26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Maya
T he gunshot wounds had looked worse than they actually were. Flesh wounds , as my guys had called them. Jason’s had a deep graze through the side of his bicep, while Marcos’s was a fairly simple through and through in his calf muscle.
I had patched them, stitching and bandaging them, before ordering them to rest.
Resting, turned out to be a joke for men like Marcos and Jason, though. I had managed to keep them home and in bed for day and half—mostly with bribes and blow jobs. Half way through the second day, they compromised for the couch, but I knew after that, I would lose them .
It was for the best, though. I was going stir crazy myself. I was still trying to figure out if I should come clean, especially now that Dax knew who my guys were. There was too much pressure. Too much riding on me keeping my mouth shut.
Dax was dangerous. His threats were real. I could lose my men.
They’d already been shot.
What would he do if he found out I told them about the mayor? As far as I knew, my guys had no idea what I had witnessed. What would happen if they found out Dax was threatening me?
They would go after him. Harder than they already were now.
And he would kill my guys.
No, I decided. I would not be telling my men. I could only pray that this skirmish with Las Serpientes would be the last one. They got their pay back for their missing shipment and raided warehouse. That was it, right?
I paced the empty living room, deep in thought.
Marcos, Jason, and Nico had gone to the clubhouse, despite my pleading that they stay home. Apparently two days home was enough to heal from gunshot wounds.
I shook my head. I couldn’t stay home. I had too much restless energy. It was a Friday night, so I pulled out my phone and made a call. It had been too long since I last saw my friends Arturo and Karma and the whole gang anyways.
Karma answered on the second ring, loud music pumping through the phone. “Yo, Maya!” she yelled .
I laughed and wiped away tears that had immediately welled up in my eyes at the sound of my friend’s voice. “Hey girl! It’s been too long!”
“Fuck yeah, it has! What are you doing tonight? Come on through!”
Again, I laughed. “Hell yeah, that sounds great! Give me an hour, and I’ll be out that way!”
“Right on!”
Smiling and suddenly excited, I hung up the phone and headed for the stairs. I needed to change my clothes and order a ride share. There was no way I would be driving tonight. I’d be breaking one of the cardinal rules in my relationship, but I found that I couldn’t bring myself to care.
The party blazed on around us, just like old times as I sat in an Adirondak chair in front of the roaring fire.
Music pounded from speakers on the back deck and people milled about the huge yard.
Next to me, both Karma and Stephanie were smiling and sipping drinks as Arturo told a riveting tale of an architect design fail that had happened on the job, that was funny enough with how Arturo told stories.
Kyle and Travis were manning a beer pong table on the deck and shouts could be heard as they closed in on their opponents .
It felt like old times. Only person missing was Kara. Well, and Terri and Hunter, but I hadn’t talked to them in the last two years. Terri was abroad traveling most of the time and Hunter moved out west for med school.
My heart clenched at the thought of my best friend. Phone calls had grown more distant in the two years since Kara had moved to Harvard. Kara’s relationship with Marcos was rocky, and it made it difficult for Kara to speak to me some days. There was too much emotion there.
Just like it was hard for me to constantly lie to Kara when we spoke. There was too much I couldn’t tell her about: the club, the guys being shot, the threats and stalking. It was all just too much.
I forced myself not to think about it all. I downed the rest of my drink and laughed loudly at Arturo’s story. This, I could handle. My friends, this party, this night; I could handle this.
Knowing what would be waiting for me when I finally went home? That was a problem for another time. My phone had started blowing up about an hour ago. It was going on one a.m. so that was typical for my men.
I hadn’t texted them that I was leaving. I left a post it note on the counter that I was going out with friends. They didn’t need to know I went to Karma and Arturo’s. This was my little slice of heaven—my safe space from it all .
I would allow myself to have this for tonight, and tomorrow I would face the consequences of my actions… namely the ride share I would be taking while I was fucking wasted in a couple hours.
It was going on three-thirty in the morning when the car pulled down the long driveway of our rental house. I was struggling to stay awake in the back seat. In the back of my mind, I realized how dangerous of a decision this had been, but I was home safely now and that’s all that mattered.
I was a little surprised that my men didn’t come running out of the house the second the car pulled up, though. I could see all the lights on in the house. They were clearly still awake.
Dread settled into my gut as I climbed from the back of the car. I mumbled something to the driver, before I stumbled into the house.
The house was quiet. Utterly quiet. Though every light blazed on, not a sound could be heard. “Fuck,” I muttered to myself. The silence made my struggles all the more defending as I fumbled with the knee-high boots I was wearing.
Why the hell would they leave all the lights on, if they had gone to bed?
I started shutting the kitchen lights off as I headed out of the room, then the dining room. When I got to the living room, I jumped back in fright, letting out a high pitch shriek as I found all three of my guys sitting on the couch.
Jason, Marcos, and Nico were lined up on the sectional, elbows on their knees and heads bowed as they waited for me to come home. All three heads slowly raised to meet my gaze as they took me in.
“Fuck,” I muttered again. I could feel their disappointment radiating off them in waves, the heaviness of it weighing on their shoulders. My own shoulders slumped upon taking in their disappointment. “I’m sorr—”
“How’d you get home?” Jason spoke over me, cutting me off. He stared at me emotionlessly, almost coldly.
I swallowed thickly. “Rideshare.” I barely mumbled the words.
Nico hissed, shaking his head.
Marcos growled low in his throat.
Jason continued to stare at me with that unattached gaze in his eyes. “Go to your room. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Tomorrow.” Jason lowered his voice, deepening it.
I gulped. Nodding blankly, I fought back tears as I headed for the stairs. I knew they would be upset, but I’d never seen the three of them like this before. It was almost enough to push me to using my safe-word. Something I hadn’t had to do in a very long time in our relationship .
No, I decided. I made my bed, now it’s time to lie in it.
I made my choice earlier in the evening—a very sober choice—I would face my consequences head on and accept whatever punishment my men deemed fit.
As was the nature of our dynamic. We chose this lifestyle.
I made my choice to use a rideshare, not once, but twice tonight.
I slept fitfully, waking up cold several times—not used to sleeping alone—before I finally gave in and got up around six-thirty. I hoped to make my guys a big breakfast before they had to leave for the day.
Instead, I found the house empty. They had left already. Or had they even gone to bed? I couldn’t remember what time I had gotten in, but I knew it was late.
On the kitchen counter I found a note, though. Jason’s neat slanting script was evident even from across the room. My heart sank as I slowly walked across the kitchen, dreading what it might say.
I let out a shuddering breath. It was impersonal as a note could be. No name, no other emotion giving away his feelings, besides the all caps and underling of thoroughly . I knew what he was hinting at there, how he expected me to clean my asshole in prep for their punishment tonight.
It was another little punishment that I would be expected to carry out myself: an enema.
God, it was embarrassing. The thought alone had my face turning red and my body heating.
My heart sped up. It wasn’t my first time doing an enema.
With all the anal we did I had looked into ways to keep things cleaner while playing.
I usually did one every couple of months, discretely, on days I knew they wouldn’ t be home.
I kept the supplies in a storage bag under the bathroom sink and my guys only knew about it because said sink had leaked at one point and they had to clear out everything to clean.
Thankfully my stuff had been in a sealed bag and hadn’t gotten dirty, but I still made sure to thoroughly clean everything before my next use.
After a brief conversation about what had been in the bag, they let the topic go. Nico occasionally bought me new tubing or inserts, but they showed up in packages under the sink, and no one spoke of them.
This was the first time they were using it as one of my punishments, though. It was the first time I was being directed to cleanse myself so thoroughly. My heart raced as I reread the note from Jason.
I had a busy day ahead of me, I better get started.
I was shaking slightly as I filled the one-liter enema bag with distilled water.
After a full day of cleaning, I had forgotten to eat.
It had been for the best, though. I had a cup of coffee to cure the slight hang-over I had woken up with and then hit the ground running, cleaning every square inch of the house.
After my body had had its regular bowel movement post coffee, I figured it was time to clean myself out.
Filling the liter bag, I set down the jug of water and then pinched closed the top of the blue medical bag I had filled.
The bag was hanging from a hook I had attached to the towel bar and I had the anal probe attachment clipped to the side of the bag with a binder clip as to not fall and get dirty.
The probe was attached to a six-foot clear tubing that ran up to the blue medical bag full of water.
I laid a couple towels down on the floor, just to be safe, but at this point I was confident I wouldn’t need them. I was pretty much a pro at holding things in by now—both figuratively and physically.
Unclipping the anal probe—a narrow four-inch hollow cylinder with a slightly flared opening with a small hole for the water to pass through—I laid myself down on my left side and slid my right leg forward.
Not bothering with lube, I ran the probe through my slit, gathering my own juices, before I brought it back to my ass and slowly slid it inside my asshole.
The idea of this being used as a punishment, both degraded me and turned me on. I always got off on the idea of enemas before I started doing them to myself. The idea of it was degrading and embarrassing, but I couldn’t help that the process of it turned me on.
With the probe fully inserted, I reached back for the stop lever on the tubing and slid it open. I moaned softly as the cool water invaded my bowels, filling me. This part was always nerve wracking. How much could my body take? Would my stomach expand ?
I had worked myself up to a full liter of water in the time I’d been doing this, but it still was uncomfortable the more the bag emptied inside me.
Breathing through the coolness as my intestines slowly began to cramp, I glanced back at the bag to see it was almost done, almost completely inside me.
I took another deep breath as the bag emptied, before I slowly pulled the probe out of me.
I had to clench down to hold the water inside of me, knowing it would be more beneficial to the cleansing process if I held the water in as long as possible.
I had read many medical articles regarding safe enema use, knowing full well the risks of the procedure.
The kink community websites I followed also drilled in the importance of safety, while understanding the benefits of cleaning .
In the end, I had found a safe balance of when to use and how often.
After a full ten minutes of holding in the water, my stomach was cramping hard and I barely had time to stand and move to the toilet to empty myself.
In the end, the pain, hassle, and the mess were worth it.
When I was fully empty and cleaned up, I inserted the lubed up, bejeweled stainless steel butt plug into my now cleaned ass, and groaned as I got used to the stretch.
Jason had set out the largest of the plugs that we owned, meaning he fully intended to be inside me later that evening, Jacob’s Ladder and all.
The day dragged on, my body aching from both my hang over and lack of sleep. My anxiety weighed on my mind. Intrusive thoughts got the better of me as I thought of just how disappointed my men had been when I came home the night before.
Once again, I thought about coming clean about Dax and then warred with myself over keeping quiet and keeping my men safe. I had made myself so nervous that anytime I tried to eat, even a piece of toast, my stomach rolled and I couldn’t do it.
By the time dinner rolled around, I was a mess.
The house was spotless, though. Had probably never been cleaner in the two years that we lived there.
But I was a mess. Exhausted and sore, I muscled through my shower, washing everything and thoroughly shaving every nook and cranny before I rinsed off and wrapped a towel around myself.
I had enough time to soak in our large free standing bath tub before the guys got back home, so I fully intended to. Now that I was shaved and fully clean, I could lay back in the hot water and soak away my worries—or try too at least.
Without knowing exactly when the guys would be home, I couldn’t risk falling asleep, not if I wanted to try and get on their good side—and I would need to try to get on their good side if I wanted to survive tonight’s punishment .
I had a feeling it would be worse than anything I’d been through before. I could only hope that our relationship would survive it.