Wow,” I said.

He chuckled. “This is just the driveway. Wait till you see the rest of the place.”

I was stunned into silence as we approached a large white house with a circular drive that surrounded an oak tree nearly twice as tall as the large two-story structure. Its thick trunk was twisted and gnarled by years of weathering the elements. The branches, which were the size of regular trees, hung low to the ground, touching in some places and then rising up again, straining to reach for the heavens. I could not take my eyes off the majesty of the thing.

“That’s the oak tree this place is named after,” Mr. Delacroix said as he hopped out of his side of the car and opened my door for me.

“My lord, this place is so beautiful.”

A black man in a white shirt and black pants met us at the car.

“Thomas, this is Miss Nez, the soon-to-be new lady of the house. Nez, this is Thomas. Anything you ever need, he is the go-to man. Without him, this whole place would fall to the ground.”

“Ma’am,” Thomas nodded.

“How do you do?”

“Thomas, our bags are in the trunk. We’ll be staying in the east wing this time,” Mr. Delacroix said as he tossed his car keys to Thomas.

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said.

“Thank you, Thomas. I trust there’s lemonade in the parlor?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come on, Nez, let’s freshen up, get a drink, and I’ll show you around.”

Mr. Delacroix was like a kid in an amusement park, eager to show me all the secret places. I remembered that the house had not yet been finished when Monique arrived. I tried to imagine it, but the structure was too solid, too real and rooted for my mind to conceive of Twisted Oak never being in existence.

We walked up the front steps onto a wide columned porch dotted with large planters filled with ferns and flowers. Wicker and rattan furniture with bright floral cushions lined the long porch. The double front doors were heavy hardwood with beveled glass. Thomas opened them for us and I entered the grand house for the first time, a moment etched in my mind forever.

The foyer was as big as our entire apartment in town. The sheer scale of the place was dizzying. Darkly stained wide wooden planks under our feet, pocked from years of use, made solid muted sounds when my boot heels struck. An antique marble-topped round table in the center of the room was adorned with a large floral arrangement; the smell of lilies and roses tickled my senses. Large ornate wooden columns supported the expanse of the room and a large staircase branched off in two directions at the far end. A portrait hung at the top of the main flight of stairs showing a man astride a horse.

“That’s Jean-Pierre Delacroix, the true patriarch, our father whose dreams allow us to exist,” Mr. Delacroix said.

Jean-Pierre was fairer than I’d expected considering his French heritage, but with large brown eyes. He was terribly handsome, and even centuries later commanded a presence. I understood Monique’s enchantment.

“Nez,” Mr. Delacroix said, “you can’t fuck a portrait.” My imagination was already running at high gear.

“Yes, my lord,” I said, and stopped to question the salutation.

“It’s fine, Nez. This is our home, so you may address me thus.”

The parlor was to the right of the foyer and just as grand. The twelve-foot-tall walls were painted a rich rosy pink; large windows and French doors were thrown open. Side tables surrounded the room, adorned with collections of photos, antique vases, and figurines. A bar sat along the opposite wall from where we had entered, upon which a large pitcher of lemonade waited.

I stood next to Mr. Delacroix and gazed in wonder across the vast front gardens. Ferns and small flowering hedges of hydrangea thrived under the noble oaks. Native fan palms clustered about the grounds and a few magnolia trees dotted the landscape.

“It’s breathtaking, my lord,” I said.

“Do you really mean it?”

“Of course I do,” I said.

“Of course you do what?” He popped my rear. “Nezzie, how many times must I remind you?”

“My lord, I’m sorry. I’m just overwhelmed by it all.”

“I’ll have to break you of it,” he said and took a long draw from his lemonade. “Would you like some? It’s fresh squeezed.”

“Sounds perfect, my lord. Thank you.”

He left my side and went to the bar.

“Where are Jackson and Marie-Louise?” I asked.

“Probably upstairs,” he said. “I told them to carry on and not wait for us. I want time with you alone to show you around before lunch. We’ll see them then and decide from there if we’re ready to explore the top floor.”

My heart skipped a beat thinking about the room upstairs. A wave of excitement ran through my center.

“Come on, let’s have a look around outside first and then we can come back in and I’ll give you the grand tour.”

A golf cart parked outside provided transport. Mr. Delacroix drove around what seemed to be endless gardens of fruit trees, vines, and vegetable beds of tomatoes, cucumbers, and onions.

“Is this where all the food grows, my lord?” I asked.

“Most of the food we use in the house grows here. Want to see the strawberry fields?” he asked. He pressed the gas pedal and brought us up a slope overlooking acres of strawberries. He got out and examined a plant that bore no fruit or blossoms. “These little plants have done all they can this year. I suppose we’ll have to enjoy what we have until next spring.”

The sun was reaching its apex as we traveled along a well-maintained dirt road dotted with cottages and outbuildings filled with farming equipment. The buildings were mostly empty, but some folks still lived in them and waved as we went by.

“Over there is where Marie-Louise’s auntie lives.” Mr. Delacroix pointed to a well-maintained small house. I could not imagine much more than one or two rooms in it.

“Did Marie-Louise live there before Jackson?” I asked.

“No, she was back in the woods a little farther with her mother, in her stepfather’s place. His brother still lives on the grounds up the road a bit. He takes care of the pepper fields. Hey, let’s go have a look. They should be doing well just about now.”

He turned the cart around and we went back by the strawberry fields and across a small pasture of cows, sheep, and goats.

“Where are her parents, my lord?”

“Well, my dear Nez, like you, she doesn’t know her daddy and her momma left her stepfather after Jackson bought Marie-Louise.”

“What, my lord? What did you say?”

“She left after she gave Jackson Marie-Louise,” he corrected himself.

“You said Jackson bought her, sir. I heard you.”

He sighed, “Very well, you did. Like I said yesterday, one bad decision led to more bad decisions and really, Marie’s momma was happy to take the money and get out knowing her daughter would be seen to. See, the stepfather was a real monster. Once you get to know Marie-Louise, she’ll confide in you about him and how grateful she is to Jackson for taking her.”

“There’s a twist to everything around here, isn’t there, my lord?” I asked.

“Lives up to its name,” he chuckled. “We’re all a little twisted around here.”

“Whatever happened to her stepfather?”

“Eventually, he was told to vacate. Nez, we may be twisted, but we aren’t evil like he was.”

The pepper fields were bigger than the strawberry fields. The rows of plants were green and perfect. Small yellow blossoms shone brightly against the brilliant foliage.

“What kind of peppers are these?” I asked.

“Hot ones,” he smiled. “I sell most of them to local people and wholesalers who create their own hot sauces out of them; the rest I keep to make my own. Well, at least my chef does. You’ll like it. I ran out at the apartment and keep forgetting to bring some back with me. We’ll have it tonight at dinner, I’m sure. I think Chef is making turducken for us.”

“What’s that, my lord?”

“A turkey with a duck inside and a chicken inside the duck, all roasted up together. Sort of a local thing, I guess. You’ll like it. Probably have cornbread dressing with it or maybe oyster. One thing about being out here, Nezzie, is ya gotta exercise more because the food is so damned good. Maybe tomorrow you can run with me.”

“Oh, my lord, I didn’t pack any running clothes,” I said, hoping to get out of it.

“Don’t worry, I packed them while you were tied up last night.” His eyes misted over with pleasure. “I’m so pleased you like to be tied up. You were so fucking hot last night when you cried. You have no idea what you do to me.” He smiled and I noticed his pants bulging.

I leaned into him and whispered, “Will you promise to tie me up again tonight, my lord?”

He stopped the golf cart and took a handful of my hair. “You bet your fucking ass I’ll tie you up.” He kissed me hard. “Damned begging slut,” he laughed and unbuckled his pants. He slid to the middle of the cart seat. “Give me a lap dance, cher. Fuck me now before we head back.”

I lifted my skirt and straddled him, facing forward as if I were riding in his lap, and he guided me down. All of last night’s punishment frustrations poured out of me and I thanked him for finally letting me come.

“Good girl, good girl,” he said, gouging deeper into me, “good girl.”

* * *

We drove up to a side door of the mansion and left the keys in the cart.

“I thought I’d introduce you to the staff,” Mr. Delacroix said as he helped me out of the cart. “You’re welcome in their quarters anytime you want, but their bedrooms, like ours, are off-limits if the door is closed. Just simple respect and consideration,” he explained. “One cannot demand respect, it must be earned.”

The servants’ entrance was barely noticeable. We stood at the top of a hidden cement stairway that went under the house. Oleander bushes crowded it, making it shady and cool. A gas lamp burned even during the day.

“They’re well trained, so you probably won’t see them very often, except for Thomas whom you’ve met and Samuel, the footman.”

“Sir, I’m not sure how to deal with having a staff,” I said, feeling very nervous.

“As I say, they’re well trained, so don’t worry about it. Just remember, they are my employees. Treat them with respect as you would any other person. This is their job. If you appreciate them, they’ll return the favor, and as time goes by, you’ll get used to each other. I hope you like them. I’m very proud of my crew. They run a tight ship.”

He opened the door into a mudroom. Boots, shoes, and flip-flops lined the wall. Jackets, sweaters, and a few t-shirts hung on hooks. Men’s swim trunks hung on a drying rack. The room opened up into the biggest kitchen I had ever seen. Large commercial-style refrigerators and ovens lined one wall; the other side of the room featured commercial-size sinks, dishwashers, and dish racks. There were large pots simmering on the stovetop. Windows lined the wall above the sinks, letting light in. The center of the room housed a large food preparation space with stainless steel shelving that held all kinds of mixing bowls, gadgets, and knives. A young woman dressed in blue jeans and a t-shirt was rolling out some kind of pastry. Her sandy-colored hair was tied up in a loose bun. She had flour on her nose. The whole room smelled delicious, a mixture of sweet and spice.

“Mr. Delacroix, how are you?” she smiled. “Thomas said you’d be here this week. Happy birthday, sir.” Her Southern drawl was pronounced. “It’s good to see you.”

“I’m doing very well, thanks. Even better now that I smell your shortbread baking. God, that smells good.”

I was in awe of the room. It was intimidating and I stood speechless.

“Janey, are the rest of the staff around? I’d like you all to meet Miss Nez.” I turned to him when he spoke my name. “Nezzie, this is Janey, our pastry chef. Well, she does more than just pastries. She is an expert in everything sweet. She’s making strawberry preserves, too.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said and turned to me. “It’s a pleasure, Miss Nez.” She held out her flour-covered hand and then pulled it back and shrugged. “Sorry, it’s an occupational hazard.” She giggled. “Let me call Al and see if he can’t get them all to come in. Gettin’ the whole crew in here in the middle of the day is a bit like herding cats, Mr. Delacroix, but Chef will be here shortly to prepare lunch.” She wiped her hands on a towel and went to the phone.

Mr. Delacroix took my hand and brought me through the double doors on the other side of the kitchen to a large dining room. The rustic pine table had seats for twenty. A sideboard held a coffee urn, coffee cups, a pitcher of water, and glasses. A wide hallway brought us to the sleeping quarters. Most of the doors were closed, but the ones that remained open showed large, bright rooms, well-appointed with televisions, radios, bathrooms, and freshly made beds.

“Do they all live here, sir?”

“For the most part, but some have places in town or in the village. The ones who have families usually go home at night, but every member of the main staff has a room here. It’s part of their benefit package. I take care of my people. If they ever need anything, they know I’ve got them covered. They’re good people and they work hard, Nez. It’s the least I can do.”

We went back through the dining room and into the kitchen. Janey, another woman, and five men stood in a line in front of the refrigerators. “This is all I could muster, Mr. Delacroix,” Janey said. One of the men quickly removed his hat.

“Thanks, Janey,” Mr. Delacroix said and turned to the group. “I apologize for interrupting your day, but I want to take a minute and introduce you to Miss Nez. You’ll be seeing more of her around the farm in the coming weeks. Nezzie, you’ve met Janey. This is Agnes, she keeps the second-floor bedrooms.”

Agnes was a trim middle-aged black woman. She wore a white bandana on her head and glared at the dirty men standing in the pristine kitchen.

“This is Pepper, our head groundskeeper. He maintains the beautiful gardens along with Mike, Ted, and Jon-Jon here.”

Pepper was a young white man with a strong build. His blue jeans were stained with mud and grass. He still wore his work gloves and held a baseball cap in his hands.

Mike was a little older with a tanned face and small brown eyes. His t-shirt was a size too big and he wore shorts and boots. His knees were the color of earth, as if he had been crawling around all morning.

Ted was the youngest of them all, black and wiry like Ty. He was the one who forgot to take his hat off when he came in.

Jon-Jon was big, white, and bald; he tucked his hat into the front of his overalls under his chin. His face was dirty and his boots were wet.

“And this is Al, the foreman. He pretty much looks after all the farming operations. If you ever have any questions about what crops grow here, he’s the man.”

Al was a black man with a kind face. He wore clean, pressed jeans and work boots. The sleeves of his cotton plaid shirt were rolled up. He held a cowboy hat in his hands.

In unison, the men bowed their heads and the women curtsied and said, “Ma’am.”

“Where’s Thomas, Miss Melva, and Samuel?” Mr. Delacroix asked no one in particular.

“Sorry, sir,” Agnes said. “Miss Melva had to run out to get some more bleach, and Samuel ran over to his momma’s to bring her some lunch. You recall she was havin’ some trouble.”

“Thanks for reminding me, Agnes,” Mr. Delacroix said and turned to me. “Miss Melva is in charge of housekeeping. She takes care of the parlor, library, and dining rooms. You’ll meet Samuel at dinner. Agnes, how’s his momma doin’?”

“Oh, she doin’ fine. Doc say she’s healin’ real good, but it’s just hard for her to get around the kitchen on crutches, ya know.”

“Samuel’s mom stepped in a hole and broke her ankle last week,” Mr. Delacroix told me.

“I hope she gets well soon,” I said. I turned to the staff. “I am so pleased to meet you all. I just want to say that Twisted Oak is the most beautiful place I have ever seen and now I know why.”

The door to the mudroom swung open and hit the pantry shelf. A young black man with his arms full of fresh produce, a basket hanging from his elbow, and a burlap sack tucked under his arm, pushed his way through.

“And this is Chef!” Mr. Delacroix said as he rushed over to help him with his load.

“Thanks, Mr. Delacroix. I didn’t think I was gonna make it.” He dropped an onion. “I never bring enough baskets.”

“Chef, I’d like you to meet Miss Nez.” Mr. Delacroix took my hand and brought me closer. Chef set the burlap bag down and only then noticed the other staff members in the room.

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was interrupting.” He held his hand out to shake mine. “Nice to meet you, Miss Nez. Mr. Scott mentioned that you’d be joining us this week. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to be here.”

“It’s not you who’s interrupting, Chef. As far as I’m concerned, this is your office, not mine. Have you seen Thomas?” Mr. Delacroix asked and bent to pick up the onion.

“Yes, sir, he’s in the wine cellar taking inventory.” Chef took the onion from Mr. Delacroix.

“No wonder I couldn’t get a hold of him,” Janey said.

“Okay, we’ll press on so ya’ll can get back to your day,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Thanks for taking time to meet Miss Nez.”

We left the way we came in and walked around to the front of the house.

“Best not to interrupt Thomas in the middle of inventory. He can get a bit testy when he’s working,” Mr. Delacroix said as he held the front door open for me. This time we entered the library to the left of the foyer. The room was the same size as the parlor, a mirror image of it, but there were books of all kinds from floor to ceiling. Two writing desks sat in opposite corners with a settee in the middle, and serving stations had been placed on the front wall between the French doors. A stately grand piano sat in the corner. I had never seen such a collection of books before.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“My lord, this is unbelievable. This whole day has been unbelievable. I couldn’t have imagined this kind of life before you. The whole thing is just unreal, my lord.”

“Like a dream?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, a wonderful dream.”

He held me gently as if I would break. “Come on, let’s go look upstairs. We’re staying where Ty and Sunny will have their rooms when they come here to live.”

I followed him out of the library, through the foyer, and up the stairs past the haunting portrait of Jean-Pierre.

“I’ll show you the west wing first,” he said as we took a right and entered a wide hallway with a large closet and a large room that appeared to be a home office. Another room had gym equipment. There were no small rooms in Twisted Oak.

“Welcome to the west wing. This is where Jackson and Marie-Louise will live.”

Mr. Delacroix opened the double doors at the end of the hallway and we stepped into a grand living room with a fireplace and modern furnishings. The lighting came from crystal lamps, all brightness and sparkle. The ceiling fan went around in slow, languid circles. The walls had large windows with a view of the gardens and adjacent fields. I noticed a tennis court in the distance.

A kitchenette with refrigerator, teapot, and coffeemaker was tucked behind the entrance door; through there a hallway led to a bathroom the size of the dining room in the apartment. Beyond that, a splendid corner bedroom overlooked the majestic oaks and bayous. A fresh breeze blew the sheer drapes, which made me think of liquid cream. The smell of jasmine and magnolia filled the room.

We ventured back out across the gallery over the foyer and entered the east wing through large double doors that Mr. Delacroix quietly closed behind us. It was almost a mirror image of the other side, but instead of the closet and home office along a hallway, the double doors appeared almost immediately. Where the home office and closet would have been, there was an anteroom that adjoined the suite through a set of double hung doors. The anteroom was empty except for a chest of drawers, a king-size bed dressed in red bedding, and a chaise lounge upholstered in gold brocade.

The walls were bare except for large iron hooks. I noticed the ceiling had them too. There were no windows and the walls were painted black. A set of double doors hung on the opposite wall. The main living area we would stay in was furnished similarly to the other bedroom, modern, bright, and airy.

Mr. Delacroix let out his infectious giggle. “Wait till you see the master suite where we’ll spend the rest of our lives. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, cher.”

“The rest of our lives, sir?”

“Nezzie, I already told you I’m in this for the long haul.”

I hugged him as hard as I could. “Thank you, my lord.”

“It pleases you,” he said.

“Oh yes, sir. More than you know.”

“Good girl,” he smiled. “It pleases me too. But Nezzie, you must remember your position. If I want you to hug me, I’ll let you know.”

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry.”

“While on the subject of rules, once you come through the double doors in the gallery, you are to disrobe immediately. In here, you’ll be naked as you are required to be in our bedroom in town.”

“Yes, sir.” I began to unbutton my blouse. “Sorry, sir.”

“These rooms are private and no one will enter without permission as long as the doors are closed, so no need to worry about Thomas or the maids.” He turned to see my naked body. “Thank you, Nezzie. I appreciate your nakedness.”

“You’re welcome, sir.” I lay my clothing on the chaise, feeling liberated to be naked in such an open area. “What’s that black room for?”

“That adjoins the master suite so that we don’t have to go out in the hallway to join one another. Jackson and Marie-Louise can come here or we can go there without worry, and that room remains neutral.”

“I see, my lord.”

“No, actually, you don’t yet,” he smiled. “But you will.”

24.

My sundress was yellow, the color of the pepper blossoms. The simple flat shoes were gold, and Mr. Delacroix had given me a bracelet with a sun pendant that hung below my ankle.

“My lord, how do you decide what I should wear every day? Why do you have me wear the things I do?”

“What a funny question,” he said.

“Sir, I’m curious. Do you have a list of things for each day that you make up ahead of time?”

“Is that how you dressed yourself, Nezzie, with a list?” he asked as he slipped on a huarache-style sandal.

“No, my lord, but you seem to have everything so well planned.”

“It’s my job to have things well planned. Besides, this dress is perfect for your Twisted Oak wardrobe. Do you not like it?”

“Oh no, my lord, I love everything you choose.”

“As it should be. You look like a ray of sunshine, just how I imagined.”

“Thank you, my lord.” I examined the dress in the full-length mirror as I secured the halter tie. “You never choose dark colors for me.”

“You’re too pure at heart for that. Darks don’t express your character very well. I tried it once and I didn’t care for it on you.”

“My character, my lord?”

“Yes. Young, pure, untouched, sweetly naïve, and so full of promise; you’re my hope. I see only brightness when I see you, and lately, you’re all that I see.” He leaned back on the chaise. “I . . .” He balked and I thought maybe he would finally say it; I stayed still and silent and waited. “Nezzie,” another pause, “you scare me sometimes.”

The insecure man that sat before me was longing for assurance, but the timing was wrong to say I loved him. We needed to be in our own home, in our own bed, for that.

“My lord, I’ll always be here with you, under you, however you wish me to be. I’m not going anywhere. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” I smiled, hoping to lighten the mood. “You have to trust me, my lord.”

He smiled. “Of course, my love. Tonight I’ll not only be stuck with you, I’ll have you tied up so you can’t escape even if you wanted to.” He came at me in a playful manner and I ran into the living room, squealing. I remembered the day in Lafayette Cemetery and dodged around the sofa.

“You can have it if you can catch it, sir,” I said as I lifted my dress and showed him my ass.

“Oh, you fucking little bitch,” he said as he dove over the back of the sofa, but I sidestepped and ran around the chair and flashed him again. This time he did not hesitate and almost got me, but I ran behind the small dining table.

“I will get you, Nezzie, and when I do . . .”

I ran into the black room. I was cornered, prey for my predator.

Habitually, my legs spread for him. His right hand was instantly groping my crotch and his left hand held my wrists behind me. “On your knees,” he said and I immediately went down. He grabbed my hair with both hands and jerked my head up so I could see his eyes. “Open your mouth.”

He shoved his hard shaft down my throat. I found it alarming to have my windpipe blocked, but he pulled back for a moment or two, allowing me to catch my breath. When it was apparent to him that I had, he thrust so hard, my head struck the wall until he grabbed my hair to hold me steady. I relaxed my breath in accordance to his rhythm. My groin ached and I felt my juices drip. I wanted to cry out, but his unyielding organ dampened my vocal cords, bathing them in creamy salty sweet as he shoved deeper into my throat.

I was still swallowing when he reached under my armpits and lifted me to my feet. His strong arm wrapped around me as we walked out of the room. He sat me in the oversized chair, brought me a glass of water from the kitchenette, and dabbed my chin and cheeks with a cloth napkin.

“Just think of it as an appetizer for your lunch,” he smiled.

We left our rooms and went through the door underneath the main staircase. I had not noticed this large butler’s pantry before because the grandeur of the room had swept my eyes upwards instead of down.

“My mother would cringe if she knew I was bringing you through here, but it’s so tedious to walk all the way around through the library. One of the few real memories I have of her is her fussing at me not to come through here on the way to dinner.” He took my hand. “This way.”

We came through into a grand dining room almost as large as the parlor. The walls were painted the color of fresh cream and adorned with thick gilt-frame mirrors and more pastoral artwork. The lavishly stained wooden dining table was almost as dark as ebony, with twelve matching dining chairs upholstered in creamy yellow brocade. The centerpiece was a smaller version of the floral arrangement in the foyer. All along either side of the table were large-scale sideboards and buffets set with more service tools. French doors along the back wall were thrown open, leading out to a brick terrace that overlooked an expansive backyard. Birdsong and the smell of cut grass wafted through the doors. I could hear a young woman laughing.

“Come on. They’re here already,” he said as he led me through the open doors. The brick terrace was generous in size and covered, for the most part, by the second floor of the building. I noticed the building was L-shaped. We had not seen the rooms behind the library. Shuttered French doors gave it a forlorn feel.

A table for four was just inside the second-story overhang, out of the sun, with a small floral centerpiece and a white tablecloth waving in the breeze. Water glasses were filled and a bottle of wine was chilling in a stand, sweating in the warmth.

We stood and watched Jackson and Marie-Louise play croquet for a few moments. I understood what Mr. Delacroix meant when he said she was childlike. Her clothing was what a twenty-something would wear, but her mannerisms were very youthful; she jumped up and down when she made a good shot and squealed when her ball went awry. She even tried to pick the ball up and move it as a child would, until Jackson corrected her by slapping her hand and telling her no in a harsh manner, only to have her pout.

My stomach was in knots. I was not as nervous about meeting Jackson again as I was about meeting Marie-Louise for the first time. I squeezed Mr. Delacroix’s hand.

“Don’t let her fool you. Yes, she is ignorant in so many ways, but when it comes to the lifestyle, she’s anything but. She’s got her talents and she’s a good person who’s never known anything else but this place and our ways. Be patient and kind and she’ll return the favor.”

He waved to them and turned to me. “Just be mindful that she’s honest to a fault and will say anything that comes to mind. She’s very literal. Try not to take the things she says personally, if she offends you.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Gregory-Michel,” Marie-Louise crooned when she saw us. She dropped her mallet and came toward us. A small flame of jealousy gripped me, but snuffed out when Jackson took her by the arm and gave her a swift, concentrated spanking. He turned her to face him and I could hear his muffled reprimand. Her long, silky brown hair blew in the breeze as he held her by the arms and shook her abruptly as he spoke. She tried to look down, but he took her chin in his fingers and brought her head up so her eyes would meet his. He shook his finger in her face, turned her around, and spanked her again.

“My lord, is this going to be a problem?” I asked.

“It needn’t be. Just let me do the talking and if she asks you something, just answer honestly.”

Marie-Louise approached with Jackson at her heels. “Mr. Delacroix, I’m glad to see you.”

Up close, she was drop-dead gorgeous. Round brown eyes were wide set and large, her nose perfectly straight and well proportioned. Her mouth was full of pearl teeth, and her lips were plump and sensual. Thick chocolate hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she was curvy and fit inside tanned skin. Her neck was decorated with a thick gold collar. Small circular hoops were spaced evenly around it, two of which were attached to chains that fell beneath the loose bodice of her sleeveless dress.

“Marie-Louise, how are you?” Mr. Delacroix asked as he held his hand out for her.

“I’m feeling good,” she said. “Master lost again.”

“Marie-Louise, do you take pleasure when your master loses?” Mr. Delacroix asked her in a stern voice.

“Only sometimes, sir,” she said with a smile. “When he wins, I win.”

“Well said, Marie-Louise,” Mr. Delacroix said. Jackson approached and held his hand out for Mr. Delacroix to shake. “Afternoon, Jackson. Marie-Louise beat you again.”

“Yes, sir, she did, fair and square this time.” Jackson put his arm around Marie-Louise. “How are you, Miss Nez? It’s good to see you again.”

“I’m very well, thank you. Twisted Oak is stunning. I’ve enjoyed the tour so far. What a gorgeous place.”

“Yes, ma’am, it is. Marie-Louise, say hello to Miss Nez,” Jackson urged. “Soon she’ll be the new lady here at Twisted Oak.”

Marie-Louise held her hand out to shake mine and curtsied a little. “I’m happy to meet you.” Her smile was arresting, but her eyes remained averted.

“Did you see the village?” Jackson asked me.

“I don’t think so. I saw so many things, maybe I did.” I looked questioningly at Mr. Delacroix.

“You saw part of it when I told you where Marie-Louise is from, but we turned around to see the peppers.”

“Mr. Delacroix,” Jackson said, “you should show her the rest tomorrow. Miss Nez, it’s really a part of the history, the Twisted Oak village. The people who lived there worked the plantation. Hell, they even had their own economy, a barter system with their own currency. They still have their own marketplace.”

“Very feudal,” I said.

“Absolutely, Miss Nez, but alas, those days are gone since much of the original plantation was sold off. We’ve still got a few residents that live out there and work their areas, though. Mr. Delacroix wouldn’t have his peppers and his strawberries without them.”

“How exactly does that work?” I asked, but Mr. Delacroix gave me a pinch to remind me of proper salutations. Marie-Louise took in a sharp breath.

Jackson chimed in. “The folks who live out there are there because they choose to be. Some of them have been there for generations and others signed on more recently. They get to live virtually rent-free except for their utilities. We maintain the shacks for them and give a monthly stipend in return for their labor on the farm, and they get part of the harvest to consume or sell at their farmers’ market. They basically lease the land from us. It’s a simple life that some prefer.”

“So it’s like a business, then?”

“Absolutely. We keep books and pay taxes, the whole nine yards. Everything’s aboveboard. A real win-win situation.” Jackson pointed the way to the table and we made our way across the brick terrace.

“My lord, where does Thomas live?” I asked.

“In the servants’ quarters in the house, but he has a place in the village, too. He spends most nights out there with his family.”

“What are those rooms, sir?” I pointed to the closed French doors.

“That’s the children’s wing. As you can imagine, it’s been empty for a long time now. We’ll have a look at it later,” Mr. Delacroix said as he took my hand.

“Miss Nez, where did you come from?” Marie-Louise asked.

“Kansas City,” I said. Her eyes were so dark that you could barely see the pupils. One could get lost in those eyes.

“That’s far away,” she said with her wide, innocent eyes. “How did you get here?”

“I came by air,” I said, “in an airplane.”

“Oh my god, weren’t you scared?” she asked earnestly. “Why did you leave? I can’t imagine being brave enough to leave home.”

I looked at Mr. Delacroix and he nodded. “I left my home because my people didn’t want me.”

Mr. Delacroix leaned in and whispered, “Good girl, best to keep it simple.”

Marie-Louise’s eyes shared my grief. “I know what it’s like, Miss Nez. My momma didn’t want me either. Do you have a daddy?”

“I never met him,” I said, for the first time not feeling ashamed.

“Me either, Miss Nez, I never knew mine so I know how it goes.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad I’m away from there,” I said.

“Miss Nez, how did Mr. Delacroix find you?” she asked.

“He didn’t. Ty found me and brought me to Mr. Delacroix,” I said.

She reeled back in her chair. “The nigger Mr. Delacroix brought here?”

“Marie,” Jackson reprimanded. “Mind your manners, young lady.”

I stiffened with anger at her overt racism. Mr. Delacroix patted my thigh under the table, urging my patience, and chimed in, “Yes, Marie-Louise.”

“Did you fuck him?”

“Well,” I stammered, “I, well, yes, I did.”

“His dick is so big! Did you get it all the way in? Did it hurt?”

“I’m not sure how to . . .”

“Nezzie, just answer her question honestly,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Well, I’m not sure if it went all the way in, but it hurt a bit when he was deep.”

Marie-Louise shuddered and made a kind of purring sound. “I don’t know if I could get myself to fuck a nigger,” she said. I recoiled again upon hearing that word.

“Marie-Louise, mind your language, and you will if I tell you to,” Jackson said sternly and tugged one of her small chains.

“Yes, sir, but . . .”

He tugged harder and she acquiesced by leaning her head onto his shoulder. It was easy to imagine her as a twelve-year-old and I began to feel sickened by Jackson.

“Marie-Louise,” Mr. Delacroix said, “has Jackson told you about the move?”

“Yes, sir, he said he and I are moving to the west wing after Christmas and that you and Miss Nez are taking our wing because this is your house and we’ve only been looking after it for you.”

“That’s right. I want to make sure you know what is ahead so there aren’t any surprises. I hope you’re happy that we’re coming home.”

“Oh, I am, sir. I’ve been looking forward to it ever since he told me. I get lonely sometimes when he’s in the city. It will be nice to have another lady in the house. I hope we can be friends, Miss Nez.”

“I’m sure of it, Marie-Louise. You can show me the ropes,” I said, and everyone laughed, except Marie-Louise.

“Oh, please, can I, Miss Nez? Mr. Delacroix?” She clapped her hands and bounced in her chair. Jackson poured her a glass of wine.

“You can a little later,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Can I say a toast, Mr. Delacroix?” Marie-Louise asked as Jackson poured wine for the rest of us.

“Sure,” he said.

She looked thoughtful and then raised her glass. “To Mr. Delacroix! Welcome home!”

“Hear, hear,” said Mr. Delacroix to the sound of crystal glasses chiming.

The bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé went down like water. “Jackson, this wine is so good,” I said.

“Thank you, ma’am, it comes from Burgundy in central France. An interesting varietal that only comes from there; it’s actually chardonnay, but it doesn’t have the American heaviness to it. It drinks more like a fumé or even a sauvignon blanc because it lacks that buttery oakiness that Americans love so much. It’ll go well with the fish.”

“Maybe a trip to France is in order for us, Nez, once we get settled and are able to get a passport for you,” Mr. Delacroix said.

Marie-Louise chimed in, “I wouldn’t want to go. Jackson wanted to take me last year, but the idea of flying over an ocean! It’s too far, but you’re adventurous, Miss Nez.”

Thomas came to the table with a loaf of warm bread and butter. “Sir,” he addressed Mr. Delacroix, “lunch will be out momentarily. Is there anything you need?”

“Yes, Thomas. Another bottle of wine, as Miss Nez has a taste for it, and make sure the cellar is stocked sufficiently.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said and he turned to leave.

“Greg,” Jackson said as he broke a piece of bread, “remember that château in the Lot Valley we found? The one with the awesome marketplace?”

Mr. Delacroix frowned and leaned in with sharp eyes. “Jackson, let me remind you about proper salutations. I know this is an adjustment for you, but for now, we must stick to the plan.”

Marie-Louise cowered and hid behind Jackson with true fear on her face.

“Marie-Louise, don’t hide behind him,” Mr. Delacroix said, shooting his eyes toward her. “His transgressions are not yours. Now sit up.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jackson said. “I was lost in the moment remembering you, our trip. I didn’t mean disrespect. It was just a fond memory.”

I sat in silence as the group tried in vain to find its balance once more. Marie-Louise sat up but quivered like the leaves in the trees.

“Sir,” I offered, “maybe we should just relax for a bit and enjoy our lunch, lunch with old friends.”

Mr. Delacroix let out a long, purposeful sigh. “You’re absolutely right. Jackson, I’ve been short lately. Let’s just leave it. For now, I’d like for you all to get to know Nez better. She’s an excellent addition to our little clan.”

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said, “I’d like that.”

Mr. Delacroix leaned across the table, Jackson met him halfway, and they kissed freely and openly.

Marie-Louise made her purring noise and looked in my direction. “Ma’am,” she said, her smile enticing, “I wonder where this leaves us.”

25.

Lunch was divine, blackened catfish that came from the farm, along with asparagus and a tossed salad. For dessert, we enjoyed a bowl of fresh strawberries and black berries that Mr. Delacroix called dewberries, topped with a light Chantilly cream. Instead of coffee, Mr. Delacroix opened a third bottle of wine. By this time, we were fully satiated, and slightly buzzed.

“I can’t believe we’re having turducken tonight after all this,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“It’s okay, sir,” Marie-Louise said, “we’ll just have to work extra hard to work it off tonight. Maybe tomorrow we can play a game outside.”

“Good idea, Marie-Louise. I think right now, though, I’d like to take Nez for a walk. She still has things to see. Your doors were closed earlier, so we didn’t see the master suite. In a little bit, we’ll meet you upstairs so you can be the ones to show her the master suite,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Jackson, I trust that’s in keeping with your afternoon?”

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said.

Mr. Delacroix took my hand and we walked across the croquet lawn, perfectly flat and manicured like green carpet. Mr. Delacroix picked up the ball and tossed it in his hand as we walked.

“Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Delacroix,” I said.

“Just thinking about playing out here when I was a kid. There used to be a swing in that oak tree and a jungle gym back over there by the children’s wing. I can’t imagine how wonderful it must have been for my parents—well, for my father, anyway—to have children playing here.”

“It seems like it would have been paradise, my lord.”

“It was. It really was. Every day was perfect, even after my mother died. This place stayed the same. It made it easier for me and my dad and Jackson to carry on.” He tossed the ball back toward the green. “I want you to know, Nez, that I asked you here because I want you here, but I also want you to be happy here, to want to be here.”

“I know, sir.”

“You see, I don’t think my mother was ever happy here. My dad rather forced the situation on her, and then with the scandal with Dad and Jackson, she never left. She was embarrassed and ashamed. She never felt comfortable going back to town to face those society bitches.”

“I know, sir.”

“Just tell me, Nez, if you don’t want to live here and we won’t, okay? I’ll stay in the city, if that’s what you want.”

“Sir, our situation is nothing like your parents’. You’ve been honest and open about the nature of your relationships. There are no secrets, and besides, things aren’t the same today. No one has to hide anything, so there’s nothing to be ashamed of. As you say, we can go to town anytime we want. No one has to feel trapped.”

“Just promise me that you’ll tell me if things aren’t right.”

“Of course, my lord. You remember what I said about the demons?”

“I remember everything you say,” he said, and I believed him.

“The demons won’t win. They can’t win, not with you and me and Sunny and Ty. As long as our family is together, we’ll be fine, my lord.”

We crested another knoll overlooking a wide bayou, oaks dripping with Spanish moss. The cypress trees were large, but not as large as the oaks. The sun was lowering to our left, casting a misty silvery hue. Insects buzzed in the warm sunlight. We veered right toward a tall oak tree that stood on a hill of gravestones near a small chapel.

“My dad never wanted to be put in a crypt. He always said he’d be buried in the ground with his ancestors.”

Dozens of graves dotted the ground surrounding the oak, telling the story of the Delacroix family all the way back to Monique and Jean-Pierre.

“Here’s my dad,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Jackson will be buried right here,” he pointed to the ground next to his father’s grave, “and we’re standing on my spot. There’s a spot for my wife, too, next to me, where you’re standing.”

I shivered at the thought.

“When Jackson collared me, we stood under the oak just he and I, knowing we had to honor my father that way. He and Dad were the loves of each other’s lives, but they lived in the wrong time and couldn’t be free with it. They lived a lie that caused so many to suffer.”

“Sir, how did he die?”

“Quickly, in a car accident, on his way back from the city. He was racing down the interstate and they think he had a blowout. His car flipped a couple of times and he was thrown from the car. He died at the scene.”

“Oh, my lord, I am so sorry.”

“It took me a long time to get over the fact that he was hurrying to get back to me. I blamed myself for a long time.” He gazed at his father’s grave. “Honestly, I don’t think Jackson has ever fully recovered. He’s never been truly happy since. He just sort of dropped out of everything. He just dove into work and collared me when I was ready, and then when I went away to school, he collared Marie-Louise.”

He shook his head. “Neither one of them can make a go of it away from here. Jackson can’t leave the memory of my father, and poor Marie . . .”

“So, my lord, you were nine when your dad died and Jackson collared you at fifteen?”

“Those years went fast and I don’t recall them very well. Jackson was good to me. He kept the business going and he was a good father figure. My dad was adamant that I not live with my mother’s family, and he made sure of it in his will. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had, but I’m happy now. I’m glad I didn’t go.”

“My lord, if I may be selfish for a moment?”

He nodded for me to proceed.

“I’m glad you didn’t go too,” I smiled. “Thank you, sir, for being who you are.”

“You’re welcome, Nez,” he said as he took my hand and walked with me toward the bayou. “It’s peaceful out here, nothing like the square, is it?”

“It’s a different world, sir.”

We walked closer to the white ibis, motionless at the edge of the water, and remarkably, they remained as still as white alabaster stone against the deep greens of the marsh as we approached.

“My lord, I hope you still don’t blame yourself for your father’s accident.”

He sighed and looked out at the bayou. “I don’t, but it took a long time. I called him at work that day and told him I’d finally finished my model airplane. The last thing Dad said to me was, ‘Son, I’m taking the afternoon off so we can finally fly that thing.’ And he never got here.”

“You were young, sir,” I said.

“I never flew the model. It’s still in the children’s wing. I almost destroyed it, but Jackson stopped me because he said there’d come a day when I’d want to fly it.”

“There will be,” I said. We walked a few feet in silence.

“You know, Nez, if you choose to raise children with me, our children will be well educated. No expense spared. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, wondering if I could possibly manage it.

“We’ll take our time, no need to rush anything just now. This is only your first night.”

“Thank you, sir.”

We wandered aimlessly through the green landscape.

“Are you still worried about Marie-Louise?” he asked.

“My lord, how did Sunny put it? She’s a piece of work.”

“She is,” he said, “absolutely Jackson’s creation, his piece of work. When we were kids, I remember her being odd, but not in a bad way. She was sweet, and even when she was young, she could play the piano like crazy. She used to sneak up here and play all the time. Dad and Jackson let her come anytime she wanted. She enjoyed her lessons. Her home life was bad after her dad left, from what Jackson tells me. Apparently her stepdad was horrid.” Mr. Delacroix’s voice made the ibis alight with graceful swooshing wings.

“I think out of protection or loneliness or whatever, Jackson decided the best way to help her was to allow her to have the childhood she never had. He’s always treated her like a child, and I guess that is why she remains so in many ways. But it’s like she’s two people. You’ll see the other side of her later, and Nezzie, that other side likes a lot of pain. But don’t get scared or worried. She has safe words she can use at any time.”

“I’m nervous, my lord.”

“No need to be. I’ll be right there and you can use your safe word anytime. Our agreement expressly says that no one will be forced to do anything against their will. You have a say, my love, and I won’t put you up to anything that you’re not ready for.”

“I know, sir, but I want to please you, especially in front of Jackson and Marie-Louise,” I said. “I want them, Jackson especially, to know that I’m also ready to be here.”

“You want to be here?” His eyes crystallized and he smiled an earnest, loving smile. “I hope you know how much it pleases me to hear that. I know it’s only your first night, but things will get clearer, I promise, and I wouldn’t bring you here unless I thought you were ready.”

We turned back toward the house and I noticed the second floor atop the covered terrace where we’d had lunch.

“What are those rooms, my lord?”

“Oh, those rooms, my dear Nez, comprise the master suite. They’ll be our rooms if you decide that we should move here. We’ll see them tonight. The view from up there is extraordinary. You can see all the way into the next parish. See the small windows up above?” He pointed to the very top of the structure. “That is the Ursuline Playroom. We’ll see that, too, at some point.”

“Promise me that you won’t leave me alone, my lord.”

“You have my solemn word, my love.”

We approached the veranda surrounding the children’s wing. It looked abandoned, with the shutters closed. I tried to imagine Mr. Delacroix as a child in this place, but it was difficult.

“Can we go inside the children’s wing, sir?” I asked, hoping it would help spur my imagination.

“Yeah, come on. Let’s go through the library.”

We ducked back through the dining room and butler’s pantry into the foyer and took a right into the library. The double doors to the children’s wing opened with a pronounced moan. The room was dark except for the light coming through the cracks in the shutters. Mr. Delacroix turned on the light switch. The dusty crystal chandelier came on, partially illuminating the furnishings covered in white sheets, but the large area rug was visible, letters, numbers, farm animals, and shapes all in bold primary colors. He pulled the sheet off one piece of furniture to find an old-fashioned rocking horse that looked handmade. The horse’s mane appeared to be real horsehair.

The next sheet, once lifted, revealed a child-size table and chairs. Other sheets hid toy boxes and shelves filled with blocks, books, and sports equipment. Dust was thick in the air by the time the pile of sheets fell into the center of the room, but he had found what he was looking for: a model airplane and remote control. The wingspan was nearly as wide as Mr. Delacroix’s. When our eyes met, I finally saw the little boy.

“It’s still in one piece,” he said with a smile.

“Aren’t you glad Jackson made you keep it, sir?”

“Yeah, Nez, I sure am. Hopefully one of these days, when the time is right, I can get her to fly, but not yet.” He looked around the room. “This place is nasty. I’ll have to get Thomas on this right away. It’s just not right, being neglected like this. I suppose none of us has wanted to come in here for so long that we just kind of shut it up, denied it. Hell, Nez, I haven’t been in here since I was collared, and it doesn’t look like anyone else has either.”

I followed him as he made his way through the playroom. “What’s back here, my lord?” I asked as we passed through another set of double doors into a wide hallway.

“These rooms are for the instructors. This room over here is the nanny’s room, and here on the end, overlooking the backyard, is my room.” He spoke as if we had traveled in time.

“Check it out,” he said as he opened the door and turned on the crystal light fixture; the ceiling fan began to whirl slowly, sending dust into the air. The large room held a chest of drawers, a tallboy dresser, an armoire, and a four-poster bed with a canopy and mosquito net. Mobiles hung from the ceiling: airplanes, planets, and spaceships. The mural on the walls matched the bayou outside. Tall French doors wrapped around the room so that it opened to the north, east, and west. He ran to each door and threw open the storm shutters to let glorious sunlight through. Dust motes floated and twirled in the newly moved air.

I noticed a picture on the nightstand of him and his father set in a tarnished silver frame. His father appeared as a man not much older than Mr. Delacroix was now, wavy dark hair and proud blue eyes. I noticed his hands wrapped around the boy’s shoulders, broad, soft boxer’s hands. His smile was gleaming and so was his son’s; freckles dotted the young boy’s cheeks and his hair was a curly mess of sun-lightened auburn brown. He held a kite in his hand and looked up to his father’s eyes in love and admiration.

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix,” was all I could say. “You look just like him.”

“That’s what Jackson says all the time. Sometimes I think Jackson wanted me to be my dad, that maybe I could fill his empty shoes. And ya know, Nez, I would have. I’d have stepped up and taken Dad’s place with Jackson. I thought that was what we were doing, that that was what would happen when I came back from school. He and I would be together forever like he and my dad should have been.” He trailed off and looked out toward the late afternoon sun.

He began to sway back and forth and held me so that I moved with him. “Of course,” he said, “having children changes everything.”

“I should think so, my lord. I mean, for good parents it does. This is something my mother never understood. If I were to ever become a mother, I’d love and cherish my children. They’d be the center of my being. Monique taught me that her devotion to her children is why this place, why you, exist. Look what she and Jean-Pierre built together. Is it not your duty and mine that we carry it forward? My love, my lord, we are nothing without family.”

“So you’d sacrifice the way we live for the sake of the children? I mean, the lifestyle we have? How, Nez? How would we do it?” In earnest ignorance he admitted, “I’ve never known anything else.”

“It would be very manageable, my lord, as we already have ground rules, such as being honest and straightforward. It’s just a matter of revising the agreement,” I pointed out.

“Nezzie, baby, for once I’m pleased you use your head. You have just unraveled my most pressing puzzle. See why you’re such a complement to me, why we work so well together?”

“Yes, my lord, I think I’m finally getting it,” I said as he took my arm in his and escorted me out to the covered terrace.

“Good. That settles it. Since you get it, I’m gonna give it to you in every way possible—your mouth, your pussy, and your enchanting little ass,” he said, pulling his arm from mine and spanking me playfully.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

His hand went up my skirt from behind and my legs opened for him.

“A couple playmates are waiting for us upstairs.”

26.

Mr. Delacroix carefully secured the doors but left the shutters to the children’s wing open. We made our way back through the library and up the stairs. Jean-Pierre’s eyes looked down upon us as we approached the mammoth portrait.

“Mr. Delacroix, where was he when that portrait was painted?” I asked as I stopped to admire it once again.

“I think he was out back past the chapel. There’s another little hill over there. I think that’s where he was. Of course, the cypress trees in that portrait are gone now; they were probably used to finish the house at some point.”

He took my hand and tugged me toward the stairs. I was so nervous, I feared I might faint.

“Nezzie, I got you. Don’t worry. This is no different from hanging out with Sunny and Ty. Don’t overthink this.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll try.”

“You trust me, right?” he said as he walked next to me up the stairs.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then you have nothing to fear. We’ll go to our room first to get out of these clothes and freshen up. And don’t worry. You won’t be the only one who’ll be naked, my love.” He giggled, which put me at ease. “Come on, love, the best way to get rid of those nerves is to just go for it. I got you, Nezzie. All you have to do is listen to me and you’ll be fine.”

“Okay, my lord.”

Our rooms were a welcome sight. I immediately disrobed upon entry. A vast floral arrangement made up of about two dozen white roses with pink trim was on the coffee table. The essence of rose petals scented the air.

“You like the roses I chose for you?” he asked.

“They’re perfect, my lord.”

“Good, because they remind me of you, all white and pure with only a little color to show how much you’ve learned,” he said with a smile. “Come, Nez, let’s shower and go see how the Scotts are doing.”

We quickly soaped up with rose-scented suds, shaved where need be, and rubbed lotion on one another’s skin. My training had rendered my body into a desirable sculpture of sensuality that I never knew I possessed, one of the many ways in which Mr. Delacroix helped me obtain my highest promise, that undeniable pinnacle of physical virtuosity.

“You look marvelous,” Mr. Delacroix said as I stood naked in front of the mirror. “You’re wearing my favorite outfit.”

“My lord, you look great too.”

“So, you finally agree with me. You finally see it.”

“Sir?”

“It’s about time you see how beautiful you are. I’ve known it all along.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“You’re welcome, my sweet thing,” he said as he put black silk pants on. “Now let’s go take the tour of the master suite. I can’t wait for you to see the playroom. There’s room up there for about a dozen couples, and I gotta say, we’ve had some crazy parties up there.”

We went through the black room where the empty hooks from earlier were threaded through with ropes and pulleys. The dresser top was no longer empty, but artfully arranged with leather riding crops, cuffs, collars, and something that Mr. Delacroix called a cat o’ nine tails. Various plastic and rubber sex toys were also laid out, some very large. A Crock-Pot sat on the corner of the dresser set on high.

We knocked on the door to the master suite and Jackson’s smooth, baritone voice admitted us. The sitting room was similar to our own but larger; on their coffee table sat a bouquet of crimson roses as sweet smelling as the white ones in our room. The walls were painted a dark green and the dark wood trim set the mood with furnishings in a palette of deep reds and gold. The tantalizing ambiance was earthy, worldly, erotic. My eyes traveled the room from corner to corner. Jackson was fully in the nude, sitting on the crimson brocade chair with his right ankle resting atop his left knee, sipping a glass of water.

“On your knees, Jackson,” Mr. Delacroix said in his flat tone, and I knew his eyes shown that gunmetal pallor. I did not look at him, but watched in amazement as Jackson set his water down and kneeled on the floor in front of his chair, never lifting his eyes from the floor. Mr. Delacroix was correct when he said Jackson was a natural submissive. He was more becoming in this role than that of master to Marie-Louise. His aquiline features softened, creating a more natural balance to his unusually handsome face.

“There’s a good man, Jackson. You’re finally back where you want to be. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes, sir.” Jackson’s voice softened and I could see his shoulders moving with each breath.

“Where’s Marie-Louise?” Mr. Delacroix asked him.

“In the bedroom, sir,” Jackson replied. “She’s waiting for your commands.”

“Thank you, Jackson, stay put.”

Jackson did not move a muscle. Mr. Delacroix walked through the sitting room and into the bedroom. I stayed put too, not knowing what to do other than to listen to Mr. Delacroix. I panicked; I did not want to be alone with Jackson.

“Nezzie, come.”

I followed his voice into the bedroom, which was decorated in much the same way as the living room, except the walls were deep maroon in color and the wall of French doors opened onto an extensive veranda from which you could see for miles. Birdsong entered the chamber on a light, cool breeze that caressed my bare skin, giving me goose bumps as I watched Mr. Delacroix and Marie-Louise.

Mr. Delacroix was standing over the bed where Marie-Louise was bound, spread eagle, on her back. The small chains I saw at lunch that attached to her collar ran to hoops that pierced each of her nipples. From there, identical chains fell from each nipple to another hoop that pierced her clit. In the center of this erotic triangle, another small chain attached to a larger chain that attached to the canopy pulled her nipples and her clit just enough to cause her an extraordinary amount of pain if she relaxed too much into the bed. Thin hairline scars ran across her body, above her breasts and over one shoulder. The chain’s slack tightened for a moment and I feared her tissue would tear.

Mr. Delacroix did not move to relieve her. He admired her small corrective movements. “Marie-Louise, you like this, don’t you?”

“Very much, sir,” she smiled. “This is my favorite time of day. It’s like meditating.”

“You do this every day?” he asked.

“Usually in the morning before breakfast, but only when Master is here with me. We didn’t do it this morning because we were getting things ready for you.”

Mr. Delacroix leaned over her and imperceptibly tugged the main chain. “Marie-Louise, address me properly.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“How long have you been chained?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, sir. After lunch, I helped Master make the bed in the black room and set the toys out and then he let me have some water. After that he fucked me and then we took a shower and then he chained me.”

“Do you think you’ve been there long enough?” He walked around to the other side of the bed, opened the nightstand drawer, and pulled out a large rubber dildo.

“I don’t know, sir,” she said as he leaned over the bed.

“Will this help you decide?” He held the enormous dildo in his hand.

“Yes, sir,” she said.

He slowly walked to the foot of the bed, and as methodically and slowly as he could, he inserted the dildo into her vagina with a twisting motion. Her attempts to move in response tightened the slack on the chain. She whimpered. Her breathing became irregular. When it was all the way in, he turned on the vibration full blast, making her start. She was silent. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she worked to regain her equilibrium. I was perplexed by her desire for pain and distressed that Mr. Delacroix was making it worse.

“Nezzie, don’t fret. Marie-Louise knows exactly what she’s doing. She can get out of it anytime she wants to. She has safe words, don’t you, Marie?” he asked. I noticed the bulge in his pants.

“Yes, sir,” Marie answered.

“Does it feel good?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” she said as she closed her eyes with even, level breaths.

“Darling love,” he said to me, “as scintillating as this is, I don’t ever want to see a tattoo or a piercing on your body. There is absolutely no reason for permanent scars for the sake of finding pleasure. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I was relieved, and wondered about Marie-Louise’s scars.

To my horror, we left Marie-Louise to revel in her recreation and made our way back into the sitting room. Mr. Delacroix commented on the décor as we left. “Don’t you think a lighter tone would be better since the room faces north?”

“Yes, sir,” I stammered.

“I do too. The room reminds me of a dungeon, especially with her in there like that. I’d like to change the whole atmosphere in here, wouldn’t you?”

I was still processing what I had just seen. I heard his question, but it did not register.

“Of course, if you’d rather leave it this way, I can live with it. You’ll be spending more time in these rooms than I will, so it is completely up to you, my love.”

“Yes, my lord. I’d like to redecorate,” I said, not wanting to spend my time in these rooms in Marie’s condition.

“Marie-Louise likes things dark. She always has. I think she has a predisposition for the macabre, but all that’s gonna change around here. No more death, Jackson,” he said as we sat on the sofa. Jackson had not moved.

“Yes, sir,” Jackson agreed.

“So how long has Marie-Louise been hanging like that?” Mr. Delacroix asked.

“Not an hour yet, sir.”

“Well, for fuck’s sake, Jackson, how long do you usually leave her like that?”

“She generally peaks out at about fifty minutes, but I leave her there until I hear the safe word.”

Mr. Delacroix’s eyes had not softened since coming to the sitting room and he got up from the chair and stood across the coffee table from Jackson. “Crawl to me, boy. Come here now and show me your ass.”

Jackson dutifully crawled around the table and turned his backside toward us, lifting it as he placed his forehead on the floor. Mr. Delacroix hit it hard and I noticed Jackson’s penis grow as it swayed with the impact.

“Jackson, you will address me properly, do you understand?” He hit Jackson hard again, almost tumbling him over. Jackson’s manhood was now at full attention.

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said.

“You know the rules, boy,” Mr. Delacroix said as he hit him again, making Jackson’s backside glow red.

“Yes, sir, I do. I know the rules.” Jackson was breathing hard.

“Good man.” Mr. Delacroix sat down. “Now come here and suck me off, you prick.”

Jackson turned and crawled toward Mr. Delacroix. I was intrigued to see Jackson give Mr. Delacroix a blow job, especially from my vantage point sitting next to Mr. Delacroix. Jackson was surprisingly gentle and feminine, nothing like Sunny. Jackson’s jawline, naturally pronounced, became even more rugged and angular when he enveloped Mr. Delacroix’s cock in his mouth and throat. His Adam’s apple moved up and down as he sucked and his lips caressed the head. He eased the erection all the way into his throat and his eyes rolled in delight. Mr. Delacroix grabbed Jackson’s hair as he did so often my own and began to guide him faster and faster over his penis. Jackson’s hands remained calm on Mr. Delacroix’s hips. He became supple and yielding. I felt my groin roil and knew I would orgasm alongside Mr. Delacroix when the time came; I could feel his tension rising. Jackson was moaning and I wanted to touch his throat, to feel what he felt, to know what he knew at that moment.

Mr. Delacroix looked at me and smiled. “Kiss me, Nez, kiss me while I come in Jackson’s throat.”

I got on my knees next to him on the sofa and kissed him with fiery passion. He groaned as his hungry tongue jammed into my mouth. He pulled it out and firmly sucked on mine. This hungry kissing went on until he reached the summit. He let out a loud moan, released Jackson’s head, and reached for me. My insides cascaded in euphoric waves and his hand reached under me to touch my dripping sex while Jackson looked on, catching his breath without touching either of us.

From the other room Marie-Louise’s meek voice cried out, “Red, Master, red.”

“Oh god,” Jackson said and made a beeline for the bedroom. I was terrified that Marie was injured, but in a few minutes, she followed Jackson out of the living room, the small chains still attached to her collar and sexual points. She sat next to him at our feet as if nothing had happened. It felt strange to sit on the furniture while someone else sat at my feet.

“Do you feel better now, Marie-Louise?” Mr. Delacroix asked.

“Oh yes, sir. I always feel good after that. I guess I stayed on longer than usual because you shoved that dildo in me. I really liked that, sir. Thank you.” She smiled radiantly.

“Good, Marie, I’m glad you’ve gotten yourself aroused because Jackson and I worked hard to get Nezzie ready too. Come on. Maybe it’s best we go to the black room because Jackson and I will have a good seat while you pleasure Nezzie.”

“Very good, sir,” Jackson said.

“Nezzie, come,” Mr. Delacroix said, but I hesitated.

“Don’t worry, Nezzie. I’ll get things started and once you get going, you’ll know what to do.”

“Yes, sir.” I followed him to the black room with Jackson and Marie-Louise at my heels.

Marie dutifully sat on the edge of the bed and Jackson made himself as comfortable as possible, considering his very thick penis was throbbing.

“There’ll be no hitting, slapping, or rough play now between the two of you. You may pull hair on my command. I will hand whomever I wish the toy I want them to use. Is that clear, ladies?” Mr. Delacroix adjusted the light to a brighter setting and pulled it closer to the bed.

“Yes, sir,” we said in unison.

“You will both follow my commands, is that understood?” he said.

“Yes, sir,” we said.

“You’re both very good, don’t you agree, Jackson?”

Jackson nodded in agreement.

“Thank you, my lord,” I said.

“Okay, I want Nezzie all the way back, and spread your legs, my love. Show us your pussy. Jackson and Marie haven’t seen it yet.”

I lay back on the bed with my nether regions facing the chaise where Jackson and Mr. Delacroix sat. The light was out of my eyes in this position, but it shone brightly on my crotch.

There was silence in the room, but the sexual tension was palpable. Mr. Delacroix handed something to Marie-Louise and she slid to her knees on the floor. I heard the hum of a vibrator.

“Marie, she’s very sensitive, so less is more for her, but I want you to give her the best clit orgasm she’s ever had. Drive her wild for me. I want to show you and Jackson how fine her pussy is when she comes. Nezzie, don’t move a muscle. If you do, I’ll have to use these shackles, unless you’d prefer I do so now.”

I remembered how badly I wanted to be bound on previous occasions. “My lord, if you please. Bind me now.”

“Oh Nez, you already know what to do. You hardly need me to help.” He came to me with leather cuffs for my wrists and ankles. He attached them to the ropes that hung from the pulleys. “Not too tight, Nez?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“Go ahead, Marie-Louise,” he said.

I closed my eyes waiting for what came next, and to my delight, Marie-Louise knew exactly what to do with the tool she was given. The intense vibrator brushed my clit so gently, it almost felt like a breeze. Marie-Louise teased my clit to a frenzy using her tongue and the tool Mr. Delacroix so generously provided. I could feel my clit standing at attention as she pressed a little more firmly on my sensitive button and then pulled away, back and forth, making the vibration travel through my spine. Her other hand found my vagina and entered aggressively. I could feel her fingernails against the wall of my canal, but she was gentle. She ran her nails down the sides along my lips and outlined my anus.

I was thankful to have been bound, as I knew I could never be still for this. My hips moved involuntarily as Marie-Louise licked and used that vibrator with such expertise. I felt a sudden and all-consuming rush travel through my center and outward toward my arms and legs. The violence of the orgasm took me by surprise and I cried out. My shoulders convulsed back into the bed, pulling my wrists tight against the cuffs. My ankles worked against theirs. I lost all awareness except for the incredible sensation between my legs. I wanted it to go on forever but at the same time, the fierceness of it caused my body to fatigue and cramp. I was relieved when it ended, but very aroused. My vagina ached for anything to fill the void.

Understanding my state, Mr. Delacroix said, “Nezzie, Jackson’s going to fuck your pussy now.”

“Yes, sir,” I panted.

In moments, Jackson was on top of me, missionary style, while I lay bound and defenseless. I could not see what had happened to Marie-Louise and I looked frantically for Mr. Delacroix.

“I’m here, Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I’m here, sugah. Just relax now and let Jackson fuck you. Remember, Nezzie, I’m the one who knows what you like.”

“Yes, sir,” I said and looked into Jackson’s doe eyes, soft brown and warm.

“Thank you, Miss Nez,” Jackson said before he plunged into me with a loud grunt, knocking the breath out of me. I could hear Marie-Louise giggling while Jackson drilled me and then pulled away. I was stunned that he’d pulled out so soon. I regained my breath and he drove into me again, this time keeping a hard, fast rhythm that was painful. My head hit the headboard repeatedly. He had handfuls of my hair and pulled. His breath was hot on my neck and he grunted loudly each time he gouged into me, as if his aim was to cause pain.

Sheer oblivion now as my orgasm rushed forth. I could no longer hear Mr. Delacroix. I was afraid to let go completely without him there. “Mr. Delacroix,” I exclaimed and Jackson slowed.

“I’m here, Nez. Right here on the chaise watching this gorgeous scene. I’m watching you, Nezzie. I can see you. Do you want Jackson to keep going fast like he was?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Go ahead, Jackson, fuck your mistress hard. Fuck her till she can’t walk.”

Hard, fast thrusts kept coming. Jackson’s staying power was remarkable. The deep thrusts went on for what seemed a half hour or more. Jackson pushed harder and groaned with each push as he pulled on the headboard to shove himself in. It was painful, deep, and rich. I lost myself in pleasure and I did not care if I was ever found again. Jackson exploded against my cervix, and like a shooting star, he vanished from my sight. The next thing I saw was my dear Mr. Delacroix unhooking my cuffs.

“Did you like that, my love?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You should thank Jackson and Marie-Louise for their efforts,” he said and helped me sit. “Do you need some water?”

“Yes, please, sir.” I looked at Jackson and Marie sitting on the chaise. “Thank you both.”

“You’re welcome, Miss Nez,” Jackson said, breathless.

“Hey, Jack, go ahead and get Marie-Louise ready while I get water for everyone,” Mr. Delacroix said as he walked out of the room.

“Yes, sir.”

Jackson came to me and helped me off the bed to the chaise without a word. I wanted to say something to him, but I had no idea what to say. My legs were weak and I felt dizzy, so I sat in silence.

“Come, Marie-Louise, your turn,” Jackson said with a smile as he held his hand out for her, but instead she bounded over the foot of the bed and jumped a few times with her chains making a jingle sound. “Marie!” Jackson said in an angry tone.

“Master, it feels so good.” She delighted in the way the chains felt on her points as she jumped.

“Marie-Louise, it won’t be me who punishes you this time, you know. Now lay down!” Jackson reached up and tried to grab her arm but she pulled away. He turned to me and raised his eyebrows. “She’s so insolent. Sometimes I’m at a loss.”

Marie-Louise kept jumping and smiling like a little kid or a madwoman; I could not tell which she resembled more.

“You certainly have your hands full,” I said to Jackson.

“Ya know, Miss Nez, I don’t think she means disrespect. Every day she tells me how much she loves me and wants to please me; how grateful she is for me, that she lives for me. And I know she respects you. She and I both hope you’ll be the new mistress. Honest to god, Miss, she just can’t help herself. She’s just so damned impulsive.”

He and I sat and watched her jump. “Shall I try to speak to her?” I asked.

“Be my guest, miss. She certainly isn’t hearing me.” He shrugged. “I don’t get it. When Greg, I mean, Mr. Delacroix, was under me, he was so good. He behaved so well. But this one is out of control. I guess after Mr. Delacroix, I lost my touch.”

I turned to Marie-Louise. “Marie, Mr. Delacroix wants Jackson to get you ready. Can you stop jumping so he can get you ready for your turn? I bet it’s gonna be something good.”

She was out of breath and looked down at me with questioning eyes, but kept jumping.

“Marie, remember what Mr. Delacroix asked Jackson to do? He is supposed to get you ready for pleasure.”

Breathlessly, she said, “Your master is the king of pain.” She twirled around as she jumped and I was afraid she would fly off the bed. No wonder she had scars.

“He can be, I suppose,” I said. “Now come lay down so Jackson can get you ready. If you’re good, maybe Mr. Delacroix will pleasure you, but I bet if you’re bad and don’t listen, he’ll be disappointed. Don’t you want to please him?”

“Does it please you?” she asked, finally slowing down.

“Yes, Marie, it would please me if you stop jumping and lay down.” I tried to sound cross.

“Are you mad at me?”

I was not sure how to answer. I was amused by her antics, but I also happened to realize that present company, excluding Marie, took this all very seriously. She craved the attention.

“I’m not mad at you, but I’m not pleased either,” I said. “Come on, Marie. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed if you don’t stop.”

She suddenly stopped jumping and looked me in the eye, sweat dampening her chocolate hair as it stuck to her brow. “You’re afraid?”

I held out my hand and she took it. “Yes, I am afraid you’ll be disappointed if you don’t let Jackson prepare you.”

Astonishingly, she bounced down on her butt in the middle of the bed and lay back, placing her wrists above her head. She was waiting for Jackson to cuff her when Mr. Delacroix spoke. “I see who has control of this situation.” He held a tray with four glasses of water.

“My lord, how long have you been standing there?” I asked, and I noticed his eyes had that scary look to them again.

“Long enough, Nezzie.” He set the tray down. “Marie-Louise, you’re very bad,” he said as he walked over to the bedside and leaned close to her face. She coiled in on herself without changing her position. He whispered something that neither Jackson nor I could hear. Marie-Louise was motionless except when she shook her head in response to something he said. Tears welled up in her eyes as he stood up.

“Sit up, Marie. What do you say?”

“I’m sorry, Master,” she said to Jackson. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s not my intension ever to displease you.”

“And what do you have to say to Miss Nez?” Mr. Delacroix commanded.

“Miss Nez, I didn’t mean disrespect. I know I didn’t address you properly. I should be punished for that and I should also be punished for not following our master’s commands. I have been very bad and disrespectful to you. I don’t deserve your pleasure.”

I attempted to accept her apology when Mr. Delacroix said to me, “Nezzie, since you took control of this situation, I’m leaving it up to you. Should we continue and allow Marie to play with us or should she be alone tonight as punishment?”

I looked at Marie-Louise and her expression was pathetic, as if being alone was the worst torture. Her tears ran freely now. I honestly did not know what to say. Jackson was clearly angry, and Mr. Delacroix sat impassive, not giving me any sense of what I should do.

“Nezzie, it’s up to you, but how you decide dictates the trajectory of your . . . our relationship with the Scotts. Are we on top or not?”

We? I thought. I recalled my fear of domination. I understood that if I gave in now, I would allow myself and possibly Mr. Delacroix to be dominated by not only the two people before us, but also by their dysfunction. I had no choice but to exile Marie-Louise for the evening. It broke my heart to do so, but it was the right thing to do.

“May I ask a question, my lord?”

“No, you may make a decision,” he said sharply, his eyes shooting through me like a bullet.

“Yes, my lord,” I said.

“Look at Marie-Louise and tell her your decision. Look in her eyes and make sure she understands why.”

I turned to Marie-Louise. “You embarrassed your master and showed outrageous disrespect for me and Mr. Delacroix. We were enjoying one another until you ruined it with your antics. I don’t know why you did what you did, but you did, so you must be punished. You’ll stay here for the rest of the evening and while you’re alone, I want you to write down the reasons you think you did the things you did. Tomorrow I want you and me to spend time together to discuss what you write. I am doing this because I believe in your potential. Do you understand?”

Marie burst into tears, making my heartbreak even more acute, and before I could say another word, Mr. Delacroix took my arm, led me out of the room to the master suite, and closed the doors behind us.

“Jackson will take care of it from here,” he said.

I was afraid for Marie-Louise. “What will he do, sir?”

“Nezzie, shhh, the last thing we’ll do is cause her pain,” he said, his voice low, “because she loves pain. Trust me, pain is not a punishment for her. It’s the opposite. She’ll be okay having a night without pain or pleasure. Jackson’s gonna give her a drink of water, cuff her, and leave her in there for a while. Don’t worry. She’s fine. Jackson will take care of her.”

“Sir, I . . .”

“Let me tell you something. You’ve made the right decision. This is what I was hoping to see out of you this week, that you’re ready to come here and take all this on, especially Marie-Louise.” He sat on the sofa and patted the cushion next to him for me to sit. “And this punishment is good because it also punishes Jackson for letting things get so out of hand. Now for the rest of the evening, he’s charged with checking in on her, making sure she follows your commands and that she’s okay. He can’t relax and have a good time. He’s punished too, as it should be. Oh, and your idea about writing down why she pulls this shit was brilliant. Where did that come from?” He was smiling that broad, white smile. “You’re fucking amazing,” he said, his eyes slowly regaining their electricity as they locked onto mine.

“It came off the top of my head, my lord, because I want to know why she did that. Does she always fly off the handle?”

“At least two or three times a week. Lately, it’s gotten worse.”

“I remember you saying something when you came back from the roast last month, sir. Maybe she just doesn’t deal with change very well.”

“Maybe,” he said. “I’ll be curious to see what she writes.”

“About that, sir,” I said. “Is it okay if it stays between Marie-Louise and me?”

“No. You’re required to show it to me and I’ll decide if Jackson should see it.”

I was disappointed. “Yes, sir.”

“Nezzie, if you hide something, anything, from me, especially something that’s going on here at Twisted Oak, you’ll be sorry.” His eyes returned to that unsettling darkness. “Mark my words, girl. This is my domain and you’ll do as I say.”

“Yes, sir. I promise. No secrets.”

“Good girl. So, my Nezzie, how did meting out your first punishment feel? Answer me. How do you feel?”

“It broke my heart, sir, to punish her,” I said.

“I’m pleased you understand that punishment is heartbreaking even for the one who gives it.” His voice was soft and with a heavy sigh he said, “Welcome to my world, my love, the master’s domain.”

27.

Jackson sulked as he sat at Mr. Delacroix’s feet. Mr. Delacroix handed him his glass of water that he had sipped on earlier and pet his head with empathy.

“Sir,” Jackson said, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Jack, you never seem to,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Did my dad do everything for you? Did he not teach you a single thing?”

“Only thing your old man taught me, Mr. Delacroix, is that love hurts.” His voice was angry and spiteful. “It’s cruel, ruthless, and temporary. It rips you up. Love fucks with you, sir.”

“I’d ask you if you love Marie-Louise, but we’ve already covered that, haven’t we? You don’t love her, you never have.” Mr. Delacroix caressed the side of Jackson’s jaw and throat. Jackson intuitively moved his head so that his throat was more exposed.

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said. “I’m not capable of loving anyone like I loved James. When he died, I thought I would too until I took one look at you and realized my love for you through him was all I had, that I had to go on for you.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Delacroix said, “but you manipulated me and then ultimately manipulated yourself with Marie-Louise, didn’t you? It occurs to me that you’re just too damned selfish to love anyone but yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” Jackson admitted. “I knew that you’d someday want a woman and a family like your dad. I thought maybe if I collared Marie, she could be the woman and you and I could carry on. Sir, I loved you. I still love you.”

“Jackson, how many times do I have to tell you that loving me will not bring my dad back? I am not James.”

“I know, sir, but I thought I’d try to . . .”

“To manipulate people for your own fucking gain,” Mr. Delacroix interrupted and slapped Jackson’s jaw. “This is like beating a dead horse. I know my dad taught you the importance of being honest. I know he did, but you took advantage of Marie and her situation and hoped I’d be stupid and use her like some kind of baby machine. God, Jackson, that’s fucking disgusting on so many levels. Do you really think I was ever that stupid or morally bankrupt?”

“No, sir,” Jackson said.

“It’s offensive. You’re selfish. A selfish little bitch.” Mr. Delacroix’s voice was low, but exuded a fever pitch. “Do you think I wasn’t mourning Dad too? Did you ever stop to think about where my head was, where my heart was? I was a kid, for god’s sake.”

“Sir, maybe I should leave,” I said.

“Na-na, cher, you need to hear this. You need to know how fucked up Jackson is and why my dad knew that he’d need to step down eventually.” Mr. Delacroix had a handful of Jackson’s hair. “And Nez, you need to learn why we don’t hide things. People get fucked up when they aren’t honest.” His eyes went frighteningly ghostly again. “Woman, you stay fucking put.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, feeling his angst.

Jackson came to my defense by diverting Mr. Delacroix. “I’m fucked up, sir, and selfish. I’ve screwed up and now I don’t know what to do.”

“Jack, I know full well what you want to do, so just fucking do it. Go ahead and break the collar. Divorce her. Let that poor woman go,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“That’s just it, sir, where would she go?” Jackson asked.

Silence commenced, as there was not an answer. The room was dense with indecision as if the marsh fog had rolled in through the French doors. Mr. Delacroix firmly smacked the back of Jackson’s head.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said and rested his head on Mr. Delacroix’s thigh.

“My lord, if I may?”

“Yes, you may, Nez,” he said. His lurid eyes locked on mine.

I knew my next words were important, but as Ty taught me, sometimes it is best to say things as they come even though you might get a whipping. “My lord, let me spend some time with Marie tomorrow and see where she is with all this. No one is asking her what she wants and I have a feeling she knows. Let’s see what she writes down and what comes of my conversation with her. I think she may speak more freely without the two of you around. I promise I won’t keep a single thing from you.”

I was sure he would take my comments negatively and I awaited my punishment. Instead, there was more vexing silence. A strange birdcall came from the distance, loud and forlorn, but there was no answering call, so the bird called again.

He moved swift and silent as a wild cat. Inches in front of my face, he shouted, “Fuckin’ hell, Nez, just who is on top here?” Gunmetal eyes bore into my brain. The sofa vibrated with his agitation. Jackson stood and squared off.

I was shaking like a leaf, but I had to stand my ground. I dropped my eyes and my voice shook as I said, “You are, my lord. As always, I’m your servant. But I think in that role I can help. I mean, I don’t have answers, but it’s worth trying to find one. It’s a start for you, for me, for us, for Jackson, and especially for Marie-Louise.”

The violence never came, so I raised my eyes. Mr. Delacroix stood, looking Jackson up and down.

“My lord,” I said, “we all make mistakes, especially when we’re hurting. Look how I was when you found me. Each of us is guilty of messing up when we’re in pain, sir.”

Mr. Delacroix got up and shoved Jackson out of his way with his shoulder. “Get back on the floor, Jackson. I’m all right.”

Jackson slowly sat, keeping his eyes on Mr. Delacroix as he paced the room like a caged panther. He came at me and pointed his finger in my face. “I don’t want you to get any ideas, Nezzie, like you can call the shots. I’m fucking on top, bitch.”

“Yes, sir, you are. I am asking your permission before I talk to her. I’d never do it otherwise. You, my dear lord, are on top. This is your castle, my love.”

He paced a few more times and went to the kitchenette. I looked at Jackson and he nodded in approval, but did not say a word. He looked at the floor when Mr. Delacroix came back and I followed his lead.

“I’ll give you two hours alone with her tomorrow after breakfast. Ya know, Nez, it isn’t that I don’t trust you, it’s that I don’t trust her.” He handed me a glass of water, but stayed standing. “Get on the floor, Nez.” I obeyed as he towered above me. “Jackson, we need pillows for ya’ll to sit on. I want ya’ll at my feet where ya belong.” His stress made his Southern drawl more obvious.

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said.

“What’s the worst that can happen, sir?” I asked. “She isn’t violent, is she? I thought you said she was harmless.”

“She’s quite harmless, but she’ll be especially hot for you after tonight’s punishment. It’ll take some effort to say no to her, but like I said, I trust you.”

“I’ll be fine, sir. I mean, as much as I was looking forward to playing with her this evening, you needn’t worry about . . .”

Mr. Delacroix interrupted. “You were looking forward to having sex with her tonight?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, “but don’t forget that you and I agreed that we’d never fuck anyone by ourselves. You have my word, sir. It absolutely will not happen unless you’re there to enjoy it.”

“I never forget what we say to one another, Nez.”

“Then it’s settled, sir?”

He looked down at me with those ballistic eyes. “I’m on top, Nez.”

Jackson sat in lonely silence. I wanted to hold his hand to let him know things would be all right and for my own comfort, but I did not dare for fear of Mr. Delacroix.

Mr. Delacroix declared, “Cocktails in about an hour. I think it’s time to go get cleaned up for dinner. Jack, you know what you need to do. Come, Nez.”

We walked into the black room on our way to our rooms. Jackson had turned the light off, so it was pitch-dark. No one had moved the light, so when Mr. Delacroix turned it on, it was low and blinding, aimed directly at Marie-Louise’s very exposed private parts. Jackson was at our heels murmuring to Marie-Louise as if she were a child. She looked away from us. I felt horrible and quickly walked into our sitting room. The lights were low, but the sunlight and southern breeze that came through the windows was welcome compared to the darkness of the master suite.

“It’s okay, now she knows you mean business. She’ll respect you more tomorrow for it. She’ll be fine. Don’t let her drama ruin our dinner. If anyone’s night should be ruined, it should be Jackson’s. This whole thing just pisses me off to no end. If you can find a solution, more power to you.”

“So you’re not angry with me, my lord?”

“Absolutely not. Whatever gave you that idea?”

I could not believe he would ask such a question. “You yelled at me, my lord. You startled me back there.” I bent to smell my roses in an attempt to seem nonchalant.

“You didn’t seem startled; you were being the sexiest submissive alive.” He took my hand. “Don’t confuse my candid expression, my emotional honesty, as anything but. When I feel something, I show it. I’m an open book, Nez. Why can’t people just show how they feel? Look at you now, still trying to hide your feelings. Just be honest, babe. Be honest with yourself about your feelings and then let them out.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” I turned to him.

“Sorry for what? You didn’t do a damned thing,” he said incredulously.

“Just sorry for the situation, sir. I can’t believe how heartbroken I am over Marie-Louise. I suppose my sympathy for her situation outweighed my fear. I had to stand up for what I thought was right by her. She needs a chance to have a say and I thought you’d punish me for pointing that out.”

“Does it scare you when I yell?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What else do I do that scares you?” His eyes were relaxed now and getting more electric by the second.

“Cry, my lord. When you cry I get terribly scared,” I said, “and just now I thought you’d hit me or Jackson out of anger.”

“I don’t lose control anymore. I told you that,” he said, and gently kissed my forehead. “I don’t punish out of anger. I’m not gonna hurt you and I certainly didn’t mean to scare you in that way. I want the fear I give you to be provocative, not oppressive. I want it to turn you on. And from where I sat, you were provoked, empowered, turned on. I knew what I was doing.” His hand went to my crotch. “I bet your cunt is dripping right now.”

This was all very confusing to me. Mr. Delacroix sensed my need for clarity and threw me onto the soft sofa cushions, face down.

“Let’s see that ass of yours.”

I obliged immediately, seeking that clear vision of pleasure, that lucid moment of fusion with him. My face jammed into the corner of the sofa cushion as he lifted my hips high. He was so hard when he dove into me that I thought he had a dildo made of stone, but soon enough I felt that familiar angle, length, width that pushed me open. My craving was finally fulfilled, my essential hunger alleviated.

“Thank you, my lord,” I said between breaths.

“My pleasure, lady, you are my pleasure.” He fucked me slowly and deeply with meaning, lifting my hips slowly, grinding and reaching excruciatingly deep. He was lost in rapture and whispered things that I was unsure I was supposed to hear.

“You’re everything to me, my Nezzie, my goddess, my angel, my life.” He pulled my hips to his and crooned, “Neige pure, lumiere blanche, vous etes mienne. Vous remplissez obscurite. Je ne peux pas vous perdre. Je t'aime! Je t'aime, Neige!” He went painfully deep and pushed harder. We came together in a torrent of sensual synergy.

* * *

Mr. Delacroix was very handsome in a black suit and gray paisley tie. He wore a white shirt and black patent leather shoes. I pulled my hair up and wore a simple champagne-colored cocktail gown that reached the floor. Mr. Delacroix accessorized the plunging neckline with jewels of emerald and ruby. My stiletto sandals matched the dress. All the colors were a perfect contrast and sparkled under the low light of the crystal chandelier. I felt like Madame de Pompadour, indulged, capable, and sublime.

Thomas entered the library carrying a tray of four champagne glasses filled with cool effervescence.

“Thomas, my dear,” Mr. Delacroix said, “Mrs. Scott won’t be joining us. She’s a bit under the weather this evening.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “Will Mr. Scott be joining you?”

“Yes. He’ll be here shortly.”

“Very good, sir. Shall I send a tray up for Mrs. Scott?”

“Nezzie, shall we feed Marie-Louise this evening?”

“Yes, sir. Please do send a tray to her a little later.”

“Very well, ma’am,” Thomas said and turned on his heels.

“Sir,” I asked Mr. Delacroix, “will Thomas bring the tray into the black room?” I was feeling ashamed for Marie-Louise.

“No. He’ll just bring it to the kitchenette and Jackson will heat it up and feed her later. Thomas knows not to go behind closed doors. Nez, don’t worry about her. She’ll be fine. Hell, you’re feeding her. That’s more than I would do. You’re a pushover.”

“Well, my lord, it’s no good to have people go hungry.”

“I suppose not, but I find when I am hungry, the sex is better. Even Marie says she likes her ‘meditation’ better on an empty stomach.”

“Oral sex works better for me on an empty stomach, my lord.”

“Well, then, you see? It is good to have you go hungry once in a while,” he smiled.

I wandered around looking at the oddities on the shelves. In a glass case I found old feather quill pens and flintlock handguns with engraved handles that looked like they were made of bone or ivory. Of course, there were thousands of old books, but there was also a gorgeous silver teapot and an old iron keychain with ten or so keys on it, pillboxes of all kinds, crystal bowls, and old framed photographs, lithographs, and drawings, mostly of the local flowers and birds.

“Nez, why did it take me so long to find you?” he asked with a tone of melancholy.

“My lord, we weren’t ready for each other yet.”

“There’s that brain of yours again. You’re so insightful, my dear, and it turns me on. Now I’ll have a hard-on all through dinner.” He smiled and feigned a sulk.

“Just say the word, my lord, and I’ll gladly relieve you of your hardness.”

I continued to examine the items on the shelves. A bronze statue, almost as tall as me, of a great blue heron stood in the corner, the lighting making it look real.

“Sir, are there any portraits of Monique?”

“Hundreds, my love, but they’re in albums. They’re here somewhere,” he said as he put his champagne down and pushed the library ladder on its tiny wheels. “We keep them high just in case the place ever floods.”

He climbed the ladder and pulled a large leather album from the top shelf. He blew the dust off the edges, creating a cloud that fell and faded in the dim light.

He handed me the album. “These are the only images of Monique we know of. You’ll understand why they’re kept in albums when you see them.”

I set my drink on the coffee table and opened the album. The pages were brittle and yellowed. The first portrait, a detailed pen-and-ink drawing, showed Monique’s young face close up in a somber mood, looking straight at the artist. Her features were handsome, almost chiseled. I could see the Native American heritage quite clearly, and her eyes were large and round. She had a voluptuous mouth—Mr. Delacroix’s mouth. Her dark hair was long and faded out along the edge of the drawn image.

The next page showed her with more expression, her hair pinned up in the style of the day. She seemed to be looking askance with a wistful expression, and unlike the previous image, she wore a collar around her neck.

The following page showed her full body in the nude as she sat in the master suite brushing her hair. It flowed down to the middle of her back. In the next one I recognized the French doors and the arrangement of the bed and armoire as it remained in the master suite. She was lying on a chaise with her arms above her head, her collar around her neck, and her legs long and relaxed, crossed at the ankles.

“She’s beautiful, sir. These drawings are gorgeous, very detailed. Are they all nude? Do you know who drew them?”

“Yes, she’s naked in all of them. No one’s sure who drew them, but we think it was a young Creole domestic. Have you read about him in her journals yet?”

“Only the entry where she first meets him. I don’t even know his name yet.”

“Address me properly, wench.”

“Sir, my lord, I’m sorry. I got distracted.”

“I’ll let it slide this time because you’re so well turned out for dinner, but I can always send you upstairs to join Marie-Louise if this keeps up.”

“Yes, sir.” The last thing I wanted was punishment given he felt I had questioned his authority earlier.

As I turned the pages, Monique’s allure evolved, a touch of silk here and there and what looked to be jeweled collars; but most noticeably, her poses became illicit. One particularly provocative pose had her sitting on the floor in front of the chair in her sitting room on a large pillow, her head leaned back over the seat of the chair and her legs spread wide open. All the drawings were of her alone and some even showed her pleasuring herself. Whoever drew them was very familiar with her body.

Jackson entered the room with a dramatic flair. He wore a dark blue silk brocade jacket over a white shirt with a red ascot. His pants were black and his shoes impeccable.

Mr. Delacroix laughed. “My god, Jack, you look fantastic. Now all you need to do is light up a joint like you and Dad did in the old days. You guys were great. Getting high before dinner and then enjoying the hell out of the food.”

“That was your dad’s idea, sir. I’d have none of it if it weren’t for him.” Jackson smiled, indicating it was the opposite.

“Jack, you’re a pothead from the word go, not to mention all the acid you guys did. Your outfit sure brings back memories.”

“Those were crazy days, sir, but it’s crazy today, too, with all the cocaine out there. You guys ever do it? I can get you some if you want.”

My heart jumped at the idea. I had not thought of cocaine in weeks and now it was practically staring me in the face. I was surprised at how easily I plunged into a severe craving simply at the mention of it.

“As a matter of fact,” Mr. Delacroix said, “Nezzie here is a cocaine addict.”

Mr. Delacroix seemed to think he should tell Jackson every painful detail of my ordeal, even the withdrawal. I almost felt as if he took pleasure in my weakness.

“Heroin, too,” he said. “So, my dear Jackson, once we come home, there’s a new rule: no more drugs at Twisted Oak. That goes for grass, too, unless I give permission.”

“Damn, Miss Nez,” Jackson said.

“Jackson, I mean it,” said Mr. Delacroix.

“Yes, sir, and miss, I’m sorry about your problem. You got lucky to land here, that I can assure you.”

The dining room table was set lavishly with formal china and silver. Now I understood the need to dress for dinner; I was sure if you were not dressed properly, the dining room doors would lock you out of its splendor. The large floral bouquet centerpiece had been moved to a corner table, replaced with tall tapered candles that burned steady until the breeze from the open French doors made them flicker. Thomas and a younger man stood at the sideboard waiting to serve. They wore white jackets over black pants and white shirts. Each of them had a towel over their left arm. The whole thing seemed like such a put-on, like a movie set or a parody of some past time.

“Penny for your thoughts, Nezzie baby,” Mr. Delacroix said.

I admitted I had never seen or experienced anything like it.

“Get used to it, because this is the real deal,” he said with a smile as he took a portion of oyster dressing from the tray that Thomas held. He came to my side and held the tray for me. “You’ll like it, but it’s fattening, so only take a little,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Yes, sir,” I said as Thomas leaned lower to make it easier for me to select a serving.

“Something’s missing,” Jackson said.

“Yeah, Jack, Marie-Louise.” Mr. Delacroix laughed as he took a serving of turducken from the platter that the younger man held.

“No, sir, something else,” Jackson said. He turned to Thomas. “We need some music, Thomas. Classical. Bach, please, and keep it low so we can still enjoy conversation.”

“Yes, sir.” Thomas set his tray down and left the room. Soon, violins, cellos, and wind instruments filled the air in breezy accompaniment to our dinner.

“Marie-Louise is still working on Liszt?” Mr. Delacroix asked.

“Most diligently, sir. I was hoping she could play for us tonight, but there’s always tomorrow. She’s really come a long way with it,” Jackson said with pride. “She’s very dedicated.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I know it’s her passion to play. I remember when we were kids all she’d have to do is hear a song once and she could play it on the piano, even when she was small. You or Dad had a special bench built for her, and installed levers on the pedals so she could reach.”

“That was all your dad’s doing. He knew talent when he saw it. His whole approach was to get us all to tap into our talents. He was good, Miss Nez. James was the best man you could ever know.”

“I have no doubt,” I said, “and handsome, too.”

“God, yes, miss. He was a looker. Your Mr. Delacroix certainly favors him,” Jackson said with a smile.

The conversation was light, congenial, and oddly normal. After the main course, Jackson went to check on Marie-Louise, so Mr. Delacroix and I had a few moments together at the table.

“So, what do you think?” he asked.

“My lord, I love it. Is this the way it is every night or is tonight a special occasion?”

“Every night is a special occasion when you’re here, my lady. Thomas takes a day off here and there, but even when he’s gone, young Samuel takes the reins.”

The younger man smiled and bowed his head slightly.

“It’s all so unbelievable, sir. I never knew people lived like this. Back home we were lucky to sit at a table to eat, let alone with others. We hardly even used utensils. You will have to forgive me for not knowing what to do with all of them.”

“Here, look, it’s easy. Tom, make a new place setting over there for Miss Nez.” Thomas obliged.

“Come, Nez, sit.” Mr. Delacroix pulled the chair out for me. I sat and he stood behind me. “The golden rule is to eat to the left and drink to the right, so the small plate on your left is your side plate for bread or rolls or any other type of accompaniment that you wouldn’t normally put on your plate. The large goblet is for water, the smaller wine glass is for white wine, and the larger, more round wine glass is for red. Tonight we had white, so we’re drinking from this smaller chardonnay glass. If you’d preferred a red, which you can always request, Thomas would have filled the proper glass and served you thus. Always drink with your right hand and place the glass up here to the right.”

“Yes, sir, so far I have it,” I said.

“And the silver is simple. Just eat from the outside in. There’s a different fork for each course, so when the salad comes, you use this smaller fork on the outside and always use your knife here to help you guide the food onto your fork.”

He picked up the fork in his left hand and the knife in his right and pretended to prepare a bite of salad. “When you’re through with your salad, take your knife and place it on the side plate like so and put the fork at the five o’clock position on the salad plate. This indicates to the server that you’re finished and he’ll come and take it away. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said as he stepped back so Thomas could clear the plate.

“When Jack gets back, Thomas will bring dessert and serve coffee and a cognac or other after-dinner drink. Thomas, before Miss Nez and I go back to the city, we should do a five-course meal so she can get more practice. What’s for dessert?”

“Strawberry shortcake, sir.”

“We gotta eat up the last of them, don’t we. I trust Janey’s made a good lot of preserves for the rest of the year?”

“Oh yes, sir, we’re well stocked,” Thomas said.

“Where the hell is Jackson? Nezzie, you’re gonna love this strawberry shortcake. It’s made from scratch and it’s served with real Scottish butter shortbread, not that fluffy white sponge cake. It’s to die for. I wish Jackson would hurry up.”

“Are you having a hard time delaying your gratification, my lord?” I asked in a teasing manner.

“As a matter of fact, I am, and if you aren’t careful, you’ll be under this table sucking me off before you know it.”

I glanced at Thomas and he stood stoically, looking straight ahead as if not hearing a word.

Jackson saved me the embarrassment by rushing in and taking his seat.

28.

Marie-Louise was sleeping when we arrived back in the black room. Her left hand and both ankles were still bound to the bed. Jackson had loosened her right hand and set a tray in front of her so she could write. Mr. Delacroix picked up the paper; I noticed it was full on both sides.

“For the moment, this is for your eyes only.” He handed me the paper and I decided I would read it later when I had a quiet moment alone.

“My lord, if you’d prefer I not speak to her alone tomorrow, I understand.” I held the paper close.

“No, I think it’s a good idea. You’re probably correct in thinking she’ll open up more to you if we aren’t around. You know, woman to woman, submissive to submissive.”

“Miss Nez?” Marie-Louise said.

“Hi, sweetie, how are you? Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m good. How was dinner?” she asked as she stretched her right arm.

“Very good,” I smiled. “Jackson’s bringing some to you in a minute. You’ll love it.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” she said and rubbed her eyes.

“Nez,” Mr. Delacroix said, “would you like to untie Marie-Louise or should she stay this way?”

“My lord, I’d love to untie her . . . unless, Marie, do you want to stay tied?” I asked.

She seemed confused by the choice, as though she had never had one before. She looked at Mr. Delacroix for the answer.

“Marie, it is up to you,” he said. “You’ll be eating, so don’t you think it might be nice to have both hands free?”

“Yes, sir,” she said meekly.

Mr. Delacroix gave me a nod and I went to work undoing the cuffs. I was relieved to see her finally free. Her body had to be stiff, but she did not attempt to move her legs, only stretch and rub her wrist.

“Miss Nez, I wrote it all down like you said.” She looked at me with proud eyes.

“Thank you,” I said. “Did you enjoy writing it down?”

“I did, very much. It helped me think about things, kind of like playing the piano does, but not quite as good as that.”

“It’s nice to have a clear mind,” I said.

Jackson entered carrying a tray filled with the evening’s supper, a single red rose adorning the corner of the tray. He set it in front of her. “There’s strawberry shortcake for dessert. I had an extra big piece and I think Thomas gave you a big piece too.”

“Mr. Delacroix, can I ask you something?” Marie asked.

“Certainly,” he smiled.

“Can I kiss Miss Nez?”

Mr. Delacroix thought about it for a minute and looked at Jackson, who shrugged. “Why do you want to kiss her?”

“I want to thank her, Master, for showing me how to think about things better. May I, Mr. Delacroix?”

“My dear girl, I think it’s sweet that you want to thank Miss Nez, but only a kiss,” he said with warning in his voice.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, and Jackson lifted the tray off her bed. She stretched her legs and back as she walked to me. She was much shorter than I was, and stood on her toes to wrap her arms around me. She kissed me gently on the mouth with open lips. Her tongue pressed through mine. A second or two passed and passion turned our kiss hungry. She felt soft, curvy, and warm. She smelled like roses, grass, and something earthy and organic. I wanted to sink into her as her breasts gave way. I could feel mine against her collarbone. My arms wrapped around her and pulled her close.

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix whispered, “pull her hair. Make her look up to you.”

I grabbed a thick handful of her chocolate hair and gently pulled down toward the small of her back. She looked up into my eyes and opened her mouth for more. She yielded so sweetly and my tongue explored her mouth with fervor. My groin ached. I pulled away, remembering Mr. Delacroix said we could only kiss.

The two men sat in a stupor, neither saying a word.

“Sir, we may have an unholy alliance brewing,” Jackson smiled.

“Whatever it is, Jack, it’s a thing of beauty,” Mr. Delacroix said as he took my hand.

“Come, Marie,” Jackson said, “it’s time to eat.”

“She can eat in the kitchenette,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Will we be going upstairs, sir?” Jackson asked.

“Not tonight, my dear. I’d rather take Nez up there alone her first time.”

A wave of disappointment crossed Marie-Louise’s face.

Mr. Delacroix kissed Jackson’s mouth. “Goodnight, Jack, Marie.”

“Goodnight, sir,” Jackson said.

“Goodnight,” I said as we exited the room.

The golden low light transfixed my gaze as we left the harsh black room behind.

“See, my love? See how things are better now with Marie?”

“I hope things are better for her after all that, my lord,” I said.

“They are. It’s the only thing she knows. It’s the only thing she understands,” he said in an almost apologetic way.

I wondered what she had written. The curiosity was eating at me, but I set it aside. I wanted to read it in the morning when fresh, when I was not so charged from the kiss I had just shared with her.

“Sir, my lord, I have something to say, if I may.”

“Yes? What is it?” he urged.

“Feelings, my lord. Something you said earlier about how people hide their true feelings.” I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I was afraid.

“Are you having a feeling you wanna share? If you do, I won’t think any less of you. I want us to be honest.”

I had never told someone I loved him or her before, not even my mother. I sat on the floor in front of the sofa so he would understand that I knew my place. I was throwing myself at his mercy, but this was where I found the most comfort. It was my place and I felt secure and free under him. Like Marie-Louise, it was all I knew. He quickly took his seat on the sofa above me.

“What is it, my dear?” he asked. His eyes showed concern as he caressed my shoulder.

“Sir, I’m not sure how to say it,” I stammered.

“I find the best way to express my feelings is to just come out with it. Let it go from your mind and out of your mouth.”

I swallowed hard, closed my eyes, and blurted, “My lord, I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved anyone or anything. I love you so much I can’t even begin to explain it.”

“Oh, my dear Nez,” he said.

My tears began to flow when he did not say he loved me back.

“And you don’t love me,” I began to sob. “I’ve fallen head over heels for you and you don’t love me back. I don’t know what to do.” I looked down at the floor, afraid of what I might see if I looked in his eyes.

“Nezzie,” he began.

“Just say it. Just be honest, my lord. As you say, just spit it out, because I need to know where I stand so I can play this right.”

“What makes you think I don’t love you?” he asked.

“You never say it, sir,” I said in desperation. I knew I sounded pathetic, but I did not care.

“Oh, but I did, cher, and you’re the one who didn’t respond.” He paused. “Oh god, I forgot you don’t know French. I told you earlier when we were fucking here on the sofa how much I love you. Oh, cherie, I am so sorry I caused us both confusion.”

“Sir?” I said and looked into his eyes.

“I’ve never been so aroused before. God, I’m so hard for you, and not because I bound you or punished you, but because of my feelings. It’s never happened that way to me before. This feels real. It comes from love, Nezzie.”

“What did you say to me here on the couch?” I asked.

“I said, ‘Neige pure, lumiere blanche, vous etes mienne. Vous remplissez obscurite. Je ne peux pas vous perdre. Je t'aime! Je t'aime, Neige!’ Shall I tell you exactly what it means?”

“Yes, my lord,” I said anxiously.

“I never forget what you and I say to each other, you know,” he reminded me.

“Yes, sir.”

“I said, ‘Pure snow, white light, you’re mine. You fill the darkness. I can’t lose you. I love you. I love you, Nez.’”

I basked in his adoring gaze.

“I love you, Nezzie,” he said.

“Oh, my lord, I love you so much.”

He sat back and pet my head. “See how much better things are when we’re honest about how we feel? You and I would’ve carried on like this for god knows how long. I was going crazy thinking I had lost my mind over you and that you didn’t care as deeply, that I was out of control.” He paused. “I am out of control. I’ve never been here before with anyone.”

“Neither have I, sir, so we’re in the same boat,” I said. “But at least now we know we have each other, that our love is true.” I lay my head on his thigh.

“Yes, it is something,” he said, tugging my hair. I dutifully obliged by bending my neck in the direction of his gentle tug. “I think, my girl, you need to see the rest of my domain before you go any further with your emotions. There’s part of me you haven’t seen yet. A part that may explain to you why I feel anxious about our new level of emotion.” A pause. “Something that may stop you from loving me.”

He took my hand and led me back to the black room. I was frightened at what would happen there and scintillated at the same time.

I was bewildered when he turned the light on in the black room. It was empty as earlier in the day, everything back in its place, except I had not noticed the hidden door next to the chaise. Painted black, it blended perfectly with the wall. Mr. Delacroix opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and took out a key that unlocked the door. In silence, he brought me to a small anteroom, painted black and lit with only one small red light. A steep iron spiral staircase went straight up the middle of the room. It was very difficult to discern detail in such light, but I understood now that this was the way to the Twisted Oak Ursuline Playroom. My stomach knotted in anticipation and fear.

He quietly took my hand and led me up the steep stairs. He took out another key and unlocked a trap door above our heads. It opened with a slight creakiness and gave a thud as it landed against something. Nothing but blackness came from the opening, making the red light seem bright in comparison.

Mr. Delacroix took my hand and led me up and out of the staircase. No matter how wide I opened my eyes or how much I squinted, there was no adjusting to the deep ebony obscurity.

I heard the trap door slam shut behind me. His whisper sounded like a scream in the oppressive silence. “Don’t move, Nezzie. Stay here while I turn the lights on.”

“Yes, sir,” I whispered. The air was cool and damp. I could hear his footsteps and then silence. “Mr. Delacroix?” I asked with unease.

“Yes, my love. I’m here. Hang on a minute. It’s okay, I got it.”

He flipped the switch; more red lights that seemed blinding after such profound darkness. Music played softly, music that you hear at a dance club in the city, electric techno with strong downbeats; the kind of music I heard when my mother’s boyfriend watched pornography on the VCR.

I could not see Mr. Delacroix. The room was huge, the expanse of the entire footprint of the house, and resembled a gym with various pieces of equipment and furniture set about. I looked behind me to see the trap door surrounded by an iron railing that closed with a gate behind me. I could not tell if the room was heaven or hell. Maybe it was both.

“Come, Nez. Let me show you,” he said as we made our way to the back corner where a large mattress on the floor, the size of six king-size beds, was covered in one big sheet.

“My lord,” I began but he interrupted me.

“Yes, Nez. Here in this room I am your lord. Not ‘Mr. Delacroix’ or ‘sir’ but your overlord, do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” I said obediently.

“This room started out much smaller, but as time went by my family expanded it. Back in the old days it was impossible to build something this big without the use of support walls, but it was renovated in the late 1800s by my great-great-grandfather, who integrated modern facilities like plumbing. At every support column, he placed a sink so people could wash properly after an activity.”

He pointed to an antique wrought-iron sink next to a large wooden column. “It started out as a private playroom for Monique and Jean-Pierre, but it evolved into a playroom for multiple participants; an orgy room, if you will. Jackson and my father brought it to its full glory in their day, the days of drugs, free love. This is what we do every month at the roast. We come up here and fuck. This mattress, as you can well imagine, accommodates quite a few.”

A small side table next to the mattress held a large basket of condoms; a conveniently placed wastebasket was next to it.

We continued our walk clockwise around the room. Plush sofas and chairs were set in a circle as if in a living room. A water cooler sat against the wall. A row of what looked like old-fashioned stockades stood open.

“These are pretty old, and the one on the end dates back to Monique’s time. It’s an antique, so no one uses it. Usually there are a few people locked up in those new ones for our pleasure. Some of the doms use it as punishment, but to my way of thinking, it isn’t really a good form of punishment. I’ve never used it that way. Neither has Jack. It’s too much fun.” He smiled. “Come, Nez, try it,” he said.

I stepped around the stockade to place my head and wrists in.

“No, you go in this way so your ass is facing toward the room. You face the wall—unless, of course, you’re charged with giving head.”

“Yes, sir,” I said and attempted to oblige, but he took me by the arm.

“Nezzie, address me properly or I will show you real punishment. I am your overlord.”

I knew his eyes flickered that familiar gunmetal color, but the red lights rendered him mysterious and more difficult to read.

The stockade was low, so when I bent to place my wrists and head in, my backside was sticking out for all to see and have. He locked the stockade down over my neck and wrists, leaving me helpless.

He spanked me hard in an upward motion. “Spread your legs, bitch!”

I bent to his command.

“See how this works?”

“Yes, my lord, I think so.” I gasped as that familiar wetness flowed.

“Any questions?” he said in a flat tone.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then ask,” he commanded.

“My lord, when I’m here like this, is there any restriction on who can have me? Am I available to anyone who wants me?”

“What does our agreement say?” he asked.

“That you won’t loan me out, my lord, not unless I agree with it.”

“Exactly. So unless you say it’s okay ahead of time, you’ll be off limits to anyone but me. But that won’t stop me from putting you in here.” He shoved his finger into my vagina. “Come to think of it, that could be a hell of a punishment for other people, to see your dripping cunt and not be able to touch it. I like that.” He wiggled his finger. “You get so wet for me. You’re a good girl.”

“Yes, my lord,” I said and he lifted the stockade.

“Come, my dear. I have more to show you.” He took my hand. “These are powder rooms. Unisex, but no sexual activity allowed. They’re for necessary purposes only and not for sexual encounters. If I ever find anyone fucking in the bathroom, they’ll be asked to leave and they won’t be invited back.”

“My lord, every month other people come here who live like we do?” I asked, intrigued by the prospect of meeting others like us.

“Yes, my love, you’ll meet some fascinating people. You’d be surprised at how many of us there are. Most are socialites from Lafayette, New Orleans, and Baton Rouge; professionals, doctors, lawyers, bankers, educators, executives, all kinds of people. It’s their special time to be open with others about their lifestyle in confidence, to be free and not judged. I feel good providing them a safe place to be.”

“It is kind of you, my lord. Where do they stay when they come?”

“Most of them stay in cottages in the village, but some sleep up here. It depends.”

“Free of charge, my lord?”

“Yes. Technically it’s all free, because if they paid for it, we’d be selling sex, which would make it illegal, and really, it isn’t like that. I mean, who pays to have sex? We do ask for donations, however, so we can maintain the cottages and the playroom. Most give generously.”

“Are most of the people who come married or collared, my lord?”

“Mostly yes, but as you know I brought Ty last month, so it depends. But most are paired off one way or the other.”

We passed another sitting area with a wide sofa and table. “My lord, do people just sit around here and talk?”

“Yes, my love. We’re all friends who gather here. Some of us have known each other for years.”

In the next corner of the room, we came upon what appeared to be exercise benches and workhorses that you would see at a construction site.

“Here, my dear, we get into real punishment,” he said with a special gleam in his eye.

The ceiling was strewn with pulleys, ropes, and leather straps that confounded me; the intricate system seemed to be tied together.

“The benches are meant to be knelt upon. Come, let me show you.”

He led me onto one of the benches. “It’s punishment, so I’ll only demonstrate. I want you to be comfortable here, so I won’t pull as tightly as I will when I do it for real. Come, put your knees here and face me.”

He took my shoulders and steadied me on the cushioned bench. “Always spread your legs, my dear; otherwise, it’ll be worse.” He pushed my thighs apart with his knee.

“My lord, will you always be the one who punishes me?” I asked.

“Yes, Nez, no one else will mete out your punishment unless agreed upon ahead of time, but that instance will be rare, if at all, with the possible exception of Sunny. Only I know your true limits, so I am loath to allow another to push. It’s my job and my pleasure to help you seek new limits.”

He raised my hands above my head and tied them together at the wrists with bare rope that pinched and burned my skin. He attached my wrists to a pulley that hung from the ceiling. He tied them tightly and as I hung, the ropes burned more. He pulled a thick leather strap down and began to wrap it over my right shoulder and under my left arm and around my torso. He pulled tightly, making the leather dig into my skin in the same bondage pattern etched into Marie-Louise. I began to panic a little as he brought the strap under my crotch and then back up to the top. He pulled again before securing it, making the strap dig painfully into my labia. If I relaxed too much and fell into the bondage, as I’d been previously trained to do, the leather between my legs pressed hard, causing a good amount of pain. I was required to stay tensed. My breath became rigid and shallow.

“Good girl,” he said as he left my field of vision. The next sensation I had was cold wet leather against my right buttock, then a sharp poke inside my vagina, then a hundred fingers slapping my backside. I cried out.

“Silence!” he yelled and struck me again. This time I held my tongue. “Good girl, Nez. Some can’t shut up so they end up gagged, but you like gags, so I won’t give you one. I’ll just shut you up in other ways.”

“Yes, my lord,” I said as my eyes welled up with tears.

He stepped in front of me and watched the saltwater drip down my cheeks, cocking his head in fascination. “Don’t forget about the safe words, Nezzie. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.” I closed my eyes, refusing to give him my limit.

“That’s good, Nez, very good,” he said as he crushed my breasts in his hands. “Open your eyes, look at me,” he ordered and I immediately followed his directive. His eyes were intense, lurid, and ethereal. He was thinking about something and then he turned away out of my field of vision. “I’m not punishing you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord. You’re only demonstrating this equipment.” I choked back a sob.

“Good girl, that’s right. You were such a good girl tonight. I don’t want you to think you misbehaved, but I want you to have a taste of what will come when you do misbehave. I don’t want you to be surprised.”

“My lord, I won’t misbehave,” I pleaded. My muscles were beginning to fatigue.

“Yes, you will. We all do eventually,” he said as he placed a rubber-coated clamp on my left nipple and screwed it together slowly. At first it did not hurt, but with each twist of the threads the pain intensified. Just as I was about to use my safe word, he stopped and began securing the other on my right nipple. With the turning of the threads the pain grew until I reached the pinnacle. “We’re all bad every now and again, Nez.”

“Yes, my lord,” I murmured, and to my complete alarm, he reached up and tightened the leather strapping. I winced and almost cried out, but would not give him the satisfaction of using a safe word.

He leaned in and whispered, “Nezzie, feel the pain. Feel it. Live it. You’re alive, Nezzie. Embrace it. The pain is you.” He kissed me gently. “I love you, Nezzie girl, I love you,” he whispered as he lifted me gently, giving my nether regions a break from the pressure. “Do you still love me now that you know the real me?”

“Yes, my lord. I love you more than you know.”

He dropped my full weight onto the strap. The pain went through my body in a rush and I whimpered, “Yellow, my lord. Yellow, please.”

“Good girl, that’s the way to use the safe words. We’re close now to a new limit, aren’t we?” he said as he began to swing me back and forth slightly.

“Yes, my lord.” I was sobbing now.

“Shhhh, embrace the pain. Breathe through it and give it to me. We’re almost through now. Look at me,” he directed.

I locked onto his eyes as I did Sunny’s that day in the apartment. “I love you, my lord.”

“Thank you, Nezzie. Thank you for your tears.” He stopped the swinging. “I love your tears that you cry for me. Your tears are for me, my pleasure, and our love.”

He pulled the leather tighter and gave each clamp a quarter turn. “I love you more, Nezzie.”

At last, he released the tension on the straps, but the pain worsened as he loosened them.

“I know,” he said, “it hurts when they come off, too, but only for a few moments.”

As I hung from the ropes in exhaustion, he twisted the clamps a little more and then simultaneously turned them loose and pulled them off, creating a wave of pain. I shuddered and the tears came in torrents; my juices ran. I had to work hard to catch my breath.

“God, I love you,” he said.

Once I settled down, I realized my body’s sensitivity was augmented by an overwhelming burning sensation radiating out from where the straps had bound me so tightly. I absolutely loved the sensation, but if that was not the real thing, I could not imagine what was. He stood back observing me as if I were a lab animal in an experiment. The ropes still dug into my wrists and I kept my eyes glued to his.

“Good girl, Nezzie baby, good girl,” he crooned as he ran the back of his hand down my torso. He leaned in and sucked my right nipple hard. It hurt because of the clamp. I whimpered, but my body disobeyed the pain reflex and arched asking for more, so he took my left nipple in his mouth and pulled hard. I could feel tears rolling down my neck.

“I like you this way, Nez.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

He walked around me, in and out of my field of vision. “It makes me feel good inside. I own your ass, Nez. I own you.”

“Yes, my lord.”

He kissed me gently as if I were made of fine china. “Do you still love me, my dear?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do you love me more than you did before?” He walked around me and ran his finger around my middle section.

“Y-yes, I think I do, my lord,” I said honestly.

“You think you do?” he asked as he ran his finger through my wet nether region.

“I love you more, my lord.”

“Good girl. I love you more too. You give of yourself so freely, my love. It’s so fucking sexy.” He finally untied the ropes and caught me before I fell off the bench. “Are you okay? Can you walk?” he asked.

I was weak. “Yes, my lord. I’m okay.”

“It made you come,” he said knowingly.

“Oh yes, my lord.”

He went to the sink and wet a washcloth with cool water. He gently dabbed my face, eyes, mouth, and neck, refreshing me and showing kindness. I longed for the coolness on my nipples because they burned, but he did not go there.

I was curious about the other punishment apparatus, and as if reading my mind he explained how they worked. “Those you straddle like a horse. I’ll tie you up with a rope and leather like I just did, but instead of the leather strap in your crotch, that piece of hard wood hits you there if you aren’t vigilant. It hurts a lot more than what we just did. In addition to the nipple clamps, I can also clamp your clit, among other things.”

I nearly fainted when he said that and so he guided me to the nearby sofa. “Are you okay?” he asked with genuine concern. “Was it too much too soon?”

“My lord, I’m okay, I just need a minute to collect myself.”

“You would do it again?” he asked anxiously.

“Yes, my lord, I love it. I love you,” I smiled.

He turned and pointed to a nearby door. “This is a private room that can be used for sex. Some doms prefer to punish their subs in private, not to mention have a private fuck with them, and every couple needs a private chat at times. Additionally, with permission, subs can have private interludes in there, but don’t you get any ideas. Your pleasure is mine, do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord.”

We continued to walk and came to a group of what looked like hanging chairs.

“Those replaced Monique’s sailcloth. You can sit in there and get it from both ends at the same time. Come, I’ll show you. It’s very comfortable.”

He guided me into the swing and lifted my feet into stirrups. “Now lean back, Nez. It’s real comfy.”

I found the swing to be very accommodating. He stood between my legs and gently swung me away from him and back.

“It’s fun,” he said. “I can stand here and fuck you in the ass or pussy, and someone else can stand back there and fuck your mouth. Ty really got off on this,” he giggled.

“I can see why, my lord.” I felt comforted by the gentle swing of the apparatus.

“Let me show you our spot,” he said as he helped me from the swing. We approached a raised area with a large wooden chair and pillows all around.

“My lord, what’ll happen to Marie-Louise if Jackson breaks the collar? Will she still come here, and if she does, who will she belong to?”

“That has yet to work itself out, but I think it will naturally.”

“I don’t understand, my lord.”

“You will. You’re smart enough to get it on your own and it’s better that you do.” We stood facing the raised chair and pillows. “This is where I sit now that Jackson is no longer in charge. You’ll be on my left there on your pillow. Go give it a try. Let me see you there where you belong,” he said.

I walked up to the pillow and sat down.

“Perfect,” he clapped, “now sit in my chair.”

I got up and sat in the oversized chair.

“Nice,” he exclaimed. “You know, in my absence, you’ll take my chair.”

“My lord, I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Don’t worry. That scenario is down the road. We’ll go over everything and I won’t put you in that position until you’re ready. You trust me, right?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I love you, Nezzie girl. Je t'aime, Neige, je t'aime.”

“Oh, my lord, how can anyone love you more than I do?”

“Tomorrow evening is cocktails with the other doms, and I’m going to introduce you formally as future Mistress of Twisted Oak. This means some substantial changes for many people, namely Jack and Marie. Tomorrow afternoon at tea, you and I will have a chat about your conduct, my expectations, and the best way to proceed.”

“This is all so much to take in, my lord. I hope I live up to your expectations.”

With a bow, he held his hand out to assist me as I rose from the chair.

“I have every confidence you will.”

29.

Mr. Delacroix kissed my brow. “Time to get up, my dear. You’re coming with me on my run this morning,” he said as he handed me a glass of water.

“Sir, the sun isn’t even up yet,” I complained.

“The more you complain, the longer you’ll run. Now come on. You’ll thank me later. I promise,” he smiled.

“I doubt that, sir,” I groaned. With that, he took the water and set it on the nightstand.

“Turn over,” he commanded. “Now, Nez, I won’t tolerate laziness.”

“Sir,” I began.

“Nezzie!”

“Yes, sir,” I said as I turned over. He ripped the warm covers from my body and gave me a swift spank that reawakened last night’s sensations and sent stinging needles to my groin.

“Get up now and put your running clothes on.” He spanked me again and the stinging lingered.

“Yes, sir,” I said and reluctantly left the warmth of my bed.

“And drink that water. You need to stay hydrated.” He sat on the chaise to put his shoes on. “Get a move on, girl.”

He’d laid out a pair of navy blue running shorts, a white sports bra, socks, and a tank. As I pulled the shorts on, he came to me and grabbed my wrist to examine it closely. A red welt had formed from the rough tightness of the rope the night before.

“Your skin’s sensitive. That’s good. Stand up and let me have a closer look at you. Let the shorts fall to your feet. I need a good look.”

He moved me toward the light from the nightstand lamp, turning me this way and that. When I looked down, I noticed the red lines that covered my torso were hauntingly similar to Marie-Louise’s scars.

“Don’t worry, they’re temporary. They won’t last but another day or so, but it’s good that you have these marks for when the doms come tonight. When they see them, they’ll know you understand, that you’re one of us. Put your clothes on now.”

“Yes, sir,” I said as I continued to dress.

“Is there anything in particular that you have to say about last night, anything today that comes to mind that you especially liked or disliked? Are you experiencing any residual pain?”

I was not sure how to answer. I knew if I told him I liked something, he might not do it again; if I told him something hurt especially badly, he would make sure to do it again.

“Don’t overthink it, Nez. Just be honest. You know now how important that is.”

In all honesty, I could not think of anything I particularly did not like. The whole experience was painful, but my nipples were especially hurting. I looked down at them. They were standing at attention, red and swollen.

“Your tits hurt?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, and my wrists. My bottom is kind of sore too.”

“Did you like it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said. I pulled the tank over my head.

“If I brought you upstairs right now and did it again, would you like it?” He came to me, took me by the shoulders, and sat me on the chaise. Sweetly, he kneeled before me, put my socks on my feet, then slid my feet into my shoes, setting my legs into a wide stance. He kissed the insides of my knees, which made my insides flip.

“Yes, sir, but I think it would hurt more.”

He massaged the insides of my thighs, his thumbs getting very close to my crotch. “The idea of hurting more is desirable to you?” he asked as he slipped his thumbs up inside my shorts.

I loved being the center of his attention. “Only for you, my lord.”

“Good girl, Nezzie, only for me. You know why now, don’t you?”

“Sir?” I asked, unsure of his meaning.

“You know why you want to give your suffering to me only?”

“Yes, sir. I love you. I belong to you.”

“I love you too, Nez.” With a quick, painful pinch of each nipple he rose to his feet. “Come on,” he said as he pulled me up by the arm.

We began with a few stretches on the front lawn and a brisk walk along the driveway. Once we warmed up, he created a jogging pace that I could manage well enough. It felt good to run, to feel free, to be in command of my body, alone with myself in my thoughts. He picked up the pace as we circled round to the back and followed a gravel path toward the chapel. The sun was rising at our backs, so we broke off the path to the right and jogged along the driveway.

“Let’s go this way so we can watch the sun come up,” he said.

The sun peeked through the ancient oaks. Golden rays caught the morning mist; Spanish moss hung loosely and flowed in a slight southern breeze. It was as if we were jogging through a postcard, the bayou just out of sight to our left, towering oaks to our right, and the mansion in the background all lit golden and soft pink-orange. The crickets ceased their chirping. As if on cue, birdsong erupted everywhere.

The gravel crunched beneath our feet. I looked over and saw a serene expression grace his exquisite face. The dark morning shadow along his jawline, his dark curls kissed with sweat, and the electric eyes that I remembered from the first time I saw him running across Jackson Square. I knew that I would do anything for him; that he was the love of my life. I would choose to come to Twisted Oak to be with him forever.

“So much has changed, sir, since I met you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said. “Things are moving pretty quickly lately. Are you okay with it?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Good girl, Nez. I finally have someone I can trust and count on, who understands me, someone I can talk to. Thank you for being here, for being you. For loving me.”

We jogged at a casual pace for another few hundred yards and doubled back away from the sun toward the chapel again. The temperature was rising and the sweat and sun on my back reawakened the reddened bands. I feared the skin was broken, but I kept up the pace.

“I’m not going to push you too much this morning, so we’ll head back in a bit, but let’s go see my dad first,” he said.

“Is it just a coincidence that you run to both your parents’ graves, sir?”

“Coincidence that comes from convenience. I like to visit their graves and it just so happens that I run most every morning. It just works out that way, I guess. And besides, where else can I run to?”

“Do you always have to run somewhere?” I asked.

He reached over and slapped my butt. “Nezzie!”

“Sir,” I said as he picked up the pace as a form of punishment, but I kept up.

“It helps me to have a plan, a reason to run,” he said. “Let me know as the day goes if you feel any residual pain from last night. It’s good for me to know your limits,” he said with no shortness of breath. “When we get back, I’ll have a look at your back and you can take some time to read Marie-Louise’s notes. They’re interesting to say the least. I’m glad you thought about having her write it down. You two will have plenty to speak about today.”

“Yes, sir.” It was becoming difficult to catch my breath.

“I hope her story doesn’t disturb you too much, but just bear in mind that I didn’t have anything to do with bringing her here. I was away at school when Jackson made that decision. I’m afraid her story might turn you off from me, this place, the way we live. I don’t want to lose you now that we’ve come so far.”

We crested the knoll and came to the graves. He stood over me as I bent to breathe. “Nez, I was a little kid when all that shit was going down with her old man, and I wasn’t here when Jackson bought her. I didn’t have anything to do with it. You know if I did, I’d own up to it. I’m accountable for my actions, or at least I try to be. I’ve been completely honest with you about my mistakes and I will not stand by and take the blame for Jackson’s.”

“I understand, sir, and I understand that you’ve been trying to make this right by her all these years. I get it.” I was still breathing hard.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I just need a minute, my lord,” I said and stood to fully expand my lungs. “I can’t talk and run like you can.”

“You call that a run?” He took my hand and we walked the rest of the way to the gravesite. The morning dew had lifted off the grass and butterflies flitted about.

“I’m just saying that it never would’ve happened if I was here, not like it did, anyway. I may have helped Jackson save her from that tyrant, but I never would’ve allowed him to . . .” He paused. “I’d never have used her and tricked her into it like he did. He made promises that he couldn’t keep. He lied to her and never, ever would that have happened if I was here.”

“I know, sir, don’t worry. I got you.” I smiled at using his phrase and he returned the gesture.

The smile fell from his face as he turned to his father’s grave. “Dad, she’s finally here,” he whispered and a tear ran down his cheek. “Just in time for my birthday. Just like you planned.”

“My lord! Today is your birthday? I didn’t know!” I leaned against him and relished the comfort and familiarity when his arm went around me. I said a silent prayer that I could live up to everything he hoped I could be.

We arrived back in our rooms to find the bed made, the windows open, and sweet-smelling southern breezes wafting through the room.

“My lord, what smells so good?” I asked.

“When the sun warms them up, the sweet olive bushes smell like heaven,” he said as he examined my marks. I winced as he poked my back with his finger.

“You’re okay. Just like the ones in the front, they’re temporary. I think the heat and the sun aggravated them. It’s a good thing you told me so I understand how sensitive you are. Does it hurt in the front, too?” He turned me around toward the natural light of the open windows. The breeze felt cool and soothing on my hot, red skin.

“Yeah, but not as bad as my back.”

He poked a red spot under my right breast and it stung.

“Ouch, yeah, that hurts,” I said. I waited for him to apologize, but he never did. Instead, he assured me that he would remember my sensitivity for next time.

“Now you know why you have to be honest and show me your pain, so I can properly assess your limits. Don’t worry, I never forget, and I mean it when I say no permanent marks. What about your pussy?” he asked, as if he were a doctor giving a physical examination. He put his hand there and felt around the outside. I felt a jab of pain. “Lay down. Let me look,” he said as he guided me to the chaise.

“I’m glad not to be wearing anything, that’s for sure. The shorts kind of rubbed me the wrong way, but I’m fine now,” I said as I lay back and opened my legs.

“You sure are, my love,” he said as he popped his head up from between my legs. “You’re all red and swollen.” He disappeared again and his finger entered my vagina. “Wet, too. I bet if I fucked you really hard right now it would hurt like hell, and since you forgot to address me properly for the third time this morning, that’s exactly what’s gonna happen.”

He grabbed my leg, flipped me over, and pulled me down so my knees were on the floor and my torso rested on the chaise.

“Your ass is still pink from your whipping last night and your spank this morning. Does it hurt?”

“Yes, sir, a little,” I said.

“Only a little?”

“It hurts, sir.” I was not sure if I was hoping he would give me another spanking. The familiar dissonance of repulsion and desire created a strong sense of surrender. I held my position and worked hard to lift my hips and spread my legs further for him.

“Stay, Nez. Don’t you move a fucking muscle.” He left my side.

I heard him approach as he said, “I like your presentation, but my dear one, you are being punished, so you’re not allowed to climax. If you come, I’ll be very disappointed. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said with honest disappointment.

“Good. Give me your hands behind your back.”

I felt him pull my hands together and tie them with something rough like twine. My wrists, already rubbed red from the previous night, began to burn.

“Good girl,” he said and pulled the twine a little tighter, stabbing me with hot pain. He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head back firmly so my shoulders lifted off the chaise. My neck was exposed. I had to work hard not to climax; the feeling of surrender was overwhelming. His hand brushed across my throat. I moaned and he pulled my hair harder. “Don’t you fucking come,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Yes, sir.” My insides ached. I was deathly afraid I would disappoint him.

“Control yourself, bitch. You don’t have to come every time someone ties you up and pulls your hair. Jesus, you’re a slut.”

He slapped my ass very hard. It stung like a billion needles. The urge to come was incredible. All I could muster was a weak, “Yes, sir.”

He slammed his manhood into me so hard that my knees lifted off the ground. The pain shot through me like a dagger and I yelped.

“For god’s sake, be quiet,” he said and spanked me again. I held my tongue, but the tears flowed.

He grabbed another handful of my hair with his left hand and my tied wrists with his right and jammed into me with a grunt that sent my eyes wide open. He pulled out again, stopping the rush that came from my center. My breath had gone ragged. I would not give in to my natural inclination to climax. I held fast.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re such a good girl, Nez. You take your punishment well.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I said as my breath finally caught.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“I do, my lord. I love you.”

He let go of my hair, took my hips in his hands, and pressed his thumbs firmly into my tensed rear. “You have no idea how much I love you, Neige, lumiere blanche. You just simply can’t understand it.”

I felt the cool sensation of lubricant fill my anus. I began to panic a little because I had never experienced anal punishment. His thumbs spread my cheeks to the point of pain as he lined himself up to my opening and plunged into me with a moan, pushing and grinding his hardness ever deeper, pushing me open, sending pinpoints of pleasure pain through my backside. He held me there until he had filled my longing with his seed.

He left me bound and dropped me on the chaise like a rag doll. I could feel his eyes examining me. I could hear his breath and envisioned his bare chest heaving, my lord standing over me trying to make sense of his feelings. He was correct; I could not possibly understand the depth of his emotion. I heard him walk away.

We showered and dressed for breakfast at a leisurely pace. Everything at Twisted Oak occurred at a natural pace. There were few clocks and even fewer obligations, only time in its purest essence, within which we cultivated our love for one another. I could easily lose myself in this time, this place, and understood how Monique came to love it.

Jackson and Marie-Louise had not made it out to the veranda for breakfast yet, so Mr. Delacroix and I sat and sipped coffee while we waited. A bowl of fruit and a vase of purple and yellow flowers sat as the centerpiece. Thomas brought the Times-Picayune and Wall Street Journal for Mr. Delacroix to read. From behind his newspaper wall, Mr. Delacroix handed me Marie-Louise’s notes. I was amazed at the small, perfect script of Marie’s hand, uniform and compact. It began:

Dear Miss Nez,

I jumped on the bed because it felt good. I do things because they feel good and then I don’t want to stop. Jackson says I am impulsive. I say I just want to feel good. I have known you would come for a long time and I’m happy you’re finally here. I am sure your master has told you some things about me and how I arrived here, but I want you to know that I hold no grudge against you or him for what happened to me. I am thankful for my time as Mistress of Twisted Oak, but like Jackson, I am not cut out to be on top. It doesn’t come to me naturally. I don’t understand it. I don’t know it and it doesn’t feel good. I know my master is unhappy and he doesn’t feel good either.

“Sir,” I said, “Marie is an excellent writer.”

“Nez, the woman isn’t dumb, she’s just different. Keep reading,” he said without lowering the paper.

I don’t know if you have had other masters that were unhappy, but my heart is breaking knowing that I cannot make Jackson happy. I know he wants to break the collar and divorce me and that’s fine. He deserves a man to make him happy. But even after all these years, he can’t let go of James. I’m saddened to think he will die alone with a broken heart, so I stay in hopes of giving him some kind of comfort. I owe him at least that much for what he has done for me. For a while, I thought that if I had a child, he would find happiness, but he will not. Then I suggested we invite a man to be here with him. I thought maybe Sunny could make him happy, but Jackson declined and got very angry with me for assuming I knew what he wanted. It was bad and he dealt a harsh punishment. I have tried everything and it just makes him more unhappy, which brings harsher punishments. Now I am at the point where I don’t even feel my beloved pain any longer. Nothing hurts and hardly anything feels good. There’s nothing I can do to salvage our agreement.

My darling Miss Nez, do I not deserve happiness as well? I deserve to feel good. I see you and your loving master and I know there must be someone out there for me, someone who loves me as he obviously loves you. I know I’m different. I’ve known my whole life that something isn’t right with me, that I’m not normal. My real father said I was only good for one thing and maybe my mother was right when she said I was dumb. Maybe I am slow or stupid because I don’t know things. I’m scared to be on my own because I have always belonged to someone, had someone to look after me. I have been at Twisted Oak my whole life, and while I do not want to belong to Jackson anymore, I don’t want to leave here. I don’t want to be alone. I am so sad, Miss Nez, and I feel like I have let everyone down, especially Mr. Delacroix who has been so kind to me. I don’t know what to do. Can you help me, please?

Your humble servant,

Marie-Louise

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix,” I said.

“I know, my lady, it’s fucking pathetic.” He put his paper down.

“Sir, it’s so sad and I can understand your disgust with Jackson.” I sipped my coffee and gave the letter back to Mr. Delacroix.

“It’s really a damned embarrassment on this house, this whole thing.” He shook his head and popped a dewberry in his mouth. “Happy birthday to me,” he said sarcastically. “Ya know, cher, Jackson’s a good man generally, but he’s the one who really pushed my dad into going way out kinky back then. I’m not saying Dad was innocent, not by a long shot—he was totally into it. But I think Jackson didn’t share the same kind of limits my dad had.” He harrumphed and continued. “In many ways, Jackson’s a lot like Marie. If it feels good, do it, and if you like it, don’t stop.”

“My lord, maybe having you helped your dad understand healthier limits and boundaries,” I offered.

“Probably. I mean, I’m not a dad yet, but I can see how having kids would settle you down. Like, for example, if you and I had kids running about this morning, I’d have quelled my impulse to give you a punishment fuck in the sitting room. I’d have had to wait until later.”

“Certainly, the contract would have to be revised and new rules set in place to protect the children. When I look at Marie-Louise, I see a child who’s seen too much too soon,” I said, wondering exactly how much Mr. Delacroix had seen when he was a child. True to form, he read my mind.

“I didn’t have a clue what Dad and Jackson were up to around here when I was a kid. I was little when my mother died, and clearly, she wasn’t into it, but she never let on to me what Dad was up to.” He paused, sipped his coffee, and grabbed a strawberry. “I had a nanny though, who I think knew what was happening. She knew at certain hours Dad and Jack were not to be disturbed, and this is when she took me out to play or sent me on errands when I got older. She would send me to the village or old man Benjamin’s to get my root beer.”

I could sense his mind scouring his past, looking for clues to an alternate reality.

“I swear I had no idea what the two of them were up to. As far as I was concerned, they were best friends and business partners and it was normal having them both around all the time; that is, when they weren’t in the city for work. I felt lucky because in many ways it was like having two dads. Jack was like an uncle to me, nothing sordid or out of the ordinary. Everyone out here had large extended families. It was so normal. The three of us had a lot of fun together.”

“Did you know about them before your dad died, my lord?”

“Kind of,” he said. “Dad told me a couple of times that he and Jackson had a special relationship, but I was young and didn’t quite get it. After he died, I remember Jackson crying like a baby and telling Thomas that he’d never love anyone again, that he wanted to die. That I remember. He was sitting in the parlor just bawling and I remember thinking to myself that he was acting like a girl. As I got older, I put two and two together. By the time I was twelve or thirteen, I’d figured it out, and Jackson talked to me about it too. I wasn’t surprised, but he didn’t tell me about the dynamics of their relationship until I was about fourteen or so. I guess that’s how old I was when he showed me the upstairs.”

“Did he show you like you showed me, with demonstrations?” I asked, feeling uneasy and angry that he had been so young. I suddenly felt an overwhelming need to protect my lord from a demon, and the veracity of this need caught me off-guard.

He took my tender wrist in his hand and squeezed it. “Nezzie, why were you punished this morning?”

“My lord, I am sorry.”

“There aren’t any excuses for it, Nez.” He squeezed harder, causing red-hot pain.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“That’s better,” he said and released my wrist. His fingers left white marks where the skin had gone red, and the pain sent distinct signals to my clit, making it hard for me to concentrate. “No, he didn’t demonstrate the first time.”

“But you were collared within the year, sir?”

“Yes, it moved fast with us, but it was good. As much as I knew back then, which in retrospect wasn’t much, I was in love with Jack.” He smiled and shook his head. “Look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Nothing happened with Jack and me before this, and I knew exactly what I was getting into. Just like you, Jackson gave me all the information, and over those few months, I came to understand the nature of his love for my dad and for me.” His eyes misted over. “But he was in love with my father’s memory, not me.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, taking his hand.

He tossed the strawberry into his mouth. “I’m not. I learned a lot from that experience. It helped make me who I am, and because of it, I can more fully appreciate the real, true love you and I have. I very plainly know the difference between the real thing and bullshit.”

“But you still love Jackson, sir?”

“Oh, absolutely, but not in that way; I’m straight, Nez. I know now that I could never have stayed with him the way he wanted me to. Clearly, he knew it too. That’s why he collared Marie-Louise.” He leaned back and shook the crease out of the newspaper. “God, what a fuckup that was.” He disappeared behind the Journal.

I wondered where to begin with Marie-Louise as I watched a squirrel jump from branch to branch in the nearby oaks. The sun was warm and the scent of sweet olive filled the air; what a strangely perfect place.

“Happy birthday, sir. Ma’am, would you care for more coffee?” Thomas’s voice startled me from my reverie. Mr. Delacroix did not respond to his birthday greeting.

“Yes, please, and bring some for Mr. Delacroix as well. Could I have some orange juice?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Thomas said as he cleared the coffee carafe from the table.

“You speak to Thomas as if you’ve lived here your whole life,” Mr. Delacroix said from behind his paper.

A white ibis strolled across the croquet lawn. His long legs each lifted high as if he were wading in the shallows. His walk looked out of place outside of the marsh.

“Mr. Delacroix, why is that ibis up here?” I asked.

He lowered the paper. “He’s a pretty one; a smart one too. There must be an alligator in his regular spot, so he came up here till the thing goes away. He’s no dummy, and he ain’t gonna be anyone’s breakfast, either.”

“An alligator?” I said in alarm.

Mr. Delacroix slammed his paper down. “Damn it, Nezzie, an alligator what?”

“My lord,” I said.

“I swear you’re doing it on purpose now. Fuckin’ hell, I’ll have your ass for my breakfast,” he said, shaking his paper. “If you think your ass is sore now . . .” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” I said, stifling a giggle; he sounded like a grumpy old man.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked without dropping the paper.

“No, sir,” I said, and sipped my water in hopes of hiding my smile. I continued to watch the ibis as he awkwardly made his way back toward the water’s edge.

“Nezzie,” he said without dropping the paper.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Come rub my shoulders for me, please.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you. I’ve been tense,” he said as he set the paper down. “I guess the stress of finally turning thirty is getting to me a bit.”

“I’m sorry. Have I added to your troubles?”

“Oh god, no. Well, yes, when you play games with salutations. Please stop it,” he said.

“My lord, I promise that I don’t do it on purpose. Sometimes I forget when I’m overwhelmed. It’s not every day that I hear there’s an alligator in the backyard. Hell, sir, it’s not every day the backyard is hundreds of acres, either. And it’s your birthday! The whole situation is very overwhelming to me. To you it’s normal, but to me it’s extraordinary.”

“Come here, baby,” he said and led me around to stand above him, one of those rare moments he chose for me to be on top. He wrapped his arms around my waist and put his head between my breasts. My hands cradled his curls and held him close. He was like a child in that moment, eyes closed, vulnerable. I felt his trust in me, and knew I would protect him with my life from the demons that knocked at his door.

“Miss Nez,” Marie-Louise called out as she and Jackson approached the terrace, “good morning. Master said we could sleep in. Happy birthday, Mr. Delacroix.” She was all smiles, wearing a gossamer shift printed in flowing pink flowers.

Mr. Delacroix gently pushed me away. “Sit, Nez.”

I sat and waved to Marie-Louise. “Good morning,” I smiled.

“Mornin’, Jack, I trust you slept well?” Mr. Delacroix said. He ignored the birthday wish and Jackson didn’t give one.

“We sure did, sir,” Jackson said. “How about you, Miss Nez? You look very refreshed this morning.” He glanced at my reddened wrists.

“I am,” I said as I put my hands under the table.

“Don’t hide your wrists,” Mr. Delacroix said and lifted my hands back where they had been.

“Sir,” Jackson asked, “is it all right if I touch Miss Nez’s hands?”

“I suppose so,” Mr. Delacroix said nonchalantly, raising his paper again.

“Miss Nez,” Jackson said as he took my hands in his, “these marks you have are something to be proud of. They’re a symbol of your belonging, that you’re one of us. They tell me loud and clear that you’re worthy, that you understand and love Mr. Delacroix. It’s okay. No one here will ever judge you because we understand. My dear child, around here those are as good as medals hanging on your chest.”

I looked at Marie-Louise and she nodded in agreement. “It’s good, Miss Nez,” she smiled.

“Thank you,” I said. Thomas brought the coffee and juice.

“Coffee for us, too, Tom, and a couple of those juices. What’s for breakfast?” Jackson asked as he let go of my hands.

“Of course, sir, anything you like, but Chef has prepared banana French toast and eggs to order,” Thomas announced.

“I’ll have the usual,” Mr. Delacroix said from behind the paper.

“Yes, sir.” Thomas turned to me.

“I’ll try a little of the French toast and just one egg scrambled, please,” I said.

Thomas turned to Jackson who replied, “A big piece of French toast and a couple eggs over easy. Do ya’ll have bacon today?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll have bacon too and some toast,” Jackson said. “Marie will have two eggs over medium. She doesn’t need French toast this morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said as he turned on his heels.

“Jack,” Mr. Delacroix said from behind the paper, “you’re eating too much.”

Jackson sat in silence, which infuriated Mr. Delacroix. I could see the paper shimmy as he held his temper. Marie-Louise moved her chair back from the table.

“You’re not on top anymore, old man, and since you think Nez’s marks are a badge of courage, I’ll see you upstairs after breakfast so you can show me just how fucking courageous you are.” The paper shook.

“Yes, sir,” Jackson replied and Marie-Louise moved her chair back in. She looked at me, shrugged, and nudged her head in Mr. Delacroix’s direction.

“Yes, Marie, I am in a mood. Shush now.”

Marie-Louise went pale.

Mr. Delacroix put his papers aside and received his breakfast: three four-minute eggs with fruit scattered about the plate just so. The French toast was sweet and gooey. It tasted more like a dessert than breakfast. Marie-Louise ate hungrily and Mr. Delacroix gingerly; Jackson did not touch his food. We ate mostly in silence, but made small talk about the ibis and the alligator and the squirrels.

“We had a dog once when I was a kid. Remember, Jack?”

“Oh yeah, Mr. Delacroix, she was a sweet dog too, but that damned alligator got her.”

“I was so upset that Dad said he’d get me another, but I couldn’t do it. I was afraid the gator would get that one too and I couldn’t bear it,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I’ll bet it’s the same damned gator that’s there now. They don’t go too far once they reach adulthood, and they live forever. I have half a mind to shoot the fucker, but then we’d be overrun by vermin.”

“He’d make for good eating, sir,” Marie-Louise said.

“He sure would, Marie.” Mr. Delacroix smiled and seemed to be coming out of his funk.

“Sir, may I ask a question?” I chimed in.

“Absolutely, my beauty,” he said.

“For people that come from the South, sir, you and Jackson don’t have much of an accent. I can hear Marie-Louise’s accent clearly all the time, but not yours. How come?”

“Good question, Nez,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Growing up, I was coached not to drawl when I speak. Both my parents used to correct me all the time when I’d come home from playing with the village kids. Jackson did too, come to think of it. It’s just the way we were taught.”

“Miss Nez, there’s a certain stature given to those who speak well,” Jackson said. “Mr. Delacroix’s station requires him to speak clearly, with intelligence. Added syllables, in some circles, indicates a certain level of, shall we say, laziness and ignorance.” He glanced at Marie-Louise.

“Well, I for one find the Southern accent charming and very sexy. It reminds me of molasses and green grass,” I said.

“Yeah, cher, molasses and green grass. Trust me. In the boardroom you do not want to sound like molasses and green grass,” Jackson said with a laugh. “In the bedroom maybe, but not in the boardroom.”

“Well said, Jack,” Mr. Delacroix said before adding a lilting accent. “But for you, my de-ah, molasses and green grass all the time. I may even pour some of that sweet molasses all ovah your body and lick it all off ya.” He took my hand and licked my arm from the red wrist to my armpit.

“You’re funny, sir,” I laughed.

“Well, Miss Nez,” he said, “I am as serious as a heart attack. I’m gonna take your nekkid body and throw ya down in the green grass. Mark my words, little girl, you can count on it.”

Mr. Delacroix turned to Jackson. “Jack, get your ass upstairs. I’ll be there in about fifteen, so be ready.”

“Yes, sir,” Jackson said and sauntered across the terrace as he unbuttoned his shirt. I noticed Mr. Delacroix looking after him, deep in thought. I wondered if Mr. Delacroix still loved Jack in the old way or hated him in a new way.

“Nez, I gotta go deal with Jack, so I’m leaving you in charge of Marie-Louise.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

He turned to Marie-Louise and took her chin between his thumb and finger. He brought her face close to his and shook it. “And you better behave yourself!”

“Yes, Mr. Delacroix,” she said with wide eyes.

“Nez, in two hours I want to see you in our sitting rooms. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

He looked at his watch. “That’s at exactly eleven twenty-five, not a minute later. There’ll be hell to pay if you’re late. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Eleven twenty-five, no later.”

“Good girl,” he said, and gave me a generous kiss as he walked away.

30.

“Miss Nez, it won’t get easier, ya know, to see him walk away,” Marie-Louise said, seemingly older and wiser, a sudden change in her demeanor.

“I think you’re right,” I said, watching her take a piece of bacon from Jackson’s plate and lean back. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Start wherever you like. You read my letter, didn’t you, ma’am?”

“Yes. I suppose I want to thank you first for being honest. That’s definitely a start,” I said as I poured myself more coffee.

“Miss Nez, I haven’t been privy to much honesty in my life, but god knows I give it. I try.”

“Me too, honey. Me too,” I said. “I think you and I have a lot in common.”

“Master told me that your momma sort of gave up on you and that you don’t have a daddy either and that some other man made you do things, but he didn’t say what, but I know how men are, what they want.”

“He didn’t make me have sex with him, if that’s what you think. My mother is an addict and I guess I got roped into dealing for him to support her habit.” I hesitated. “And then I guess it became my habit too.”

“Oh my god, Miss Nez, that’s terrible,” she said. “Much worse than me, I think.”

“You do?” I asked incredulously.

“He put you in grave danger dealing with strangers. At least my momma tried to protect me. In my case, I was kept at home and didn’t have to venture out with strangers. Sex is natural. It’s normal and feels good. It won’t kill you like addiction will.”

“I never thought of it that way,” I said.

“The bad part was when he beat my momma,” she continued. “She tried to protect me, but he was too much for her. So after a while, I learned how to give in so he wouldn’t hurt her so much. It wasn’t as bad as you might think and I came to like it in a way. He looked after me pretty well until I got older. Master says that I became conditioned and that it’s okay.”

I wondered if that was happening to me, if I was becoming “conditioned.”

“Can I ask how old you were?”

“When, miss?”

“When you lost your virginity.”

“I can’t remember,” she said, clearly wanting to change the subject.

“How old were you?”

“Twenty-one,” I said.

“But aren’t you twenty-one now?” she asked, and then, “Oh my god in heaven, Mr. Delacroix took your virginity. What was it like?”

“Well, it hurt for a bit, but then the pain went away and it felt good.”

“Did you bleed?”

“A little. Mr. Delacroix was sweet. He told me he was honored to take my flower,” I said, fondly remembering his words. “I was honored to have given it to him.”

“He loves you so much, Miss Nez,” she said, nibbling the bacon. “I guess girls like me, girls that are good for only one thing, aren’t deserving of the kind of love you have.”

“Marie, you deserve to feel good and god knows you deserve love. You said so in your letter.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” she said as she lowered her eyes.

“What exactly do you think love is, though? What are you hoping for?” I asked, just to make sure we were talking about the same thing.

She touched my wrists lightly and I looked in her eyes and put both my wrists on the table for her to touch.

“Miss,” she said, “I think this is love, these marks, but I know most people don’t understand. Master told me that we Twisted Oak people are different. He said I’m extra special, which is why it’s best for me to stay here and not venture out. He says people don’t understand me.” She paused. “I’m used to being different and I’m comfortable here. The way we are, all of us, it’s a good kind of different. And this,” she lifted my wrist to her mouth and brushed the redness with her lips, “this is good.”

I pulled my wrist away and said crossly, “Mr. Delacroix has asked you and me to behave. Let’s not disappoint him. It wasn’t easy for me to get his permission for us to have this time together.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I just—” She paused. “You’re very beautiful. I’m sorry.” She lowered her head in shame and my heart sank. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel worse.

“I’ve been thinking about your situation and it’s clear that neither of you wants to stay in it. I can’t help but think there has to be a way for you to break the collar and still stay here.”

“Miss Nez, please don’t make me go back to the village. The people there won’t understand and my auntie is ashamed of me. She thinks I’m a whore and that I’m the reason Daddy left Momma,” she said. “I may be dumb, miss, but I understand that going back there would be a terrible move for me. It would lower my station and then I’d be ridiculed even more than I already was, than I already am.” She sounded so pathetic. “Master’s right. People don’t understand me. Please don’t make me go back there.”

It was obvious that she was scared to go back. Who could blame her? What a desperate life she must have had.

“I haven’t heard you play the piano yet, but Jackson says you’re very gifted. I’d like to hear you play,” I said, trying to ease her mind.

“And there’s no piano in the village. Don’t make me go! I’ll run away!” She got up and began to run toward the bayou.

“Marie, there’s an alligator down there. Stop!” I kicked off my sandals and ran after her, but she was fast and I was so sore. “No one will make you go to the village. I promise!”

Thankfully, she stopped running and I caught up to her barefoot, out of breath.

“All you people do is make promises. You think this dumb girl will just believe anything?” she cried. “I will not go back there, ma’am, I swear to god in heaven I’ll kill myself first.”

“Honey, you aren’t going back. I know Mr. Delacroix would never do such a thing. I know he wouldn’t and this promise comes from me, Marie, not them, not a man. It comes from me, a woman who understands.”

I put my arm around her and guided her away from the bayou. “We’re a creative bunch. I’m sure we can figure out a way to keep you here at the mansion, just not under Jackson is all. It’s a big house and Mr. Delacroix was talking about refurbishing the children’s wing.”

“Miss, you mean I can stay in the north wing near the piano?” she said with those wide childlike brown eyes.

“No, I never said that. I can’t, because I don’t make promises that I can’t keep. But I promise I’ll talk to Mr. Delacroix.”

“But who will I belong to?”

I found myself looking at her, waiting for the salutation. I heard Mr. Delacroix’s voice in my head: I'm leaving you in charge of Marie-Louise. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said intuitively, “I’ve forgotten my place.”

“You’re scared, Marie, I understand, but I think it’s better if we follow protocol, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” We walked back toward the table where Thomas was clearing the men’s plates. She continued, “Have you ever had a master you couldn’t please no matter what you did?”

“No. I’ve never had one before this,” I said.

“Oh.” Her face went far away.

“Before Mr. Delacroix, I only belonged to myself, and I suppose the man who got me on drugs, but that was different. I could leave.”

“You’re smart so it was easier for you, I suppose, but I can’t imagine not belonging to anyone, miss. I wouldn’t know where to begin, even here, let alone going so far like you did.”

Samuel took the tray of dirty dishes to the house and Thomas stood by as we talked. “Ma’am, would you like me to clear your plates?” he asked.

“Marie-Louise, are you finished?” I asked and she took the last strip of bacon.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes, Thomas, thank you,” I said and smiled at him.

“Would you care for anything else, ma’am? There’s fresh lemonade,” he said as he bent to take the plates.

“That sounds like a perfect drink for planning, don’t you agree, Marie?”

“Very good, ma’am,” he said without waiting for Marie’s response, “and if I may speak candidly?” he asked.

“Certainly,” I said, a little puzzled.

“The staff is pleased you’re here and I speak for us all when I say it is our pleasure to serve you. They enjoyed meeting you the other day. It’s all they talk about.”

He turned so he was not facing Marie. “We’ve been waiting for the real lady of Twisted Oak for some time. Miss Nez, please don’t hesitate to ring if you need anything at all any time. We’re at your service.”

Marie appeared completely unaffected by his remarks. Apparently she and the staff did not get along. It was obvious she and Thomas only tolerated one another out of loyalty to the family. Mr. Delacroix’s voice rang in my head: Treat them with respect and they will return the favor.

“Thomas, you’re very kind. Thank you. Please let them know I appreciate them very much. I think we’ll all get along very well.”

He smiled a broad, gleaming white smile. “It’ll be my pleasure, ma’am.” He carried the plates inside.

“So Marie, there are a few options for you, I think,” I said, turning back to her. “Your skills as a musician should be shared, don’t you agree?”

“How, miss? I don’t know what you mean. I play for Mr. Delacroix and Master all the time. I share it whenever I can. I would have played for you last night, but I messed up. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Marie, there’ll be time for that. But I was talking about maybe playing for people outside of Twisted Oak. In the city there are many places you could—”

She interrupted. “I can’t go to the city. I’ll get lost. Bad men will get me. Master said so.”

“I was in the city and bad men didn’t get me,” I said.

“But they got Sunny and almost killed him. Miss, there are bad men out there. Trust me, I know,” she said, her voice grave. The mere thought of her experiences made me cringe.

“Well, maybe someday you’ll be ready for that. In the meantime, Sunny knows musicians and he knows the business. The manager at his bar, her name is Abby. She knows a lot and I bet she can set us up in a recording studio so you can record your music.”

“Make a record of my own? Oh, I dunno, miss.”

“If you want me to, I can talk to Sunny and see what he thinks. I’m sure you know he’s a gifted musician as well.”

“I like Sunny,” she said.

“Marie,” I said sharply.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

Taking a lead from Mr. Delacroix, I said, “That’s better,” and smiled.

“Yeah, it is, miss,” she smiled. “Sunny’s awesome at the guitar and have you heard him on the violin?”

“No, I haven’t. He told me he plays, but I’ve never heard him.”

“He plays so well. His classical is good, but you should hear him play Cajun fiddle and zydeco. He can fiddle, Miss Nez. He is crazy good.”

“See how many options you have? Maybe you and Sunny can make a record together. I’m sure there are more options that you and I haven’t thought of yet. Mr. Delacroix says the four of us will talk about them this afternoon. Maybe we can brainstorm and come up with more good ideas. I can tell you that Mr. Delacroix said in his very own words that Twisted Oak will never turn its back on you. He said it to my face, so please know the family will always be here for you, Marie. You deserve happiness. Mr. Delacroix said so too, and you have to trust him.”

“So, I’ll just sort of belong to the family?” she asked, still confused by the notion of not being anyone’s submissive.

“That’s how Ty was for a long time before he signed on with Sunny. He didn’t really belong to anyone, but he was part of the family. Maybe you can talk to him about how that went.”

“Miss, he belongs to Sunny now?”

“Yes, since last week. He’s one of us now.”

“I don’t like him, miss. Why does Sunny like him?”

“I love him, Marie. He’s the one who found me, saved me from the bad men in the city. When Mr. Delacroix and I come to live here, Sunny and Ty will come with us, so you better get used to having him around.” I remembered her remarks about Ty being black. “Ya know his daddy’s white.”

“That makes it even worse because then they get all uppity, ma’am.”

She was pressing my patience. Thomas shifted his stance, but his expression remained neutral. His self-control impressed me.

“Ty isn’t like that, and I think speaking in generalities about people you don’t know limits your own knowledge. I suggest you rethink your feelings on this. I’m here only because Ty was kind to me. He’s a good man.”

“He fucked you. You said so. You let him fuck you, ma’am.”

“It was more like the other way around. I fucked him.”

“Why, Miss?”

“Mr. Delacroix told me to.”

“Oh, well, then I understand,” she said. “Did you want to, though?”

“Of course I did. He’s a very kind and gentle man.”

“Big dick, too, miss. I saw it last month, but I thought he was a fag.”

“He is, but you know how it goes when one receives a command from one’s master,” I said.

“So he takes commands from Mr. Delacroix, miss?”

“Yes, just like you do, and Jackson and Sunny, too. He’s one of us.”

“Was it good?” She was at the edge of her seat.

“Marie, please remember for your own sake to address me properly.” My clit tingled. The power was delicious.

“Yes, ma’am,” she immediately responded.

“Yes, it was very good,” I laughed.

“Miss, you’re so adventurous,” she said.

“Just following orders,” I said with a smile.

Thomas presented us with an etched-glass pitcher of bright yellow lemonade with lemon slices floating in it. The sound of ice hitting the sides of the glasses as he poured was a happy one and reminded me of the day before when I had seen Twisted Oak for the first time.

“That’s perfect, Thomas, thank you. I’ll always associate this lemonade with my first day here, and you were the first person I saw,” I said.

“My pleasure, Miss Nez,” he said, and stood by after pouring. I could swear he was eavesdropping.

“I feel better now,” Marie said, “knowing you listen to me, that you understand. I was beginning to think I was wrong about everything. I mean, look where I live and all that I have. Why should I be so unhappy?”

“My dear,” I said, “people require so little, if you think about it. But if we don’t have love, we don’t have anything.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said as she lifted her glass to her lips.

“Marie, love comes to those who open their hearts and minds to it. The more you love, the more you’ll be loved. It isn’t easy, especially for some of us who haven’t had a lot of love, but open your heart and your mind. Don’t be afraid. I’m here now and everything’s gonna be okay.”

“I wish I had a good master like you do,” she said, and we sipped in silence.

“Ma’am, I have a message for you.” Thomas handed me a small piece of paper with neat, unfamiliar handwriting that read 11:15. Thomas walked away before I could thank him.

“We better go. I don’t want to be late. You heard Mr. Delacroix,” I said.

“Miss, where should I go?” Marie asked in confusion.

“To your rooms. Nothing has changed yet, so just carry on as if everything is the same. Go to your rooms and wait for Jackson.”

“Thank you,” she said. We rose from the table and she picked up my sandals. “Miss, sometimes I think it’d be nice to belong to you.”

31.

I quickened the pace up the stairs, praying I was not late. I was unsure how long Thomas had held that note and there were no clocks for me to tell exactly how much time had passed. Twisted Oak was a cunning place. One moment you were as free as a bird, and in the blink of an eye, the cage slams shut. I pictured the alligator waiting silently in the marsh and hoped Mr. Delacroix was not waiting for me.

I ran into our rooms relieved to find them empty. The microwave in the kitchenette read 11:23. I undressed and hung my clothes on the brass valet that stood next to the door before going to the toilet. When I came back to the sitting room, Mr. Delacroix sat on the sofa shirtless and relaxed in red silk pants, my pillow at his feet.

“My lord, you startled me. I didn’t know you were there,” I said and quickly sat on my pillow. It was new, firm. Plush silks and satin brocade in the colors of spring, the wide lace on the edges crocheted in a floral pattern.

“Are you comfortable, my love?” he asked.

“Very,” I said, and leaned against his leg.

“It’s a nice place to be. Ya know, sometimes I miss being on the bottom. I hope you know how good you have it,” he said, his voice thin and terse. “After speaking with Marie-Louise, sir, you can bet I do. I’ve learned a lot today, namely that you are, as she says, ‘a good master.’”

He did not offer any information about how things went with Jackson, so I assumed he preferred not to speak about it. Still, his silence was unnerving.

“Sir, do you want to know about my conversation with Marie-Louise?” I asked.

“Yes, what else did you learn?”

“It’s hard to know where to start, sir, but she told me that she’s glad I’m here and that she doesn’t blame you or me for anything. She’s grateful to you for being so good to her and she feels as though she’s let you down.”

“She made no mention of our first encounter?” he asked, surprised.

“None at all, my lord. Quite the opposite, in fact. She said that you’ve been very kind to her and how grateful she is. She’s terribly afraid she’s let you down.”

“Interesting,” he said.

I was anxious to share what I had learned. “My lord, she knows Jackson wants to break the collar and she wants to as well. I think that’s obvious to everyone, but she’s absolutely terrified that you’ll send her back to the village. She said she’d kill herself before she went back there, and I have to say, I understand. The thought of going back to Kansas City makes me want to puke. Sir, we can’t send her back. Whatever happened to her out there traumatized her so badly that she’d rather die than go back, to relive it. It must have been horrible. And if I may speak candidly?”

“Yes, Nez.”

“Jackson really played on that trauma. My lord, he’s got her so scared that she refuses to leave the grounds.”

“Oh, I know. It would be cruel to send her back. I’m much better at inequity than I am cruelty. I think you know that already.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed.

“So, did ya’ll come up with any kind of solution?” That Southern drawl made my insides melt.

“Yes, sir, we discussed a few options. Like maybe she could branch out with her music, make a recording and hopefully, eventually, when she feels she’s ready, give a few concerts outside of here, maybe in the city, though that terrified her to no end. She was thrilled, though, with the prospect of making a record.”

“That’s all very nice and dreamy, but where would she live?”

“Well, sir, I was thinking that maybe she could stay in the children’s wing until she gets her feet on the ground.”

He stopped petting me and laid his hand on my head, motionless. The silence was deafening.

“Just for a little while, sir. You mentioned cleaning it up and making it livable again.”

“You told her she could do this?” Agitation rose in his voice.

“Oh no, sir, I only told her I would talk to you about it. In fact, I told her I wasn’t in a position to make promises at all. The only promise I made is that I would talk to you. We talked about broken promises and I told her I wouldn’t make any that I couldn’t keep.”

“Good girl, Nezzie, it’s good that you’ve learned to be truthful and honest. It’s the best way, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely, my lord. The poor girl has had nothing but lies and manipulation her whole life. No wonder she’s such a mess.”

“Indeed, my girl,” he said, petting me again. “So, considering her predicament, how long do you think it would take for her to, as you say, ‘get her feet on the ground’? You act as if she has ever been on her own feet. Nez, the girl’s only been on her back with her legs wide open since she fell out of the cradle. How long do you think it would take for her to be self-sufficient? Two months? A year? Three years? Forever?”

I was stumped. “Sir, you said that Twisted Oak would never turn its back on her.”

“Yep, I sure did, sugah.” Molasses and green grass. “But if she stays on forever, where will she live when the children come?”

“Sir, I think it’ll be awhile before there are children, don’t you think, and we can cross that bridge when we come to it?”

“It’s my feeling that once she’s in the children’s wing, she won’t leave. She tends to get comfortable. Hell, Nez, she’d be in that children’s wing till Jesus comes back.”

“Let’s draw up an agreement, sir, a contract to be renewed twice a year, so that she has to work on being independent.”

“It’s not a bad idea, but it’d be a lot of work. I’d have to make it your project and god knows it wouldn’t be an easy one. I dunno, Nez, but we’ve got time to think about it.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I said, and snuggled into him.

“In the meantime, I may have come up with another solution that I’ll discuss this afternoon when the four of us meet for tea. A plan that can easily remedy a lot of what ails me,” he said with a sigh.

“My lord, you mentioned that you’ve been feeling tense lately. Is there something I can do?”

“Aside from what you’re doing, no.” His voice was resolute as if he was answering to fate outside of his control. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Sir, another thing about Marie,” I began.

“Yes?”

“She’s confused about not being under anyone, my lord. I think she’s afraid of not having a dom. She’s insecure and I think it may be an issue going forward. I had to tell her what to do after our talk. She had no idea what she was supposed to do without you or Jackson there to tell her.”

“What did you tell her to do?”

“I told her to go to her rooms and behave normally because nothing has changed. She still belongs to Jackson.”

“Did she listen to you?” Curiosity perked his voice.

“Yes, my lord, and then she said something I wasn’t expecting at all. She said she wished she had ‘a good master’ like I do and then she said that sometimes she thinks it would be nice to belong to me.”

“Did she now?” He smiled. “And your thoughts on the matter?”

“Well, sir, I may have given her the wrong impression. As you say, she’s very literal.”

“The wrong impression?” He seemed very entertained.

“I required proper salutations, sir,” I said.

“That’s my girl, Nez. She knows damned well you’re to be addressed properly.”

“She didn’t on a couple of occasions so I corrected her.”

“I can’t see how you gave her any kind of wrong impression. Personally, I think she did it on purpose to test you. She’s smart that way, ya know. She wants to see where you stand, test boundaries and push buttons.”

“I allowed her to carry my shoes back, sir.”

He laughed aloud. “She should carry your shoes, but why weren’t you wearing them?”

“My lord, she ran away when she thought we would send her back to the village and I had to chase her. It was easier to run without my sandals on.”

He laughed again. “She may be tiny, but she can run. I can see why she did. Sending her back to the village would be akin to sending her to hell. I’ll assure her this afternoon that it won’t happen. And don’t worry about what she said. She’s good at saying and doing anything to secure her comfort. She’ll do whatever it takes because that’s all she knows.”

“But something happened, my lord.”

He interrupted. “Nezzie, you and I have an agreement!”

“No, no, nothing like that, sir. Please, let me finish.”

He sighed an apology. “I shouldn’t interrupt either.”

“Thank you, sir. I was saying only that something happened inside me when I corrected her, when I told her to address me properly, and then when I let her carry my shoes.”

“You got off on that little bit of power, didn’t you?” he said knowingly.

“Yeah, my lord, I really did, and it surprised me.”

“Do you want her? Do you think you’re ready to be, how did she say it, ‘a good master’?”

“No, sir,” I said.

“That’s the right answer,” he said and pet my head again.

“Sir, I really don’t think she was manipulating me. I think she is genuinely afraid of not having a dom,” I said.

“Oh, I am sure of it. Hell, look at her life. She doesn’t even remember not being under someone. If not her mother then her stepdad, and god knows who else. And then fucking Jackson.” His voice broke and the anger flowed. “Fucking Jackson.” He stood up and began to pace.

“Sir, I’m sure he tried to help her,” I said.

“Fucking bullshit, Nez. He scared the shit out of her. Look at her. She’s twenty-six and she’s never been off these grounds. He’s got her thinking the world is evil and that the only place she’s safe is here. All those men before him, they may have abused her body, but our Jack? Good god in heaven, he fucked her mind. I have such issues with that, especially considering her nature. This whole way of life is about bringing people up, not grinding them down. And you know what else he said to me this morning, the fucker?” He was waving his hands now and pacing fast.

“No, sir,” I said.

“He hasn’t fucked her pussy in two and a half years. He told me it makes him sick, so the only way she ever gets it is in the ass, and apparently, that isn’t very often either. Sometimes I think he’s doing this to make me suffer for not falling for his bullshit all those years ago and for making him take responsibility for her. I don’t know, but I’m sick of him, sick of his self-centered fucking bullshit.”

“My lord, she never said a word to me about that. She never went into any detail about her sex life or her childhood. In fact, she changed the subject when it came up.”

“I’ll bet she did. It’s downright shameful, the way she’s been treated her whole life. It’s just so fucking sad. And to think how Jack made it so much worse for her and took advantage of her simplemindedness. I’m just sick about it. It keeps me awake at night. Every time I look at Jack lately, it’s harder to remember the good times. He’s changed so much. I miss the old Jack and I doubt he’ll ever come back. I’ve lost him. Even at work, he’s not what he used to be. He’s lost his edge. Nobody’s happy when he comes in and it’s affecting morale. The international guys all think I keep him on out of loyalty to my father’s memory and maybe they’re right. It used to be that he was the engine that kept the firm going, but these days he’s useless.” He plopped down on the sofa and twisted a lock of my hair.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” was all I could say, but I was glad his loyalties were with Marie-Louise. It was a comfort to know that he meant what he said and said what he meant. His honesty was refreshing.

“God, Nez, I am too. The whole thing is a sorry mess. I’ve decided to offer him the opportunity to leave,” he said flatly.

“What, sir? What do you mean?”

“After this morning, when he and I were upstairs, some of the things he said and tried to do got me thinking that he really needs to get out of here for a while; not forever, but just for a while. Put some space between himself and my father’s memory, this place, between himself and me so that you and I can get on with our life together. It’s not that he’s against us being together, but he’s not able to understand that he,” Mr. Delacroix paused, “that he and I aren’t what we used to be.”

“I think I see, my lord.”

“He needs a change of venue and he needs a strong dom to get his mind back on track, and then he can come back if he wants to; maybe by then Marie-Louise will sort herself out.”

“I suppose fucking up someone’s mind has a tendency to fuck with your own after a while, sir,” I said.

“Exactly, Nez, that’s exactly what’s happened. He’s just gotten all fucked up on account of what he’s done.”

“So what’ll you do, sir?”

“At tea, I’ll tell him that tonight I’ll offer him on temporary loan to the dom of my choice, beginning as soon as possible once an agreement is drawn up. It’s as simple as that, provided they’ll have him. End of story. And Marie can stay in the east wing as planned and we’ll help her with the divorce papers.”

“Can you do that, sir?”

“Hide and watch me, girl. Just hide and watch me,” he said. “I’m in charge now.”

“I mean your agreement. Does it say you can do that?”

“I made sure of it the day he came to the apartment. Even then, he was so full of himself. I think on some level, I saw this coming.” He leaned back on the sofa. “I remember once when Jack disappeared for a while when I was a little kid. It seemed like a long time, but it was probably only about six months or so. Dad told me that he had a long business trip, but in retrospect, I think Dad lent him out for a while. Even back then, Jack had issues. I wish Dad was here to advise me.”

He got up and walked from window to window. “Aw hell, if he was here, this wouldn’t be happening, but I wonder who he used back then and if they’re still around. Whatever that person did worked wonders. When Jack came back, the whole house seemed tranquil, like it hadn’t been in a long time, and Dad and Jack were so happy to see each other. I think Charlotte will know who it was. She’ll be here tonight. That’s Madame Charlotte to you, my dear.”

It had never dawned on me that some of the doms would be female.

“Speaking of which, you need a little briefing this afternoon to prepare for the meeting. Are you hungry? I am,” he said, and went to the kitchenette.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s have lunch up here and we can go over a few things without interruption.”

“Thomas was very sweet today, my lord. He said the staff was pleased I’m here and they look forward to serving me,” I said.

“He’s a good man. You won’t find a more loyal friend in the world. He’s seen me through thick and thin. Nobody knows how this place rolls like he does.”

I thought of the note Thomas had given me that morning. “Did you send me a message today, sir?” I asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

“No, why?”

I had thrown the note Thomas gave me in the trashcan in the bathroom so I went in there to retrieve it. I was scared that Mr. Delacroix would be angry at whoever sent the message, but I was more frightened of what would happen if he found out and thought I was hiding something from him.

“What message, my dear?” He came to the bathroom to find me rummaging through the trash. “What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s Thomas, my lord, he handed me this today while I was visiting with Marie-Louise.”

I handed him the note and he took it by the corner as if it were soiled. I was sure he was not going to be happy, but he smiled.

“Yep, that’s Thomas for you. I told you he was a loyal friend. He was looking out for you.”

“Oh, thank goodness you aren’t mad, sir. I wasn’t sure what to think.”

“You did the right thing showing this to me, and no, I’m not mad. As I say, he was just being loyal to you. Apparently, he felt your behavior warranted his loyalty. He used to do this for me all the time with Jack. But kid, you had better know this goes the other way around too. If he’d seen anything go on that was not kosher between you and Marie, I’d have known right away. Never, ever question his loyalty to me. I’m on top, and I know everything that goes on in my house. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir. I know.”

He handed the note back to me and I obediently sat on my pillow. He straddled me as he sat on the sofa. “Suck me off before lunch,” he commanded, so I turned and got on my knees to see his hard penis pushing out against his pants. He lifted his ass and slid his pants to his ankles.

I enveloped his erection in my mouth and welcomed his hands in my hair.

“Thank you, Nezzie.” His demeanor was gentle but deliberate. “You make my life so much clearer,” he said, and gathered my face into him. “I’m going to come a lot now, my love, and I need you to swallow every drop. Take it all, Nez, and taste my love for you.”

At first, I felt the familiar sensation of creaminess in the back of my throat, but this time, it did not let up. There was so much I thought I might not manage it. Skillfully, he pulled back slightly on my hair so I could swallow and breathe before driving into me again. The sweet saltiness coated my throat. After he was through, he caressed my head gingerly as if I might shatter. His erection slowly but steadily subsiding, he thanked me in a hushed whisper.

We stayed this way for a moment or two until he lifted my head. “Go put that pretty robe on that’s hanging on the side of the armoire, the blue one, but I want you naked underneath.”

“Yes, sir.” The robe was simple blue silk chiffon, somewhat transparent. The lace trim was yellowed with age.

When I arrived back in the sitting room, Samuel was setting the small table with linens, cutlery, and stemware. Thomas placed a small vase with three of my roses in the center of the table and began inspecting our lunch before serving it. He looked up when I walked in and smiled. I returned the gesture in spades. He flipped a switch on the small stereo and soft classical piano music filled the air.

Mr. Delacroix was still sitting on the sofa with his head back and his eyes closed. I thought he may be sleeping, but he asked without opening his eyes, “Do you like the robe, my dear?”

“It’s wonderful, sir. It’s an antique, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it belonged to my paternal grandmother.” Still no movement.

“It’s gorgeous, my lord.”

“Lunch is served, sir,” Thomas said. “The clouds are coming in. I think the rain will arrive sooner than we expected. Shall I close the windows?”

“Yes, please,” said Mr. Delacroix, still not moving a muscle.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” Samuel asked. His voice was surprisingly deep and rich.

“No, thanks, Samuel, it sure smells good though.” Mr. Delacroix got up and looked in my direction. “Nezzie, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Thomas pulled the chair out for me before he and Samuel closed the door silently behind them. A bottle of white wine stood in a cooler and a bottle of water sat on a small plate on the table, sweating. Large, shallow bowls filled to the brim with seafood gumbo and rice accompanied side plates heaped with tossed salad. A loaf of warm French bread lay between both bowls and a dish of fresh strawberries adorned the kitchenette counter.

I sat in the chair that Thomas had pulled out for me, facing the windows. I saw a flash of lightning in the distance. “Gosh, my lord, these storms come out of nowhere around here.”

“That they do, my love,” he smiled. “Here ya have seafood gumbo, Thomas’s momma’s recipe, I’m sure. Taste it. I hope you like it, because around here it’s a food group in and of itself.”

The rich, wholesome brown broth was spicy, thick, and warm. Tomatoes, okra, and onion floated in the broth with sausage, small shrimp, and some unfamiliar seafood.

“Oh, my lord, this is great. What all is in it?”

He handed me a piece of French bread he had broken off. “Well, it starts off with a roux, which is flour and safflower oil cooked over medium heat until it turns that dark molasses color. After that, you add the trinity, as they say around here. It’s chopped up onion, celery, and bell peppers. Ya cook that down for a while. Once they’re softened real good, ya add your garlic, salt, and cayenne to taste and then you put in some fish stock and sausage, some shrimp, crawfish, oysters, clams, crab, crab claws, whatever you have handy, even pieces of regular fish fillets. Ya cook it for a while and then add some gumbo fillet seasoning and adjust the other seasonings if ya need to.”

He held a small bowl of thick, red-orange liquid in a demitasse spoon. “This is the finishing touch, my special Twisted Oak hot sauce. Try a little. It’s pretty hot, so be careful.”

He dabbed a drop or two of hot sauce on my spoon and I touched it with my tongue. It was hot, savory, sweet, and sour all in one drop. I could feel sweat on my brow.

“You better be nice, or I’ll put a bunch on my tongue and lick your twat,” he laughed. “I usually don’t kiss and tell, but I did that once to some-one.”

I cringed.

“Not to worry. She liked it.”

He smiled and I wondered if he was talking about Collette. A stab of jealousy ran through me like the hot sauce on my tongue, painful, lingering, and distracting. I wondered if I’d ever get used to the taste.

“You’re probably not accustomed to such spicy food, but it grows on ya.” He dumped two spoonfuls of the hot sauce in his gumbo and mixed it in. “Have some bread. It cuts the heat.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Are you tired?” he asked.

“Why? Do I look tired, sir?”

“Not especially, but you’re quiet all of a sudden and I was just thinking that I got you up kind of early. You can have a nap after lunch.”

“Thank you, sir. I think I’m more curious about what you have to tell me about tonight than I am tired. I’m nervous.”

He was thoughtful for a moment. “Use your fork properly for your salad, my dear, like I showed you last night.”

I did as best I could from memory.

His voice turned businesslike. “Good girl. I’ve told the others they may look but not touch, so you needn’t worry about being handled. The idea is for them to see you, meet you, speak to you, ask questions to which you will give complete and honest answers, and most of all, when we mingle, you must stay at my side and one step behind. No eye contact unless I tell you so and when I sit, you sit on your pillow at my feet as usual.”

“Sir, I hope I can remember all that.”

“You will. You’re a natural. You’ll know what feels right. I can’t stress to you enough how powerful you are in your submission to me. Generally, as I have said all along, the more you submit, the more power you have. But tonight just remember that the more you submit to me, the more obedience you show for me, the more powerful you become to all of them. You’re the imminent Mistress of Twisted Oak. In our little circle of fun and games, that’s quite a coup. Do you understand?”

“Sir, I’m not sure,” I said hesitantly.

“Recall when we were upstairs and I said that someday, you’ll sit in my place when I am away?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s exactly what I mean. Once mistress, you’re second in line to be master of ceremonies,” he smiled, “and that can be fun as hell.”

“Oh, my lord, I’m not ready for anything like that.”

“You just told me you got off on having power over Marie. Don’t overthink it. Of course you aren’t ready now, but you will be, provided my plan plays out.”

“Your plan, sir?”

“Yes, my plan to keep you forever, silly girl.” His smile was sweet and generous. “There’s always a big picture involved.”

“Yes, there is, sir. Thanks for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome, my darling. I know it’s easy to get caught up in the moment. So much of what we do is about enjoying the moment. Just remember to stay behind me and under me all evening, and no food or drink for you. Address me as ‘my lord’ and the other doms as ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am.’ You may only have the water I give you and when I dismiss you, come directly here and wait for me.”

“How long will I be . . . on display, sir?”

“Well said, Nez. That’s exactly it. Just think of yourself as being on display and you can’t go wrong. Perfect way to think of it.” He took a spoonful of gumbo into his mouth. “You’re a natural. You got this thing down. I’ll require your presence for only about an hour or ninety minutes. I’ve got dinner scheduled for eight-thirty with Jackson and Marie-Louise.”

“How many people will be here this evening, sir?”

“Ten or twelve at the most. I’m glad all the ladies will join us. I think you’ll enjoy meeting some dominatrices.”

Thinking of this made me shiver. “My lord, have all these doms been submissives at some point?”

“Absolutely. You can’t truly dominate unless you’ve experienced complete subjugation yourself. The ‘good master’ knows what his subject requires every step of the way. How can one know the heart and mind of those who belong to them without ever having wholly surrendered theirs?”

32.

Monique’s journal lulled me to sleep as the rain sounded against the window. Her entry dated September 29, 1769 explained her perception and interpretation of punishment. In this regard, Jean-Pierre was not gentle. Monique wrote:

The weather turns cold and the punishments my master gives grow colder. He became agitated with my enchantment with Na'nie. I understand his selfish nature with me, but I was unaware he would react with such vexation when I spoke of my encounters with her during his absence. He said I would no longer be allowed to take Na'nie in his absence, that I was spoiled and needed a reminder of who my master is, from whom all my blessings flow. He requires that I need him alone and no one else.

His words echo through my mind even now that punishment has been given. “Wench, you will want me. When we are through with this punishment, you will crawl to me begging for your life-giving sustenance. You will thank me for showing you your true path.”

When I protested, he was fierce in his punishment. I estimate I endured punishment for a week or so. Without touch, without pleasure, only pain. For days, I felt dead inside, alone and cold. He wrapped wool over my eyes so I could not see. He led me by the hair to the chamber pot and insisted I empty my body. “For your comfort,” he said, “for we do not know when you will be allowed to go again. It depends on your demeanor.”

He tied my wrists with hemp and pulled me high so my knees no longer touched the ground. Straps woven across my body made it difficult to breathe. He lowered me down onto a large, smooth phallic stone that entered me slowly, painfully, and fully. My knees and feet were unable to find the floor. When I cried, he wrapped more wool around my mouth and tightened the leather around my torso. He kept me this way for what seemed like hours before he pushed another object into my anus.

The pain was incredible. I was unable to offset the pressure because I could not reach the floor with my feet as he lowered me onto it. Tears fell as he clamped my most sensitive points. Silence. I was alone. Where had my master gone? My mind wandered as I endured for hours. I was on the brink of madness. I entertained the thought of death. Finally seeing my parents again and my beautiful sister. I fantasized about my brother coming to save me. Mostly, I envisioned my loving master releasing me.

I may have slept or lost consciousness. My dreams were lurid and centered on him entering me slowly. My thirst was almost unbearable when like magic, my master would appear to feed me clear broth and water and check the bindings. I came to love him for this.

Sometimes he would tighten the bindings, but the pain was no longer my main concern, my mind separated from my body. My sole reason for existence was when he came to me. Once a day, he would relieve me of the internal burdens, only to fill me with larger phalluses, making the pain grow. I thought I would break in two. Hour after hour, day after day I endured this pain, when at last he took the apparatus away, leaving me empty, barren, and open. I hung like this for another day or two before he released the bonds.

I was in the small room adjacent to the master suite. He fashioned it after the French dungeons he said, and then led me back to our rooms and tethered me to the footboard of our bed, where I was made to watch him pleasure Na'nie. I stayed in this dreadful pose for another day or so while he included the Creole boy in his escapades. He, Na'nie, and the boy in blissful relation while I was bound like a dog begging for scraps but receiving none. I wanted my master more now than I ever dreamed possible, and so the morning he awoke and released me, I rejoiced. He bathed me gently and fed me glorious food. I was clean, nourished, and satisfied when he threw me down and entered me in every way possible. I thanked him for showing me the way.

I woke from my nap with a start. The thunderclap shook the house and rain pounded the large windows in sheets. Mr. Delacroix stood at the window.

“Come, Nez, come see.”

I reluctantly got out of the warm bed and stood at his side.

“See the oak, how it twists in the wind?”

The great oak twisted like a corkscrew when the winds came. Just when you thought it would break, it bent some more or the wind would subside.

“No wonder the bark on the trunk looks so twisted, my lord. I guess I never realized how literal Twisted Oak is.” I watched as the branches turned and bent. “I’ve never seen a tree do that before.”

“This is how it survives.” He put his arm behind me and grabbed my ass to pull me closer to him. “It’s how we all survive, my love.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed.

“But as long as we have our place, our home to put our roots, we can bend and twist. Without a place, a family, we’ll break and die.” While still gazing at the mighty oak, he asked, “Do you think I’m doing the right thing for Jackson?”

“I suppose so, sir. I mean, I dunno what happens when you’re lent out like that. Do you lose all contact with him?”

“Yes, he won’t even be coming to work. His days will be filled with exercises that enhance his . . .” He paused. “Activities that promote correct thinking. The idea is that he’ll return here ready to be the good sub he is meant to be. He’ll be refreshed, regain his center and core happiness. He’ll be able to continue his path toward finding his fullest human potential. I can’t do it alone. I need help. He needs some new approaches from a firm hand.”

“Punishment, sir?” I asked.

“Yes. Punishment day in and day out until he breaks.” His eyes were the color of the sky, gray and stormy. “Until he breaks through to find his true spirit, that good center I know is still in there.”

“Face his demons, sir?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he said.

“I think you’re doing the right thing, sir. And without him here, maybe Marie-Louise will gain some perspective too.”

“Darling, don’t expect her to support me on this. She’s not gonna be happy, especially given what you’ve told me—how she’s scared to be alone, to not belong to anyone. I really doubt she’ll deal with this very well, and we’re heading back to town at the end of the week.”

“Oh dear, my lord, I never thought of her being here alone. I wonder if she can manage.”

“Maybe Ty and Sunny can go stay at Ty’s place and we can bring her with us. I should call Sunny,” he said and went to the phone.

“I sure do wish they were here, sir. I miss those guys.”

He picked up the phone and set it down. “It’s okay with you if Marie comes to the city with us, right?”

“Yes, sir, but I really like our arrangement we have now with Ty and Sunny. I was looking forward to the four of us being together before coming here for good.”

“Yeah, me too. We need to get used to it, having Ty in the picture all the time. That alone is a big change for me, and certainly for Sunny. I was looking forward to more of what we did Sunday afternoon, the four of us. I like it when you’re the only girl in the group.”

“Yes, indeed, my lord, I like that too.”

“You’ve got three holes to fuck, so having three dicks around works out pretty good for you, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed.

He rang Thomas on the house phone to let him know we’d be taking tea in the parlor at 3:30.

“I’m gonna see if whomever takes Jack will send someone here to babysit Marie-Louise while we’re away. That might work,” he said, “but it might be asking too much.”

“Sir, it might be a treat for someone to come stay here. I don’t think it’s asking too much, but if it is, maybe the dom can come here and look after both Jackson and Marie,” I suggested.

“Nope. Not gonna happen. I’m the only boss around here. Not a fucking chance some other dom will come here and run the show, and besides, the whole idea is to get Jack out of here and away from Marie-Louise. They need a clean break and he needs some serious readjustment; some serious correction. And as long as he’s here, it won’t be effective.”

“So we won’t take her with us to the city, my lord?”

“Not if I can help it. I honestly don’t think it would be good for her just now anyway. We’ll see what kind of deal I can make tonight, but be ready for an interesting reaction from both of them at tea when I tell them what I’ve decided. Come, my dear, time to get dressed.”

The short nightie he chose for me was luxurious gray silk and barely covered my bottom.

“Wear Maw-Maw’s robe over it,” he said and handed me a pair of gray, soft leather sandals with a slight heel and a flower on the front.

“Sir, can I ask a question?”

“You know you can, my love, anytime.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I smiled, knowing in my heart that I pleased him. “Was your grandmother a submissive as well?”

“No, she was the master,” he smiled.

“Oh my,” I said.

“Bend over,” he said, his voice compelling and strangely gentle. “Bend over and grab your ankles for me.”

I gladly obeyed and he lifted the robe over my head. Without warning or malice, he struck my ass with enough force to almost knock me over. The sting was warm and made my insides twist with delight.

“Stay there.” He went to the armoire and came back with a riding crop. “You know why you’re being spanked?”

“I’m not sure, sir.”

“One thing you absolutely cannot forget tonight, my love, is to address me properly, and so hopefully this experience will help you remember.” He paused, then said, “This is harder for me than it is for you.” He sighed and continued, “Oh my what?”

I felt the end of the riding crop shallowly enter my anus. “My lord,” I said as my legs began to shake, and I knew I would come. He shoved it in deeper and then made circular motions. I spread my legs further for him.

“That’s better, my dear. Much better.” He pulled the riding crop out of my ass and smacked my right and then left side hard. “That’ll make a nice mark for you to show off tonight, while you’re on display for all to see. It’s nice how the marks I gave you yesterday have blossomed throughout the day, your badges of courage.” He placed the riding crop on the chaise. “Stand up. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Thank you, my lord, for reminding me. I promise to try and do better.” I stood and the robe fell elegantly around my torso and legs. My buttocks tingled with stinging pleasure pain.

“Thank me for the marks on your body,” he said, his eyes becoming more ghostly.

“Thank you for showing me new limits, for helping me reach new heights, for marking me with your love, my lord. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And my darling, if you keep forgetting, the punishment will get worse until you can’t forget. And for the love of god, do not forget this evening.”

“Yes, sir, thank you,” I said, looking down at my feet.

“There’s a good girl,” he said as he took my hand. “Tea time, my love.”

The parlor, darkened by the weather outside, glowed with the low crystalline amber light. Thunder rolled across the sky. Marie-Louise sat dutifully at her master’s feet as we entered. She wore a modest pink robe. Her hair was in a long silken ponytail and her feet were bare.

“Good afternoon, children. I trust you’ve had an insightful afternoon?” Mr. Delacroix asked as he and I sat at the table. “Please join us,” he said.

Jackson glared at Marie-Louise, who slightly coiled in on herself as he rose to join us. She stayed on the floor.

“Something the matter, Jack? Marie’s allowed to join us, you know,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Come, Marie-Louise.” He held his hand out to her.

“She’s being punished, sir,” Jackson said. “If she must have tea, she’ll have it on the floor.”

“I see,” said Mr. Delacroix. “As you wish. After all, she is yours, isn’t she?”

“For now, yes, sir,” he said and sat next to me across from Mr. Delacroix.

“That’s an interesting answer to a pretty straightforward question, Jack,” he said as he poured the tea. “Nothing for you to eat, Jack. Not till supper, but you can have tea.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Nezzie, this morning while you and Marie-Louise had your visit, I reminded Jackson that I’m on top. I wish you could’ve been there to watch.” Mr. Delacroix sipped his tea and turned to Jackson. “It was a firm reminder, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” he said.

“I’m fucking on top, Jack. I own you and I can do with you as I wish.” Mr. Delacroix’s eyes grew shadowy and Marie-Louise put her face into the sofa.

“Yes, Mr. Delacroix, you’re on top. You own my sorry sore ass,” Jackson said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Jack, you’re being surly considering your punishment earlier.” Mr. Delacroix took a butter shortbread cookie, broke it in half, and fed me a bite. I recognized it from the strawberry shortcake we had had the previous evening. “Good girl, Nez,” he said and pat my hand.

“Thank you, my lord,” I said, rehearsing for the evening’s display. It was probably a good idea to be powerful in front of present company as well.

“Ya know, Jackson, you could’ve used the safe words,” Mr. Delacroix said, “but I can’t seem to break you. Either I’ve lost my touch, or you need to be retrained. Which do you think it is?” His eyes were spectral and intense as they locked onto Jackson.

Marie-Louise sat up again, but she kept her head low. The robe pulled away, revealing a new mark on her shoulder and neck.

“Sir,” Jackson said, “it’s my fault. I’ll try to do better.”

“Marie, my dear, would you like some tea?” Mr. Delacroix asked.

“No, thank you, sir.” Her voice was thin.

“Are you okay, Marie?” Mr. Delacroix asked with genuine concern, and I began to think, like him, that she was not. I looked to Mr. Delacroix for some insight as to what to do, and he glanced in my direction.

“I . . . sir, I dunno,” she said, “but I’ll be fine in a while. Thank you.”

“Jack, what the fuck did you do?” Mr. Delacroix said in a low growl. “Gave her what she deserves. Besides, I own her ass and I can do with her as I wish, sir,” he said in a defiant tone.

“Nez, take Marie-Louise in the bathroom. Marie, you are to show Miss Nez what he did to you. Show her everything, all the marks,” he said in a calm, low snarl.

“Yes, my lord.” I went to Marie-Louise and took her hand. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go have a look,” I said in a calm voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said and slowly got up with a wince.

As we entered the small bathroom, I flipped the switch and closed the door. Marie-Louise immediately fell into my arms and sobbed, tears staining the beautiful antique robe. “Oh honey, what happened?” I asked.

She untied her robe and let it fall. Her collar was gone. That’s why she looked so different. The mark on her neck and shoulder appeared to have been made by the collar itself, a long abrasion that broke the skin from just under her ear to just above her collarbone. She was crying so hard that her words were hardly audible.

“He hurt me, miss. He hurt me bad this time,” she said as she sobbed uncontrollably. “And I even used safe words.”

Her voice became angry. “So I broke the collar. It’s done!”

The piercing on her right nipple had been replaced by thick bandages horrifically stained red with blood. The other piercings were intact.

“Did he do this to you?” I was enraged and began to turn toward the door.

“Wait, miss,” she grabbed my arm, “please, wait. You need to know that I did it. I did it to myself when I took the collar off. It was an accident because I forgot they were attached, but in a way, I’m glad it happened because I wanted to show him what he’s done to me. To show him what a bad master he is.”

“Oh, Marie,” I said.

She sobbed even harder and I held her close until she settled down. “He told me to bleed if that’s what gets me off. It hurt, miss. I was crying and then he said I was probably so stupid that I didn’t realize they were attached to the collar. He was right, miss. I was stupid and I forgot because I was so mad.” Her cries had to be heard from the parlor by now. “When I agreed with him, he helped me with the bandages.”

“You said he hurt you,” I said, trying to keep her on track.

“Yes, before that.” She bent over to show me her anus, bruised and red all around. “He hurt me there pretty bad so I used the safe word for him to stop but he didn’t. Maybe I didn’t manage it well and said it too late. Please don’t let Mr. Delacroix hurt him,” she said desperately. “It’s my fault.”

“Does this sort of thing happen very often, where he causes you that much pain and ignores safe words?” I asked, incredulous.

“Miss, I like pain. It’s okay. It’s normal,” she said. “I just don’t want Mr. Delacroix to overreact. Please don’t tell him.”

“Marie, he’s going to know sooner or later anyway. It’s best to tell him. You know what he’s like when he doesn’t know what goes on in his house,” I said.

“Yes, ma’am,” she whispered as tears dropped to the floor.

“Marie, leave your robe there and come with me out to the parlor.” I took her hand.

“No, miss,” she said and pulled her hand away.

“No?” I asked. “Are you telling me no?”

“Please, miss, I’m afraid,” she paused, “and ashamed.”

“Marie, you said you trusted me this morning. Don’t you trust me anymore? You know there’s no judgment in this house. Mr. Delacroix will never judge you. He has things he needs to say to you, things I think you might want to hear, so come on and I’ll explain what happened.” I took her hand again.

“I’m so stupid, miss,” she said as she reluctantly followed me out.

“No, you aren’t,” I insisted.

When Mr. Delacroix saw Marie’s naked body, he leapt over the table at Jackson, upsetting the whole thing. The tea setting crashed onto the floor in a million pieces. Mr. Delacroix pinned Jackson against shards of porcelain teacups.

“Sir, it isn’t what you think,” Jackson said, his voice shaky.

“What the hell kind of fucking monster did you become, Jack?”

“I didn’t do it, she did!” he said in short breaths.

Mr. Delacroix relaxed his grip on Jackson’s arms and sat back with his ass on Jackson’s groin. “What the hell?” Mr. Delacroix asked no one in particular. “What did you do, Marie?”

“She’s a fucking mind fuck, that’s what she is, sir,” Jackson said.

Mr. Delacroix slapped him in the face. “Shut up!”

Marie-Louise was crying so hard that I had to do all the explaining. Jackson and Marie both corroborated my account amid loud thunderclaps and stabbing lightning. The rain pounded the windows in a torrent.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Okay, that settles it. Jack, I’m lending you out as soon as I can find someone to take you.”

Jackson tensed up at the notion and shook his head.

“You can count on at least six months, Jack. Marie, you’re staying here. I’ll hire a nurse to care for your wounds along with a supportive sub from whomever has one to spare. Additionally, we’ll draw up your divorce papers as soon as possible.”

In a perfect harmony of dread, Marie-Louise let out a cry and Jackson denied Mr. Delacroix’s ability to lend him out.

“Then you can take a long walk, Jack. You won’t be welcome here anymore,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I can’t entertain this dysfunction anymore, not if Nez and I are gonna get on with our lives together. Either you get your head straight or you get out.”

“You really think you’re the big shit around here,” Jackson said, “don’t you, kid?”

“No, Jack. I don’t think anything. I know I’m the big shit. I’m fucking on top, asshole, so make up your mind. Get real or get the fuck out.”

Marie-Louise ran to Mr. Delacroix’s side and fell on the broken teacups with her bare knees. “Please, sir, don’t take him away. It was my fault. I did it,” she said.

Mr. Delacroix got up and placed his feet on either side of Jackson’s hips. “Look at you both down there wallowing in your own mess.” He stepped over and picked Marie up by the armpits. “Go sit, Marie.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and quickly sat where she had been, next to the sofa. For a second, I thought Mr. Delacroix was going to relent, but he turned on Jackson.

“What’s your choice? Are you gonna get straight or are you gone? If you decide to leave, I want you out within twenty-four hours.”

Jackson sat up gingerly in his porcelain nest. “Sir, I wish you’d reconsider,” he said.

“Nope, Jack, you’re outta control. You’ve lost it. You need some serious corrective training, my friend. You know it’s for your own good. I want you to take a break for a while. You’ll come back a new man like you did before, or . . .” he paused to stifle tears, “you can take what my dad left for you and go.”

Jackson stood. “Marie, come,” he said, but she did not budge. He shook his head and walked out of the room.

“Jack, you’ve got about forty minutes to make up your mind before they come over,” Mr. Delacroix called out. He turned to Marie-Louise. “Marie, you’ll stay in the east wing tonight. You’ll no longer share a bed with Jackson. Do you understand?”

“But, sir, I—”

“You broke the collar without any prior agreements and you’ll divorce him soon enough. It’s time for you to make a clean break,” he said firmly.

“All alone, sir?” she asked.

“For now, yes,” he said, “but wait in your room until Nezzie and I are through with the doms. We can’t keep them waiting, but when we’re through, we’ll help you get settled in your new space. You’ll like those rooms, Marie.”

She burst into tears and he turned to me. “You, my delectable display, need to get ready.”

I looked at Marie-Louise and gave her a reassuring smile. “May I hug Marie, my lord?”

“Go ahead, but don’t be long. This is important and we can’t be late.” He snapped his fingers and left the room. The rain was finally relenting.

“Marie,” I said, “it’ll be all right, I promise. You can trust Mr. Delacroix. All he’s ever said to me is how loyal he is to you, how he’s there for you. Things might seem scary right now, but they’ll get better.” I sat next to her on the sofa and wrapped my arms around her.

“Were you scared when you first came, miss?”

“I was scared to death, but I trusted Mr. Delacroix and things are better now. Sweetie, he wants things to get better for all of us, himself included. You can trust him and me. We’ve got your back.”

“Okay, miss, I believe you,” she said as I pulled away.

“I don’t think I’ll be more than a couple hours at the most. In the meantime, stay in your room and try to rest.” I managed a smile as I looked at her pathetic expression. “Just relax, Marie-Louise. You’re home.”

33.

We descended the stairs to meet the group waiting in the foyer. Formally dressed men and women, most a little older than Mr. Delacroix, watched my every step. I felt extremely self-conscious in my long petal-pink translucent silk robe. I wore nothing underneath except a pair of red patent-leather pumps. My hair pulled high on my head showcased my neck, which swam with gold, diamonds, and rubies.

Blues music came from the parlor. The lighting was low and I felt like I was floating. I obediently stayed one step behind Mr. Delacroix, which made me seem much taller than he was as we descended the stairs. For a few moments, I was precariously on top of the entire scene; I felt off-balance when I looked across the room, so I kept my eyes turned down. I was relieved when I stepped onto the hard wooden planks of the floor. Mr. Delacroix graciously lent me his arm and I took it with my right hand, being ever mindful to stay behind him. I wondered if Marie-Louise had made this parade when she became mistress of the house.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, please let me introduce Neige Blanche Monique, imminent Mistress of Twisted Oak,” Mr. Delacroix said to the gathering.

I was surprised to hear my name, if one could call it that, but I kept my head down. Small applause followed, so I nodded my head in acknowledgment.

“Let’s retire to the parlor,” Mr. Delacroix’s voice commanded as the group fell in behind us. I could feel eyes watching my backside as we walked, and my stomach knotted. Mr. Delacroix patted my hand in reassurance and whispered, “Breathe, my love. Just breathe. You’re doing very well.”

I was about to thank him when he pinched my fingers and discretely said, “Shhh.”

The teatime tempest was cleared away with nary a trace. The table sat upright and the rug had been cleaned as if nothing happened. Not a single shard of porcelain could be found on the newly shined floor. Thomas approached us with a tray of drinks, one of which was my glass of water. Mr. Delacroix took the glass and gave me a sip. “Good girl, Nezzie,” he said as he set the glass back down on the tray and took a glass of champagne. “Thank you, Thomas.”

I glanced around and saw Samuel serving a tray of canapés. The others in the group were mingling quietly.

“Charlotte, you look good enough to eat tonight,” I heard a good-looking man who appeared to be in his late thirties say to a tall blonde woman nearly the same age.

“Nicholas, do you promise?” she laughed. “How are you? Isn’t this wonderful?”

“Indeed, it is. It’s high time for a change, isn’t it?”

“None higher, my love,” she said as she took a glass of champagne. “It looks like everyone made it.”

Mr. Delacroix led me to a couple of men who stood near the billiard table. “Gentlemen, I’m pleased you could make it. I was worried you wouldn’t be here due to the weather.”

“A bumpy ride in, but I just had the pilots fly us straight here instead of going home first.” The voice, smooth, Southern silk, matched the speaker.

“If the two of you and the pilots need to spend the night, one of the cottages can be made available for you,” Mr. Delacroix said. “No sense in tempting Mother Nature.”

“That’s mighty kind of you. I’ll check with the pilots in a bit and let you know.” The thick Southern drawl softened my insides. “This is one instance where it’ll be her call. When we’re in the air, she’s totally on top.” His eyes fell to mine and I looked at my feet.

“Mr. Ladnier, Mr. Ainslie, please let me introduce you to Neige Blanche. Neige, this is Mr. Ladnier and his colleague and compatriot, Mr. Ainslie. They flew in from Dallas through all this terrible weather just to meet you, my dear.”

Both men nodded their heads. Mr. Ainslie said, “A pleasure, Neige Blanche. Indeed, it is a pleasure to see you.” His eyes were brilliant green, set deep in fair skin topped with rusty brown hair. He personified molasses and green grass.

“The feeling is mutual, sir,” I said in a meek tone, looking at Mr. Delacroix’s shoes.

“Darlin’,” Mr. Ladnier said, “I hear tell that you’ve only been in New Orleans a short time. Is that a fact?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“How do you find it?” Mr. Ladnier asked.

“Fascinating, sir, it’s a beautiful city,” I answered.

“Indeed,” said Mr. Ainslie. “Greg, she’s a pretty one, your Neige Blanche; very decadent.” He looked at me. “Neige, how do you find Twisted Oak?”

“It’s outstanding, sir.”

“And the Ursuline?” Mr. Ainslie asked.

I was unsure if he meant the convent in the city or the upstairs room, so I decided to answer diplomatically. “Full of mystery, sir.”

“Mystery! What a delicious answer,” he said as he sipped his champagne. “Mr. Delacroix, haven’t you unraveled the mystery for her?”

“To a point, Mr. Ainslie. She understands the pleasures,” Mr. Delacroix said. “We’re taking our time.”

Mr. Ladnier chimed in. “Well said, my dear. Pleasure should be savored and experienced slowly with care.”

Samuel came by and Mr. Ladnier grabbed a canapé. I could feel his eyes on me while he chewed. “Ainslie, have a look there,” he pointed to my wrists, “I think Neige Blanche understands. Don’t you, dear?”

“Yes, sir.” I looked at the red ring around my wrist, made even redder by the afternoon’s reminder.

“Neige,” Mr. Delacroix said, “tell the gentlemen your favorite part of your understanding so far.”

I was not expecting such a question. I recalled Ty’s words about not putting much thought into speaking the truth and said the first thing that came to mind.

“My lord, my favorite part of your teachings, your helping me to understand, is surrendering my mind. That I know I belong to you completely. My favorite thing, my lord, is having comfort in knowing I’m all for you and that you will take me to new heights. Thank you, sir.”

I swallowed hard hoping this answer would suffice. His feet were still and his toes faced me. The low light reflected off the polished black leather.

The awkward silence broke when a female voice said, “Gentlemen, please let the ladies see. For god’s sake, you’re all gawking at her like fools. Ya’ll always think you should have all the fun.”

“Ms. Portiere, pardon our selfishness,” Mr. Ladnier said. “You of all people should realize that pleasure shared is pleasure multiplied. Neige Blanche is most compelling.”

Mr. Delacroix turned to the tall blonde woman I’d noticed before. “Ms. Portiere, this is Neige Blanche. Neige, please meet Ms. Portiere, of Crest Hill.”

“My pleasure, ma’am,” I said.

“Indeed, my girl, I hope soon pleasure will be at the center of it.” She reached for my chin and Mr. Delacroix stepped between us.

“Ah na-na, cher,” he said.

“Quite right, Mr. Delacroix, my apologies.” She stepped back and then walked behind me, looking me up and down. “Neige Blanche, do you fancy our ways?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said and watched Mr. Delacroix’s toes follow her every move.

“Why?” she asked.

“I find it a positive challenge to meet my potential, ma’am,” I said, trying hard not to look her in the eye, driven by some insatiable instinct to challenge her. Mr. Delacroix squeezed my hand.

“What’s your take on Marie-Louise?” she asked as she leaned in.

“Ma’am, it appears to me that Marie-Louise is a good woman and tries very hard to please.”

“I should say so. Marie-Louise is a good woman who has been out of her depth. Are you out of your depth?” she asked pointedly.

“Not at all, ma’am,” I said.

“Show me,” she said, turning to Mr. Delacroix. By now, everyone had gathered around.

“Charlotte,” Mr. Ainslie said, “you are insufferable.”

“Thank you, Barnes,” she said with a curtsy. “Gregory-Michel?” she urged.

I watched Mr. Delacroix’s feet turn toward me and he let go of my hand. “Nezzie, take off your robe, spread your legs, and put your hands on your head.”

I immediately obliged. The silk falling to the floor felt sensuous on my smooth skin. I consciously surrendered my body to the moment. My skin prickled in the open air; the marks shown bright and fresh. My red, sore nipples painfully stood at attention. The more you submit to me, the more powerful you become to all of them.

Mr. Delacroix stood in front of me, facing the crowd. “I remind you, you may look, but you may not touch. She will not be handled in any way.”

My heart skipped a beat and I felt my stomach flip. I had to trust that he was doing the right thing; otherwise I knew I would lose my mind.

“Turn around, Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said, so I turned slowly. I could hear murmurs and whispers. “Good girl, Nezzie, now spread your legs again and bend over and touch your toes. Show us your delicious world.”

Mr. Delacroix’s voice was firm yet filled with pride. “You’re a very good girl,” he said. I held my gaze at the floor. The patterned rug entertained my mind, deep blues, reds, and neutrals, from another country, no doubt. I thought about the weavers of such an intricate pattern and wondered if they ever imagined such a thing would happen on their rug.

I heard shuffling feet as I was examined intensely from a close distance. My hamstrings were beginning to strain. I felt the burning strap marks on my back, and my buttocks stung where the riding crop had struck.

“That’s enough now. You can sit, my love, but crawl to me.” His voice was distant and cool. I was relieved to fall on my knees and hands and I slowly crawled to my pillow in front of the sofa, keeping my head down as strappy high heels and Italian men’s shoes parted to make way for me. I found my pillow and my loving master’s thigh.

“Good girl,” he said, putting his hand on my cheek to bring me close. I leaned into him to illustrate my gratitude. He leaned over, took my glass of water, and gave me another sip. “Good girl.”

“Neige Blanche.”

I glanced up to see a man, younger than the others, and quickly diverted my eyes. He was olive skinned with thick short hair and eyes as dark as Marie-Louise’s. His hands were perfectly manicured, with fingers as long as they were thin. He was terribly handsome.

“This is Mr. LeGeneret speaking to you now. What brought you to New Orleans, my dear?”

“Sir, it was time for me to change my life. Things in Kansas City weren’t going very well. I had reached a dead end.”

“And you ended up here. How fortunate,” he said.

“Very, sir.”

“You like being fucked?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you are doubly blessed,” he said. “It appears we are as well. You’re very attractive, Neige Blanche. I look forward to knowing you better.” Ms. Portiere had to have the last word. “Neige Blanche, are you fully aware of your responsibilities as Mistress of Twisted Oak? And if I may, Gregory-Michel, what are your intentions?”

Mr. Delacroix put his fingers over my mouth so I could not answer. “Charlotte, yes, Neige Blanche is aware of her duties, but she has not been fully trained, so her understanding is limited at this time. I am her teacher and so she continues to learn. As Mr. Ladnier pointed out, Neige Blanche has only been in New Orleans for a few weeks. Surely, you understand that it takes time to adapt to our culture. She’s got a lot to learn and I will not put her in a situation unless she is fully trained.” He dropped his hand from my mouth.

“Indeed, Gregory-Michel,” she said, her voice guarded, “I trust it’s your intention to keep the Twisted Oak traditions alive?”

“Undoubtedly.” He twirled a lock of my hair that had fallen around his index finger.

“What of the Scotts?” Mr. LeGeneret asked.

Mr. Delacroix moved over and straddled me. “Nezzie, lean your head back between my legs.”

I obliged, looking straight up at the crystal chandelier. “Good girl. Now I need you to spread your legs wide for our guests.”

I put the soles of my feet on the ground as wide as I could and spread my legs for the whole world to see, remembering the portrait of Monique. Mr. Delacroix pinned my arms between his legs and the sofa. There was an audible shift in the room, muffled noises as people moved to have a better look. Mr. Delacroix leaned forward, put his hands on my throat, and squeezed gently. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to the dizzying sensation. As light as a feather, he moved his hands to both my breasts and began to pinch and pull my sore nipples. I took a sharp inward breath. “Good girl,” he said.

“Leo, that’s an excellent question that I hope to discuss with you all at length after Neige Blanche takes her leave.” He pinched harder and my breath caught. “No doubt there are changes afoot, but Twisted Oak will never turn its back on the Scotts.”

He leaned in further to titillate my clit with his finger. To my surprise, my legs fell further apart. I began to pant through my nose.

“With the new year, we’ll have a new order here at Twisted Oak.”

His left hand continued its work on my left breast while his right hand worked its magic on my most delicate spot, creating the familiar wave in my center. It was all I could do to sit still. My hips wanted to move, but I fought the urge with a slight moan.

“Good girl, Nezzie, good girl. Come for us, my dear. Show them how lovely your cunt is when you come.”

As if on his command, my back arched against my will and I let out an audible moan. Mr. Delacroix’s electric eyes were full of admiration and pride. The orgasm finally came, relieving me of all the evening’s tensions. My body shuddered and I could feel my juices run past my anus.

“Thank you, my lord,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome, Nezzie. Now I want you to stand and give our guests one more look at your sensational body.” Mr. Delacroix lifted me by the armpits. “Put your arms above your head and turn slowly so they can see all your marks.” He leaned back on the sofa as I stood on wobbly legs. “Good girl, Nezzie.”

“I must say, Gregory-Michel,” a woman said from the adjacent chair, “your Neige Blanche is stunning. Her skin is so fair and perfect. Her marks stand out beautifully. You must keep her out of the sun.”

“Yes, Ms. Banning,” he said, his tone different with her, “she’s only allowed out when the sun isn’t too strong. Her skin, among other things, is very sensitive, and I intend to keep it that way.”

“Neige Blanche,” she said, “you realize how important this is?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“You’re a lovely girl,” she said.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said.

“One more thing, Neige Blanche,” Ms. Banning began, “is it true that Mr. Delacroix took your flower? Did you come to him as a virgin?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How many others have you fucked since?”

“Three men besides Mr. Delacroix, and I have had sex with one woman, ma’am.”

“All at once?” she asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Gregory, you’ve got your work cut out for you, haven’t you?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am, there’s still more training ahead. As you can see, she’s very new and sensitive, but she will be ready to take on her role soon,” he said.

“Please do let me know if there is any way I may assist,” she said kindly. “I work well with new ones, even females.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m well aware, thank you, but I don’t foresee the need.”

“Things change, Gregory. I don’t need to tell you that, so please keep in mind that I’m here to assist, if the need should arise.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, thank you. But right now, Ms. Banning, I need assistance with Jackson. Nezzie, you’re excused,” Mr. Delacroix said suddenly, and he gave me a slap on the ass that made me quiver. Dampness spread between my legs. I was conditioned and I loved it. I heard gasps and giggles from the group.

“Yes, my lord,” I said. A path slowly parted as I walked across the parlor. I wanted to run as fast as I could, but I knew if I hurried, he’d be disappointed.

Back in our rooms, Marie-Louise sat naked on a pillow in front of the sofa. Her eyes were closed as if lost in a trance as classical piano music played. I was loath to disturb her because she looked so peaceful, more so than I had ever seen her. She was centered on the music as if it was all that existed for her. Maybe it was. I took my shoes off in hopes of being quiet enough to pass without disturbing her.

“Miss Nez?” Her voice was calm and small.

“Hi,” I said with a smile, “are you feeling better?”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you,” she said. “How was the meeting? Were they all there?”

“Apparently, but it was so hard to know who was who because I wasn’t allowed to look anyone in the eye,” I said.

“Oh, I know, miss. It’s not easy at first, but pretty soon you’ll recognize the voices and their smell and how they touch you. Were they allowed to touch you?”

“No,” I said, sitting next to her on the floor.

“Here, take the pillow, miss.” She moved to the floor and sat gingerly. “Did you meet Mr. Ladnier?”

“Yeah, he seems pretty nice,” I said.

“Oh yes, ma’am, he is. I think he’s a good master. His girl is very sweet too. I can’t wait for you to meet her. He has a lot of them though. Two of them fly his airplane. They live in Baton Rouge and his friend Mr. Ainslie is around him a lot. Master, I mean, Jackson, says they’re business partners like he and Mr. Delacroix’s daddy. I’m not sure if that means they’re gay for each other or not. Did you meet Madame Charlotte, Ms. Portiere?” she asked.

“Yes, and Ms. Banning, too. Ms. Banning seems nicer,” I said, thankful for any information I could glean from Marie-Louise. “Ms. Portiere asked so many questions.”

“Don’t let Ms. Banning’s charm fool you, ma’am. She’ll whip your ass good,” Marie-Louise said with a smile. “She likes to make sure we all know who’s the boss, and I reckon she’s a good master because of that. But she has boys mostly.”

“Boys?” I said.

“Young men about your age, miss. She’s good at training the newbies. She turns out very disciplined men. That is why Mr. Delacroix is such a good master. He was her boy for a while.”

“He was?” I could not imagine it and jealousy reared its ugly head.

“Yes, miss, for a while Jackson lent him to her for training. Maybe this is why he’s such a good master, the things he learned from her.”

“She said she was also interested in helping to train me. She said she’s good with young women too,” I said.

“Oh, she is, but she’s harsh, and from the looks of your marks, I’d say you’re way too sensitive for her work. Unless Mr. Delacroix did it on purpose, made your marks so dark, which wouldn’t surprise me. He’s good at pressing limits.”

“Yes, he is,” I said dreamily. “What about Ms. Portiere? She’s of ‘Crest Hill’? Where’s that?”

“I’m not sure. I think it’s in the next parish. She visits a lot. Maybe one of her people can stay with me when you leave. I wouldn’t mind.” She got up on her knees and sat back on her heels. “She seems mean at first, miss, but she’s a good friend to Mr. Delacroix and Jackson.”

“Marie, have you ever been dominated by a woman?”

“Yes, Ms. Banning. It was after I came here and belonged to Jackson. Before I was collared he sent me to her. I learned a lot about how a lady is to behave. She was very diligent, miss.”

“Did you see any boys while you were there?” I could tell she was getting bored with our conversation.

“Yeah, a lot, miss. Like I said, she has mostly boys.”

“What’s it like for them to be dominated by a woman?”

“Mostly like it is for us being dominated by men, but some boys need a lot of anal training. She prepares them for everything. Makes them understand that they can also be fucked and will be whenever and by whomever she sees fit. She takes young, cocky boys and turns them into real men who understand deep pleasures, who appreciate their lovers’ sacrifices. Those are the ones who become good masters.”

“Were you there at the same time as Mr. Delacroix?”

“No. I hope he isn’t going to send you to her,” she said. “Was Mr. LeGeneret there?”

“Yeah, he was there, but I only spoke to him for a few minutes. He’s handsome,” I said, remembering his long fingers.

“He sure is, miss. You’ll like his dick and he uses it well. I wonder if I’ll ever get the chance to have him again.” Her smile faded. “Ma’am, I just don’t know where I stand right now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Mr. Delacroix’s got your back and so do I. It’ll be all right. Everything will be okay.”

“I hope so, miss, because I really like you and I think we can be good friends,” she said.

There was a firm knock and an envelope slid under the door. The card inside was embossed with fancy gold foil letters that read Twisted Oak. The note inside was in Mr. Delacroix’s hand:

Nezzie,

Mr. Ladnier, Mr. Ainslie, and their pilots are spending the night, so dinner will be at 9 instead of 8:30. I want you and Marie-Louise dressed for dinner and in the library promptly at 8:45. Your gown is hanging outside of the armoire and Marie's is in the master suite hanging on her dress stand. Wear the emerald jewelry set. Marie is to wear no jewelry at all. In fact, she is to take all the piercings out, as she will no longer be allowed such nonsense. If she refuses, put her over your knee and spank her with the riding crop. Nezzie, spank her hard if she gives you any grief. See you both promptly at 8:45. Do not be late.

Your ever loving overlord,

Mr. Delacroix

34.

I handed the note to Marie-Louise, who let out a long sigh after reading it. I glanced at the clock on the microwave: 7:30. I was pleased to have the extra time to dress for dinner and hoped like mad that I would not have to spank Marie.

“Come, Marie,” I said, “let’s take your piercings out.”

Surprisingly, she complied by removing the piercing in her left breast. “Ma’am, can you help me with the last one? It’s hard for me to reach with both hands.”

I was skeptical. “Marie, if this is some kind of a trick, I won’t have it,” I said. “You saw the note.”

“No, ma’am, it’s not a trick. It’s just easier if I lay back and have you do it. Master used to do it for me, especially when it was new. He liked to make the post bigger every time.”

“Okay, just lay back, Marie,” I said in disgust. I really did not want to hear how Jackson gave her more pain, and I secretly hoped Mr. Delacroix was considering the idea of sending him to Ms. Banning, the harsh one.

“Miss, are you mad at me?” Marie asked as she sat on the sofa.

“No, sweetie, let’s just get this off of you. I think you’ll feel better when we do.”

She leaned back and spread her legs. Her private parts were pristine except for the bruises near the back, but in time, they would go away as sure as Marie would gain a new life.

“Is everything okay, miss?” she asked. My breath had caught at the bruising.

“Yes, my love. It’s just the bruises, but they’ll get better. We’ll need to change your bandage, too, before dinner. Hopefully, your dinner clothes will cover your wound.”

It took a few minutes to free her sensitive spot from the bondage of the clit ring, snugly fastened. The bar that went through her was thick. Once removed, the small piece of flesh seemed larger than normal, bare and swollen. The gaping hole remained visible. “How long have you had this?” I asked.

“I’m not sure. Maybe a year. Jackson would change it every month to make it bigger,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It had to have hurt pretty bad when he did,” I said, and went to the kitchenette to throw the diabolical jewels away.

“Yeah, I guess, though I’m gonna miss having that one, ma’am. But I understand that things are different now. I trust you and Mr. Delacroix. I understand how he feels about permanent marks. He thinks they’re ugly and maybe they are.” She paused and sat up. “Do I look ugly to you, miss?”

“Well, right now you don’t look your best, but you’ll get better,” I admitted.

“I’m gonna do everything ya’ll tell me to do without a fuss. I promise,” she smiled. “You and your master won’t regret helping me, miss.”

“No, we won’t. We all love you very much, ya know. I see the potential that Ms. Banning saw. It’s right inside you,” I said as I pointed to her heart. “Now let’s wash up and change the bandage. Have you seen Jackson since tea?”

“No, miss, I have no idea where he is, and I’m not sure what to do.”

“You’re to do nothing. He isn’t your problem anymore. I’m sure Mr. Delacroix has taken care of him.”

“Okay, miss, but I wonder what’ll happen, who he’ll go with.” Her eyes were wide. “Who do I belong to? What if he leaves tonight?”

“Mr. Delacroix knows what he’s doing. He always says to me that he’ll never put me in a situation that I’m not ready for and he never has. Listen to him for now. You are so ready to have Jackson gone. I know you don’t see it, but I do and so does Mr. Delacroix. You have to trust us. I’ll be right here and besides, Jackson may not leave tonight anyway. We have no idea what’s being said down there.”

“Okay, miss, I’ll listen to Mr. Delacroix,” she said as she arranged her hair in the mirror, “but I sure would like to belong to you.”

“It’s not my call, and you know it,” I said. “Besides, I’m not ready to be a good master to you or anyone. You deserve the best, Marie, and I’m not there yet.”

“I know, ma’am,” she said, disappointed, “I can wait.”

The library was aglitter in crystal lighting. Two young women dressed in pilot uniforms stood at the piano, hair in tight buns. They appeared masculine compared to Marie and me. I mistook them for young boys until they turned around to reveal beautifully painted faces. Marie followed my lead and remained demure.

The brown-haired woman greeted me first. “Good evening, ma’am. I hope our staying on tonight isn’t an imposition. The weather between here and Baton Rouge is terrible.”

“Not at all,” I said, waiting to hear her name.

“Oh, ma’am, I’m sorry. My name is Brandie and this is Candie, my copilot, who is very good, but not good enough to pick through this weather,” she said apologetically.

I was dumbfounded by their names. I felt like I was in Wonderland with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. “As Mr. Delacroix said earlier, there’s no reason to tempt Mother Nature. We’re glad to offer you safe harbor.”

“Our apologies for not dressing for dinner, ma’am,” Candie chimed in. “We weren’t planning on staying.”

Marie was looking at the piano longingly.

“I trust the two of you know Marie-Louise?” I said.

“Yes, ma’am,” Brandie answered for the both of them.

“Marie, say hello to our guests,” I said, hoping to encourage her to be more sociable. We had a lot of work to do before she could be on her own.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “Hello, Brandie and Candie,” she smiled.

“Marie, why don’t you play for us? Show me what you’ve been working on,” I said.

“Thank you, ma’am, it’s my pleasure.” She scurried behind the piano. “It’s been awhile since I’ve played, so if you don’t mind, I’ll start out with something a little easier to warm up.”

“Certainly,” I sad.

The gorgeous music she performed for us came straight from her memory. Mr. Delacroix was correct; Marie-Louise was anything but dumb. If anyone was the dummy, it was me. What did I have to offer? I stood amidst accomplished pilots and a piano virtuoso.

Thomas arrived with a tray of white, red, and sparkling wines. “Good evening, ma’am,” he said as he approached. “I’ve selected your favorite white for this evening, the Maison Louis Jadot Pouilly-Fuissé.” He lowered his tray with a smile. “What will Marie have this evening, ma’am?”

I told him to give her a glass of champagne because I thought it would look pretty sitting on the piano. He obliged only after serving the pilots. Brandie took a red wine and Candie did the same.

“Thomas, when may I expect Mr. Delacroix?”

“The gentlemen are just finishing in the parlor, ma’am. They should be joining you shortly.”

Marie was still playing when the men entered the room. Both guests were still dressed formally in black tuxedos and bow ties. Mr. Ladnier had what appeared to be diamond button covers on his shirt. He was dashingly handsome, tall and classic with angular features, while Mr. Ainslie was shorter and a little older with gray dotting his auburn hair; his brilliant green eyes reminded me of his sweet Southern accent.

Marie did not notice them. When she played, nothing else existed in her world. The pilots set their wine down, faced Mr. Ladnier, and fell to their knees in complete submission.

Speechless, I looked to Mr. Delacroix for guidance. He held his hand out to me.

“Each family’s a little different, my dear. These are Mr. Ladnier’s rules, not mine.” He smiled. “You look so good.” He took my wine and kissed me on the mouth. As I had seen Sunny do with Jackson, I put my hands behind my back in submission to his next move. He reached behind me and bound my wrists hard with his wide, strong fingers. “You’re such a good girl,” he said, kissing my neck and handing the wine back to me.

“Thank you, my lord,” I said quietly.

“Nezzie, baby,” Mr. Delacroix said with a sigh, “Jack’s leaving tomorrow with Mr. Ainslie.”

Marie let out a small yelp like a kicked puppy. I saw the pain on her brow, but she kept playing in a vain attempt at staying calm.

“Marie,” Mr. Delacroix said, “it’s for the best. Jackson will stay with one of Mr. Ainslie’s colleagues, a doctor.”

“A doctor, sir?” I asked.

“Yes, Nez, a doctor of psychology who understands our lifestyle. He’s uniquely qualified to help Jackson overcome his grief and his inability to grasp these changes. Doc will help Jackson decide what he wants to do with the rest of his life.” He paused and took a glass of champagne from Thomas’s tray. “I hope he decides to come back home to Twisted Oak, but as we all know, there’s nothing keeping us if we don’t want to be here.”

“My lord, does the doctor live in Baton Rouge?” I asked.

“No, my dear, he lives in Atlanta, but Mr. Ladnier has been gracious enough to allow his girls to fly Jackson up there when the weather breaks.”

Marie stopped playing when Mr. Ladnier approached her. “My dear broken thing,” he said, “it’ll be all right now. Things are getting better. You just don’t see it yet.” He paused and put his hand on her head. “My poor child, this is best for you and for Jackson. I have a colleague in Baton Rouge who’ll rush your divorce through. Let’s make a clean break of it, shall we?”

She looked ahead, still as stone, except for the almost imperceptible shake of her head.

“Marie-Louise,” Mr. Ladnier said, “it’ll hurt as if you’ve been stabbed in the heart, but as much as it hurts now, the healing will come quickly and you’ll be strong for it. Best not to draw it out, don’t you agree?” Such gentle kindness as he ran his hand down her back.

“She’ll need some looking after, Mr. Delacroix,” Mr. Ladnier said. “Why don’t I take her back with me?”

“No!” Marie exclaimed. Her hands fell on the keys in disharmony as she rose to leave.

“Marie, stay!” Mr. Delacroix ordered.

She looked at me and my eyes pleaded with her to stay, so she sat.

“Marie-Louise, what have you to say for yourself?” Mr. Delacroix demanded in a low, compelling voice.

“I’m sorry, sir, Mr. Ladnier. I’m very confused right now, as you can imagine. I’m sorry, ma’am,” she said to me.

“It’s all right,” Mr. Ladnier said, “my poor little thing. I’ll send Girl to look after you. Won’t you like that? She says she misses you when she isn’t here.”

“I don’t understand, sir,” Marie said meekly as she began to play again.

“Let’s go sit at the table so we can all discuss this together and make sure everyone understands, shall we?” Mr. Delacroix lent his arm for me to take. I obediently stayed a step behind and he patted my hand. “Come, Marie,” he said over his shoulder.

The entourage followed us to the splendid dining table set in silver and white porcelain. Five lavender taper candles in crystal candleholders traveled the center of the table. Short vases overflowing with freshly cut camellia flowers accented the space between them. Name cards had been set at each place. Mr. Delacroix sat in the middle, facing the library door. I sat to his left and Marie to his right. Mr. Ladnier sat across from him, flanked on either side by his pilots; Mr. Ainslie sat at the head of the table to my left.

“Again, Greg, thanks for letting us stay on. I shudder to think about flying tonight. It’s awful out there,” Mr. Ladnier said. “The girls are self-conscious about their dress, however.” He touched their shoulders. “But I know you prefer clothing at the table,” he laughed.

“Indeed I do.” Mr. Delacroix turned to me. “Jackson’s getting ready for his trip and is taking dinner in Ursuline, where he’ll stay until he leaves tomorrow. I know you’ve been wondering where he’s been.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Marie,” Mr. Delacroix turned to her, “don’t worry, everything’s fine. Mr. Ainslie’s colleague is a good man. I know him well. He helped my father deal with a few issues early on after my mother died. He’s very good at what he does and I’m sure Jack will come back a new man. In the meantime, you’ve got some work ahead of you.”

“Mr. Delacroix,” Marie said, “I trust your judgment and I promised Miss Nez that I’ll do everything you say, but I’m a little scared.”

“Rightfully so, my dear,” Mr. Delacroix said. “You’ve never really been on your own before. That’s why Girl’s coming. The two of you have always gotten along, and she’s been through some tough times. She knows how you feel and she’s very capable of looking after you, but you have to agree to be her subordinate until I get back.”

He glanced at Mr. Ladnier and then back to Marie. “I think you owe Mr. Ladnier a big thank-you for allowing Girl to come. Not to mention Mr. Ainslie for offering to help with Jackson.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll agree. Thank you, Mr. Ladnier, for letting her come. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Mr. Ainslie, I know Jackson’s been a disappointment to all of us, but I still wish him the best, so thank you for taking him,” Marie said as she stared at the men’s wine glasses.

“It’s settled then,” Mr. Delacroix said. “What a damned relief. Sometimes we really do need good friends to pull us through the rough times.” He lifted his glass as thunder rolled across the sky.

“Barnes, when will Doc be ready for Jack?” Mr. Ladnier asked Mr. Ainslie.

“He said he’d be set for him day after tomorrow, if that’s in keeping with your pilots’ discretion, Charles.”

“Yes, sir,” Brandie said.

Mr. Ladnier lifted an eyebrow in her direction. “You weren’t addressed, Brandie. Mind your Ps and Qs, darlin’.”

Brandie lowered her head.

“When you headin’ back to the city, Greg?” Mr. Ladnier asked Mr. Delacroix.

“As soon as possible. I should think after the roast Sunday. I fear my lady grows bored here.”

“Not at all, sir,” I said, “but will Marie-Louise be seen to before we leave?”

“Of course, my sweet sensitive thing,” Mr. Delacroix reassured me.

“I’ll send Girl by car day after tomorrow. It won’t take her long to get settled and take your direction, Greg,” Mr. Ladnier said as he sipped his red wine.

“Good, then we’ll leave Sunday afternoon,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Marie, do you understand that we’ll stay on another few days until Girl arrives? We won’t leave until after the roast. That way, you’ll be all settled into your new rooms with her. You’ll be in good hands. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. Thomas set two platters of freshly baked French bread on the table with small plates of butter shaped like rosebuds. Samuel went around the table to refill water and wine.

“Thomas, I’ll fill you in on the situation regarding the household tomorrow. There’ll be a few immediate changes coming before we leave for the city,” Mr. Delacroix announced.

“Yes, sir,” Thomas said. “The salads will be served shortly.”

“Neige Blanche,” Mr. Ainslie began, “you were quite extraordinary this evenin’. Your conduct at the gathering surpassed our expectations. Are you sure you’ve never experienced our lifestyle before?”

“I’m very sure, sir. Mr. Delacroix is a good teacher.” I fought the wave inside me that his accent beckoned.

“I look forward to the roast when, if all goes well, you can show me what he’s taught you. You’re such a natural.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ainslie.”

“You’re welcome, my dear,” he said slowly, accentuating his drawl, “you are most welcome. So, what is it that you do in the city other than service Mr. Delacroix? Have you any hobbies or passions? You should visit with Ms. Banning some. She lives in town.”

“Well, sir, as of now I am still orienting myself, but I’ve taken a special liking to the history of the place, especially the family history. My hope is to chronicle the lineage for safekeeping,” I said.

“Oh my,” he said, “that’s a task. I reckon you’re feeling part of it now, the new history.”

“Yes, sir; that is, if Mr. Delacroix will have me,” I said.

Mr. Delacroix raised his glass. “I’ve got you, Neige Blanche, and if I have my way, you won’t be going anywhere.”

35.

The storm raged throughout the night, leaving us in fits of restless sleep, but morning broke amidst white clouds and sun-kissed leaves.

“Nez, get up and empty your bladder,” Mr. Delacroix ordered. He walked out of the bathroom with wet hair. “Get clean, brush up, and get your ass back in bed.”

“Yes, sir.” I sat on the edge of the bed and stretched. “I didn’t sleep well last night,” I said as I slowly padded across the rug to the bathroom.

“I didn’t either, and the power’s not back on yet,” he said as he opened the armoire.

I did not bother with the bathroom light, but the natural light from the windows was enough for me to see clearly. I sat on the toilet and waited for my body to respond to his command. The sound of an acoustic guitar came from the sitting room. For a moment, I thought Sunny was there, but soon realized Mr. Delacroix had turned on the radio.

He came to me dressed in creamy linen pants and a faded blue chambray shirt. He tore the blankets off me and kneeled on the edge of the bed. “You’re not to leave this bed today without my permission. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I spread my legs as was expected.

“You’re a good girl,” he said. His voice was low and comforting. “I hope we’ll have hundreds of days like this. Days when you stay here like this, ready for me.” The silken ropes in his hands were long and thin. “Give me your wrists.”

I put my hands together for him to bind. His deliberate and experienced motions, accompanied by his gentle voice, made my insides turn. He fluffed and positioned pillows for my comfort. I was looking forward to being his slave for the day.

Once my wrists were bound together, he wrapped the rope around the bottom of the headboard and secured it, giving me just enough slack to change positions as I lay in wait.

“I love you, Neige Blanche.” He kissed my mouth but behaved as if he were afraid to touch me, even though I arched my back in invitation. My juices overflowed.

“I love you too, my lord,” I smiled. “Please give our guests my best and tell Jackson good luck for me. And sir, if I may speak freely?” I asked.

“Yes, you may.”

“Please hurry back, my lord,” I said.

“Ah, cher. I love it when you beg.” He smiled and pulled the covers over me.

I lay back and my head sunk into the deep pillows. My arms felt awkward and uncomfortable secured above, so I began to relax my head, face, shoulders, torso, hips, legs, and feet until I fell into the bindings finding comfort and security. He loved me and he wanted to keep me.

It was much later when I woke again, the morning sunlight having turned afternoon bright. The covers were off the bed completely. I was naked to the world, disoriented and foggy with sleep. Mr. Delacroix sat silently next to the bed, watching me intently.

“Sir, you’re back.” I mustered a sleepy smile, turned on my back, and spread my legs. “I’ve been waiting.”

“Have you?” he said flatly.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Indeed.” His tone was fixed, his demeanor sullen. “Nezzie, what if you aren’t the one?”

“Sir?” I asked with concern.

“What if I’m making a mistake?”

I could not tell if he was asking me or talking to himself. I tried to sit up, but the tethers kept me low to the bed. “What do you mean?”

“Could you ever be truly happy with me in this fucking freak show?” The tone of his voice was ominous.

“I love you, sir. I’m happy. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. I’ll always be happy with you, no matter what.”

“Indeed.”

“Please, Mr. Delacroix, what can I do to show you?”

“Nothing,” he said.

“Is everything okay with Jackson, sir?”

“He’s gone. Maybe gone for good.”

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix, he’ll be back.”

“We’ll see.” He looked lost and alone. “He said you’d leave this freak show too.”

“Oh, my lord, he couldn’t be more wrong. In all honesty I don’t know if I could ever live another way. I absolutely do know I don’t want to live with another man, ever. I love you, Mr. Delacroix, I honestly do. Jackson was just trying to hurt you.”

“You’re too good for this, Nezzie. I’ve ruined you, I think. I’ve taken you from innocence to . . .” He ran his hand through his dark curls. “Look at you, baby. Look what I’ve done.”

I began to feel angry. “Yes, my lord, look at me. If you think I was innocent or that I’m ruined, then so be it, but I don’t feel ruined. For god’s sake, I was anything but innocent.”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant that maybe Jack’s right. Maybe you’re too good for me. Maybe I don’t deserve you. Maybe I have to ruin you to bring you down to my level.”

“Sir, I’m the one who doesn’t measure up. I haven’t been able to get Ms. Portiere’s words out of my head. I don’t measure up to the standards here. I’m out of my depth, as she put it,” I said, admitting my deep feelings of inferiority.

“Oh, to hell with that. Charlotte’s just pulling your chain because she knows you’ll step up. She sees it in you as we all do. It’s her way of making you strive harder. She’s a good dom, Nez, that’s all.”

I began to wonder about his relationship with Ms. Portiere, but I swallowed my jealously.

“I’m serious, sir. She nailed it. She knew, as any good dom would, what’s been eating at me. She totally nailed it. Ever since you took me, I’ve been surrounded by gifted and successful people. You’re a wildly successful businessman, Sunny’s an accomplished musician who also owns his own business, Marie’s a gifted pianist . . .”

“Nezzie, please stop.”

“Sir, I have nothing. I am nothing,” I said as the tears flowed. “Jack’s fucking with you, sir, and maybe you’re right. Maybe he doesn’t need to come back if that’s what he thinks. It could be, sir, that he no longer belongs here if he thinks it’s a freak show. Jesus, this is your home and these are your ways. He can like it or leave it, just like you said yesterday.”

“And you like it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. I like it and I’m not leaving it ever, unless you want me to, but I don’t want to, because without you, I am fucking nothing. You know what I was before.”

His electric blue eyes channeled my insecurities and magnified them. “You are my nothing, Neige Blanche. You are negative space for me to fill. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Say it, slave. Tell me again how you are nothing.” His eyes grew darker. “Tell me how you are my nothing.” He raised his voice and I was frightened, but I remembered his words about fear, about how facing fear is a pathway to strength.

“My lord, I’m nothing without you. Please understand that I want you to make me into something because now I’m nothing. Please,” I begged, “I’m yours to mold and shape.”

“Show me, whore. Show me how you earn your keep around here.”

He stood over me and my legs instinctively opened. I arched my back to expose my breasts and throat. “My lord, it’s all I have, my empty space for you.”

He untied my right wrist, but left the other tethered to the headboard. His eyes were dark and ghostly, the eyes that frightened me.

“I trust you, my lord.”

“You fucking better.” He grabbed a thick handful of my hair and my right wrist and jerked my head over the side of the bed. He made quick work of securing my right wrist to the footboard. I kept my legs open.

“Good girl, keep your legs open for your master. It’s the least you can do.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, working to catch my breath, expecting his swollen penis down my throat, but instead he sat back down in the chair. He watched me breathe for a few moments.

“You’re perfect, Nezzie,” he said, leaning forward, his eyes locked on mine. “How far can you bend?”

“As far as need be, my lord. I’ll bend as far as you can push.”

“No doubt, but I wonder just how far before you break.”

Fear crept in. “Yes, sir, I wonder that too sometimes.”

He stood and removed his pants. “Therein you see what you have to offer me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Value it, Nezzie. Don’t ever think you have nothing to offer, even as you are nothing. You are my nothing; therefore, your nothingness becomes me. Do you understand?”

“I think so, sir.”

“Your offering to me is singular and whole. Your nothingness is my canvas, waiting to be a masterpiece. If you choose to remain nothing, then I fail. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All you see and do, all you breathe and eat and feel, is for me. This is what you offer, and in return you will evolve. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” His erection looked massive from my point of view.

“Swallow it,” he said as he stepped toward me. “Open your fucking mouth.”

I obliged and he jammed his cock far down my throat. My jaw strained to open wide enough as his hips moved. His hands held my breasts in fists and he pulled me back and forth. The pain was dull, warm, and oddly comforting until I thought I might suffocate. I began to panic and kick my legs, but he did not stop.

“Keep your legs open, bitch,” he said, and my legs fell open. I closed my eyes as blackness crept in the sides of my vision. When I was on the verge of losing consciousness, he pulled out. “Breathe, slut.”

My breath came in fits and starts with my mouth full of his organ, but I worked hard to calm my nerves and get my heart rate back down.

“Okay, whore, time for your lunch. Open wide.” He shoved deep into me, hips pumping. Soon my throat was coated with his thick, creamy, salty juice.

When he was finished, he sat back in the chair and watched me as I worked to clear my throat. I was nearly choking on the thick fluid. He sat there, detached, until I finally caught my breath.

My thoughts reeled as I lay with my head hanging upside down. I could see myself in the armoire mirror. The reflection showed something, not nothing. I was something in Mr. Delacroix’s presence, but I was also something more. I saw something alive, desirable, human, and strong. I saw a woman who had found a man who valued her, who was willing to fight for her love, affection, and safety. I saw a young woman whose mate considered her well-being his personal responsibility and who was willing to share her failures.

I understood now what he had done to me in those earlier frightening moments. He helped me understand that I was his world. In it and with him, the possibilities were endless. Even nothingness was something in the presence of love.

Mr. Delacroix leaned toward me. “Only we know our true intentions, Nezzie. I trust you and believe you when you tell me yours.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ve trusted you now for weeks.”

“When? When did you realize you could trust me?”

“I think—no, sir, I know—it was the day I told you about the money I stole.” I paused. “Remember? I knew then that I could never turn back. That day I knew I was yours. I can’t see another way, sir. You are all that I see.”

I shifted my weight on my stiff shoulders and neck. “I wish there was something more I could do to show you how much I love you.”

“There is. We’ll discuss that later. Can I get you anything before I go?”

“Sir, what can I do for you to show how much I care?”

“Not now, Nez, we’ll talk of it later today. Lie down and give me your wrist again.”

He left me tucked in, sinking back into the pillows, bewildered at how he could push me so low and lift me so high in such a short time.

The sun moved across the windowpane. I watched the birds flitter about the top branches of Twisted Oak with a deeper understanding of how it was that Marie-Louise’s spirit was not broken. Her pride stripped away so long ago, her true spirit was all she had. What would it be like to have no pride, no ego to pull you down? Is that what freedom was?

I drifted off again in peaceful slumber. The delicious day was in slow motion, but I woke later with hunger pangs. I remembered Mr. Delacroix had said it was lunchtime when he had last visited, yet breakfast and lunch passed with nary a bite. Would he starve his devoted slave?

When the room was shaded in early evening light, Mr. Delacroix carried in a leather portfolio of business documents. He set the satchel down on the chaise and sat on the kitchenette chair. I struck my submissive pose.

“You’re quiet. Not even a hello for your loving lord?”

“I’m very thirsty and hungry, sir.”

“I fed you when I was here last, so don’t complain. I bet you have to take a piss, too.” He leaned back, nonchalant.

“Getting there, my lord,” I said. “What is this? What are you doing?”

“It was your idea, not eating.”

“My idea? Sir, where did you get that?” I asked incredulously.

“You said you prefer an empty stomach. That sex was better for you before meals. Since today I wasn’t sure of my schedule, I thought you could wait to eat till I was through with you,” he said, “to make it better for you, of course.”

“It’s not like we fucked all day, sir, which I would have preferred,” I said.

“Ah, so you didn’t get enough of me to satiate your hunger pains? Is that it?”

“Well no, sir, I guess not.”

“It’s about inequity, Nez. See, I call the shots and you, my love, are nothing. If I want to tie you to the bed, I can for as long as I want to.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you understand more poignantly what that means.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Not to worry, I realize you have to eat something besides me, so in a few minutes Thomas is bringing your breakfast.”

“Breakfast? What time is it, my lord?”

“It’s about five-thirty, but since you haven’t eaten, I thought some breakfast food would be nice for you. You and I will eat together up here. We’ve got some stuff to go over, but before I let your ass up out of that bed, I’m gonna fuck it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But right after we’re through eating and going over those papers, you’re to come straight back to bed, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, but will you come with me?” I asked.

“This time I’ll join you, my darling little slut.”

He slid his shorts off and untied my wrists. I lay on my back as he reached between my legs, wrapped his arms around my thighs, and dragged my ass over the side of the bed, leaving my arms flailing above my head. “Leave your arms there.”

“Yes, sir.”

“No, let me tie them. You’ve been too squirmy and I don’t want you to fall.” He moved toward the head of the bed to grab the long silken rope. “You have just got to learn to stay fucking still.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Lift your feet in the air for me and spread ’em, bitch. How many times do I have to tell you?”

He tied my wrists together and secured them to the bed frame. I lifted my legs and spread them with my hips hinging over the other side of the bed. The position was very difficult to maintain.

“Time to add some yoga to your routine,” he said as he pulled my wrists tight.

I was thankful for the silkiness of the fabric because my wrists were still tender from the previous bindings.

“Maybe we can get all tantric. That could be a fun thing to do together, don’t you think?”

“Yes, sir.” I was struggling now.

“Then we can see just how far you’ll bend, my little lotus flower.” He came back around the bed and stood on the floor between my legs. “You’re kind of weak. I noticed that last night when you were showing us your pussy. You started shaking like you’re doing now. Does it hurt?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where?”

“The back of my legs, sir.”

“Your back’s okay?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“More squats for you when we get back to the city.” He grabbed my ankles, allowing me to rest my muscles. He pulled me another inch or two off the edge of the bed and pushed my ankles above my head. “How’s that? Any better now?”

“A little, sir,” I said through strained breath.

“Still a little uncomfortable?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said as he filled my backside with lubricant. “Not that it will matter in a second. Keep bending for me, slave.” He shoved my ankles more and I grunted with the pressure. I was finding it hard to breathe and was thankful for the empty stomach.

“Okay, Nezzie, open up for me.” He lined himself up with my anus and impaled me. I exhaled audibly. The pleasure pain spread through my groins. “Breathe, girl. Just breathe and let me in, cher. Let me all the way in.”

He spread my legs wide until I thought my hips might snap. “Oh my god, Mr. Delacroix,” I exclaimed wide-eyed.

“Yes, my little whore, I am your god.” He pressed further than he ever had. “You like it?”

All I could do was nod my head. I had no breath for words. He slowly backed out and entered again slower. The sensation of surrender brought me to a brilliant euphoria. My mind melted with my body, that negative space he so aptly filled. His blue eyes rained adoration. He straightened his torso and looked to the sky. He brought my ankles straight up, allowing him to grind into me, pulling and pushing my ankles up and down. He bent my knees and put the soles of my feet into his armpits. He leaned into them, commencing a rhythmic cadence of thrusts. I fell into the rhythm and soon my hips worked with him, grinding up and down and around.

“Nezzie, you’re coming a lot for me,” he smiled, “I can see it. Oh god, I love to see you like this.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

He pushed my ankles back and leaned over me, his wide eyes searching mine. “This is where you belong, under me, open and available. In your throat, your pussy, and right here,” he said as he thrust into me. “I own your ass, wench.”

“Yes, sir, please don’t stop.”

“Nezzie, I can’t ever stop loving you.” He stood and raised my ankles, spreading me thin again, open and so full. His hips moved faster now and the thrusting was more forceful, but my body responded in kind, opening and unfolding for his wish. My breath left my body with each thrust. I loved the familiar hardening, his quickening before he came. His grip on my ankles tightened until his fingertips turned white. He moaned, but held fast and would not come. The sight of him approaching climax enraptured me and I knew the light of his love would fill me, so I let my legs fall even wider through the pain. I did not care if I snapped in two.

“My lord,” I moaned.

“Not yet, cher. Shhhhh. Na-na, not yet.” He kept charging into me. Sweat dripped from his curls onto my bent torso. I bent a millimeter more. “See how you bend?”

“Yes, my lord, only for you. This is your creation. I am for you.” I tried in vain to open my legs wider.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now I’m gonna shove hard. I wanna shoot deep inside you. Stay open for me, slut.”

“Yes, my—” He moved his hands to my upper thighs and shoved in before I could finish. He used all his strength, groaning under the pressure. I felt the pulsating hardness inside me. He was pushing hard with his legs as if trying with all his might to push a locked door open. All I could do was pant like a dog and concentrate on staying open for him for as long as he needed. I found this challenge pleasing to both the mind and the body. His juices filled me to the brim, but he stayed motionless.

“Stay the fuck open. Show me how well you can control your body. Stay open,” he challenged me. It was clear he had been in my position before. He pushed harder and grunted as his penis got softer. “Stay open. Concentrate. I know you’ve got a brain, so fucking use it.”

I concentrated and exhaled; to our shared delight, my body responded favorably. “Good girl,” he said.

I closed my eyes and concentrated on nothing else. I no longer felt hungry.

36.

The sun was very low, and the rooms were darkening quickly. Mr. Delacroix led me to a sumptuous candlelit bath filled with rose-scented bubbles. He closed the bathroom windows, so the room was steamy hot. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and wondered just how hot it could possibly get.

“Nezzie, it’s so good to be home.” He leaned back and I felt his feet tickle my armpits. “No one has ever given me such an extraordinary challenge before. See what you give to me?”

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

“Simply, my dear one, I am nothing without you. You’re changing me, bringing me to new levels of awareness and responsibility. Before you came, I was floundering with no direction. I haven’t been this focused since I don’t know when. Probably never.”

“My lord, together we are something; without each other we are nothing.”

“Precisely. You see now how it goes both ways. I’m gonna do whatever it takes to keep it that way no matter what challenges and changes come our way. It’s you and me, Nezzie; together we got this.”

“Sometimes before I met you, sir, I wished I had never been born. But now I understand why I was born, why my mother kept me, and even why I had to go through what I did. I get it now, the bigger picture of it all.”

“Is that so?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, I was born because there was a lonely little boy at Twisted Oak who needed a life partner. I was born to be here with you. I see it now, how you and I had to travel our paths to each other. It’s all very clear now.”

“Does it help knowing your suffering wasn’t in vain?” he asked.

“Yes, my lord, somehow it does, and I hope it helps you too. We’ve both suffered, haven’t we? And we both deserve love and happiness.”

“Indeed we do, mon amour. Let me wash you.” His big hands were gentle and soothing. “I wanna know every inch of you.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“You’re my most precious thing, Nezzie. I wouldn’t care if I lost everything; the world could end and I wouldn’t care, as long as I have you.”

“Oh Mr. Delacroix, I’m not going anywhere. Even if we lived in the village, I’d be as happy as I am right now, as long as we’re together.”

“You’re my motivation for remaining successful. You make my success worthwhile. I work hard because of what’s been given to me, the business and my dad’s memory and all his hard work, but now with you, I’m even more driven. I get genuinely excited about new deals and acquisitions now because of you. I wanna make you proud. I’ve never had such purpose before.”

“Thank you, my dear loving lord.”

He gave me the washcloth. His broad shoulders and neck were so strong, but softened when I touched them. I could feel his torso relax when my hands moved across. He leaned back. His legs floated in free-form relaxation as I ran my hands down his thick thighs and sculpted calves. He giggled when I washed his toes.

“Truth be told, cher, I’m just an oversensitive pile of emotional mush,” he sighed.

“I like that about you. That you’re so in tune with how you feel. Sir, it’s probably why you’re so good at what you do. I know it makes you good at what you do with me. I hope you don’t ever think you have to change. Your sensitivity makes you desirable and real. It makes me love you more every day.”

“Thank you for the kind words,” he said as he pushed himself up out of the tub. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat and have a chat, shall we?”

“Yes, sir, but why so serious?”

“We have serious matters to discuss, my dear.”

The lights were low and he lit three tapered candles at the center of the kitchenette table. Silver domes covered our dinner plates. Eggs Benedict, sausage, and a small bowl of grits adorned my plate; his held some kind of fowl and rice with vegetables. A wine cooler sat next to the table dripping with condensation; a bottle of champagne was covered in dewy droplets.

“Sit, my love, and enjoy your meal,” he said as he opened the champagne. We both drank to living and it felt good.

I was ravenous, so I ate while he spoke.

“I went over a new contract with Marie today and she’s agreed to it, but I need your signature on it as well. It says she’s our responsibility. When I am not around, you’ll be in charge. You seem to come to it naturally with her and she likes you, so it just happened that way. In fact, she asked again if she could be yours.”

“Yes, sir, I like her too. You were right from the get-go. She’s a good person.”

“I’m rarely wrong about people, but sometimes I just can’t get through to them, like with Jackson. He confounds me.”

“I think he does that to all of us, sir.”

“No doubt. Anyway, I have the contract here for you to sign. It also includes the caveat of having Girl here. If I’m gone and you’re here while she’s here, she is also your responsibility, but she is her own person, and not likely to listen to commands. Marie and Girl are allowed sexual relations with each other, but you are not to participate unless you have my permission, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said as I bit into a piece of sausage. “Sir, can you tell me about Girl?”

“Oh, you’ll love her. Everyone loves her. She’s a kick. She’s been around for almost as long as I can remember. Charles, Mr. Ladnier, brought her back from college and she’s stayed ever since. He graduated from Berkeley out in California back in the sixties. He did the whole San Fran Haight-Ashbury scene, drugs, love, flowers and all that, and apparently that’s where he hooked up with Girl.”

“Oh, so she is a little older, sir,” I said.

“Yes, Ladnier is around Jackson’s age, I think. Ya know, I never really think about their ages. Kinda funny, that. Anyway, from what I gather, Ladnier hooked up with her out there. She’s the one who introduced him to this lifestyle. I’m not certain, but I think she and he belonged to the same dom for a while in some kind of commune. And when he graduated law school, she decided to come back to Baton Rouge with him.”

“Oh, so are they married or something?”

“No, not married, and she has never worn his collar, but I’m sure they have some kind of agreement because she stays with him and takes his commands quite nicely.”

“I guess she’s like Marie is now, belongs but is not collared, like Ty was before he signed.”

“Yeah, and I reckon that’s why it’s a good idea to have her come sit with Marie, to help her understand that kind of thing. This should work out real well.”

“So you’ve known her a long time, my lord?”

“Oh yeah. Sometimes she’d babysit for me when my dad needed extra help. She’s been the caretaker for a lot of us. You know, kind of like the seamstress for the band, always around picking up the slack and fixing what needs to be fixed. She’s one of the kindest people I know.”

“Have you ever had sex with her, sir?”

“Yeah,” he said, and his casual manner put me at ease. It made me realize that she was just another toy, one of many he’d had. I believed him when he told me not to confuse his momentary wants with love. I understood his nature and it was becoming my nature too.

“She’s really something, though. She’s never lost that flower power hippie-dippie stuff. She’s just an old hippie, but not old in that kind of way, just her mannerisms and values are outdated.” He laughed. “Even how she dresses; you’ll see what I mean. She marches to the tune of a different drummer.”

“Sounds refreshing to me, sir.”

“Very. She lights up the space around her. You’ll like having her around; a real independent spirit.” He took a bite of his vegetables. I watched his jaw work as he chewed. Every move was art in action, as if he were a living sculpture.

“My lord, why do they call her Girl?”

“Apparently, that’s how she was introduced to Mr. Ladnier back in the day and it stuck. I think, sweetheart, once you get to know them all better, you’ll find them a very congenial group.”

“I have no doubt about it, sir. I just feel a little inadequate at times,” I said as I sipped my champagne.

“Darling, don’t forget, we’re all a little older than you. In another decade or two, you’ll be right where they are, in your own way. By then, you’ll be running the show out here. You’ll own it. The farm will be yours. You don’t realize that you’re working on your success right now and doing an excellent job.”

“Thank you, sir.” More doubts entered my mind. I had no idea how to run a business like Twisted Oak.

“Which brings me to the serious issue.” He set his fork down and I followed suit.

“Yes, my lord?”

“I, uh . . .” He took a breath. “Nez, I think it’s time I . . .” He paused again and took a sip of water. “It’s about that other thing I said you could do. You know, the thing that would prove yourself to me.”

“Yes, my lord, what is it?” I asked earnestly.

He took another deep breath. “I’d be honored if you wore my collar, love.”

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix,” I exclaimed as I jumped out of my chair. “You mean it?” I ran to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Yes, yes, yes!” I said with tears of joy.

“Nezzie, yes, yes, what?”

“My lord, yes.”

He leaned into my body with a sigh of relief.

“Seriously, my lord, did you think I would say no?”

“I wasn’t planning on asking you so soon but I couldn’t help it. I love you so much and then all this crap with Jackson and Marie I thought maybe would turn you off. I was thinking it would take you longer to like Twisted Oak, too. I never thought you’d take to it so well.”

“I’m taking to you and that’s all that matters, sir. I love you and nothing else.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re right, my smart Nezzie baby,” he smiled. “Sit. There’s more to consider now that we both know the direction we’re taking.”

“Yes, sir.” I sat, trying to contain my joy.

“We could wait and I can put the collar on you officially at the roast, or we could have a little thing just you and me this week. It’s up to you. Next month will be your birthday celebration and we can have an extra special party to celebrate your collar then, too. It’s completely up to you, whatever you want to do.” He fidgeted in his seat and sipped his water. “You can be collared privately or in front of everyone, now or even later, if you need more time to think about it. I don’t want to rush you. Think carefully, Nez.”

“Sir, I don’t have to think. Everything I said to you is true. I can’t imagine another way. I feel bad, though, that we haven’t really celebrated your birthday.”

“We are right now. This is the best birthday present I could ever receive. This is why I was compelled to ask you now. On the one hand, I keep telling myself not to rush things, but I’m really feeling the power with you. I honestly know we can make it together. I need a partner that I can count on and my gut tells me it’s you.”

“I don’t wanna wait, my lord. I wanna do it now, right this instant,” I said, laughing.

“Hold your horses, kid. I need a little time,” he smiled.

“Okay, sir, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you.”

“Aw, baby girl, you’re fucking adorable.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“No, Nezzie, honestly, thank you,” he said and turned serious again.

“What is it, my lord?”

“I miss my dad. I wish he were here to meet you. He’d love you and I know he’d be happy for us.”

“He is, my lord, wherever he is, he knows.”

“I’d like to think so.” He took my hands in his. “I promise you that I’ll do everything I can to make your dreams come true, Nez, and I mean that.”

“Mr. Delacroix, you are my dream come true. I love you more than you know.”

He opened another bottle of champagne in celebration and we went over Marie’s contract. Now that I would be wearing the collar, the contract had new meaning for me, and new responsibility for Mr. Delacroix’s personal affairs. Even after our exchange that day, feelings of inadequacy kept creeping in, but he held firm in his belief in me and for that, I was eternally grateful. No one had ever believed in me before.

We were tipsy by the time we made our way back to the bedroom. Mr. Delacroix was trying to teach me French. We giggled every time I butchered a phrase.

“Laissez-moi vous voir nu,” he laughed.

“What does it mean?”

He laughed again. “It means ‘let me see you naked.’” He untied the robe and pushed it off my shoulders. “Get your ass back in that bed, slut.” He smiled and I jumped into the bed, but this time, he did not bind me. “Nezzie, get on your knees at the foot of the bed and face the headboard.”

I was puzzled, but I obliged happily. He crawled onto the bed, lay on his back, and opened his legs. He even arched his back and showed his throat as if he were in complete submission. I was struck by the beauty of it.

“You’re the boss this time, Nez. I am for you right now,” he said and closed his eyes.

“My lord, I don’t know what to do.”

“Take your time, use your imagination, and feel free to use the toys in the armoire.” He looked at me with gunmetal eyes. “You’re the fucking boss, Nez. Let your imagination rule.”

My mind was a blank. Letting instinct create my strategy, I used the long silken tether to tie his hands to the headboard.

“Copycat,” he said.

“Shhh, my lord.”

“I’m not your lord, Nez. Not right now. I’m your nothing. You’re my goddess and I’m here for you to do with as you please,” he said. “My body’s yours. Bend me, please.”

“Oh, Mr. Delacroix,” I whispered in his ear as I fumbled with the tethers and finally tied his wrists.

“You have fantasies of domination. I know you do, so go ahead. Dominate my ass.”

“Like practice, my lord, for when I am in charge of Marie?” I asked.

“Sure, this is your party, ma’am.”

I went to the armoire to get another long tether. I was intrigued to see him behave submissively. I had gotten a taste of it at the apartment when Mr. Scott was there. It turned me on to think I could get the same reaction.

I stood at the foot of the bed. “Okay, boy,” I said as harsh as possible and had to fight the urge to laugh. “Spread your legs for me.” To my astonishment, his cock reacted to my voice with noticeable growth. I had trouble concentrating on tying the rope. Every molecule inside me wanted to be one with him, to thank him, to fuck him.

“Open your eyes and look at me.” His electric eyes opened wide and searched for mine. “Good boy, Greg, that’s a good boy.” He was stone-still except for his eyes; they followed my every move. I crawled up his body, my breasts and clit brushing against him as light as a feather. I was delighted when he let out a small audible groan.

When my head hit the headboard, I sat back on his chest. My insides were turning with pleasure and I knew I was wet all over him, but it was my party and I could come on his chest if I wanted to. I decided to come all over his face, the thought of which almost brought me to climax.

“I’m going to sit on your face now, boy, and I want to feel your tongue inside me.” His eyes widened. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He lifted his chin in preparation. I could tell he had been here before, but I was delighted to see that he did not seem to be expecting it from me.

I moved my knees above his shoulders and held on to the headboard. I lowered myself down on his face carefully so I would not suffocate him. My body quaked as he so diligently and obediently found my opening with his experienced tongue. “Oh,” I moaned, “good boy.”

I lifted myself up to present him with my clit. “There you go, boy, lick my clit fast.” I spread my legs so he could reach easier. His tongue moved quickly across my most sensitive spot. The orgasm came quickly, violently, and with such waves of pleasure that I feared I could not go on. I moved back to the original position.

“Lick it like an ice cream cone, nice and slow. Drink my come, boy.” His tongue, so adept, moved from back to front and stopped periodically to suck the opening of my vagina. My body shook with orgasmic intensity.

“Did that taste good?” I asked as I pulled off him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he worked to catch his breath.

I kissed his forehead and backed down his torso kissing his chest, belly, and his hips that moved ever so slightly up and down. His hard-on had doubled in size. I got up, found the bottle of lubricant on the nightstand, and put some on the outside of my anus. I went to the armoire and found beads that were slightly bigger than the ones he had used on me before.

“You okay, boy?” I untied his wrists from the headboard and handed him the beads.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly.

I straddled him facing his feet this time. “You watch me, boy. Don’t take your eyes off me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, ma’am.”

“You know what to do with the beads.” I raised my ass for him to put them in.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his voice low and abject. I felt him slowly begin to deposit the beads into my anus. When he finished, I thanked him. “My pleasure, ma’am.” His voice was thin and breathy.

“Now I’m gonna sit on your dick, Greg. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you want me to?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Beg, whore!” I yelled.

“Please, ma’am,” a low breathy growl, “please sit on my dick, ma’am. God, please, my goddess. Please,” he begged, and his voice cracked. I plunged down on him with a short moan of my own when the head of his penis crashed into my cervix. He grunted and sighed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome,” I said as I rode up and down in even cadence, “but don’t come, Gregory. If you do, I’ll be terribly disappointed.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he moaned. “Oh god.”

“I’ll tell you when to pull the beads,” I reminded him.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You will come at the moment you pull the beads, boy, and not a moment sooner or later, do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, straining with the effort to hold back.

“You like to be fucked, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sometimes you’d rather not be the fucker?” I asked in a sharp tone that made me giddy.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I stopped moving up and down, leaned back, put my hands in my hair, and ground onto him frontwards and back. The head of his penis against my cervix brought joyous pain. I felt the quickening inside me. “Don’t come yet, boy. Not yet.” I bucked faster and then changed to the up-and-down motion again. I leaned forward with my hands on his thick, hard thighs and my insides turned.

“Now, boy, pull the beads now.” The orgasm began and with perfect timing and quick motion, he followed my command and groaned as his orgasm exploded inside me. My body, like the twisted oak, swirled and bent in winds of pleasure. I was securely and deeply rooted and free to bend and twist at will. I knew I had found my root; I knew this was the only place I would survive.

“Oh god, Nezzie,” he said. I lifted off him and turned like a lynx on all fours.

“You will address me properly, boy! I’m not through with your fucking ass yet, son.”

His eyes widened. “Yes ma’am.”

“Once more and you’ll be in more trouble than you could ever imagine.”

His breath was ragged and shallow. “I apologize, ma’am.”

I ignored him and untied his ankles. “Turn over. Show me your ass, boy.”

Without complaint, he complied beautifully and I retied his limbs. “Just keeping you honest, Gregory,” I said as I bound his left wrist. “Just making sure you know who the hell’s on top.” I got off the bed and leaned over him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a muffled voice, his face sunk into the mattress. I shoved the pillows under his midsection, raising his ass into the air. It was a glorious ass, round pure muscle without a single blemish. I could see why Jackson loved it so much. It was so perfect that it begged for a handprint. I wound up and hit him as hard as I could. My palm stung. He let out a yelp as every portion of his body tensed. I held my breath waiting for him to protest, but he did not. He let out a long, soft, moaning sigh and lifted his ass higher.

I was shaking and I knew my voice betrayed my dominance when I said, “My dearest Greg, you give so completely.”

“Yes, ma’am, everything I have.”

“I’m gonna fuck your ass now, do you understand?” I asked quietly.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I went to the armoire and found a dildo about the size of his own cock and filled his anus with lubricant. “Open up for me, boy. Spread your knees and open up for me.” I gently tickled his ass. My handprint was obvious, red and hot. His sweet, perfect ass lifted and opened and I slowly pushed the dildo inside him. He arched his back.

“I love you, boy.”

“Ma’am, I love you more.”

I spanked him again, harder. He grunted and then let go a long, broken sigh. I slowly moved the dildo in and out. He got louder with each inward motion.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Good boy, Greg, there’s a good boy now.”

In and out, I went slowly for a few minutes. He received the tool gladly and hungrily. I moved it quicker for a bit and he groaned louder. As he had done to me previously, I shoved it in deep and left it there. “Stay, boy, don’t you fucking move a muscle.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I sat back in the kitchenette chair and watched him work at keeping still and keeping open. His work was noble, but his strong legs eventually strained under his own weight. His muscles quaked with the intensity of keeping control.

“Who’s weak now, boy?”

He did not respond.

“Who’s weak, Greg?” I raised my voice.

“I am, ma’am, I’m weak.”

“Keep working, boy. Show me how strong you really are.”

“Yes, ma’am,” his voice cracked.

I sat and watched for another minute or two and then smacked his ass again, making him moan audibly as the dildo slipped out. He collapsed into the pillows. I left him there, took the beads and the dildo to the bathroom, and washed them thoroughly with soap. I took my time, as he had done so many times to me. If he wanted inequity, he got it.

He was beautiful lying there on his stomach, sprawled out and vulnerable. It was difficult to imagine untying him. I entertained the thought of keeping my party going for a while longer, but the urge to fall into his strong arms overrode any more ideas of domination. I was ready for things to be back to normal again, so I untied his limbs.

“It’s done, my lord.”

“I should say, Nezzie. Jesus, that was fucking amazing.” His smile was big and bright. “You were fucking amazing. You are fucking amazing. Fuck.” He shook his head as if coming out of a stupor.

“Just following my desires, my lord,” I said and fell to my knees. “Nezzie, are you okay? Didn’t you like it?”

“Yes, sir, I loved it, but I love being under you more.”

“You’re so sweet. I’m on top, baby. I am way on top, so don’t worry. Now you know how easy it is to miss being on the bottom.” He caressed my head with his strong hand as he reclined against the pillows. “There’s something to be said for being nothing, but for god’s sake, you’re really something.”

37.

“Neige Blanche Monique Delacroix.”

I thought I was dreaming. His whispering voice called to my heart, saying my name, that name, giving me his name. I opened my legs and he found my erect nipple.

“Nez, I like it that you’re always ready for me.” He ran his hand down my tummy. “I didn’t even have to teach you that, did I?”

“It comes naturally to me, my lord.” I spread my legs further. “My body reacts now to the sound of your voice. When I hear your voice, even if you’re in the other room speaking to someone else, my body reacts. Marie said something the other day, something that Jackson told her about being conditioned. Am I conditioned?”

“Jack thinks he’s so smart sometimes, but yeah. It’s a behavioral term that means you learn to react a certain way to specific stimuli.”

“Is that a bad thing, my lord?”

“No, it’s a good thing.”

“Why, sir?”

“Once you’re conditioned, and I really hate that term—I prefer the idea that once you’re trained for comfort, pleasure will come more easily—you’ll be more comfortable and things will feel good to you. Even the smallest things become more pleasurable because you won’t have to work so hard.” He moved his hand lower. “What happens when my hand is on you like this?”

“I get tingly inside. I’m getting wet for you, my lord. My hips want to move, but I know you like me to stay still.”

“Is feeling this way a bad thing?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

“You receive pleasure simply by hearing my voice. It’s a good thing; good for you and good for me. I think the biggest challenge with you is to get you to stop overthinking and allow the conditioning to take place.” His mouth moved toward my breast.

“My lord, I’m not so sure about that,” I said and he lifted his hand and got out of bed.

“Not sure?”

“Sir, please, I’ve had to think for myself since I was a little kid. It isn’t easy for me to stop thinking.”

“I know. I knew this from the beginning, that this would be the biggest challenge with you. You’re smart and strong-willed. That’s why I love you so much. This is why I need you here. It’s just a matter of finding your balance. You need to figure out when to surrender your mind and when to hold back. You’re getting it, but it’ll take time.”

“I suppose, sir, but I’m not sure I get it.”

“Just now, your body reacted properly to my voice and you behaved accordingly without thought. I spoke, your pussy tingled, your nipples got hard, and you physically behaved in accordance to those stimuli without having to think about it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Those reactions and behaviors are expected of you, and with further training, they will become automatic, involuntary, like your heartbeat.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then what happened when you started to overthink it? What happened, Nez?”

“The sensations went away. Well, they didn’t go away all together, but they weren’t as strong, my lord.”

“Exactly, and so now here we are with you over there thinking your pleasure to death and I’m over here explaining the whole thing to you. Is this pleasurable to you?”

“In a way, sir, yes, because I’m curious about what’s happening to me.”

“Aw, Nez, just let yourself go. It’s me. I got you, and don’t think for a second that I’m not going through some changes as well. How about you just give it a rest. Give over to your conditioning. Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It comes down to that, ya know, trust. I’m not gonna set you up to go to hell like Jack did to Marie, okay?”

“No, sir, I don’t think that at all. I guess up till I met you, I’d become conditioned to think because if I didn’t,” I paused, “well, I had to because no one was ever there to think for me.”

“Nezzie, baby, I’m not asking you to stop thinking. I’m just training you to allow me to take over sometimes, especially when we’re in the bedroom. When we’re here, you have to let me own you unless, of course, I give you the privilege of running the show for a while.” He smiled. “You’re already getting it to some degree, or at least your body is.”

“Yes, sir. I’m becoming nothing but a pussy for you.”

“As it should be. Not only that, you’re my ass, my throat; your hands are mine and your arms and your legs. Doesn’t it feel good to be in a situation where you can just let your mind go?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Really, it’s no different than hitting on that damned cocaine of yours except this won’t kill you or get your ass thrown in jail.”

“Yes, sir, I agree with that.”

“Then let it go, Nez. Enough of this shit. Stop overthinking it. If you like it, go with it.”

“But, sir, your reactions with me last night, are they conditioned reactions?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’re totally okay with it?”

“Yep, one hundred percent, and I’m not a brainless fuck hole either. Well, unless I’m required to be. See what I mean?”

“Yes, sir, I guess so.”

“Enough, Nez,” he said as he went to the bathroom.

“Sir, I . . .” I began.

“Nez,” he raised his voice and came back into the bedroom, “I said that is enough!” He approached the bed and pointed his finger at me. “All you need to know is that I’m on top. I own your sexy little ass and I will do with it as I please. End of story, end of conversation. You know what’s required of you, so step up.”

“Yes, sir.”

He marched back into the bathroom and closed the door. “I’d be fucking you right now if you didn’t overthink what was happening in our own bed.” His voice faded and the shower turned on.

Here he was ready to give me a glorious morning and I had to run my mouth. Never again would I want a verbal tutorial in the bedroom, another lesson learned from my faithful master.

I was sitting on the bed waiting for the sun to rise when he came out of the bathroom damp and smelling of roses.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said.

“Not now, Nezzie.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Get in there and wash the fuck off you. We’re taking a walk this morning before breakfast. I’ve got some ideas I want to run by you and maybe it’ll help if you’re thinking about things that actually bear some thinking about. Nez, for god’s sake, the one thing you don’t have to think about is fucking me.”

“I understand now, sir.”

“You’re getting there.” He spanked my ass as I walked past him into the bathroom.

Our exchanges about thinking and sex and top and bottom had me riled up. The confusion was provocative and disjointed. I examined myself in the mirror to find my sexual points aroused. My breasts were sitting high with sore, hard nipples; my clit was swollen and firm when I touched it.

“Nezzie!” His voice made me jump. “I thought we were past my having to keep an eye on you.”

“Yes, sir, I was just making sure everything was okay after last night. I wasn’t pleasuring myself.”

“Are you not okay?” he asked in earnest concern. “Are you hurt?”

“A little swollen is all. I only have a little pain, my lord, but not the bad kind.”

“Good. I’m waiting, so get a move on.”

I dressed in white shorts and a navy and white striped t-shirt. White bobby socks with lace trim and Ked sneakers were on my feet. Mr. Delacroix wore pink shorts, white sneakers, and a light blue polo shirt with his collar turned up.

The morning was still dark, but balmy. A light breeze rustled the leaves in the trees. We were walking along the bayou near the chapel as the eastern horizon glowed orange. I was excited to see what the day had in store.

“Listen,” he said quietly, “hear that?” Something stirred in the underbrush.

“Yeah, my lord, what is it?”

“I dunno, could be a possum.” He was still and then he turned to me. “Or it could be the alligator!” He laughed so hard when I jumped and screamed.

“You just wait till next time you put me in charge, my lord. I don’t forget either,” I said in a playful tone.

“Nez, look, I know I was hard on you this morning. I guess I was frustrated because all I wanted to do was get you all tied up in knots for me.”

“And I ruined it, my lord, but I think I’ve got it now. You prefer to discuss things out of the bedroom. I understand.”

“Just think of this,” he waved his hand across the bayou, “as your classroom where you hear lectures and think. When you’re in the bedroom, consider it the lab where you apply what you’ve learned from the classroom.”

“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I gleaned from this morning’s lesson.”

“You gotta keep that sharp mind of yours open, Nez. Observe what goes on around you no matter where you are and take cues from that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, my dear brainiac, I came up with a couple good ideas while I was in the shower and you were in bed thinking.” He began to walk faster as he spoke. “When we come back here this winter, you’re taking up tennis.”

“What? Where did that come from, sir?”

“It came from you constantly thinking and strategizing and wanting to figure out everyone’s next move. Tennis will help occupy that mind of yours while working your body a little at the same time. Besides, I play, and I think it would be fun to play together.”

“Okay, sir, if that’s your wish, it will be so,” I smiled.

“More immediately, I think today, with your consent, of course, I’d like to have you and Marie and Girl have a threesome for me. What do you think?”

“I . . . well, sir, I dunno.”

“Just as a mind-opening exercise for you, my love. It occurred to me that Girl is one of the most broad-minded people I know, and she has an uncanny ability to open minds and shut them off. Ya know, tune in and drop out. It’ll be fun for you to experience her.”

“Will you be there, sir?”

“Every step of the way. Are you kidding? Why wouldn’t I want to watch three women fuck each other?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir, what? Do you consent or not?”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “But—”

He interrupted. “Stop, Nez, don’t overthink it. It’s just a little fun.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be so hot for you after that, I’ll have to fuck your brains out.” He smiled and took my hand. “How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect, my lord.”

“Indeed,” he said. “I have a couple of questions for you about last night, though.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Wherever did you get those ideas?”

“You mean when you put me in charge, sir?”

“Yeah, you seemed so sure of yourself and so experienced. I was surprised. I wasn’t expecting you to take to it so easily.”

“Sir, I wasn’t exactly expecting you to be so compliant.”

“Well, Nez, you commanded it so well. As you say, I’m conditioned to react a certain way in certain situations and you, my dear, gave me no choice but to comply. My body and mind couldn’t have behaved any other way. That’s where I hope to get you someday. To a place where you just react and go with it. You did exactly that when you were on top.”

“And yet I’m a natural on the bottom, sir.”

“Whatever happened last night, just keep it up. Keep your mind in the moment. Enjoy the moment, my love.”

“Yes, sir.”

The sun peeked over the treetops along the horizon, making the bayou turn golden pink with dark reflections of the trees. It reminded me of my first morning in New Orleans with Ty, watching the sun come up over the river.

We continued our walk back toward the chapel and went to the graves for Mr. Delacroix’s morning vigil. He stood silently as I read the headstones. I wondered about his grandparents, but that was a conversation for another day. There were so many stories right here in this small cemetery. I wanted to learn them and add our story, so people would know how this family survived.

“They’re going to start working on the north wing next week,” he said as we walked back up the knoll to the croquet green.

“Is there much to do other than give it a good cleaning, sir?”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure they’ll find repairs that need to be done. You’ll have to help me choose the colors. Same with the master suite. I think we decided to do a bit of redecorating before we move in, didn’t we?”

“Yes, sir. That dark color is not to my liking at all,” I said, “but I love the furnishings.”

We approached the veranda to see Marie-Louise sitting alone at the breakfast table. She was reading a book. It was nice to see her at ease.

“Go say hello to your friend. I’m sure she missed you yesterday,” he said, and let go of my hand.

I smiled and ran up the hill. “Marie, hi.”

She got up and ran to meet me. “Miss, I was hoping to see you yesterday.”

“Mr. Delacroix had other plans for me,” I said, and she and I walked hand in hand back to the table.

“I know, miss, he told me. I hope you had fun.”

“I did. What did you do?”

“I had a wonderful day. I slept in all by myself in that big bed. I didn’t think I’d like it, but it was nice to have it all to myself. When I finally got up, breakfast was waiting for me, so I ate something and then I took my shower and did my hair, all without Jackson breathing down my neck. Then I found this book, so I started reading it.” She handed me the book, an old copy of John Milton’s Paradise Lost.

“After I read for a while, I got bored, so,” she leaned in and whispered, “I played with the toys on myself,” she giggled.

I smiled as Mr. Delacroix meandered his way across the croquet green.

“Good morning, Mr. Delacroix,” Marie said.

“You’re up early today,” he said to her.

“I’m excited to see Girl, sir.”

“She won’t be here for a while. It’s a bit of a drive from Baton Rouge, ya know,” he said as he sat down.

“Oh, I know, sir, but I wanted to make sure Miss Nez got to see the agreement so she knows everything.”

“There ya go, Marie. Already you’re taking charge of things,” he said as Thomas set coffee out for him and me.

“I’m sorry, sir. Is that bad?” she asked.

“Not at all, it’s a good thing. It’s all right to have thoughts of your own and to consider others. It’s very kind of you,” he said.

“Yes, sir, it is, isn’t it?” she said, filled with pride.

“Thanks for thinking of me,” I said. “Mr. Delacroix showed me the agreement last night and I signed it.”

“Oh, thank you, miss, I’m excited about it.” She looked at the croquet green as if in deep thought. “I never knew how good it would feel to be my own person.”

“After only one day?” Mr. Delacroix asked. “I’m pleased you’re feeling good, Marie, but give yourself some time; remember, Girl can’t stay here forever.”

“I know, sir. Have you heard from Jackson?” she asked as she looked at her water glass.

“Marie, you know I don’t have contact with him.”

“I thought maybe, sir, he would at least try to contact me—I mean, contact you.”

“Cher,” he said tenderly, “it’s over. He isn’t coming back to you.”

“I know, sir,” she whispered.

“Marie, there’s more to share,” I said, trying to change the subject and get back to sunnier conversation. “Mr. Delacroix, may I share our news?” I asked.

“Yes, love.” He sat back and sipped his coffee.

“Marie, I’m to wear his collar.”

“Oh, miss, that’s great news. Mr. Delacroix, I knew it!”

“Knew what, Marie?” I could tell he was amused.

“I could see with you two, sir, that you make a good match. But where is the collar?”

“It’ll be here soon. It’ll happen before we go back to the city.” He sat his coffee down and Thomas handed him the newspapers.

“And there’s another thing too,” I said.

“What, miss?” Marie sat on the edge of her chair like a child on Christmas Day.

I leaned over and whispered in her ear, so Thomas and Samuel could not hear. “Today Mr. Delacroix wants you and me to have a threesome with Girl.”

She squealed like a little puppy and clapped her hands. “What a fun day.”

“Yes, Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix said, “let’s do have fun.” He shook his paper out and put up the wall.

38.

“Shall I set lunch for three or four today, sir?” Thomas asked.

“Set it for four. Girl will be here before we sit for lunch. Oh, and Thomas, remember, she’s a vegetarian,” Mr. Delacroix said from behind his big desk in the library.

“Yes, sir. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“A refill on the lemonade would be nice,” he said as he opened a file folder.

“Right away, sir.” Thomas collected the nearly empty pitcher from the sideboard and left.

Marie sat at the piano and worked on her Liszt. Mr. Delacroix was going over papers he had brought with him from the city. I was busy trying to figure out how to be busy. I had Monique’s journals, but I was fascinated to watch Mr. Delacroix concentrate on his work. I had rarely seen his life outside the one we shared.

“Nezzie, come,” he said as he pulled a heavy wooden office chair up beside his. “Are you bored, my love?”

“No, sir. I’m going to read Monique’s journals.”

“Why not read some of Jean-Pierre’s books? I’m sure they aren’t as insightful as Monique’s, but they may interest you. They’re mostly ledgers, date books, and business contacts. I think there are records of his travels in there somewhere too.”

He pushed the ladder down the side of the tall bookshelf wall and climbed halfway up. I glanced over at the papers on his desk and noticed an invoice with his business insignia on it. The bottom line read nearly six million dollars. The reality of his great wealth struck me in that moment. I could not believe how lucky I was.

He pulled down a large black leather binder and blew dust off the edges of the thick paper. “I need to get on Miss Melva to dust these bookshelves,” he said as he climbed back down the ladder. “It’s a mess up there.”

The binder was heavy in my hands. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome, my love. You know, if there’s anything you need or want to know, it’s probably in here or in town. Feel free to look around all you want, and if you need something else, I can check for you at the office. We’ve got a small archive over there, too.”

Jean-Pierre kept detailed records of his travels and transactions. The binder included ledgers of money in and money out, and was dated precisely including the location and time of day the transaction took place. For the era, he traveled extensively. No wonder Monique had so much time to write and pose for her artist. I could see why Jean-Pierre thought she would be lonely. Would I be lonely at Twisted Oak? I suppose with Marie here, I would have some company. I looked at her working hard at her piano, deep in concentration, barely aware of our world.

New Orleans, November 1, 1770: Weather fair. Setting sail for Saint-Domingue. Monique on my mind. One more acquisition before I stay with her until the baby comes.

I found a cargo inventory manifesto attached to this personal note: coffee, sugar, and humans. My skin crawled with the thought, but I kept reading.

Arrived in Port-au-Prince, February 4, 1758. Stayed aboard ship as I deplore this place. My mind aches at the thought of my poor orphaned child Monique eking out an existence on this god-forsaken island. Will my mind ever be able to forgive the people who did this to her? Can I come to terms with the fact that if they did not, I would not have her? That I benefit from their treachery? Am I treacherous? I want a quick turnaround while the weather is still fair. Inventory checked and all accounted for. Payment rendered: 1500 in gold. Reminder: Have Mr. LeGeneret take care of future slave shipments. This is abhorrent. I shall never come to Saint Domingue again. Below my sensibilities.”

I recalled Mr. Delacroix’s words about how I inspire him to work harder, to be more successful. Would my presence compel him to do things below his sensibilities? I knew what that was like.

I wondered how much of the Delacroix wealth was made in the slave trade. I shuddered at the thought, but at least Jean-Pierre had disdain for it.

“Sir?” I asked quietly, hoping he would not be upset at the interruption.

“Yes, my love?”

“I see Jean-Pierre mention a Mr. LeGeneret, my lord. Is that the same family as the Mr. LeGeneret I met the other night?”

“Yes. Our families have a long history,” he smiled.

“Business history it appears, sir,” I said, hoping for clarification.

“Jean-Pierre and Luc-Richard LeGeneret had a close relationship in and out of the workplace.”

I closed my eyes and concentrated on Mr. Delacroix’s voice whispering, Neige Blanche Monique Delacroix. My thoughts wandered to being collared and I wondered what he had in store for me; what it would be like and how things would change. I recalled Sunny saying the collar is one step toward having a ring on my finger. Mr. Delacroix’s voice rang in my mind: In another decade or two, you'll be right where they are, in your own way. Doubt crept in. Was I ready? Was I out of my depth?

I started when I opened my eyes to see him standing in front of me holding a glass of lemonade. “My lord, you scared me.” I set the binder down on the coffee table.

He sat next to me. “I’m not an alligator,” he laughed. “What’s your brain thinking about now?”

“Being collared, my lord,” I said.

Panic shadowed his brow. “Second thoughts?”

“No, my lord, no second thoughts, just thinking about what it’ll be like and how things might change for us, for me.”

“What do you want it to be like? Do you wanna do something like Jackson and I did or do you want something more formal? It can be any way you want. And as far as any kind of change,” he sipped his lemonade, “you’ll be able to call me Gregory-Michel or Greg, however you prefer.”

“The rules won’t change, sir?” I asked.

“In essence, everything changed when we pronounced our love for one another.” He leaned against the back of the sofa. “I take love seriously because it doesn’t come often and it’s lost too easily. That part isn’t a game, my love.”

“It isn’t for me, either, sir.” I fell into him and he put his arm around my shoulders.

“Good, then it’s settled. We’ll do something simple and real, Nezzie, just you and me.”

“It sure was pretty down by the water this morning when the sun came up, my lord,” I said, hoping he would get the hint.

“Yeah, it was, but not half as gorgeous as you are. Remember what I said about being here. If you prefer the city, we can go back and stay there,” he said as he set his glass down. “I know you miss all the people.”

“Yes, my lord, but if I wasn’t with you, I’d miss you too much. I’d go to the end of the world to be with you. It doesn’t matter where we are or who is here, as long as we’re together.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” He lifted his glass to his luscious mouth. “We’ll see how it goes and decide later what’s best. As it is, we can go and be anywhere, can’t we?”

“I suppose so, sir, but that’s up to you. You’ve got your work, so I guess it’s best to be wherever you need to be for that.”

“With a fax machine, telex, a telephone, and overnight shipping, we can be in Tahiti.” He smiled. “All anyone requires of me these days is a signature anyway. This place almost runs itself with Thomas here, and that’s okay because I have you to contend with.”

“I hope that’s a good thing, sir, because you’ll be stuck with me forever,” I said.

“That’s the best thing anyone has ever said to me, baby. The idea of being stuck with you makes my heart sing.”

I snuggled into his neck and he lay his head on mine.

The phone rang, but he did not move to pick it up. Moments later Thomas came in. “Sir, Mr. Williams is on the line.”

Mr. Delacroix sighed. “All right, thanks, I’ll get it.”

And so it went for another hour or two. He went over papers, signed them, and answered phone calls while Marie played her piano and I picked through Jean-Pierre’s binder. I found his entries to be short, to the point, and very insightful as to his feelings for Monique. He loved her very much and feared he would lose her. His insecurities surprised me considering his stature in the portrait. I suppose every human is insecure at some point.

November 10, 1769: Finally setting course for New Orleans. My Monique awaits. I found a trinket for her yesterday on the docks. A man was selling local figurines made of stone from the interior mountains. It is crude but unusual in its meaning. The man said it is a token of longevity. It occurs to me that the suffering Monique experienced on this island brought her to me, and therefore was necessary. She suffers with humility and grace. The vessel is full to the brim, but with a good southeasterly, our journey should be short.

“Sir,” I said once again.

“Yes, my love?”

“Fifteen hundred in gold back in Jean-Pierre’s day was a small fortune, wasn’t it?”

“Indeed, it was. This is why he sailed with his ship, to make sure his gold was delivered and his inventory adequate. It was difficult to trust people back then.”

“And now, sir?”

“I have my people in foreign ports that do that type of work for me. It’s a small world now, Nez; easier to trust people because it is a helluva lot easier to hunt them down if they fuck you over.”

His voice was stern and cold. The notion of him hunting people down made a chill run down my spine. His tone was so flippant, as if this happened regularly. I wondered what really happened to Steve and his friend that day they were escorted from Jackson Square.

I tried to sound as if his words did not bother me. “I see, sir.”

“Back in those days, there were pirates and all kinds of backstabbers. Jean-Pierre was very adept at looking after his assets. My family always has been out of necessity. We’re good at protecting what belongs to us.”

“Of course you are, sir.” I buried my head in the book again.

“You’re my most valuable asset.” He looked as if he were going to say something and then his phone rang. I listened to his conversation while I pretended to read.

“No, I won’t make it this week, but I’ll be in the office Monday morning. Send the courier and Thomas will have the packet for him to bring back. Everything’s in order and ready to go with both deals. The revisions look good. If you get it out by this afternoon, we should be ahead of schedule. . . . Nope, I won’t be available after lunch today or all day tomorrow. No, he won’t be back for a while, not sure when. . . . Yeah, I know. He decided to take a leave of absence, a little hiatus, much needed, I think. . . . She’s fine. We’re all good. . . . I’m not sure. We’re gonna see how it goes, but I’m doing some work on the place. . . . Yeah, it’ll be ready to go within the hour, so your man can leave anytime. I won’t be available, but Thomas will have the packet sealed and ready. Thanks, talk soon,” he said, and hung up.

There was a knock at the door. “Entrer,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Sir, Girl has arrived,” Thomas said when he entered. “Shall I show her to the parlor?”

“Is Marie there?” Mr. Delacroix asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then show Girl to the parlor. Miss Nez and I will join them momentarily.”

“Lunch will be served in about a half hour, sir.”

“Thank you. Bring her bags up to Marie’s new rooms. She’ll be staying there.”

“Yes, sir.” The large door closed with a small click.

He took my hand and led me out of the library into the foyer. I stopped to look at Jean-Pierre’s portrait again and reflected on his devotion to Monique. I marveled how it was that I ended up here in this family.

“Mr. Delacroix!” Girl’s voice was flowery and serene. She came to him with her arms open. She was almost as tall as he was, with flowing, wavy red hair pulled back in a loose braid. She had bright green eyes and milky skin. Like Marie and I, she wore no makeup. Her dress was long and fell in soft waves of cotton gauze, transparent in all the right places. Her shoes were leather sandals, flat and strappy up her ankles.

“Girl, it’s always great to see you.” He held her long and hard. That ugly twinge of jealousy coursed through me. She did not seem as old as Mr. Delacroix had made me think.

“I’m glad to be here for you, my dear monsieur.” She smiled and looked in my direction. “Neige Blanche, Mr. Ladnier told me you were beautiful, but I had no idea. Please, call me Girl.” She held out her arms and held me for longer than I expected. My jealousy abated.

She sat in a cloud of patchouli scent. “We’ve been waiting for you to come along for quite a while. We’ve all been in an altered state since James died, may the universe caress his soul.” She closed her eyes in reflection. “It’s like the whole universe freaked out and we lost our balance, but I feel everything coming back into synchronicity now, don’t you?” She looked at Mr. Delacroix.

“Absolutely,” he agreed, placing his hand on my leg.

“Now, if we can just get Marie-Louise’s energy back in line, we’ll be ready for the rest of the journey.” She smiled and put her arm around Marie, who snuggled in like a child. “Neige, are you into yoga?”

“No, I’ve never tried it, but Mr. Delacroix says it might be a good idea.”

“It’s an excellent idea. We’ll have to get you started, but Marie tells me you’re leaving to go back to the city soon.”

“Yes, Friday, I believe, after we . . .” I was at a loss.

“After I collar you, my dear,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

Girl leaned over and kissed Marie’s head. “Would you like to help me make a flower garland for Neige? I noticed the wildflowers blooming along the road, the little white ones. They’d be perfect.”

“I’d love to,” Marie said excitedly.

“I wish I had known you were going to collar her, Mr. Delacroix. I’d have made a dress and brought a little something for the two of you.”

“I don’t think she’ll need a dress,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, I love that. Clothes are overrated. Any idea on the ceremony?”

“I have one or two,” he said. “We’ve decided on a private affair, just me and her.”

“How sweet.”

“Next month when everyone’s here, we’ll have a celebration. It’ll be Nezzie’s birthday, too,” he said, beaming. I felt proud to belong to him.

“This is such fantastic news. I can’t wait. It’ll be a grand party. I know everyone will come. Oh my god, what a rush.” Girl leaned back and laughed. “Marie, you can be my date.”

“I’d like that,” Marie said.

“Will you come back to Twisted Oak full-time?” Girl asked.

“We’re gonna figure that out as we go, but we’ll be here more often, I suppose,” Mr. Delacroix said.

Girl got up and walked over to the roses on the service table. “It’s not like the city, is it, Neige?”

“No, not at all,” I agreed.

“And New Orleans is such a great spot. You have everything there. It’s not like Baton Rouge.”

“Aren’t you happy in Baton Rouge?” Mr. Delacroix asked.

“Mr. Delacroix, don’t get me wrong. Mr. Ladnier, as you know, is a lovely man. He provides every comfort. But my darling, men his age are so droll. He’s become a workaholic, flying off to god knows where all the time, chasing this case and that.” She waved her hand as if a fly were buzzing about. “It’s refreshing to spend some time out here with Marie.”

“It’s the nature of the beast, Girl. Our work is part of who we are,” Mr. Delacroix said.

“Oh, I know, and he was like this even when he was young. I just wonder sometimes if he wouldn’t be happier in a simpler life. But then again, he wasn’t designed for simplicity, was he?” She smiled and turned around. “None of you are.”

“I suppose not,” Mr. Delacroix agreed, “but you are, and this is why we all love you so much.”

“That’s me, Simple Simon,” she sighed and turned to Marie. “Speaking of simplifying things, Marie, you’ve got an exciting time ahead of you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Marie said.

“You’re gonna be your own woman, just like me,” Girl said with a smile. “You’ll be the master of your own destiny.”

“I guess so,” Marie said as if the idea of divorce was just now sinking in.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it and you’ll grow to love it.” She came back to sit next to Marie. “And who knows? You may find a new man, but you don’t need a man. You’ve got a lot to offer on your own.”

“I agree,” Mr. Delacroix said, “but all in good time.”

“Yeah, let’s not rush things,” Girl said. “Speaking of rushing things, I’m hungry. I didn’t have much time for breakfast this morning.”

“Thomas said lunch will be served soon,” I said. “Mr. Delacroix says you’re a vegetarian?”

“I have been for years. My adopted parents were farmers and I hated to see the animals butchered. I can get sustenance without killing,” she said with a shrug.

“She’s also a Buddhist,” Mr. Delacroix added.

“Yeah, so I don’t think it’s good for our journey, our karma, to kill anything on purpose,” she said. “Certainly if we don’t have to.”

“I’ve never met a Buddhist or a vegetarian,” I said.

“You get both in one shot with me,” she said with a smile. “They kinda go hand in hand.”

“Do your parents still live in California?” I asked.

“My adoptive parents are still there, yes.”

Thomas entered and cleared his throat. “Lunch is served on the veranda.”

“Thank god,” Girl said. “I’m famished, and your chef, Mr. Delacroix, makes the best food. It’s part of the reason I look forward to coming here so much.”

“Thanks, Girl. Thomas, make sure you let Chef know he’s appreciated.”

“So anyway,” Girl continued as we walked through the foyer and into the library, “my biological parents were migrant farm workers like my grandparents who went to Cali from Nebraska during the Dust Bowl. I was born in an artichoke field,” she giggled. “Anyhow, as you can see, someone who looks like me isn’t very fit for farm work. Apparently, I was always sick as a baby; allergic to this and allergic to that and breaking out in rashes and god knows what else. I don’t know how I got this skin and hair. My biological mother isn’t fair and my dad is Mexican. Must be some kind of recessive gene or some farm supervisor got hold of my mother, god only knows.” She waved at that imaginary fly again.

“If she looks anything like you,” Mr. Delacroix chimed in, “who could blame him?”

“Well, thank you, sir,” she said.

We went through the dining room and out onto the veranda. Thomas had set the table under the shade of the second-floor overhang.

“I kept us in the shade,” Mr. Delacroix said. “Nezzie has sensitive skin too.”

“I can see that,” Girl said, and sat with her back to the house. “So anyway,” she continued, “eventually the landowner and his wife took pity on me and adopted me. I was small. I don’t really remember being out in the fields, and my upbringing was very privileged. I went to the best schools and had a great childhood out there. I can’t imagine where I’d be now if my mother hadn’t agreed to give me up.”

“Funny how one decision can change so many lives,” I said. “So, how did you meet Mr. Ladnier?”

“I met him at Berkeley. I was poli-sci and he was prelaw,” she giggled. “He was so handsome.”

“So you were a student while you were hooked up with the doctor?” Mr. Delacroix asked as Thomas laid out a plate of warm French bread.

“Yeah, I met the doctor at a sit-in. I guess you can say I became a disciple, but not like Charles Manson,” she laughed. “God, everybody was crazy back then. I left campus and went to live with him and his people, but I had such a crush on Mr. Ladnier. The doctor couldn’t break me of it, so he sent me out to get Mr. Ladnier to live with us. We had a fun time for those few years, and then when Mr. Ladnier graduated, he asked me to get real and come out here with him. The rest is history.”

“Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix added, “Girl and Mr. Ladnier have been together all these years, but neither has collared the other.” He turned to Girl and said, “I know how her mind works, so I thought I’d answer those questions for you.”

“Mr. Delacroix, as we practice the art of mindfulness, it’s worthy to note that the minds of others are rarely known or controlled, not unless we intend to bring suffering upon ourselves and others.” Her tone was grave. “If Neige Blanche has a question, she may ask.”

I was astonished at her ability to correct Mr. Delacroix without seeming to overstep her boundaries. It was clear that he respected her opinion, but his silence was notable and ripe with angst. Girl did not give him time to react and I realized her visit might be good for the both of us. She addressed me next.

“Neige, marriage was never in the cards for me; not with Mr. Ladnier or anyone else. I’m just not the marrying type. Babies weren’t for me either. God knows Mr. Ladnier wanted to marry, but I declined. I’ve never been collared either, not even by the doctor. I guess I have commitment issues,” she giggled. “Mr. Ladnier and I are best friends to the end. He has his life and I have mine.”

“An independent spirit, as I said, Nezzie,” Mr. Delacroix added.

“Yes, Mr. Delacroix, I’m very much on my own spiritual journey,” she smiled. “We all are. I spent quite a bit of time in India last year, Neige. If I were tied down, those experiences would never happen for me.”

“I see,” I said. “So you belong to Mr. Ladnier?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes, but he also belongs to me. When I came here, he promised to look after me and I promised to look after him. We have our agreement. He and I will always be part of each other’s lives. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for the man and I know he feels the same about me. I love him as you love your Ty. He was so kind to me and came into my life just when I needed him. My darling, there are no coincidences. We are all here together for a reason.”

“So,” Marie began, “all the things I’ve been through happened for a reason?” She looked at Girl with those round child’s eyes.

“That’s right, Marie. Our suffering is our growth. There is no growth without pain, my love. We hurt, therefore we live, and when we stop living to shut out the pain, we stop growing. Living in and of itself is an incredible act of courage.”

“I never thought of it that way,” I said.

“But it’s true when you really think about it, isn’t it?” Girl asked me. She was almost frightening in her cosmic frankness. “Do you really see Mr. Delacroix as just a happy coincidence? I think this is much more. Our paths bring us terrible suffering and incredible bliss. Follow it. Don’t shy away from it. It’s presented to you for a reason, the good and the bad. Marie, that goes especially for you, my dear one.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Marie said.

“Don’t call me that. It makes me feel old,” Girl said with a smile. “How did this conversation get so heavy?”

“You’re heavy, Girl,” Mr. Delacroix said as Thomas poured the wine. “There’s not a simple bone in that delicious body of yours.”

I wondered just how many times he had tasted it.

39.

We took a walk along the bayou after lunch, Mr. Delacroix and I hand in hand and Marie and Girl arm in arm. I delighted in Girl’s ability to live her life in the moment. She was certain the universe would give her everything she needed to survive, and so far, she had been proven correct. She took joy in everything, from the birds and the grass to the clouds and the sky. She picked small white wild flowers as we walked and placed them in a basket Marie carried. Mr. Delacroix was right when he said she would lift our spirits. I would endeavor to be more like her and stop overthinking. As Girl herself kept saying, “It is what it is and what shall be.”

We entered the master suite, dark and closed up upon Jackson’s departure. “These rooms are gonna change right quick,” Mr. Delacroix said in his Southern drawl.

Marie, Girl, and I disrobed. Girl’s body, well maintained, seemed young and supple. I wondered if her vegetarian diet and yoga was the answer.

Mr. Delacroix bent to find the key in the dresser drawer in the black room. “Let’s have fun, ladies. I could really use a good show.”

“You’re not playing this time?” Girl asked.

“Nope, femmes trois manières que j'observe,” he said with a smile and led the way up the spiral staircase. “It’s time for me to relax and live in the now.”

He turned on the low lights above the large bed in the corner but kept the rest of the room black as pitch. The music and our voices echoed as if in a large space, but the blackness surrounding us made it seem as though we were in a small echo chamber.

“There are no rules, ladies, and the use of toys is completely permitted.” He turned a large cushioned chair around for better viewing. “Girl, saisir l'instant.”

Girl took my hand. “We are commanded to seize the moment. Our bodies are our temples of pleasure, Neige Blanche. Come on, Marie, let’s follow our bliss. Let’s go to the moon.” She laughed and pulled me down by the hand onto the soft mattress. Marie followed with a giggle.

Girl ran her hand through Marie’s hair and kissed her gently. “My Marie, you’ll know pleasure without a man.”

She took my hand and placed it on her breast. “Come, Neige Blanche,” her breathy voice said between kisses, “kiss me.” Our kiss was sweet and gentle. Her green eyes looked translucent in the red light. My fingers found her erect nipple and toyed with it. Her breasts were softer than Marie’s, round and full. Marie found the other with her mouth and sucked greedily.

“Oh, my girls.” She lay back to reveal herself. Her long legs spread open. Marie immediately went to work between her legs with her eager fingers, and I moved to suck on her breast. Girl’s hand found mine and held it gently, pulling it toward her mouth. She licked my nipple with her warm tongue before sucking it gently. Her touch, her feel, was nothing like that of the men. She smelled of flowers and earth.

Marie must have done something to make her groan, and she let go of my breast, pulled my face into hers, and kissed me hard. For as lithe as her build was, she was strong. Marie entered my peripheral vision and took Girl’s left breast in her mouth; out of instinct, I moved down to her right. I ran my tongue down to her eager hips, soft, long, and sweet. I heard Mr. Delacroix say, “Good girl, Nez.”

His words of encouragement and Girl’s reminder to follow our bliss echoed in my mind. I positioned myself on my elbows between her wide-open legs and began to do as Mr. Delacroix had shown me, licking her like an ice cream cone. She tasted like sea salt and butter.

I glanced up to see Marie straddling Girl’s face. Marie had such a great ass. I plunged my tongue into Girl’s wet, inviting vagina. Her hips lifted to meet me. I placed my hands under her ass and squeezed, licking her clit until she was on the brink. I looked up and saw Marie on all fours, with Girl’s hand inside her.

Mr. Delacroix held a large dildo out for me to use. “That’s good, Nezzie,” he said, and sat back down in his chair. I slowly inserted the dildo deep inside Girl and worked it back and forth and around. Her hips began moving wildly. I pushed the dildo in and out fast until I heard her moan.

“Neige Blanche, that’s perfect.” She kept her rhythm, accepting the tool deep into her.

“Oh, Neige, that was lovely, but you can’t allow me to take all the pleasure.” Girl nudged Marie aside. “You two young things need more. Let me try something.” She rummaged through the collection of toys on a nearby table near the basket of condoms. “Both of you go on all fours with your backsides to one another. Humor me and give Mr. Delacroix a thrill.”

Marie and I turned away from each other and went on all fours. I could feel Marie’s toes touching mine.

“Move closer, girls,” she said as she kneeled next to us. “Move closer so your thighs are next to one another like you’re gonna bump bums,” she giggled. “I wanna see you bump bums, don’t you, Mr. Delacroix?”

“Oh yes, Girl, make them bump bums.”

Marie and I backed into one another and bumped our rear ends together. “That’s so cute,” Girl squealed, making Marie and I laugh at one another. I felt Marie bump me again so I bumped her back in a playful manner.

“Okay, girls, hold still, close your eyes, and open up for a big surprise.”

I stayed still and closed my eyes. Marie was giggling. I felt Girl’s hand on my buttocks. A wide, long dildo slid into me and I let out an audible yelp.

“Hold still, Neige Blanche, and let me finish the surprise,” she said.

I did my best not to wiggle. I heard Marie let out a gasp.

“Okay, my young things, bump your bums and fuck each other.”

I rocked back and forth and I felt Marie moving as well. The challenge was to figure out a rhythm so that we could mutually enjoy our shared toy. When it finally came, we rocked into each other so the double-headed dildo would move in and out of our bodies. I could hear Marie breathing in an attempt to maintain the rhythm so I joined in. Mr. Delacroix was at the edge of his seat, sitting on his hands. I enjoyed performing for him.

“Come on, Nezzie baby,” he said, so I moved quicker, making us lose the rhythm for a moment, but Marie soon picked up her pace and we rocked on in ecstasy. I felt the invigorating waves of orgasm begin in the center of my body and I started to shudder with excitement. “Here it comes, Nezzie, I can tell,” he said.

Girl was coaching Marie in a similar manner and I heard Marie begin to moan. The sound of her voice made my orgasmic wave move quickly to my extremities, all the way to the bottom of my feet. I let out a long groan and knew I could not hold it off any longer. I came fast and it lasted a long time. Marie pushed into me and me into her, gouging that glorious tool deep. It was an amazing feeling to orgasm with another woman. I fell to my elbows and Girl took the dildo away, leaving an empty space of dazzling pleasure.

Mr. Delacroix continued to sit at the edge of his chair, ever observant. Marie leaned back on her elbows. I crawled to her and kissed her open mouth passionately, and we fell together on the soft mattress. Her hand moved to my crotch, searching for my opening. My mouth found her nipple and my hand found her vagina. We stayed this way, moving our hips with one another until we finally settled into a new level of contentment.

“Oh, miss,” she said to me, “you’re beautiful.”

“So are you, Marie, so are you.”

The rest of the world disappeared. We fell into a kiss.

I felt Mr. Delacroix’s hand on my bicep, pulling me off Marie without a word. His hand seemed rough in comparison to the women’s. I longed for the soft sweetness of their touch as he dragged me across the expanse toward a dim red light.

“Sir,” I began.

“Not a word, Nezzie, not a peep, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” As my eyes began to adjust to the low light, he wrapped my head in a thick black blindfold. I stood vulnerable, naked, and blind, but I trusted him as he bound my wrists in front. He pulled them tightly together with rough leather, and that familiar pleasure and disgust mixed in my body and mind. I moaned audibly and let my mind go. I was his object to do with as he pleased.

“Quiet.” He secured my hands to something above me. “Stay fucking still.”

The feeling of blind disorientation was dizzying. My heart raced with a twinge of panic. My breath became ragged and shallow and I feared hyperventilation.

“Breathe, Nez, ya gotta breathe.”

I felt him back away from me. I knew he was waiting for me to breathe normally. Standing there looking at me with eyes I could not see, he helped me come back to my center and breathe.

I know he knows what I like. I know he won't hurt me. The pain is for my benefit, it's for the best.

“Good girl,” he said as he turned me around slowly, wrapping me and binding me with thick straps. “Good girl, Nezzie, I love you. God, I love you,” he crooned as he continued to turn me, making me dizzy as he bound my torso. “Oh fuck, I love you.” He pulled the straps tighter, constricting my breasts, stomach, and pelvis. The pleasure pain began to set in.

“These straps are love, Nezzie. They bind you in love. I bind you in love. I love you.” He yanked tighter, making me gasp, but I worked hard to remain silent and still as he wished. His hands and breath were shaking.

He pulled the binding tight once more and buckled it around my hips. I was relieved he did not bind me between my legs like before, but I felt much more constricted this time. He untied my hands and let them fall to my sides, which made the straps dig into my armpits. He startled me when he abruptly lifted my body and set me down on my back onto something that moved. My head lolled back with no support. My thoughts went to Monique and her sailcloth. He secured my feet in stirrups, spreading my legs as wide as humanly possible, straining my hips.

“Oh yeah,” he panted and came around and pulled each arm back, securing my wrists behind me, leaving them hanging together, straining my shoulders. I could hear him breathing hard as he walked around me, inspecting his work.

“Oh god,” his voice shaking, “you are fucking stunning.” He grabbed my breasts, squeezed, and then pinched my nipples. “I love you more than anything. Thank you, Nezzie, oh god, thank you.” I felt familiar clamps tightening on each nipple.

His hands moved to my thighs. I could feel him line his manhood up with my open, accepting, wet vagina. Bound painfully tight, the aching in my groin for his entry heightened. Every move of my muscles accentuated my arousal. I began to fight against the bindings. The body orgasm wave enveloped me. My body depleted and my vagina dripped, ached, opened. I fell into my bindings and allowed all my pleasure to come to that point of entry, his port of pleasure, my pleasure pathway.

“Please, sir,” I whispered, “oh god, please.”

He held my thighs tight and bore into me. His voice cracked as he grunted. He dug deeper, grinding himself into me, groaning and pushing.

“I love you,” he moaned. “Jesus, I love you.” The deep pleasure pain intensified.

He pushed and pulled me, going in and out at will as he stood firm, groaning in an even tone of meditative joy. I gave myself over to the fullness of him in me, of me for him, the two of us in a moment of radiant existence, pure physical pleasure at the highest levels of human experience. Every inch of me was for him, as it would be for eternity. I disappeared in the moment as he disappeared into me.

We shared mutual climax with tears followed by bittersweet joy, breathing in time with one another, not wanting to break the physical bond.

“God, Nez,” he said as he pulled the blindfold off my head. “Jesus, I can barely stand.” He lifted my head up. “Let me get your ankles first.”

He made quick work of freeing my legs and helped guide my stiff hips and thighs back to normal posture. “You okay?” He came back around and untied my wrists, helping me sit. Gravity tugged at the nipple clamps. The chain was cool against my tummy.

“Yes, sir,” I smiled, “never better.”

“I’m so glad.” He stood in front of me, taking my hands in his. “Can you stand up?” He secured the swing so it would not move, making it easier for me to stand.

“I’m not sure, sir.”

“Then let me unbind you while you sit and gather yourself.” He loosened the clamps and pulled them, causing needle-like stings. He found the buckles on my belly and went to work unwinding the thick leather strap. The burning pain erupted and I could feel the redness coming to the surface of my skin. Thick leather bands on my wrists and ankles hid the marks that were assuredly there. The marks on my torso were hot and red, but my breath came easier. The air smelled of sweat, our love juices, leather, and him— my lord, my love, my savior to whom I’d give my body and soul. I began to swoon, so he caught me and laid me back in the swing. “Take a minute. There’s almost nothing left of you,” he smiled. “You’ve given me so much.”

“Thank you for allowing me the honor, my lord. You can take more if you like.” I attempted to spread my legs in the stirrups, but they felt like lead.

“Hush now,” he said as he pushed the sweaty hair out of my face.

Eventually, he and I gained enough strength to descend the steep spiral staircase. With the help of his strong arms and the solid, iron railing, we slowly made our way down the dimly lit passage to reality. He guided me to the sofa in our sitting room and kneeled in front of me. I held his head in my hands and faded to dark.

I awoke to the sound of tapping on the door. The room was darkening in the evening light and Mr. Delacroix was deep asleep, still sitting on the floor at my feet, his breath warm against my thigh. A small envelope slid beneath the door and footsteps faded away.

I still wore the leather straps around my wrists and ankles. My torso bore the marks of the afternoon’s activities and small bruises appeared on my thighs where he’d held them so tightly; more badges of courage. I was sore between my legs, but I was uncertain if it was from him or the dildo Marie and I had played with. My neck was stiff from the swing and from sleeping sitting up.

“My lady, my queen, are you still with me?” he stirred. “Am I still yours?”

“Yes, my lord, we’re still one.”

“Come, my love, let’s go to bed,” he said and stretched his arms.

“Someone just slid a note under the door, my lord.”

He stood and stretched the small of his back. “Fuck it. Who cares? Let’s go to bed.”

“Sir, it’s probably Thomas wondering about dinner.”

“What about it? It can wait. Come on,” he insisted as he took my hand.

“Yes, sir,” I said reluctantly.

“Are you hungry?” He was suddenly concerned about my welfare.

“I’m sorry, my love, I’m too selfish with you. I don’t wanna share. Please forgive me.”

“Of course I forgive you, but go get the note, sir.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a weary smile. He walked in beautiful nakedness toward the note. Even in his exhausted state, he could not say no to my direction. If commanded to run a mile, he would have. With him, power was constantly shifting, a dynamic, random motion like waves hitting the shore.

“What does it say, sir?” I asked as he opened the envelope.

“As always, my love, you’re correct. Thomas says he’s serving dinner at seven for Marie and Girl and will hold dinner for us. God, I wonder what time it is.”

“Who cares, my lord?” I asked with a smile.

“Not I.” He took my hand in his and led me to the bedroom where he fucked me in every orifice until we were absolutely spent.

* * *

“Neige Blanche,” his voice was distant as if in a dream, “it’s time to get up, my dear. We have to get ready.”

Blackness surrounded our cocoon. “Sir, what time is it?”

“I dunno, maybe around five or so. We slept through dinner.” He walked into the bathroom and started the shower. Mr. Delacroix was an early riser and I would have to get used to it. “We’ve got an exciting day ahead of us, baby. I have the perfect thing planned. You’re gonna love it.”

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and looked outside into the darkness. “What good is it to get up before the sun, my lord?”

“What did you say, my love?” he shouted from the bathroom.

“Nothing, sir.” I padded my way across the bedroom floor to the bright steamy bathroom and sat on the toilet. I was sore everywhere.

“Good morning, my dear, did you sleep well?” he asked from behind the shower curtain.

“Yes, sir, but I have a question.” I stood at the mirror looking at my body full of marks and bruises and began to unbuckle the leather cuffs from my wrists.

He must have heard the buckle. “Nezzie, ask my permission before you remove those.”

“Yes, sir. May I?”

“No. I’ll do it in a minute. What’s your question?”

I left the buckle intact and began to brush my knotted hair. “Sir, how is it that you have such staying power? I wasn’t aware a man could just screw and screw like you did last night.”

“That’s your doing, my dear,” he said as he stepped out of the running shower. “You make me that way.” He took my wrist, unbuckled the cuff, and set it on the vanity. I gave him my other and he freed it, as well. He kneeled on his towel, unbuckled my ankles, and kissed each foot. “You do this to me.”

“Mr. Delacroix, I love you,” I said, placing my hands on his head. He leaned into my thighs.

“Nez, I didn’t realize I was holding you so tightly yesterday.” He leaned back on his knees, examining the bruises on my thighs. I halfway expected an apology, but received none. Instead, he kissed each bruise and got to his feet, further examining the marks on my torso. He ran his fingertips down from my armpit to my hips, sending excited chills through my spine. My nipples immediately reacted. “You’re amazing,” he said. “Good Christ, I can’t help myself.”

My gaze followed his as he looked down at his stone-like erection.

“See what I mean? I can’t help it. You make me this way.”

“Yes, sir, I do know what you mean. I’m your total slut,” I laughed. “I can’t get enough. You own me, my lord.”

“Not yet, but soon enough,” he said. “You’re gonna love what I have planned for us.”

“I love everything you do, my lord.” I kissed him in hopes he would bring me back to bed, but instead he ordered me into the shower.

“We can’t be late,” he said. “There are things that just won’t wait on our pleasure, my love.”

The foyer light was the only one on in the dark house as we descended the stairs. I was dressed in a sheer white shift and flat shoes; he wore a white gauzy linen shirt and pants with sneakers. We were apparitions moving through the darkened interior. He opened the front door and gathered up a picnic basket, rolled-up blanket, and flashlight that were waiting just inside.

“If you please, my dear, close the door behind us,” he said.

I closed it tightly and followed him through the darkness around the side of the house, where I noticed for the first time the servants’ entrance to the basement. An inconspicuous cellar door half underground was surrounded by large oleander bushes and lit by a single porch light, casting an eerie shadow across the side drive where the parked golf cart sat. The windows were dark.

We walked in silence across the veranda and the croquet green. I realized he had taken to heart my hint the other day. We were heading toward the water’s edge under the ancient live oaks on a green carpet of thick grass. The darkness embraced our circle of light, bringing us close in the larger nature that surrounded us. The sky was void of the moon, but the starlight twinkled on the water. Night sounds, crickets, frogs, and the occasional birdsong were our symphony as he carefully set the basket down and spread the blanket.

“Lay down with me, Nezzie. Let’s look at the stars for a little while,” he whispered.

The dew made the blanket cool and damp. It felt good on my sore bottom and hot strap marks. Like two kids who had snuck out of the house, we lay on our backs hand in hand and looked at the heavens.

“The stars are so bright, my lord, it’s almost as if you can reach out and touch them.”

“Ya sure don’t see this in the city,” he said, his tones of molasses accentuated with the smell of dewy green grass.

The stars twinkled and danced in their heavenly home and my breath came in rhythm with his. “Do you ever wonder where you’ll end up?” I asked.

“I’ll end up under that tree over there,” he said, pointing in the direction of the graves. So much of his life was predestined, a concept foreign to me until I’d met him. I still could not fathom that level of security.

“I never knew where I’d end up, my lord, but I always felt like I’d be alone,” I confessed, “until I met you.”

“Everything changed for us when we met, didn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

His stomach growled and we laughed at ourselves for not eating dinner the previous night. “I guess even though I feasted on you, my stomach is still empty,” he said.

“Maybe we should snack on each other for a while,” I laughed, squeezing his hand. I tried to roll over but he stopped me.

“Not yet,” he whispered, “let’s lie here and feel our hunger for each other.”

His incessant need to mix suffering with delight was a conundrum to me. I wondered if he was capable of feeling pure delight without the presence of suffering.

“Sir,” I began.

“Remember what it’s like, Nez, to hunger for me.” He paused and took a couple deep breaths. “I promise to god I’ll never forget my hunger for you.”

I decided to save the questions for later. After all, I was beginning to understand his dichotomy, that one cannot experience joy without also experiencing pain; that one without the other is hollow compared to the rapture when both collide.

“I’ll never forget, my lord. Never in my lifetime will I forget this moment and so many others I’ve had with you.”

He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. “I feel like I’m spinning when I’m with you. I swear, if I wasn’t lying flat on the ground right now, I’d fly off the earth.”

“Me too, sir,” I whispered.

He rolled back over and we lay in silence until he looked at me again. “You understand me, don’t you?”

“Well, my lord, I think I may be getting there. You’re pretty complicated, ya know.”

“I’m sorry.” He rolled back to look at the sky.

“Don’t be.” I tapped my head at the temple. “You keep my brain busy.”

He shot up onto his hip, grabbed my wrists, and pinned me down on my back. “Nez, you’ll still address me properly.” His leg went over me to keep me from moving. “The only difference is you may use my first name now. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said and looked away.

“Look at me,” he said as he squeezed my tender wrists. I raised my eyes.

“Nez,” he loosened his grip. “Nezzie, it’s just . . . if you decide to accept the collar you have to know that I offer it to you because I love you more than life itself. This is deep and real for me, and I need to know that you understand that once you do it, you’re mine, all of you. It has to be that way. I can’t do it any other way. It’s all I know. It’s . . .” He let go of my wrists and sat upright. “For me, I have to know that I own you. It’s not like I’m not willing to learn. God in heaven knows that you’ve taught me so much already and I’ll keep learning, but for now, this is all I know.”

“I understand, sir. It’s all I know too.”

“You’ll be for me,” he said. “I need you to be for me.”

A shooting star raced across the sky toward morning. It was as if every bit of light from the stars was in his eyes as they began to fade in the blueness of the new day.

“I am for you, my dear lord.”

He stood up and took his clothes off. “Kneel,” he said.

I quickly followed his command. He lifted my dress over my head, tossed it aside onto his pile of clothes, and kicked his shoes off. I did the same.

“Spread your legs as wide as you can for me.”

My hips were stiff, but I managed to spread my knees apart.

“Look into my eyes, Nezzie, and see how much devotion I have for you. I know you’re willing to give me everything you’ve got, and I promise I’ll never let you down. I’ll give you everything I have. I’ll die doing it if I have to.”

“Yes, sir.” I kept a steady gaze into his eyes, shiny with tears.

“I’ve saved these words in my head for years so I could recite them to the right person. I had no idea when or who or where, but now I know that person is you and this is the place and this is the time. Kahlil Gibran wrote this back in the early twenties, and my dad used to read it to me sometimes. It helps me understand his way of life, our ways. I’ve never shared it with anyone else.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said in a soft whisper, barely audible. His heightened anxiety made him seem vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

I was unsure how to proceed until he lifted my chin with his trembling hands. “You are so welcome.”

I wanted to place my hands on his but I fought the urge, not wanting to take anything away from this moment he had rehearsed a thousand times in his head. Honored this special man was so willing to give himself over to devoting his life to me, all I could do was kneel in awe of his grace.

He cleared his throat and began. “When love beckons you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.” His voice cracked with emotion and he paused to swallow. “And when he speaks to you believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you, so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth, so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.”

The words made clear to me now the dichotomy of pain and pleasure, of sorrow and joy. His emotional plea for understanding overwhelmed my senses and my heart opened to him when I did not think it could open any further.

“Oh, Nezzie,” he said through an audible sob. After a moment or two, he continued, “Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.” He was crying in earnest now. “And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy; and you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.”

He went to the picnic basket and took out an old wooden box. In the early light, I could see there was a brass plate with engravings on it, but I could not make out the letters. He opened it and took out a thick gold collar, kneeling in front of me.

“Much of your pain is self-chosen; it is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self. Therefore, trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquility: For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen, and the cup that he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.”

His hands and mouth trembled as he fastened the heavy gold collar around my neck. With silent, sacred tears, he lay me down and made love to me until the sun rose in its splendor.

40.

We gazed at the bayou after we dressed. The morning was not different from others and yet we both shared a sense of renewal, of new beginnings and a new way of life together. The box that had held my collar bore Monique’s name. When he placed her collar on my neck, I knew he and I would never be the same.

The basket, lovingly prepared by Thomas, included everything our tired, hungry bodies required: a baguette filled with ham and soft cheese, water, boiled eggs, citrus fruit, iced coffee, and champagne.

“I wish we could stay at Twisted Oak longer, my lord.”

“Nezzie baby,” he smiled, “we’ll stay through the weekend, but I have to be at work Monday. I’ve got buyers waiting and some of the goods are perishable.”

“Buyers for what, sir?”

“Well, let’s see, there’s bananas from Guatemala, papayas from Mexico, plus some coffee from Honduras. It’s funny how you can work separate deals for days and then all of a sudden they all come together at the same time. We’ve got a new project down in Brazil, too.” He sipped his coffee. “Not to mention my biggest deal ever,” he said as he nudged my elbow with his and showed that wide, bright smile. “I’ll have someone drive to town and pick up Sunny and Ty for the roast. They’re gonna go nuts when they see the collar on you, especially Sunny. They had no idea. Neither did I when we left the city.”

“I hope you mean they’ll go nuts in a good way, sir.”

“Oh absolutely, but I know it’ll be emotional for Sunny. I don’t have to tell you how close we are, Sunny and I. And Ty will be Ty. He’ll be all over the place.”

“I think Sunny’s ready for this. No, sir, I know he is. He told me so.”

“I know, baby, but it’s one thing to prepare and another to have it actually happen.”

“I understand, my lord.”

I took a bite of the chewy, scrumptious baguette. “I wonder where the alligator is.”

“Probably sitting right over there,” he said, pointing to a thick stand of reeds, irises, and cattails, “thinking that sandwich looks almost as good as you for breakfast.”

“Very funny, sir.”

“I’m serious,” he giggled and put a piece of grapefruit in his mouth. “You look beautiful, Nezzie.”

“Thanks, Gregory, so do you.”

“I never thought I’d find someone worthy of Monique’s collar,” he whispered. “It scares me a little.”

“Why? I don’t bite, sir,” I said.

“Nez, I’m serious. It scares me because there’ll be so many changes. What if I’m not worthy?”

“Shhh now, stop with that nonsense, my lord. You’re worthy. We both are. Together, we can do anything.”

* * *

“Oh my gawd!” Ty said in astonishment. His footsteps echoed on the wood floor. “Miss Nez, oh my Jesus gawd, would you look at dat, sir.” He grabbed Sunny’s arm and turned him toward me. “Oh my gawd,” he squealed again.

“Oh, miss,” Sunny said, “it’s gorgeous.” He took my shoulders in his hands and examined my neck. “Congratulations, you two,” he said, kissing my cheek before turning to Gregory. “Sir, that’s stunning.”

“It was Monique’s,” Gregory said.

Sunny stared at him.

“Sunny, I . . .”

“No, sir, let me say something,” Sunny interrupted, and to my surprise, Gregory did not protest. “I knew from the beginning this would happen someday,” he said, his eyes filling with tears, “and when Ty brought her here, I knew it. I knew she was the one.”

Sunny turned to me. “Miss Nez, I knew you were the one, that you’re what he needs, what we all need.” He grabbed me hard and held me tight. “Thank you, baby, for coming to us.”

“Oh, Sunny,” I said, falling into him, “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby girl.”

Ty and Gregory stood with their arms around each other. Gregory was patting Ty’s shoulder, trying to comfort him, and kissed him sweetly on the head. “It’s okay, son, we’re all okay now.”

It was late Saturday morning at Twisted Oak. Pepper was outside edging the garden beds. The high-pitched sound of his machine was a charming accent to the birdcalls. Neither one of us wanted to stay in the master suite until it was redecorated, so Gregory decided Ty and Sunny would sleep in the black room and share our space for the weekend; after all, it was larger than our apartment. We sat on the front porch sipping lemonade, watching Pepper and his crew in the garden. Jon-Jon pushed a wheelbarrow filled with a small tree across the driveway. He nodded to us as he walked by.

Sunny tuned his guitar while we filled them in on Marie’s status and Jackson’s temporary departure. Ty was pleased to announce he had signed on with Sunny while we were away. “We was hopin’ to surprise you,” he said.

They were astonished at the pace at which all the changes occurred at Twisted Oak. I told them about the night all the doms came and how much I enjoyed meeting Girl. Needless to say, the men were enthralled with the story about the three of us fucking for Gregory.

Ty giggled every time I called Mr. Delacroix by his first name. “It just sound so right,” he said.

Sunny slapped the back of Ty’s head. “Say it, Ty! Say, ‘It just sounds so right’! Put the goddamn ‘s’ on ‘sounds’!”

“Sir, I thought I did,” Ty said.

Sunny quickly got back on subject. “So tell us about the collaring,” he said.

“It was perfect,” I said, “down by the bayou at sunrise.”

“It was all her idea,” Gregory said. “Hell, Sunny, I wasn’t even planning on doing it this week, but thankfully, it happened. I guess it was supposed to happen as it did, because she’s right, it was perfect.”

“Next month we’re having a birthday party for me. You guys have to come,” I said.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” Sunny said, strumming his guitar.

“Hey, ya know,” Gregory chimed in, “Nezzie here thinks you and Marie should make a record.”

Sunny set his guitar aside. “Really, miss?”

“Well, it was just a suggestion to Marie to give her an idea of what she can do after the divorce, but I really think it would be a good record. You’re both very talented, and she said you’re really great at the violin.”

“I haven’t played violin in ages,” he said wistfully and quickly changed the subject. “I’m thirsty,” he said, pouring more lemonade.

I glanced at Gregory, worried I had offended Sunny.

Gregory shrugged. “Just another one of those changes you bring about, cher,” he said. “Not to worry, it’s a good thing.”

Sunny remained neutral. “Where did Marie and Girl disappear to?” he asked.

“Believe it or not, they’re fishing in the marsh this morning.” Mr. Delacroix laughed. “I don’t know which one of them came up with that idea, but the two of them have the best time together.” He sipped his lemonade. “Come to think of it, I haven’t seen Girl this happy in a long time.”

* * *

We ate in silence, the bayou surrounding us in nature’s embrace. The sweet smell of fresh-cut grass wafted through the air.

“Tomorrow’s a big day for all of us,” Sunny said.

“It sure is, my love.” Gregory sipped his water. “If you want any advice, I’m here for you. You can come to me anytime as long as I’m not momentarily engaged.” He caressed Sunny’s shoulder with his hand. “Nezzie, this is Sunny’s big roast debut as a dom, ya know.”

“Oh wow, Sunny, I never thought about that. I guess I was wrapped up in it being my first roast. I forgot that things are different for you, now, too.”

“One thing is for certain, Miss Nez,” Sunny said, “your teacher will prepare you well and know when you’re ready for the next step.” He took Gregory’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “I bet you’re kinda nervous though.”

“I am,” I admitted, lifting my wine glass to drink.

“Well, the same goes for you, miss. If you need advice, come to me and I’ll try to help you out. I’ve worn your shoes, or in this case, been at his feet.” He looked at Gregory who sat motionless, eyes glued to Sunny.

“You should see what I bought for Ty,” Sunny said. “Remember that little number I saved for you the day Mr. Scott came to town, Miss Nez?”

“Yes, it’s so pretty.”

“Lorraine had the very same one in Ty’s size. It looks great on him.”

“Sunny’s spoiling me now, Miss Nez. He got a bunch of new cuffs and straps, too, just for me,” Ty said, clearly relishing Sunny’s attention.

“Don’t get too cheeky, boy,” Sunny reprimanded.

“That ain’t what you said last night, sir.” Ty gave a sideways glance at Sunny, and Sunny shook his head and smiled.

41.

“They loved your dress, Nezzie. They couldn’t keep their eyes off you the whole time.” Gregory was pulling his shirt over his head. “We need to get ready for playtime now, my lovely pet. I hope you didn’t eat too much at brunch considering how you prefer sex on an empty stomach.”

Even though Gregory had prepared me for it, the segregation of the group at brunch was uncomfortable. I had become accustomed to having him constantly by my side in social situations, but this time, I was seated outside with the rest of the subs while the doms ate inside at the formal table.

I leaned back on the chaise and replayed the conversations in my mind while he showered. Most surrounded the topic of the Scotts’ absence, and I was thankful to have Ty there to distract them from their incessant gossip. It appeared he was still a novelty. I was the new girl and I wore Mr. Delacroix’s collar, the center of everyone’s fascination, but the gossip surrounding the Scotts was overwhelming.

Aside from Candie, Brandie, Ty, and me, there were four more subs, three men and another woman, all very handsome. Marie and Girl weren’t there. Gregory decided it would be best for Marie to wait until her wounds healed, and Girl refused to leave her alone. I wished they were there.

The girl’s name was Air, tall and slender with brown hair. She belonged to Mr. Algrant from Thibodaux, who had never spoken to me at the dom party. The men all belonged to Ms. Banning of New Orleans: Danny, Eric, and Boy. Danny explained that they were to be shared among the others, all except Boy, who was to be punished. Their conversation hovered over which dom they thought would be the best. Boy never uttered a word.

“He’s been told to shut up today,” Danny said, poking Boy in the ribs with his knuckle. Boy did not react.

“Knock it off, Danny. Don’t make it worse for him than it already is,” Eric said.

I decided that Danny was one of the mean ones. Air was congenial and asked me how long I had belonged to Mr. Delacroix. She was quiet, serene, and enraptured with Ty. She explained that she had belonged to Mr. Algrant since the previous Christmas. She also wore a collar.

“Why you bein’ punished, Boy?” Ty asked him, but there was no reply.

“He can’t speak, Ty. What is it that you don’t understand about him having to shut up?” Danny laughed at Boy again. “Some people just don’t know when to shut up.” He pushed Boy’s shoulder. Boy looked at the ground.

Eric moved to stand between Boy and Danny and addressed Ty. “He called Ms. Banning a bitch last week and she heard him.”

“Oh my,” I said.

Danny rubbed it in. “Yeah, she was not happy. He got a good punishment and has been in the box for six days. This is the first time she’s let him out.”

“The box?” Ty asked.

Eric said, “I’ve only been in there for a demonstration, enough to keep me straight, but it’s a small room with no windows. Kind of like solitary in prison. I can’t imagine a week of it. Danny is new. He hasn’t had the demonstration yet. I think if he did, he would have more sympathy.”

“I may be new, but I know enough not to call her names. That was just stupid, Boy.”

“I’ll remind Ms. Banning that a demonstration is due, Danny. Maybe that’ll boost your empathy a little.”

Eric was firm, but kind. I could see that someday he would be an excellent dom. His broad shoulders were accented by short brown hair and hazel eyes; he had perfectly manicured hands.

“How long have you belonged to Ms. Banning, Eric?” I asked.

“Getting into my sixth month. I should be released in a couple weeks,” he said with pride.

“Wow, congratulations!” I said, knowing this was something to be proud of, considering her reputation. “Where will you go next?”

“I’ll belong to Ms. Portiere. She’s the one who sent me to Ms. Banning for further training. Miss Nez, it appears you and I will be neighbors.”

* * *

I did not notice the shower had turned off. Gregory was standing in front of me, and his sharp voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Nezzie, have you heard a word I said? What the hell are you thinking about now?”

“Boy, Ms. Banning’s sub.”

“Oh, yeah, he got himself into a lick of trouble last week. Did he speak at brunch? Be honest with me.”

“No, sir, not a word, but Danny . . .”

“I’m fully aware of Danny’s attitude. You needn’t tell me.” Gregory shook his head. “He should be ashamed. Hell, Ms. Banning should be ashamed.” He took my chin between his fingers. “Don’t forget that I know everything that goes on at Twisted Oak.”

“Yes, my lord. I just want you to know that Boy was good. He didn’t say a single word. He didn’t even make a noise.”

“Good. Nezzie, let this be a lesson to you. Don’t say disparaging things about me or the other doms, or even the other subs. If you have a concern, come to me, but don’t go bad-mouthing people. Be respectful and it’ll pay dividends you never dreamed of.” He took my hand and led me in front of the armoire mirror. “You’ll see Boy’s punishment today, but don’t worry. It’s between Boy and Ms. Banning. He needs to learn a lesson and she is the best one to teach him. Come on, I gotta get you ready.”

“Greg, you’ve been in the box?” I asked incredulously.

“Only for a demonstration, cher, and that was enough for me. But the punishment you’ll see today, I have endured.”

I stood naked for him. To my surprise, he removed Monique’s collar.

“Monique’s is too fragile and valuable for playtime,” he said, setting it on the nightstand. “Let me look at you.” He turned me around and examined me from head to toe. Cool mists of perfume tantalized my senses. He rubbed light oil on my skin. “God, you smell delicious.”

He buckled large leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles that had heavy metal hoops on them. He placed a matching strap around my middle that hung loosely atop my hips. The matching collar felt odd on my neck.

“They’re new, so they’re kind of stiff, but once they get worn in, they’ll be more comfortable. The more we use these, the better.” He smiled and attached a heavy chain leash to the strap around my hips and began walking into the sitting room.

My heart raced. I balked and he pulled, not realizing I had stopped walking. I felt so demeaned I began to cry. Surprising waves of anger came over me, but he tugged the leash harder, pulling me close to him.

“Shut off that anger right now. It’ll just make things harder for you. Turn it off, Nez. It’s just playtime. You’re still you, mistress of this house. Show them how powerful you are by submitting to me. Show them, all of them, that this is where you belong.” He pulled down on the leash, pulling me to my knees. I looked at his feet, but I stopped crying.

“Look at me,” he said. His expression changed to one of worry. “Nezzie, if this isn’t okay with you, you can stay here. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

It was clear that he would go without me. I had come this far and I could not let him go alone. I quelled my anger out of curiosity. Or was it jealousy?

“You won’t leave me, will you, Greg? You won’t leave me alone like you did at brunch, will you?”

“Nezzie, I will never be too far away from you, but I plan on having my fair share of playtime too, ya know. You’ll always be close enough for me to hear you if you call my name or use a safe word, and I will never leave you in a risky position. No one, and I mean no one, will touch you without my permission, which of course will ultimately come from you. Just remember, no one is here against his or her will, and no one is doing anything today that they don’t want to be doing, even Boy. One safe word and it’s quits. That’s the rule for everyone.”

“So all Boy has to do is say the word ‘red’ and Ms. Banning will stop? She’ll let him speak and not punish him?”

“That’s right, my little virgin. That is absolutely how it works. Keep that in mind today. Everything you see can stop in an instant with one word. It might seem as though people are being forced into a scene, but they aren’t. They want to be here doing what they are doing. I promise you that. You have to let your mind go and let your body take over; let your body be your guide. It knows what it wants.”

* * *

The Ursuline Playroom was empty when we arrived, so we took our places on the dais, he in his chair and I on my pillow. The music played low and all the red lights were on. A mirrored disco ball turned in the center of the dark ceiling.

“It’s customary that we be the first to come and the last to leave, unless some of the subs stay here for the night, but I think everyone is going home today, except Mr. Horne. He has a cottage.”

He shifted in his seat and attached my leash to the ring on the side of it. It made me cringe.

“See this as your security, Nezzie.” He tugged the chain. “This is the symbol of our attachment. Air will have hers as well. It shows that you are collared, that you’re more than a regular sub. It’s something to be proud of, Nezzie. As long as you’re leashed, you can’t be touched.”

“Thank you, my lord,” I whispered.

“Good girl, Nezzie.” He patted my head. “Would you like a drink of something? Maybe some wine to loosen you up?” He got up and walked across the room toward the sitting area. His black silk pants glittered in the dim red light. His broad back glistened with the sheen of lightly scented oil, and his feet were bare. He walked with a swagger. He owned the place and everything in it, the king of the castle. And I was his queen.

We sat in our places and waited for his guests to arrive. I drank champagne and he drank water.

“Nezzie, once you get into it, I know you’ll like it, just like you do every time we play with our friends. And don’t forget that you can talk to Sunny anytime you want. He knows the ropes, so to speak,” he laughed. “Just breathe, my sweet love. Just breathe.”

Voices came from the stairway, including Mr. Ainslie’s Southern drawl. “Charles, the girls look fine today.” I heard a small spanking noise and Brandie giggled. “Now ya know why the ladies always go first, eh, Brandie?”

Brandie was the first to appear and then Mr. Ainslie. She turned and waited for Candie, and then the two women went to their knees the moment Mr. Ladnier landed on the top step.

“On your feet, girls, there’ll be time enough on your knees today. Run and get Mr. Ainslie and I some whiskey. Get yourselves something too.”

“Yes, sir,” Brandie said, and off they went to the bar.

“Gentlemen!” Gregory stood to shake their hands.

“Greg, it’s damned nice to see you sittin’ there,” Mr. Ainslie said. “Miss Nez, you were resplendent today at brunch. I dare say, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you. The collar becomes you.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, sitting up a little straighter.

“Right where you belong, sugah,” Mr. Ladnier said. His handsome smile shone down on me. “Just perfect. I don’t know how Gregory lucked out so much, but he did with you.” He leaned over and whispered, “I hope to have first crack at you today, if, of course, you’ll grant me permission.” I felt his warm breath on my forehead and his dark eyes made me melt.

“Yes, sir,” I whispered.

“Very kind of you, my dear.” He stood as Candie presented him with a small glass of whiskey. “Would you like more champagne, Nezzie? Greg, is it all right for Nezzie to have another?”

“Yes, Charles.” Gregory sat back down. “First crack, ya say?”

“If it pleases Nezzie and her master, too, of course,” Mr. Ladnier said as he sipped his whiskey.

“It pleases me, but we should wait till the others arrive, don’t you think? We wouldn’t want to appear rude,” Gregory said.

“Agreed,” Mr. Ladnier said and turned to Mr. Ainslie. “Ms. Banning sure has Boy in a world of hurt today.”

“Well, friend, you call her that name and see what happens. I don’t think she’d care if you were president of the United States, she’d box you up and throw away the key.” Mr. Ainslie’s green eyes fell to mine. “I wonder what possessed him.”

Gregory chimed in. “She pushed a button and he reacted just as she intended him to. She’s good.”

“Oh, I forgot, Greg, you’re a Banning boy. You ever go in the box?” Mr. Ladnier asked.

“Only for a two-hour demo and that was enough for me.” He became wistful. “Ya know, gentlemen, those months as a Banning boy were some of the best of my life.” He sipped his water and took an ice cube in his mouth.

“She turns ’em out well,” Mr. Ainslie said just as Ms. Banning appeared with her three boys behind her. She wore a long black lace dress with a high neckline and matching stiletto patent leather sandals. Her dress was so sheer that she may as well have been in the nude. Danny and Eric were walking naked except for the cuffs and straps, hands folded in front and heads bowed. Boy crawled behind them gagged and wearing what looked like a chastity belt around his groin.

“Aw, look at the poor kid,” Mr. Ainslie said.

“Sympathy will get you nowhere, Mr. Ainslie,” Ms. Banning said.

“But you look so damned good. It seems unfair to have him bound so tightly, and look at the size of that dildo! Good god, Ms. Banning! You are positively diabolic.” Mr. Ainslie bent to kiss her and she welcomed him with an open mouth.

“Brandie, fetch Ms. Banning a beverage,” Mr. Ladnier ordered.

“Red wine, little girl,” Ms. Banning added and looked at Mr. Ainslie. “I have more devilish schemes in store for you today.” She turned to Boy. “Boy, pay your respects to Mr. Delacroix so I can get you situated.”

Boy slowly crawled up to Gregory. As he came next to me, I inspected the leather contraption he wore. It consisted of a series of straps drawn so tight, the skin bulged. The straps were not as wide as mine, which seemed to cause more pain. They wound around his hips and under his crotch similar to the way Gregory bound me for my demonstration, but Boy’s testicles were crushed between two straps that traveled between his legs. I could see his skin bulging. His penis, not fully erect, was covered with thinner leather straps that would be excruciating with even a small amount of arousal. The two straps between his legs traveled up the center of each cheek on his backside; others crisscrossed tight around his fine ass. The marks would show for days, but most alarming was the enormous dildo shoved deep into his rectum, fastened tight by chains to the straps on his ass. I could not fathom his level of pain.

Greg watched impassively, but I knew he remembered being in Boy’s position. He looked somewhat impressed when Boy reared up on his knees, tearful eyes meeting his. Boy was breathing hard and sweat appeared on his brow as he worked to hold this pose for his host. Greg’s expression softened and his hand moved slightly toward Boy, but he did not touch. Boy bent again with a slight groan, placed his forehead on each of Greg’s feet, and slowly backed away. He was crawling away as Brandie approached with Ms. Banning’s wine. Ms. Banning took the wine without acknowledging Brandie and pushed Boy along using the dildo as a handle. I heard a sob escape Boy’s gagged mouth.

“Danny,” Mr. Delacroix said, “come, please.” Danny was startled at the request. His cocky attitude from the brunch had been swiftly knocked out of him at the sight of Boy’s suffering.

“Yes sir,” Danny said, still looking at his feet.

“On your knees, son!” Mr. Delacroix said and I watched as Danny immediately fell and placed his forehead on the floor next to me.

“I know everything that goes on in my house, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Danny’s voice was muffled against the wooden floor.

“Your attitude today at brunch calls me to question your behavior.”

“Sir?” Danny asked, turning his head slightly toward me, but Gregory kicked him.

“Don’t look at Miss Nez. This has nothing to do with her, Danny. I see and know everything that happens here at Twisted Oak.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will be watching you closely today, son. I demand respectful behavior. In my house, we do not disparage one another. Do I make myself clear, young one?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You watch and learn vicariously through your friend over there and don’t give me anything else to speak with Ms. Banning about. Don’t you forget, son, that according to your contract, I can punish you when you are in my house. Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, sir.”

“Very good, Danny. Now get down off here and stand up next to Eric.”

The others had entered quietly during Gregory’s reprimand. Surely they could hear it as they ascended the stairs. Ms. Portiere, dressed in summery white cotton gauze, snapped her fingers and Eric went to her and offered her his arm. Danny looked awkward standing alone. Mr. LeGeneret, dressed in slacks and a button-down shirt, stood arm and arm with Ms. Lang, who wore an orange chiffon shift that looked odd under the red light. Her light brown hair almost matched its color. Sunny was beautifully dressed in dark silk pants, his hair pulled back in a ponytail. Ty obediently stood at his side and a little behind, adorned with white leather cuffs and straps. The rest of the doms, Horne, Labelle, Walters, Meadows, and Starr, all stood and drank in silence until Gregory was through with Danny.

Silence ensued, except for the low music and a slight audible cry from Boy. I could not see where he was from my vantage point. Ty looked around in vain.

“Well, that isn’t how I planned this moment, but I had a very good teacher once who told me that punishment is only effective and meaningful if it is given swiftly and harshly. One should never wait until later to punish their subjects.”

Ms. Banning approached and raised her glass. “Good boy, Gregory. You remember well.”

“With fondness, Ms. Banning.” He sipped his water. “And so now you all see that I am nothing like Mr. Scott. While our little twisted traditions continue, there will be a tightening of some rules. Above all else, it is required to show one another respect. Ask permission before you touch someone else’s property—this goes for the doms, too. And you subordinates, I know you’re trained well by your masters to be submissive in every way, but that belongs to them and no one else. If you encounter a problem, talk to your master, and if that does not work, come to me, please. I simply cannot tolerate hurt feelings, petty gossip, and disrespectful behavior getting in the way of fun.”

The group did not move, but there were nods of agreement. Gregory scanned the crowd and was pleased to see Danny chastened and alone.

Ms. Banning ordered Danny to get on his knees. Mr. Labelle took his pants off and tossed them onto a nearby chair. He took Danny by the hair and guided his erect penis down Danny’s throat. Mr. Ladnier told Mr. Ainslie to take the reins with the girls for a bit, and Mr. Ainslie strolled across the room to the sitting area with a girl on each arm. Ty and Sunny followed them. Mr. Algrant pulled Air by her leash to the oversized mattress. As I followed their pace, I noticed poor Boy in the stockade, his ass pointing high for any dom to twist and push the straps and dildo. Mr. Algrant was the first.

Ms. Portiere said, “Eric, my dear, let’s have a look and see what Mr. Delacroix and his princess are up to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took her arm and they approached me and Gregory.

“Nezzie, come, get on all fours in front of me and give me head,” Gregory said, “but don’t make me come. Just shove it down your throat like you do so well. Make sure you spread your legs and present your pussy to Mr. Ladnier. He called first crack, my love.”

“Yes, my lord.” I did as told. Gregory was not fully erect, so his penis rested nicely in my throat. I sucked gently.

“I’m honored, Gregory.” Mr. Ladnier’s voice was directly behind me now. His hands clenched my hips. “She is quite prepared, my dear. You have done so well.”

“I am pleased to share, Charles. Proceed at your leisure.”

Mr. Ladnier’s manhood entered slowly. The pronounced head passed my opening. His thick shaft pressed and pushed into me. With every inch pushed into my vagina, Gregory’s erection grew into my throat. I let out a moan. Gregory gently stroked my hair and grabbed a handful to guide me gently up and down his hardened shaft. He let out a contented sigh.

Mr. Ladnier pulled out of me as slowly as he had entered and then back again. The slow cadence of Gregory and Mr. Ladnier was amazingly sensual. Let your body be your guide. My dear master was correct. He knew what I liked.

In and out both ends of my body, I let the sensation guide my mind. I was for this, for him. My breath was long and easy, accented with uncontrollable moans. The two men were capable of keeping me on the cusp of orgasm, that poignant existence before the free fall into the depths of carnal madness. I was aware of every sensation, every movement, muscle, every sound. Mr. Ladnier began breathing faster, but was disciplined in his movements, keeping the steady, slow pace. He reached down and tickled the outside of my vagina with his fingers. I fought the orgasmic wave that was beginning to churn in my center and I let out a moan.

“Steady now, precious. Steady yourself,” Mr. Ladnier said. “Steady girl.” He rubbed my rear end with his hands and spread my checks wide. His wet thumb slid into my anus slowly as he pulled his penis out of my vagina. “Steady now.” He pulled his thumb out slowly as he pushed his penis in slow, long, and hard. No pain, just pure, unadulterated pleasure.

Gregory kept the rhythm in my throat, gently tugging my hair. Mr. Ladnier’s voice was soothing and helped keep my breath even with the movement of Greg’s shaft. My body was open, my mind obliterated. I lifted my hips for more.

“Good girl, Nezzie,” Greg said and gripped my hair tighter. I opened more. I wanted more. Both thumbs entered my anus and he pulled me apart slightly before pushing them deeper. He kept them there while he moved in slow motion. He wiggled his thumbs while keeping his slow pace. I was on the verge, the very precipice, and both men pulled out of me slowly and stopped. I stayed in position and tried to put my mouth on Gregory’s erection, but he pulled my hair back. I strained my back to arch my hips higher, but Mr. Ladnier was no longer there. Maybe someone else was there to take his place. I did not move from that position in hopes of finding that edge, that clear point of no return.

“Greg, I . . .” I swallowed hard. “Please.”

“Shhhh, you have to pace yourself, my love. This is just the beginning.” He smiled and handed me champagne. “Sit, my love, and look around. Tell me. Who shall I have fuck you next?”

Mr. Ladnier came back with a fresh drink in his hand. He had left his trousers on the same chair where Mr. Labelle had put his. His erection was gorgeous. He was large, with a slight curve upwards. “You like my dick, precious?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, my little sweet, you took every inch of it like a good girl should. Miss Nezzie, you are a good fuck, my dear.”

“Nezzie, thank Mr. Ladnier for fucking you. You know your manners,” Gregory said.

“Thank you, sir, thank you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.”

“So, Nez, who’s next?” Greg asked. “Or do you want to mingle a bit?”

Ms. Portiere and Eric were still standing nearby. They had been watching the whole time and Eric had a full erection. She was whispering in his ear, but his eyes were on me.

“I say we mingle. We can’t have the subs fucking you before all the doms get their turn.” Greg unhooked the leash from the chair and attached it to my strap. Mr. Ladnier asked Ms. Portiere something and she nodded her head. Mr. Ladnier put his hands on Eric’s shoulders and pushed him to his knees. Eric hungrily took Mr. Ladnier into his mouth while his mistress kissed Mr. Ladnier.

The security of the leash pleased me, but now I was curious as ever and wanted more sex, and so did Greg. We were enjoying the heightened sensuality. He grabbed a pair of nipple clamps and tightened them just to that point of too much, that perfect point that illustrated my limits thus far. He kissed me and then gave them each a quarter turn more. “Just a reminder that limits are to be tested, Nezzie.”

“Yes, my lord. Please test them.”

He smiled as we approached the sitting area. Sunny was conversing with Candie and Danny.

“Where’s Ty?” Greg asked him.

“Mr. Meadows has him. I mean, Julien has him,” he smiled. “I gotta get used to calling them by their first names.”

“It’ll come, Sunny. Old habits do die hard.”

“I hope it’s okay that I agreed to lend him out.”

“What do you mean?” Greg asked as he handed me another glass of champagne.

“Well, he’s just so comfortable with everyone. It’s too much like a treat for him. I think I’m spoiling him with too much freedom.”

“Well, you’re the boss, Sunny. You can pull him in anytime.” Greg patted him on the back. “Nezzie had her first roast fuck just now. I gotta say, I’m proud of her.” He turned to me. “Your performance even got a standing ovation! Did you see the size of Eric’s hard-on?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Sunny, Nezzie here wants more dick,” Greg said.

“I do too,” Sunny said.

“Well, hell, Sunny, what are you waiting for? You’re on top. All ya gotta do is ask,” Gregory said. “See, like this.” He turned to Danny. “Hey, boy, Sunny here needs some dick. Do him up, son.”

“Yes, sir.” Danny turned to Sunny. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Sunny looked at Gregory, who said, “Just like that, kid. You’re on top and I can’t imagine anyone in here would turn you down. Why the hell would they? You’re fuckin’ smokin’. Now fuck him silly, Sunny. Bend him over that sofa and fuck him. It’s what he’s here for.”

“Yes, sir.” Sunny grabbed Danny by the back of the neck and bent him over the backside of the sofa.

“My poor Nezzie needs her pussy fucked. What shall we do?” Gregory teased me. “Hey Candie, where’s your Mr. Ainslie?”

“He’s with Ms. Lang,” she said.

“He left you here all alone?”

“Well, no, sir, I was with Sunny and Danny.”

“Indeed you were.” Greg turned to Sunny. “Hey, Sunny. Get down here on all fours and fuck Danny doggie-style so he can fuck Candie.”

“What, sir?” Sunny said between thrusts.

“Candie, come over here and put your hands on the sofa.” Gregory took her hand and led her to the front of the sofa. “Danny, get over here and fuck Candie from behind. Sunny, you fuck Danny from behind. That way everybody gets some.” He made a gesture like he was fucking Candie and she giggled. “Sorry, girl. Sunny’s new and needs some guidance on creativity and assertiveness. I’ll get him right for the next time.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

Danny and Sunny were lining up behind her as we walked away. “I guess I’ll need to help Sunny out a little more than I thought. He always struck a good balance with me. I never really thought of him as very submissive.”

“Really, my lord?”

“Yeah. I mean, he’s a good sub and all, but I thought he was more independent-minded.”

“I don’t think you realize how much we’ve come to depend on you for everything, my lord, even how we make decisions.”

“Oh, I’m aware, my love, totally aware that your mind is mine. Everything about you belongs to me. But Sunny’s been exercising more independence lately.” He continued, “As it should be, my love. As it should be.”

Boy was still in the stockade. His head hung low and his legs were bent, allowing his backside to droop. He was getting tired. To my dismay, Gregory spanked him very hard. Boy let out a yelp from behind his gag. The sound brought the attention of many, even those involved in the orgy. The room fell to relative silence so Greg’s voice carried when he cried, “Attention, Boy! This ain’t no disco! Straighten those legs! Get that pretty ass of yours in the air!”

Boy straightened his shaky legs and lifted his ass. His breath was shallow and ragged.

“Nezzie, pull the dildo a little and then push it in deeper.”

“My lord, I . . .”

“Do it, Nez!” He pulled on my leash, bringing me within reach of Boy’s dildo. “Remember, he wants it, otherwise he wouldn’t be here.”

Boy raised his behind when Gregory said that, as if telling me it was okay, so I pulled on the dildo, but it was well secured with the chains. Boy’s breath caught and he lifted higher for me. I pushed it in lightly and he rose up even more.

“See, Nez. He wants you to push it in more. Do it and twist it too.”

I followed my master’s command and Boy moaned. “Keep your legs straight, Boy,” Greg ordered and Boy locked his knees. “Nezzie, feel his cock. Feel how it’s all fucked up and twisted. Feel his balls, too. Look at them.” I balked and he pulled my leash. “Do it or I’ll put you in there next to him!”

Boy lifted himself onto his toes so I could get a better look. His suffering was complete. His distorted erection was throbbing and appeared darker in color than the rest of him. His crushed testicles spilled out over the straps. Sweat dripped from his brow. His breaths came in fits. I was worried.

“My lord, how long will she keep him that way? I think he is in real distress.”

“She’ll keep him that way until she sees fit to release him or until such time he uses a safe action.” He walked around the other side of the stockade and lifted his head by the hair to look into his eyes. “You in distress, Boy? Getting ready to use a safe action?”

Boy shook his head no and Greg continued to examine his face. “Fuck, if you aren’t a pretty one.” He looked over the stockade to me. “Nezzie, this one’s real pretty.” He looked at Boy again. “You’ll respect your mistress, son. She’s a gift to you. In all honesty, she doesn’t have to fuck with you at all. She could get rid of you in a heartbeat. You should be grateful you’re here.”

Boy nodded his head in agreement and made a noise.

“Shut up now, son, and when your giving mistress frees you from these bonds, you bend.” Gregory pulled his hair back harder and Boy’s neck strained. “Bend for her like you’ve never bent before. Break if you have to. Do you understand?” Boy nodded again. “Good boy. There’s a good boy. Now keep those legs straight and that pretty fucking ass in the air.” Greg turned Boy’s head and bent to kiss him, but before he did, he said, “I look forward to fucking your ass next time, long, sweet, and hard, so behave yourself. Be a good boy.”

Greg gave the dildo a push and a twist before we walked away. “Nezzie, he’s fine. When I was bound like that, I stayed in it overnight, about ten hours. He’s not seen anything yet.”

“My lord, what did you do to deserve that? It looks horrible. And what if you have to go to the bathroom?”

“Well, my sensitive little slut, as you know, it’s pretty hard to make anything move if the backdoor is occupied, but if it does, I suppose a safe word is called for. If one must piss, then they must endure the undignified process of wetting one’s self. I would never use a safe word because I have to pee.” He shrugged. “You’re still learning, but I am training you to go on my command for a reason, my queen. Go when I tell you to and hopefully, that will save you some embarrassment later on.” We stopped walking. “In fact, you should go right now before we get into anything else.” He led me to the door of an unoccupied bathroom and followed me in. “Piss, Nez. Now.” My body cooperated. “And as far as what I did to deserve that, I never kiss and tell. That’s between me and Ms. Banning.”

The oversized mattress was in full swing when we approached. Mr. Walters was on his knees giving Mr. Meadows a blow job, and Mr. LeGeneret was fucking Brandie while Mr. Ladnier and Mr. Ainslie were in the 69 position with each other. Eric, tethered to the wall happily, had Ms. Portiere riding him. Mr. Labelle waved us in and Gregory unhooked my leash. My heart skipped a beat as Greg pushed me into Mr. Labelle’s arms. Greg fell next to Air, rolled her over on her stomach, and lifted her hips with one hand under her tummy. Her long legs splayed out. Greg immediately went to work fucking her from behind.

“Miss Nez,” Mr. Labelle said, “newly collared Miss Nez.” He ran his fingers through the metal hoops on my collar and pulled me to my knees. I missed Monique’s collar. The width of the leather on my neck was uncomfortable. He filled his hands with my hair and pulled, bringing my eyes up to meet his. “Suck me,” he said.

I opened my mouth and he plunged into me. His long, thin penis went deeper than any had before. The head pulsated, but surprisingly, I could still breathe. It felt different, enticing, as it traveled my throat. I wanted to reach up and touch my throat to see if I could feel it from the outside, but as trained, I kept my hands to my side in full submission. He pushed and pulled me by the hair, and I tried to suck even though he was so deep. I felt as though if he came, it would go straight to my stomach. I loved this sensation. I could give Mr. Labelle a blow job all day long.

I felt fingers searching the opening of my vagina. I did not care to whom they belonged. I spread my legs and felt a rush of orgasmic energy flow through me as eager fingers searched my most secret places. Hands grabbed my thighs and a tongue traveled my crotch. Someone was under me performing oral sex. The eroticism, the sounds, the smells, soft skin on skin. How could I ever have feared this? I gave myself over to the luxury.

Mr. Labelle pulled his cock out of my throat and dragged me to where Gregory was fucking Air. It was so luscious, my surrender. I was his tool at that moment, for his pleasure. He could have dragged me across the entire room like that, but I was pleased to be nearer to Greg.

Mr. Labelle whispered something to Greg and he nodded. I looked at Greg in the midst of his game, playing the king, playing the master. He was in his element. He was supreme.

“I love you, Nezzie. I’m here. I got you, girl. I know what you like.” He smiled and fucked Air harder. “Go for it, baby.”

Mr. Labelle flipped me over on my tummy, attached a pulley to the hoop on the back of the strap around my waist, and lifted my midsection. I could barely touch the mattress with my toes. My hair blocked my peripheral vision. I was afraid because I could not see Gregory. This was a new bondage and a new partner. Hands reached out for my breasts. Brandie and Mr. LeGeneret each held one. The clamps pulled with the gravity.

Mr. LeGeneret gave his a twist and ordered Brandie to do the same. She twisted more than he did. The pleasure pain intensified. I reached for them, but Mr. Labelle, a man of few words, worked swiftly, attaching each wrist to the pulley system, and up they went at a forty-five-degree angle from my torso, straining as my shoulders neared hyperextension. My back arched, allowing my breasts to wave freely in the air. The chain attached to the nipple clamps swung back and forth. Mr. LeGeneret tugged it slightly as he kissed Brandie. It was surreal and out of control. I was beginning to panic.

“Jay, that’s far enough. She isn’t as flexible as some of the others yet,” said my master’s voice. The pulleys stopped. He was there. I could hear my master’s voice. I could let my mind go. He knew what I liked. He was there. I could let go.

Mr. Labelle entered my anus hard and deep. His grip on my hips propelled him in and out deeper than anyone had gone before as I swung from the pulleys, but it was not painful because of his shape. I could feel every inch of him go deeper and deeper. Hands on my ankles helped me swing in glorious rapture. Ty and Mr. Meadows curled up next to Brandie and Mr. LeGeneret, taking joy in swinging me as Mr. Labelle’s sacred sword drove into me repeatedly, deep and real. I felt the familiar awakening in me, but I did not want it to end. I was at that point of no return, of having to go over the edge and fall into the abyss, but I loved the teetering, the tease. I heard Gregory give way to his orgasm in deep moans and gasps.

A faint hum entered my senses until finally I could feel it in my core. There was no teetering, no teasing, I would go over the edge, fall endlessly into my pleasure. The hum escaped through my vocal cords and out of my mouth. I was the hum. I was out of myself. All that remained was my body, floating and filling up. Hands laying me gently down, soft sex sounds and sweet caresses.

When I came to my senses, Mr. Starr had Ms. Lang from behind while she gave Ty a blow job. Greg was on all fours. Mr. Ladnier and Mr. Ainslie were fucking him, Ladnier from behind and Ainslie in front. Sunny was lying next to me absent-mindedly caressing my breast, while Mr. Meadows lay next to him with Sunny’s dick in his hand. Air rested her head between my legs while her master, Mr. Algrant, sat in a chair kissing Eric. Candie tied Danny up to the chains on the wall and was giving him head.

“Nezzie, come.” Gregory’s voice was breathy, similar to when he’d come home from his run. Mr. Ladnier was keeping his slow, solid pace in and out of Gregory. “Come over here and let Mr. Ainslie have a go at you.” Air moved her head and Sunny helped me crawl to Gregory. “Yeah, stay on your hands and knees next to me. Let’s you and I get fucked from behind together.” He smiled as I aligned my shoulder with his. “Good girl.”

Mr. Ainslie came around behind me and ran his hand down the center of my back, slow and soft. His hand traveled down the center of my ass, sending chills of anticipation to all the right places. His hands caressed my hips and then he threaded his fingers through hoops on each side of my strap. “Ready, little lady?” he asked as he lined my vagina up with his manhood.

“Yes, Mr. Ainslie.”

“That’s good. I like to get me some pussy every now and again,” he said, his Southern drawl pronounced. “You’re so soft, honey.”

“Thank you, sir,” I murmured. He jammed into me hard and fast. My breath caught as he slammed into my cervix. The pain was alarming at first.

“Am I knockin’ at your door, little girl?” Mr. Ainslie asked.

“Yes, sir.”

He jammed himself in again, lifting my knees from the mattress. I whimpered and Gregory put his hand on mine. I could hear him breathing, enjoying Mr. Ladnier. I put my head on his shoulder and tried to breathe in tempo with him, but Mr. Ainslie was fucking me hard. With each thrust, my head would slip off Greg’s shoulder. He whispered, “Just take him all the way in. Nezzie, let your body take over. You’re doing so well. I knew you’d like it.”

“My lord, yes, I do. Thank you, sir.” I closed my eyes and let my head fall to the mattress. Mr. Ainslie pushed harder. I concentrated on Gregory’s breath. I loved his pleasure more than mine. Mr. Ainslie ground into me, moving my hips in a circular motion. The pain he gave me was exquisite. He was strong and held me off the mattress. The strap, having dug into my tummy the whole time I was with Mr. Labelle, was surely making a new mark as it pressed into me again. Dots of pain punctuated the scene, small islands that reminded me that I swam in a sea of pleasure.

Mr. Ladnier let out a low, slow moan and Greg grabbed my hair and pulled. Mr. Ainslie pushed deep, and as if on cue from Mr. Ladnier, filled me to the brim. I continued to swim.

I felt Gregory attach my leash to my strap. I hated the idea of getting up.

“Come on, Nez. You need a drink of water. You need to wake up out of this dream. I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry it can’t last forever,” he whispered in my ear.

42.

The weeks passed by and before we knew it, the weather had turned hot. I understood what Gregory meant about the heat in the city, but the evenings on the balcony were glorious because we could feel the river breeze. The oleander and crepe myrtle were in full bloom.

Every day Ty showed me a new neighborhood within the city while Gregory worked and Sunny slept. Ty knew every nook and cranny of the place and had family everywhere who took us in and fed us and listened as Ty told news of his legit life—all except for the fact that he was a gay man who was sexually enslaved by a white man. I suppose we all had our secrets, but at least he was speaking to his family.

In the afternoons, Ty would read to me from Kahlil Gibran’s book The Prophet, about a man who waited twelve years for his ship to come and take him back to the place of his birth. Ty liked the book because it was easy to read, but he also liked the lessons. He told me it helped him come to terms with his life. I likened Gregory to the prophet because he was finally going back to the place of his birth.

As Ty’s reading improved, we spent time at the library where I researched the city’s history. It helped him improve his grammar before our trip back to Twisted Oak. He seemed like a new person the morning we all piled into Gregory’s convertible. He was more confident and carried himself with more dignity. Going legit agreed with Ty. Sunny coddled him all morning, choosing clothes and deciding what to bring and what to leave behind. They were both excited to have rooms at the farm, as Gregory called it.

When the urban sprawl turned to cypress wetlands, I could feel Gregory’s demeanor relax; the prophet going back to the place of his birth. I knew that soon we would never go back to the city for any length of time.

“You’re so quiet. What are you thinking about?” I asked my lord.

He turned down the radio. “If you must know, I was thinking of the master suite, whether or not they’re finished painting it. I’m hoping the color we chose looks good.”

“I researched those colors, my lord. I tried hard to figure out what color they may have been when Monique lived there.”

Gregory shrugged. “I figured everything was whitewashed back then, but then again, who knows how they made that stuff.”

“Old paint from back then was made from milk, my lord; milk, lime, and clay that they tinted with earth pigments.”

“How the hell do you know that?” he asked me.

“I went to the library one day with Ty and looked it up, sir. Monique’s paint was probably tinted with iron oxide, umber, or ochre, maybe a little of all three, which would give the room a golden salmon color. It’ll look good. I also found out that you can still get natural earth pigments and milk paint to use. I guess it’s a lot safer than the new stuff.”

“Safer?” he asked.

“Yeah, no toxic stuff, my lord.”

“Brainiac,” he said. “You even overthink paint, for god’s sake.”

He shook his head with a smile as we turned into the long, tree-lined driveway.

* * *

The manicured lawns were lush this time of year. The oaks were fuller now that their leaves had come all the way out. I had not noticed before the crepe myrtles that lined the drive in the understory of the oaks. They barely had leaves when we were there last. The bright pink was stunning against the green backdrop.

The master suite was nearly finished in its new coat of ochre. It was bright and airy, so unlike when we left. The French doors opened wide onto the newly washed deck. The bayou breeze Monique loved flowed through the rooms. New outdoor furniture made up a sitting area, dining area, and a bar. Potted plants, ferns, azaleas, and sweet olive accented the corners and walls.

“I told you, sir, that it would look good,” I said as I hung a few dresses in the armoire. “Honestly, if all they have to paint is the one wall in the sitting room, we can move in right now and let Ty and Sunny have their own space.”

Gregory stood motionless in the middle of the sitting room as if in a daydream.

“What is the matter with you today, Greg?” I asked. “You’re on planet zero.”

“Pinch me,” he said.

“What, sir?”

“I’m sure I’m dreaming. Pinch me and wake me up.”

“Are you sure you want me to, sir?”

“Yes, Nezzie, pinch the fuck out of me.”

“Okay, you asked for it, sir.” I walked over to him and pinched him hard on his thigh.

“Ouch! Goddamn.” He put his finger around my collar and pulled me in close. “Thank god, I’m not dreaming.”

Sunny and Ty were ecstatic when I told them the rooms were theirs.

“Sir, we even get our own little kitchen,” Ty said as he opened the fridge. “Hell, sir, our bedroom is bigger than our entire apartment back home. It’s almost as big as my house. They got wine in here and cheese and stuff. Look at the fruit bowl. Is all this for us, for you and me, sir?”

Sunny patiently went to Ty’s side. “Yes, love, it’s for you and me, and ya know what?”

“No, sir,” Ty said, looking up at Sunny with those wide amber eyes.

“You deserve it because you’ve done so well. Now it really sounds like you belong in these rooms and not out in the village.”

Sunny’s matter-of-fact statement shook me a little, but Ty took it in stride. I suppose the reality of it was what it was.

“Thank you, sir, but you should thank Miss Nez, too. She helped me a lot,” Ty beamed.

“Thank you, miss,” Sunny said apologetically. “I’m usually pretty patient, but I guess language skills aren’t my thing.”

“Sunny, you’re the most patient man I know, and I say that from personal experience. Working with Ty turned out very well for me and for him. Ty showed me the city and then we read about it. I learned a lot and I had fun, didn’t you, Ty?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up an apple. “Can I have this?”

“Yeah, my love, it’s yours,” Sunny said.

I went to the bedroom and emptied the armoire so Ty and Sunny could move their things in. Gregory was standing on the deck when I returned to the master suite.

“Come see,” he said. I lay our clothes on the bed and looked at the backyard where the croquet green was. A large white tent covered the green. Chairs and tables were set about on the veranda and around the tent. Marie and Girl were flitting about giving orders and rearranging chairs. Men were pounding nails into what looked like a makeshift stage; a few more were laying out wooden flooring under the tent, and Samuel was on a ladder stringing lights. Thomas was frantically trying to count the chairs that Marie kept moving. He finally gave up and looked up at us with an exasperated expression.

“Happy birthday, my love, you have no idea how happy I am that you were born.”

“Thank you, sir, for finally giving me a reason to be happy about that as well,” I said, leaning against him.

“Look way out yonder,” he said, pointing toward the bayou. My gaze followed tiki torches that lined a pathway to the bayou. Beyond it was a vast landscape of wetlands, trees, knolls, and green lowlands filled with crops. “For almost as far as you can see, it’s ours.”

“Sir, thank you for sharing your life with me. I’m not sure what I did to deserve this, but thank you.”

“Remember what I said when I collared you, about pain and suffering?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s why you deserve it, why you and I deserve this, and not just our suffering, either. Others suffered before us to make this happen. We’ve got a responsibility to take care of it, to cherish it, and I believe you feel this way too.”

“Yes, sir, I do, very much,” I said and looked out across the expanse. I said a silent prayer that I was capable of carrying out this responsibility. The thought of disappointing him was staggering.

The afternoon pressed on with joyful hellos from Marie and Girl and sandwiches on the veranda as we helped the staff prepare for the party. I was surprised at how well Marie was doing, considering she was going through a divorce. Mr. Ladnier’s attorney friend was finding Jackson amicable at every juncture and, according to Girl, the divorce would be finalized in short order, “probably before the Fourth of July.” She went on to say, “I think Marie’s ready to be rid of him, but she worries about when he comes back.”

“Is he coming back?” I asked as I helped Girl straighten out a white tablecloth on one of the many round tables in the yard.

“No one speaks to him directly, but of course the attorney does, and as far as we can tell, he’s planning on coming back. But who knows?” She shrugged. “It’ll be what it’ll be. In the meantime, Marie’s doing really well.”

“How about you, how are you doing? Are you ready to go back home?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I’m not sure I’ll be going back to Baton Rouge,” she said quietly. “Don’t say anything to anybody this weekend—I wanna have a good time and it’s not a big deal, really. I haven’t made up my mind yet, but my dad’s not doing very well back in Cali. I may just head in that direction after I’m through here.”

“I hope it’s not too serious.”

“He was diagnosed with cancer a few months ago, so I don’t know. Maybe it’s time for me to go back. We’ll see.” She straightened her end of the tablecloth. “I talk to my mom a lot and she’s holding up well, but he’s starting to be a handful. I’m really not sure what I’ll do and Mr. Ladnier is getting more wrapped up in his work and his family. I just feel like the universe is telling me to go back home.”

“His family?”

“Yeah, he’s married and has three kids. Up till recently I felt okay about our situation, but his kids are getting older and they need him. His wife needs him, and as it goes, my family needs me back in Cali. The planets are aligning for me to head back west.”

“I see,” I said, not fully seeing anything. I would ask Greg about it later. “Family is important.”

“Indeed,” she smiled. “Can I tell you something in confidence?” She sat down on a chair not waiting for my response, and I leaned in closer to listen. “I think I’m in love with Marie. I want her to come live with me in Cali. She’s so smart and fun and talented. I think there’s opportunity out there for her and she values the simple stuff just like I do.”

“Oh my, Girl, I don’t know what to say. I sure didn’t see this coming,” I said.

“You probably think I’m nuts.”

“No, I don’t. Love is like that. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. I know that’s how it happened with Greg and me,” I smiled. I toyed with the edge of the tablecloth and looked at her seriously. “I just wonder if Marie would be brave enough to leave.”

“We’ve talked about it and she said she’d come to Baton Rouge with me, but I’m not sure she understands the permanence of it.”

“Give it some more time. Jackson won’t be back for another four months or so. Maybe by then things will be clearer. Can your parents wait that long?”

“I guess there’s a lot to consider,” she said, moving toward the next table and grabbing the tablecloth.

“Does Marie love you?” I asked.

“She says she does, but I also know she likes to fuck men.”

I giggled. “Girl, you know there are ways around that. One thing Greg has taught me is that we really can have our cake and eat it too.”

“Does he still fuck guys?” she asked.

“He hasn’t since the last roast, but I can’t imagine him never fucking a guy again. It’s who he is.” My thoughts went back to the roast. “For that matter, I can’t imagine me not ever fucking other guys either, or you,” I laughed, “or Marie.”

After we finished with the tablecloths, I found Greg talking with Thomas about the party. Samuel was setting up special tables just for eating boiled crawfish. A man was setting up a generator near the service entrance under a small tent. Greg said that was power for the band and the lights. I had no idea he would make such a production out of my birthday. No one ever had given me a birthday party before and I felt sheepish approaching him with my request.

“What is it?” he asked.

I leaned close to him and whispered, “I was talking to Girl and, well, we got to talking about how Marie likes to fuck men and I do too.” I stammered because this was the first time I had initiated any kind of escapade. I honestly did not know how to proceed.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked aloud. Thomas stood expressionless.

“No, sir,” I began. Thomas’s eyebrows went up.

“No?” Greg was incredulous. “Did you say no?”

“No, I mean, yes, sir.” Now I was confusing myself.

“Thomas, if you’ll excuse us for a few minutes, please.” Thomas turned tail and left.

“Nezzie, I think we need to have a word.” Greg grabbed my arm and dragged me in silence behind him around the front of the house, through the foyer and into the library. My groin was on fire. I was anticipating a punishment fuck. He gently pushed me to the floor in front of the sofa and sat behind his desk.

“Look at me!” he yelled and I jumped to attention. His eyes were that old familiar gunmetal color that entranced me all those weeks ago. “Do not ever say no to me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If you want me to fuck you, I will. All you have to do is ask, and if it is convenient I will, but do not deny me, ever.” He got up and began to pace.

“I want you to, sir. That’s the thing, but . . .”

“No fucking buts, either, Nezzie! Either you want me to fuck you or you don’t. What the hell?” He came at me and then turned away.

“I’m sorry, sir, I was trying to ask you to fuck me but I’m not sure how. And then I was also gonna ask if maybe we—you and I—could play around tonight with Girl and Marie and Sunny and Ty, too. It was just an idea I had when I was talking with Girl. We don’t have to. It’s your call.”

He turned and came at me. “You’re damned fucking right it’s my call.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to ask. I don’t know how to initiate, my lord. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fucking place to know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can ask me to fuck you anytime.” He was bending over me with his finger in my face. “You will never ask for an orgy, ever! Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, looking down.

“Look at me,” he yelled.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, looking into his terrifyingly sexy eyes.

“Jesus, you’re a fucking slut,” he said and put his hand down.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re my slut and it is not your place to slut around. You belong to me!”

“Yes, sir.” I leaned back on the sofa and spread my legs for him.

“God!” he said and turned his back on me.

“I didn’t suggest anything to anyone. It just crossed my mind and I came to you with the idea, no one else, sir.”

“You want an orgy, I’ll give you one.” He turned to me again with darkened eyes. “I’ll loan your slutty ass out to anyone who will have you.” His voice was a growl now and he was truly scaring me.

“Please, sir, I don’t want to,” I pleaded, and my brain scrambled to think if I had inadvertently agreed to this when he collared me. “I didn’t think that was part of the agreement.”

“Fuck,” he said and pulled me up by the arm. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be, not today.”

I could not tell if he was talking to himself or to me, so I stayed quiet.

“I’m sorry. I lost my temper.”

“I’d never deny you, my lord.”

“I know,” he said, “just don’t say no to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve been so perfect, so good, and I admit I’ve been selfish with you. I find it hard to share you just now.” He paused and then continued. “How long has it been since you were punished?”

“Almost four weeks, sir.”

“Do you require it, a little corrective measure?”

I recalled him telling me early on that someday I’d ask to be punished. “Yes, sir.”

“Maybe you’re right. I’ve spoiled you these last few weeks and you, my little slut, are getting too big for your britches. But I won’t fuck you. You blew that one.”

“Sir, but I want you to.”

“Too fucking bad. And if I catch you pleasuring yourself, you’ll have to wait longer. Do you understand that I call the shots here?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bend over, put your knees on the cushions, and lean on the back of the sofa. I’m going to spank you harder than you have ever been spanked.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Spread your legs and brace yourself.”

I followed his command expectantly. I could not believe I had asked for this. I was humiliated and titillated at once; the whole scene played out as if I was watching it on film.

He lifted my skirt to reveal my naked bottom and I lifted my ass in the air. He smeared his hand on my wet labia, making me moan.

“You like this shit, eh?” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good!” he said and hit me so hard on my right cheek that I fell into the cushions. The searing pain went through my body and into my brain. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm roiling inside me so I regained my breath, got up, and spread my legs again. I was thoroughly conditioned.

“Stand up. That’s enough.” He grabbed the back of my collar and pulled. A light-headed feeling as the collar tightened on the front of my neck added to the euphoric feeling. “You will behave yourself. Act accordingly as imminent lady of this house.” His voice lowered to a growl. “It’s not below your station to be tied up on the floor at the foot of my bed tonight and get nothing from me, do you understand? You’re oversexed, you slut, and I can cut you off any time I please.” He straightened out my skirt. “Neige Blanche Monique, don’t you ever take my dick for granted.”

“Yes, sir.”

He took his handkerchief from his pocket and dried my tears. “I love it when you cry for me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Do you understand the lesson, Nezzie?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me what you learned,” he said as he dabbed my cheek.

“I learned that I may ask you to fuck me and that you may or may not, that it’s up to you, and that I am never allowed to ask you for an orgy or to fuck someone else, that it’s your job to arrange those things, sir.” I paused. “And I’ll never take your dick for granted, ever.”

“Good girl, Nez. You’re a quick study.”

“Sir, may I say something else?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to fuck me, my lord.”

“As it should be,” he said, and left the room.

I was stunned that he could just walk away so easily from such a charged situation. I sat on the sofa and quickly stood because my backside stung. I was miserable because I knew I would carry that pain with me for hours, which would only enhance my want for him. I wanted to run after him and beg him to take me. Just as I was about to do so, Marie came into the room.

“Miss, are you okay?” She sat down next to where I stood. “Come sit and talk to me.”

“I can’t right now,” I said.

“Oh, you must be busy with all the preparations. Maybe we can talk later,” she said with a hint of rejection in her voice.

“No, it’s not that.” I lifted my skirt to show her.

“Oh dear, that must have been fabulous,” she said. “I miss it.”

I remained standing. “Girl says things are going well between the two of you. She really likes you.”

“I love her. I always have, but lately it’s turned into something different and I’m not sure what it means,” Marie said. “I’m not gay, I don’t think.”

“Maybe you and Girl should give it some time. You’re on the rebound from Jackson, so just take things as they come and see where it leads.” I sat down gingerly on the edge of the sofa. “Just enjoy each other for a while.”

“The good thing is that I don’t love Jackson anymore,” she smiled. “I’m over that because he wasn’t good for me. Girl is good for me. She’s like you. She sees the gifts I have.”

“And you have so many.”

“Girl taught me something that Jackson failed to. She told me about balance, that we’ve got to balance our need for pleasure with other things in life and that sometimes we can’t get everything we want right when we want it, that sometimes delaying gratification makes it sweeter once it comes. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes, I get it. Greg said I was becoming spoiled and I guess he’s right.”

“I don’t think you’re spoiled, miss, but if you are, you wouldn’t know it. The person being spoiled is rarely aware of it, and that isn’t your fault. It’s your master’s fault for indulging you too much and for forgetting to teach you about balance and self-discipline. Lucky for you, Mr. Delacroix is wise and he hasn’t forgotten.” She indicated the red handprint on my bottom by patting her own.

“I can see how it can happen, but I think I’ve got some responsibility as well, don’t you?” I asked, hoping to learn from her mistakes.

“Our masters,” she said, “are easily manipulated. He loves you so much that he can lose sight of those valuable lessons. Miss, this is when things start to fall apart.”

“Is that what happened with you and Jackson?”

“No, unfortunately Jackson never loved me, so he just didn’t care.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “Girl showed me this and it was hard for her, but she loves me enough to care. Now do you see? Your situation isn’t like ours was. Your master has spoiled you out of love.”

“So what do I do now?” I asked.

“Make it easier for him to teach you. First, back down. You’ve got to submit in every way. Don’t take the lead on anything unless he asks you to. Listen to him, really hear him, and he’ll open up to you like the oleander flower, pure and fragrant. Then tell him you wanna learn because you love him and wanna make him proud. Tell him you are for him and that you don’t wanna be self-centered or self-absorbed with your own pleasure. Remind him that you are here for his pleasure and his pleasure alone. Miss, these men, our masters, they get insecure. He’s scared of his dependence on you, so you have to be dependable in every way to alleviate his fear. In doing this, in being disciplined in this, you cannot become spoiled.”

“Thank you, my friend. You’ve just clarified so much for me.”

“You’re welcome. Now go out there and be his dependable friend. Don’t leave him, and stay by his side every minute you can, especially this weekend. It’s a special time and he wants you more than you realize.”

* * *

I found Gregory talking with Thomas over by the bar. Young men were stacking cases of wine and liquor and kegs of beer.

“It should be all right out here overnight, sir. We’ve got a lot of ice and a generator for refrigeration, and we won’t put the glasses out until tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Tom. I know you’ve got everything covered,” Gregory said as I approached.

I stood a couple feet behind Gregory until he put his arm around my shoulders with an audible sigh of relief. Marie was correct. She knew he wanted me by his side.

“Is it too much white?” He turned me to see the party preparations.

“I think it looks nice. Will there be flowers on the tables? Maybe they can be colorful to offset the white,” I said, being careful not to be too suggestive.

“I was planning on putting your roses on the tables in little rose bowls. I’m gonna put colorful confetti on the tabletops just for fun, because it’s a fun occasion,” he smiled.

“Thank you, sir, for all of this. I never imagined ever having such a celebration.” I paused and then continued, “I’ve never had a birthday party in all my twenty-two years. Why are you doing all this?”

“Nezzie, I love you, that’s why, and I wanna tell all my friends. I wanna show them how much I love you and introduce you to them. You’ve only met my friends that are in the lifestyle. Here, at this party, you’ll meet everyone in my life.”

“How many people are coming, sir?”

He led me into the tent. “I’m thinking about a hundred and fifty or so. You’ll see familiar faces, but this time, most of my New Orleans employees will be here. They’re all staying out at the village. They’re excited to come out here to the boss’s farm.” He laughed and took my right hand and placed his left hand on my waist, twirling me around as if we were dancing. “Some of my foreign wholesalers and customers are coming too.” He let go of me and got on his hands and knees to inspect the underside of the stage.

“Wow, sir, that’s a lot of people,” I said.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do, sir. The only people in my life are you, Sunny, Ty, Marie, Girl, and the staff.”

“Hmm,” he said and stood up, “sometimes that can be a good thing. It keeps things simple.” He slapped his hands together to remove the dirt and dust. “Don’t invite complications, Nez.”

“Yes, sir.” I followed him back toward the veranda to a pair of secluded rocking chairs near the wall of the house. He sat and I stood because of my tender bottom.

“Does your ass hurt?” he asked.

“Very much, sir.”

“Good, that’ll keep you on your toes.” He began to rock in his chair. “Ya know, kid, I realize it’s mostly my fault for spoiling you. It’s my fault for being selfish, too. I just can’t get myself to share you, and to be honest, I really don’t wanna do anyone else either. I’ve never felt this way before. This is all new to me, so I suppose I was hurt when you said you wanted to play this evening. I assumed you felt the same way I do. I projected my feelings and my needs onto you without discussing them first.”

“Are we discussing them now, sir?”

“Yes, and let me continue. It didn’t help that I’ve spoiled you rotten these last few weeks since we were here last. I suppose I got comfortable with you being with Ty and Sunny and so I let your leash go too long. I mean, what were you supposed to think? You were experiencing some freedom, some space, to make decisions on your own . . .” He cleared his throat. “How can I expect you to step in line without my being consistent with you? What the hell did I expect you to think?”

“I wasn’t thinking, sir, that’s the problem. When I stop thinking, I feel like Marie must have felt before Girl came.”

“How so?” he asked with a frown.

“God, sir, I feel like the only thing on my mind is fucking and my own pleasure. When I’m not allowed to think, when I totally give myself over as you have said I should, I get completely self-absorbed with my own pleasure. Sir, I don’t wanna be like that. The weirdest thing is, before you punished me, I had no idea I was being that way. I lost my way, sir, because I wasn’t totally for you. I didn’t even realize it. I know my being for you and your pleasure alone is where my real pleasure comes from, not the kind of surface pleasure one gets from slutting around.”

“I see,” he said.

“I understand now what happened to me and I promise to work hard never to let it happen again. I’ve gotta use my head here a little to keep myself real with you, my lord.”

“Are you finding balance, my love?”

“I think so, sir, but as you said, I required a little corrective measure. I depend on you to do this for me. Thank you, Gregory, for setting me straight today.”

“I’m pleased you understand. Come,” he patted the arm of his rocking chair. His hand went up my skirt and massaged my thigh. “I want you to know that I know where you’re coming from, but right now I’m not in a sharing mood, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said as my legs began to weaken. I let them fall open.

“Good girl, Nezzie, that’s a good girl,” he said and reached his fingers inside of my dripping vagina. “Mmm, good girl,” he crooned. His hand moved up and down each time, adding another finger to the width. I felt his thumb enter me along with the rest. He pushed slowly inside me. “Good girl.”

When he made a fist, I thought I would break in two. He pushed deeper, hurting me with pleasure. “Good girl. Relax. Let it come.” He moved his fist in small twisting motions. I could feel his knuckles pushing outward. He shook his fist slightly, which made me orgasm in fits. “This is mine, Nezzie.”

“Yes, sir,” my voice squeaked. I could feel my muscles tighten.

He pushed a little deeper, causing a rush of pain and dull pleasure. “I love you, Nez.”

“I love you too, my lord. God, I love you.” My juices flowed hard as my orgasm abated with a wave of dizziness.

He slowly pulled his fist out of me with excruciating pleasure-filled twists. “You’re a good girl and deserved that orgasm, but just remember, my little slut, I call the shots.”

43.

“Happy birthday,” his voice sang. He stood next to the bed with a breakfast tray.

“Oh, Greg, how sweet. Thank you, my lord.”

“You can stay in bed and eat there or eat out on the deck. It’s up to you.” He stood awaiting his command. It was late morning and I decided to take breakfast out on the deck.

“Samuel is giving golf cart tours to the arriving guests,” he said as he sipped a cup of coffee. “It’s kinda funny how they are so enthralled with this place.”

“I don’t think it’s funny, Greg. I can relate. Don’t forget that for you, this is normal, but for the rest of us, it’s exotic and rare. Darling, I’m still enthralled with it. I can’t believe it exists and that I’m part of it. I don’t think I’ll ever stop being enamored with it, sir.”

“How could I ever think you were spoiled?” he asked.

“Happy birthday, miss,” Marie yelled up to me from down on the veranda.

“Thanks,” I called out, and walked over to the railing. “Where’s Girl?”

“She’s comin’ and so are Sunny and Ty,” she said. “See you later!”

“The other day when I was talking with Girl, she mentioned Mr. Ladnier’s family,” I said to Gregory. “I had no idea he was married.”

“Yeah, he and his wife, Ella, have three kids. Nice family.”

“She knows about Girl?” I asked.

“Yeah, and the pilots, too. I guess to each their own; they’ve got an agreement and so it goes. I’m not sure if she has her own side thing or not, but they seem to work things out well in their marriage. If two people love and respect one another, it’s Mr. and Mrs. Ladnier. I’m not saying that all married folks should have an agreement like theirs, because each marriage is different, but I will say that every marriage should be based on the kind of love and respect those two have for one another. They never play games; they’re so honest and real.”

“That certainly is refreshing,” I said.

“I invited Ella to come with him this weekend. I hope she comes. I think they’d be great couple friends for us.”

“Couple friends, sir?”

“Yeah, another couple for us to do things with in and out of the bedroom; as I say, I admire their dedication to one another. I think they’re a good example of modern marriage.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All the doms will be here, so you’ll know people, but you’re the belle of the ball and this is a vanilla function, so you don’t have to show them any deference. It’s as if that game we play in private does not exist. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, I think so,” I said.

“All you need to know is that they’re old family friends, which is the truth, but folks don’t need to know what kind of friends they are. It wouldn’t play well with my employees and clients. Now you kinda get the drift as to why they aren’t usually invited out here.”

“Yes, indeed, sir.”

“But see, with you I want that to change a little. I guess I’m ready to be more real like the Ladniers,” he sighed. “So just keep our game on the QT this weekend.”

“You can count on me, sir. Oh, wait. Gosh. That means I can’t call you ‘sir’?”

“For this weekend only you may call me ‘sir,’ ‘my lord,’ ‘my god,’” he laughed. “‘Your highness’ only in the bedroom. Once we go downstairs, my love, I am merely Gregory, Greg, or Gregory-Michel, period. You’ll address me as you would anyone else.”

“Now that I’ve gotten into the habit, it may be kinda hard.” I thought for a while. “Can I call you ‘sweetheart’ or ‘honey’ or ‘darling,’ my lord?”

“You may call me anything as long as it’s nice,” he said, kissing the back of my hand.

“And you are so nice, my lord.”

“Come on now, get ready. I’ll wait.” He held his hand out for me and pulled my chair back. “I’ll wait an eternity for you, my love.” He slapped my tender bottom as I walked past him into the bathroom.

“God, that turns me on, sir.”

He stood outside the opened bathroom door and fidgeted as I slipped my robe off. “Oh fuckin’ hell,” he said, “I gotta fuck you.” He pulled his shirt over his head and pulled his pants down. “Get over here and show me your ass, wench.”

I giggled and ran to him. He guided me to the edge of the bed, turned me around facing him, and pushed me back. I fell freely, allowing my arms to flail out to the sides of our bed.

“Lift your legs and spread ’em.”

He grabbed my thighs and pulled me to the edge of the bed so my hips were hanging over. The anticipation was wonderful when he grabbed my ankles and stretched my legs so far apart that I felt I would break in half. I felt him line his dick up with my vagina, but he did not enter me. He teased me until I thought I’d lose my mind.

“Beg, Nez. Beg your lord for his sex.”

“Oh my god, sir, please, you have to fuck me. For the love of god, please!” I moaned.

“Hold still, bitch. Good god.” He pulled my legs wider until it hurt.

“Please, sir,” I whined and held still for him.

“That’s better.”

“Oh, please,” I said.

He rushed into me and immediately went into a frantic rhythm, not stopping or slowing, grunting with every thrust. I could feel the tension of his muscles as he pushed in as hard as he could. Sweat from his brow dripped onto my tummy, his gunmetal eyes glued to mine. After yesterday’s fisting, my insides were just tender enough to have pain with each thrust, pain turned pleasure turned orgasm. I knew everyone downstairs could hear my moans, but I did not care. This was my declaration of love for him, my cry that told the world I was for him.

* * *

The weather was gorgeous, warm, and sunny, but not too humid. We sat at our table near the back of the tent, with full view of the band. My sleeveless dress was sea-foam green, low cut, but more modest than usual. The hem fell just above the knee. I wore white sandals. My thick golden collar shown bright in the sunlight and my wrists, covered in so many gold bangles, jingled when I moved my hand.

People came by to say hello and Gregory introduced me to each one. He introduced me to a young woman from his office in New Orleans and her boyfriend, whom he had never met.

“Thank you for inviting us, Mr. Delacroix,” she said. “It’s such an honor to meet you, Miss Neige Blanche.”

“I’m glad you all came. It’s a very special day. I hope you all enjoy yourselves,” Gregory said. “I trust the cottage you’re in is satisfactory?”

“More than satisfactory, it’s precious,” she said, and her boyfriend, clearly intimidated, tugged her hand.

“Please let my staff know if there’s anything you need, and relax, son,” he said, looking at the young man. “It’s a beautiful day and we’re surrounded by beautiful women. Does it get any better than this?”

“No, sir,” he said, and the office employee blushed at the compliment.

“Go get yourself a beer and relax. The crawfish will be ready soon. Go on, son, it’s on me and you ain’t drivin’.”

Marie approached the table. “Miss, oh miss, you need to see it,” she said. “Mr. Delacroix, can I show Miss Nez the crawfish? They’re getting ready to dump the first batch.”

“I’ll come too,” he said. I took his hand, Marie took my other, and she pulled us toward the crawfish tables. People were standing around waiting for the feast, but parted when they saw us coming. Just as we got to the front of the crowd, Samuel and another young man carried a large steaming stainless steel basket almost half their height toward the tall table. A trash-can sat aligned with the hole in the center. A third man blocked the hole with what looked like a shortened canoe paddle and Samuel and his partner lifted the basket. Out poured hundreds of bright red crawfish along with pieces of sausage, brilliant yellow corncobs, lemon halves, garlic, small red potatoes, and mushrooms in a plume of peppery steam. Once the steam cleared, Thomas brought rolls of paper towels and set them on pegs around the edge of the table.

“Oh my god, that’s so pretty,” I said. “The colors are amazing.”

“They’re pretty tasty, too, but you gotta stand around the table and peel them. I’ll have some peeled for us and brought to our table for you to try, but let’s stick around so you can see how it’s done,” Gregory said.

Crowds of people went to the table and began picking up individual crawfish and peeling them, sucking out the juice, and discarding the exoskeletons into the hole in the center of the table before popping the meat into their mouths. Marie jumped in and made quick work of it, but she was choosey as to which ones she ate.

She handed me one, and Gregory took it and showed me how to peel it. He went slowly to show the technique. “Ya hold it like this,” he said, and placed the crawfish feet down in his right hand, with his thumb and index finger on either side near the head. “Then place your left fingers like so.” He placed his left thumb and index finger alongside the curled tail. “See?”

“Yes, sir,” I said and he glanced at me. “Yes, I see,” I corrected myself.

“Good, and so now all ya do is turn your right wrist, not really your hand, but more your wrist a little, and snap and pull. Voilà, my cher. You have peeled your crawfish.”

“That’s not too hard,” I said.

“It takes some practice. You’ll notice some folks sucking the juice from the head,” he said, nodding at Marie who was happily sucking before chucking the head into the hole.

“I don’t know about that.”

“Well, some folks do and some don’t.” He sucked the juice from the head of our crawfish. “It’s just basically spicy water with probably a little brain. It tastes good,” he said, leaning in to toss the head into the hole. “Here, try the tail. It’s good.” He placed the crawfish in my mouth. The spicy meat was tender, firm, and very tasty.

“Oh, wow, that’s good. A little spicy, but very good.”

“Yeah, they come from the marsh. They live in shallow, muddy, brackish water. I’ll have to ask Thomas where these came from, but I’d bet they come from right out there.” He pointed to the bayou and then grabbed a paper towel and wiped his hands. “You’re lucky I hadn’t been peeling crawfish yesterday when I gave you that hand job,” he whispered, and took me by the arm to escort me away from the tables. “You’d be having a real fire down below,” he giggled. “Come on, let me show you what they look like before they’re boiled.”

We walked toward the service entrance of the house, where large white coolers were lined up with hoses running water into them. Live crawfish writhed all over one another. “Oh dear,” I said and he laughed.

“It’s a local tradition this time of year, all through the river region from the lowlands of coastal east Texas to Flora-Bama. You’ll get used to it.”

He looked around for Thomas, who could not be found. He grabbed the nearest staff member, a young white woman, and asked her to have someone peel three pounds of them and bring them to us at our table. “Don’t forget all the fixins, cher,” he said to her and then turned to me. “We’re not dressed to peel crawfish. Besides, you need to be fresh for my announcement later.”

I looked at him questioningly and he quickly changed the subject. “Let’s go get a beer to go with our crawfish before the band starts playing.”

We mingled through the crowd that seemed to be growing by the minute. I met so many people. I was sure I would never remember any of their names. Mr. and Mrs. Ladnier were standing near the stage, but they were ensconced in conversation with another couple and a single man.

“I’m so glad Ella came,” Gregory said.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable for her with Girl here?” I asked. “I wonder where she is. I haven’t seen her all day.” Maybe Girl was the uncomfortable one.

“I’m sure she’s around somewhere,” he said. “Ella knows about Girl and there’s no discomfort. Ella’s in the know about everything; she is Mr. Ladnier’s wife and the mother of his children. To him, she is everything and the others are toys, hobbies, if you will.”

“I see,” I said.

“I hope so, baby girl, because one thing for certain is the mother of my children will be the goddess incarnate in my eyes. She’ll be my everything. What other reason is there to live?” he asked as we approached a group of people near the corner of the tent.

“Robert,” Gregory said, “welcome to Twisted Oak. I’m pleased to see you.”

The handsome, well-built, middle-aged man smiled and held his hand out to shake. Gregory took it with gusto.

“Please let me introduce you to Neige Blanche. Neige, this is Robert Sinclair, my associate from Central America.”

“How do you do?” I said and held my hand out.

“Quite well, mademoiselle,” he said, taking my hand and kissing the back of it. “This is my wife, Elena.”

A Spanish beauty, ten or fifteen years younger than Robert, Elena had hair that reminded me of Marie’s, though Elena’s was almost black.

“It’s my pleasure, ma’am,” Gregory said, and kissed the back of her hand. “Neige and I are honored by your presence.”

“Thank you, Mr. Delacroix,” she said in perfect Spanish-accented English. “Your home is lovely. Neige Blanche, you are a lucky woman,” she said with a smile.

“Indeed I am, Elena. Thank you,” I said.

“Greg,” Robert said, “I know how inappropriate it is to speak about business on such an occasion, but I want to let you know the papers came to my office yesterday, so the ships sail Monday, signed, sealed, and delivering. Your decision to change insurance programs was insightful.”

“Thanks, I’m glad to hear it, but no more business today,” Greg said.

“Quite right,” Robert agreed. “You’ll have music?” he asked, pointing to the stage.

“Yep, in a few minutes they’ll begin. Local, homegrown music, a little zydeco and blues with some rock and roll mixed in. I think you’ll all enjoy it.”

“Neige Blanche, your dress is delightful and that color on you is very attractive. It brings out your green eyes. You should wear it all the time,” Elena said.

“Thank you, Gregory-Michel chose this one for me today,” I said.

“You’ve got very good taste,” she said to Gregory, “and the necklace is so unusual. I’ve never see anything like it.” She leaned in to have a closer look.

“Again, I give Gregory the credit,” I said.

“It’s an old family piece, been in the family for centuries,” Gregory said.

“I see,” she said. “Yes, it seems very old, but that is the charm of it, no?”

“Yes,” Gregory said, “in so many ways. The things we have in our lives should have meaning, don’t you agree?”

“Very well said, Greg,” Robert said.

“Neige Blanche, you must carry a lot of meaning for Gregory if you wear such a treasured heirloom,” Elena added.

“Very much, my dear,” Gregory agreed.

People were starting to find seats at tables with big plastic trays filled with crawfish, corn, potatoes, and sausage. The smell of fiery spice filled the tent.

“Jon McAllister and his wife should be here,” Gregory said.

“Margaret is her name, I believe,” Elena said. “We saw them at a convention in London last year. She’s lovely. Robert, darling, let’s try to sit with them.”

“My darling,” Gregory said to me, “Jon is our man in London who’s been instrumental in negotiating with the blasted insurance companies. He’s also head of operations in our European sector. A true Englishman, if I do say so myself. Elena, they’re a lot of fun, those two, aren’t they?”

“They are quite charming, especially after he gets into his scotch,” she laughed. “Neige, you’ll enjoy them. He is the consummate British colonel and she just takes it in stride with her . . . how do the Brits say it?”

“Stiff upper lip, my dear,” Gregory said, “but Neige, she is hardly stiff. They’re just a lot of fun and that man works his ass off.”

“Elena, I want you to meet Matthew Williams, Greg’s man here in New Orleans,” Robert said, taking her hand, “if you’ll excuse us.” He clicked his heels together and bowed his head.

“Of course, my friends,” Gregory said, “we’ll talk soon.”

“Gregory-Michel, you’ve got people all over the place, don’t you?” I asked him.

“Yeah, we’re global,” he said, taking me behind the bar to get a beer. “But today isn’t about business.”

Young black men were behind the bar serving beverages and did not notice us taking big plastic glasses and filling them with beer from an open tap. People waiting in line waved to Gregory and he waved back, telling them to all please have a good time. I saw Charlotte Portiere standing in line with Eric, and Ms. Banning was there from New Orleans talking to Ms. Lang. Everyone was dressed casually and looked relaxed and happy. I wondered if Eric was back at Crest Hill with Ms. Portiere. He was terribly handsome.

“Boo!” Sunny said as he came up behind us with that sunlight smile. He looked fresh and relaxed. “I see ya sneaking beers,” he laughed.

“I hope the sucker hosting this party doesn’t notice,” Gregory laughed. “Fuck, you look good,” he said to Sunny, clearly working hard not to kiss him.

“Thanks, you all don’t look too bad yourselves. Ty’s around here somewhere, but I lost him. I guess he’ll be okay.”

“I haven’t seen Girl all day,” I said.

“Oh, I have. She’s been in the kitchen. She can’t help herself. She loves to cook and play around in there with the staff. But I gotta help the band get set up and plug in. I’m gonna play a couple songs in the first set.” Sunny took off behind the bar toward the stage.

It took us over a half hour to make it back to our table, with Gregory introducing me to about fifty more employees and their wives, husbands, boyfriends, and girlfriends. By the time we sat down, our beers were empty, but within minutes, Thomas was there with new ones in heavy glass mugs with our names engraved on them. “Samuel will bring your crawfish momentarily, sir. Is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment, thanks,” Gregory said, and Thomas took the plastic glasses. Before he could leave, Gregory said, “Thomas, I really mean it. Thank you, brother, for everything.”

“It’s my pleasure, sir,” he said with a smile and glanced my way before leaving.

“He’s such a good guy,” I said.

“Ya know, aside from my dad and Jack, he’s been like a dad to me. He’s been around my whole life. I can’t imagine this place without him.” He looked in Thomas’s direction. “I can’t imagine my life without that man.”

Marie and Ty sat at our table together, talking about how good the crawfish were.

“But if you squeeze ’em too tight, the shell doesn’t come off right,” Ty said.

“I know, but you have to hold them tight enough to peel. I think you dropped them on purpose so I would peel them for you,” Marie teased.

“Marie-Louise,” Gregory said in mock surprise, “you were peeling crawfish for a black man and not the other way around?”

Ty laughed. “She sure did, over a pound of ’em.”

“Miracles never cease,” Gregory said as Mr. LeGeneret approached our table. His lithe body glided over the ground.

“Such an indulgent day, mademoiselle,” he said to me.

“Like nothing I’ve ever dreamed of, Mr. LeGeneret. I’m happy you’re here.”

“How are you, Leo?” Gregory asked him and shook his hand.

“Very well, Gregory-Michel,” he said, leaning closer to me. “Happy birthday, my girl.” He held his long hand out for mine and kissed the back of my hand. “What a delicious addition.”

“I couldn’t agree more, my friend. How about you? Aren’t there any special ones you might be interested in?” Gregory asked.

Mr. LeGeneret sighed. “No. I can’t seem to find any single person with all the qualities I like, but maybe she’s out there. I think I’ll have to travel to find her. The local girls are . . .” he paused and looked at Marie and then continued, “I can’t seem to find anyone locally. You’re lucky, Gregory, because your Neige Blanche came to you.”

“An answer to my prayers,” Gregory said.

“I didn’t think you were the praying type,” Mr. LeGeneret joked. “I’m not, it’s just a figure of speech. Don’t worry, you’ll find someone when you’re ready, Leo.”

“I hope so. I don’t wanna be like Charlotte or Jefferson when I’m their age,” he said, referring to Ms. Portiere and Mr. Walters.

“You won’t be, my dear. Look at you. You’ve got the three T’s, my friend,” Gregory said. “Time, treasure, and talent. Don’t worry. The right one’s out there for you and if you want to travel, I’ve got some projects brewing in the Pacific Rim. Maybe some nice Far Eastern culture would be good for you, if you know what I mean.”

“Let’s talk next week. I may take you up on that, Gregory. I’m getting terribly bored lately,” he said, and walked off.

“Poor Leo,” Gregory said to me, “he can be so depressed at times. I find it helps him when I give him work to do. We all need to do something productive and that guy just doesn’t have self-motivation. Typical trust funder who can’t get himself to work regularly, but when I put him to work, he always comes through. It’s a puzzle to me. He complains about being bored, but does nothing about it other than play sex games with his girls. There’s just more to life than that, don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “I think it goes hand in hand with our lesson yesterday about becoming too self-absorbed. I mean, if you’re in it for only yourself, no matter what it is, work or relationships, there’s no meaning. It’s just shallow and means nothing.” I stopped to think. “Mr. LeGeneret is really spoiled.”

“And lonely,” Gregory added.

Samuel came to us with two large plastic trays piled high with peeled crawfish, corncobs, potatoes, and sausage. Garlic cloves and mushrooms dotted the pile. He handed us flatware wrapped in cloth napkins.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome, miss. Would you like another beer?” he asked. Gregory piped in, “Yeah, get us another round. Nezzie, you’re gonna need another beer to cool your mouth off after this,” he smiled.

Girl finally joined us. Sunny sat with the band, leaving Ty to enjoy the two women. The music was unbelievable, better than any I had heard in the French Quarter. The joy the sound created was contagious. Even Mr. LeGeneret was laughing and carrying on.

I enjoyed watching Ty sitting between Girl and Marie. He was handsomely dressed in natural linen slacks and an African patterned shirt of gold and black. His ringlets bounced when he danced or shook his head. He became more effeminate as the afternoon progressed, and took turns dancing with Marie and Girl; sometimes he would dance with both of them at the same time.

Sunny was on stage and smiled brightly as he welcomed all the guests. He talked about the day he met me, and took full credit for introducing me to Gregory. Even though he was hamming it up for the crowd, I still felt it unfair for him to take all the credit, though Ty didn’t seem to mind.

“Where would we be without our friends?” he asked. He looked at Ty and I thought the boy might melt. Ty mouthed the words “I love you” to Sunny and blew him a kiss.

“We’re all sitting here because it’s Miss Nezzie’s birthday. Now I have to tell you, she came into my life as a new friend and confidant and she also made being Greg’s best friend a little easier. See, cuz now that she’s around, I don’t have to listen to him whine about being so lonely. So anyhow, I sat down the other day and wrote a song about how she came into our lives, but it’s also a song about how, no matter how lost we are, we can be found again in love. I call the song Lost and Found with River Tide. Nezz, baby girl, this one’s for you. Give me an A minor, boys.”

The crowd grew still as we all listened, and I thought I’d cry even before he began.

“She comes to me on morning sunbeams with river tide, the smell of night lingers. She brings to me gifts of sadness; of light with river tide she survives the darkness. She gives to me shades of hope; happiness with river tide contentment at my door.”

He looked up at me with those empathetic eyes. I knew he was talking about my withdrawal. Gregory held me tight and handed me his handkerchief.

“My lost girl holding fast to a life so far away. My lost girl found at last, found at last.”

Ty started bawling, so Marie and Girl took him to the table and comforted him while Sunny continued.

“She stays with me and shares her soul's gift, with river tide in her eyes I am found. She loves with me; warmth, love's caresses with river tide in her kiss I am freed. She laughs with me, sweet friendship cherish. With river tide, in love, peace we reside.”

He strummed more sweet chords and hummed the refrain.

“With river tide in love, peace we reside. My lost girl holding fast to a life so far away, my lost girl found at last, found at last. In your peace, I am free.”

I could not help myself. I broke free of Gregory’s grip and ran to Sunny and he jumped off the stage to hug me.

“I’m so glad you’re here, cher,” he said. “God, I love you and I couldn’t be happier that Greg finally has what he’s been lookin’ for. Thank you, Nezzie.”

“Okay, ya’ll, folks are gonna get ideas about you two.” Gregory grabbed my hand and hopped up on stage, bringing me with him. “Truth be told, if you all haven’t met Tyrone—he’s in the back with the ladies,” Gregory said, pointing, and all eyes went to Ty, Marie, and Girl. “If you haven’t met Ty, I suggest you do. He’s a lovable character and Sunny’s partner. The truth is, Ty, being the social creature that he is, met Neige Blanche in town one day and introduced her to Sunny and Sunny introduced her to me, so I guess we can all thank Ty for this.”

Ty stood up, bowed, and waved to the crowd like he was a princess in a parade.

“Thanks, Ty, for everything. I owe you, friend. I owe you big time.”

“I love you, sir. I really do.”

I cringed when Ty called him sir, but no one seemed to think it was strange. Ty went around the crowd to be at Sunny’s side. I started to leave the stage and Gregory pulled me back. The band set their instruments down. It was quiet. I could hear the generator running.

“Neige Blanche, this isn’t usually my style,” Gregory began, “but here we are among friends. Love at first sight happens all the time and Sunny was right when he said it happened with us, or at least with me. I fell in love with you from the moment I saw you. Thank you, Nezzie. I love you, girl.” He got very serious. “I’m the happiest man in the world because you were born, so that’s why I would be honored if you’d marry me.”

He reached into his pocket and took out a ring.

“Oh, Gregory-Michel,” I said in disbelief. “Oh my god.” I put my hands to my mouth and then to my throat, feeling the thick golden collar. He was apprehensive and his electric blue eyes glittered in the daylight.

“Yes! Yes, I’d be honored,” I said, shaking with nerves.

He took my left hand and slipped on the simple solitaire diamond, set in yellow gold to match my collar.

Epilogue

All the children are here this year for Thanksgiving. It has been a couple years since we have all been able to get together, what with their school and work schedules. They are young adults now and have their own lives. The weather is balmy for this time of year, so I sit at our desk in the library with the windows open. Soon, we will begin decorating for Christmas.

Let me begin with my birthday party all those years ago. I recall feeling as if I could float away to never-never land, and metaphorically, that is what I did.

We married on Christmas Eve of that same year here at the farm, and this is when the customs stopped. It was time for us to start a family and Gregory wanted no question regarding paternity. My name officially changed to Neige Blanche Monique Delacroix. The girl that existed before was long gone by then.

Gregory is such a good father. I could not have found a more devoted life mate. He is always good to me, but treated me like a queen when we decided to get pregnant. He lovingly kept track of my cycles to ensure pregnancy and helped me maintain a healthy diet to ensure the health of our children. He did it for me, too, because childbirth can be dangerous and he wanted to make sure I was ready. He is so dear and still treats me thus. I could never imagine loving him more than I did all those years ago when he swept me off my feet, but with each passing year, we grow closer in new, deeper ways.

I became pregnant with our first child, James Madison Delacroix II, shortly after we married. James is handsome and strong and has his father’s intense, electric blue eyes, but his thick curls are blond like mine. He has taken a liking to Leo LeGeneret’s eldest daughter, Simone. She is beautiful, tall, slim, and brown-haired with large brown eyes like her father. James has finished the MBA program at Yale with honors and is preparing to move back to Twisted Oak in the spring to begin working with his father.

He is interested in the lifestyle, which is good considering Leo did not spare any time or expense training Simone. After finishing her undergraduate studies at Cambridge College in the United Kingdom, he sent her to Rouen, France, to learn our ways. James will spend a few months in the city at the Banning house before coming home to court Simone in earnest. For this, I suppose I am grateful, but as his mother, I hope the pain is not too much for him.

Gregory is such a good teacher. He speaks openly with James, as he will with all the children when they are old enough about our experiences and expectations if they choose to enter the lifestyle. He even gave James a tour of Ursuline, and James confided that he had already been experimenting with the apparatus all through college. Gregory says James comes by it naturally and he is pleased that James has chosen the traditional Twisted Oak discipline. James told me that he would not do anything his father and I had not done. I support my son because if I had to do it all over again, I would not change a thing.

Leo and Gregory have arranged for the marriage, so we have demolished the abandoned cottages near the back of the village so James can build a home for his bride. Gregory painstakingly saved the cypress planks and bricks for use in the new construction. I have no doubt James will build a lovely home at Twisted Oak, but until it is finished and he is married, he will stay in the east wing when he finishes at the Banning house.

Our second child, Anna Catherine Monique, is bright, outgoing, and very pretty, with her father’s eyes and wavy sandy-blond hair. She graduated last spring from LSU and took the year off to travel. She will attend graduate school in San Francisco to obtain her doctorate in Humanistic Psychology. She is intensely intuitive like her father and very analytical. She has an uncanny ability to live in the moment; she experiences the present like no other person I know. I am grateful for this because she will always follow her bliss.

San Francisco seems far away, but Girl and Marie are close by and she is only a quick plane ride away from us. She has no designs for a special man currently, but would like to be a mother someday. She has seen the playroom and her father lovingly shared the secrets of our lifestyle with her. He tells me she was full of questions and listened attentively to his answers. She told her daddy her interest in our behavior is academic in nature, that she travels her own physical and intellectual path. As a scientist, she remains objective. As a human being, she is a mystery to both of us.

Genevieve Marie Blanche was born on a stormy morning. The oak twisted as hard as my womb, and I labored for a long time. Gregory was very worried, especially when the lights went out, but before the break of day, Gennie came into the world with a fighting spirit. Gregory and I laughed when he said she was a born dominatrix. As well, she is; top of her class, top of her athletics, top of her social clubs, and so much like her mother, hardheaded and cerebral. She will graduate next year from Wellesley with her bachelor’s degree in Political Science and plans to continue that path. Her goal is to be president someday. If anyone can do it, it is my Gennie.

Our last little love came to us not without struggle. The pregnancy was going very well until the beginning of the last trimester when I began to experience contractions. Dr. Hartman put me on strict bed rest and advised I spend the last month of my pregnancy in the city near the hospital. Gregory and I trusted his judgment, as he had successfully delivered all the children thus far. Thank god we did. We were barely settled into the apartment when I awoke in the middle of the night with painful contractions and bloody sheets. Gregory went mad with fear and thankfully, Jack was there to call the ambulance. The last thing I remember before waking up in the hospital was the inside of the ambulance. Gregory decided then that four children were enough. I returned to Twisted Oak with a healthy baby boy.

Gregory-Michel Jr. is our athlete. He is in his first year at Georgia Tech on a full-ride tennis scholarship. Gregory is optimistic for him. We are pleased to have a “techie” in the house. Already it has changed our business in so many positive ways. Greg Jr. will eventually work for the family business after he finishes his education. He loves his tennis, though, and struggles with staying in school while playing the semi-pro circuit. We will see how this goes, but his father is adamant that he stay the course with his education. It is so important for Gregory to have educated prodigy, and in this, I agree. But I do not want to push Junior too hard in one direction or the other for fear he will rebel and become destructive. He is moody and impulsive like his father. In this way, he lives up to his name; when pushed, Junior pushes back in spades. I think about how Gregory struggled at that age with very little guidance and I thank the stars he is here for his son. I suppose being the youngest makes Junior feel even more compelled to prove his independence. He is a keen competitor, so bright and calculating. Gregory says Junior will benefit the most from a few months at the Banning house. I agree, but oh, how our children challenge our balance.

I have never seen Greg so happy except maybe when the children were born. The business thrives and our children do too. Every now and again, we pinch each other to make sure we are not dreaming. He has done well in maintaining my dreams. I love him more than life.

We have become very good friends with Ella and Charles Ladnier and every Christmas they come with their family to enjoy the holiday. They have three grandchildren now, and it is nice to see the children’s wing back in use. The Ainslies, Barnes and Paige, come regularly too. The six of us share a special bond raising our kids together and sharing our love. It is nice to have a little variety every now and again. We have had terrific holidays together traveling the globe and indulging our pleasures as a group when we can. I suppose as we have gotten older, we have mellowed, but inside, those young beautiful people still exist.

Marie left Twisted Oak with Girl, first to Baton Rouge and then on to San Francisco. I did not realize back in the day that Girl was heir to a sizable fortune, and they live in luxury out in those California hills. We all flew out there this year for their wedding. The two of them adopted a baby girl they named Sierra. They opened a recording studio out of which Marie has made numerous records of her own and with Sunny. The successful studio is a hub for new artists and a beacon for world musicians. I am pleased to see Marie doing so well and having such love in her life, another dream come true for me with a little help from my friends.

Sunny and Ty are happy living in Treme, in Ty’s house. The two of them are still so dear to me and we see each other often. After Junior left home last year, Greg and I have been spending more time in the city. I sit on the balcony of the apartment and watch the people in the square, the locals understanding the tragic nature of the place and the tourists confounded by it.

Jackson came back to Twisted Oak before our wedding, demure and chastened by his experience. I think Greg still feels bad for what happened. Occasionally, the three of us talk about it. Jackson understands why Gregory did what he did, but even so, Greg being so sensitive, he struggles with his own insensitivity at the time, especially now that he has experienced the kind of love Jackson had for his father. He says he does not know what he would do if he lost me. He often refers to his fear when Junior was born. Those old insecurities creep in, but I love his protective nature because I understand that he treasures me more than life itself and that I am his in every way.

Jackson lives in the apartment with his partner, Lane, and they seem very happy. Greg and I spend a lot of time there in the city when we are not with Ty and Sunny. Luxury condominiums replaced the youth hostel, and you can buy a loft in the rice mill for a few hundred thousand dollars. Greg and I considered buying a place, but we have Ty, Sunny, Jack, and Lane to stay with when we are in town.

My favorite place to this day is on the balcony of the apartment reminiscing about those youthful days. In turn, Greg and I welcome Jack and Lane to our home. Sometimes when they are visiting, and Jackson does not think anyone notices, I see him linger over the elder James’s picture and I hope Lane does not see. I cannot imagine being so heartbroken, but Lane is solid and strong and very handsome, just the kind of person Jack needs as he approaches the last years of his life.

I have spent over half my life with Gregory. How in the world did I get so old? How in the world did I ever end up here with such a charmed life, with such an enchanting partner? I am not sure if there is a god, but if there is, he smiles down on me every day. Fortune smiles on, and I have Greg to thank for it, and my dear loving friends.

I contacted my mother after we were married, before the children came along. She seemed pleased to hear from me, but true to her form, she was more interested in what I could give her. Soon, her phone calls stopped after many attempts to get money from me. I had my new family, new ways, and new values. I called her every time one of the kids was born, but since Junior, I have not heard from her. It has been nineteen years and I wonder if she is still alive.

Thomas passed away last year. We miss him more than I can say. I worried about Greg because his grief took such a toll. It was as if with Thomas’s passing, he lost another piece of his father. Gregory wanted to bury Thomas in the family plot, but Thomas’s family insisted he be buried in the village with his people and so it was. Oh, my sweet Gregory has such a vulnerable heart. My poor love still has to learn that you cannot control everything. I pray to god, or whoever will listen, that I do not die before he does; I fear he would not survive it. I take comfort in Tali’s prediction all those years ago that Gregory will die before I do.

I am still as devoted to my loving lord as I have ever been. He has aged with grace and is even more beautiful than when I first met him. The dark curls are as thick as ever, but now tinted with gray, making his electric eyes even more striking. He takes care of himself, and so has not lost too much of his build. We both look after ourselves because we intend on enjoying one another for a long time to come, even though we have slowed down a bit.

The children changed everything, which we knew they would, but when Junior left home, we embraced some of our old ways. We even dusted off the apparatus in the playroom; what a fun way to reminisce, and it keeps us in tip-top shape. We have traveled more as well. When the children left home, I began to research the family history in earnest. I have come across amazing stories of fortitude, good fortune, and suffering, but above all, of powerful love.

Greg’s support for my plans to write the family history, to chronicle it for future generations, kept me focused, and so it begins here with this book, as I had to begin where I came from.

Each of us has a story, a real human story of poignancy and substance. Thank you for allowing me to share mine with you.

Neige Blanche Monique Delacroix

Twisted Oak Estate, 2013