Chapter 28
Freddie
After wandering Nyctra and getting a feel for the place, I’ve decided I’m in love with it. I always knew I was kinky, especially once I started my blog and work took off with invites to parties, sex toy launches, and secret goth markets at midnight hours.
But there’s something about this club that had an almost…
familial feel to it. Which is crazy because incest is such a turn off but I got this feeling from the club that everyone was looking out for one another.
Like a kinky community where it’s safe to be your real self.
Maybe it was because everyone I’d so far met with affiliations to Nyctra had all been extremely nice to me.
There’s a pull to it I’ve felt nowhere else, even back home.
The next morning as I wake buck naked with the spring sun streaming through the bay window in my room and heating my peach up just the right amount, I check my phone to see not only a text from Simmons but an email from him too.
Seems it hadn’t taken him that long to decide about the contract and offer me the chance at a D/s relationship with him.
I grin, rolling onto my back and kicking my legs up like some sort of gossip queen on the phone with her bestie.
Giddy that I’ve made an impression on him big enough to warrant the sudden offering.
I thought he wouldn’t offer me a contract for at least a couple of weeks after my proposal.
Does he still feel what I do? Sparks fly every time we’re in the same room, but for some reason his brain is telling him I just want to use him then go on my merry way.
Well, I’ll show him until he finally realises it for himself.
A standard D/s contract and a list of his hard and soft limits are attached to the email.
They pretty much aligned with mine, so that’s a good start.
What he said last night about being cruel?
God, that turned me on so much that my cock nearly blew the snug pink cage I was wearing to smithereens.
Restrained with nothing but his dirty words in my ear, I’d still manage to cum.
The devil himself couldn’t outdo Simmons on talking utter filth.
I fill my part out, adding my hard limits of no breath play, no scat, or spitting.
I was going to put penetrative sex as a soft limit, but to be honest, I don’t think I’ll mind if Simmons is the first to breach me with a real cock since all I’ve ever had in there before is a plug.
Having never done it before, I’m apprehensive, but I trust him.
I just hope he can’t tell that I’ve never done it before.
I don’t want him to think of me as inexperienced or na?ve because I’m not.
Just because I enjoy the thrill of being untouched until I can no longer stand it doesn’t mean that I’ve not got sexual experience. I run a sex blog for fuck’s sake.
Just as I’m hopping in the shower, I get a reminder that I have edits to do on my latest post. Ugh, work.
Although it’s a fun topic blog, work is work.
I throw on my cosiest PJs and throw a coffee pod into my ridiculously expensive machine and make myself a caramel macchiato.
Then I go to my office, which has a massive bay window and a reading nook.
That’s where I do my best writing. Slipping on my thick-rimmed yellow glasses, I set to work editing until my eyes are heavy and my stomach is yelling at me for sustenance.
Something that loved-up couples, throuples and everyone in between doesn’t realise is the irritating as shit cooking for one situation.
God, I hate it. Everything is made for two or more.
Why hasn’t someone invented a single, lonely and pathetic food range yet?
Am I projecting my sad and lonely life? Well, yeah, probably.
I make a quick dish of rice, Moroccan chicken thighs and feta salad, then listen to a sex education podcast I’ve been into recently.
My thoughts, as per usual, float into Simmons territory, and I wonder what he’s doing for dinner tonight?
It’s a workday, so he’s probably in a suit, tumbler of whisky in hand, big cigar between his teeth, looking all buff like Arnold Swazernegger.
Okay, maybe I am making assumptions about him based on what little I know of him.
Is he instead buck naked, dancing to Dolly Parton and eating cookie dough ice cream instead of a sustainable dinner?
Fuck, I wish I knew. To be honest, I’d drag my feet across broken glass for any version I can get of him.
Some might think that because I forgave him at the club so easily that I’m allowing Simmons to hurt me again, but really, I was understanding of why he did what he did at the hospital.
Yeah, it sucked, but putting myself in his shoes, he probably thought I was just being nice because I was volunteering and we had a history.
I wish he had told me the real reason, so my brain would stop catastrophizing other reasons.
It wasn’t ideal to ask for a scene only relationship.
I want more with Simmons, so much more that it scares me.
Maybe I should have made those feelings known to him, but I just can’t handle anymore rejection from him.
Because I had started to accept my lonely life here.
That random hookups aren’t for me. That I have particular sexual interests that most in a loving relationship might not want.
It’s hard to start something with someone when there’s this massive possibility that they would eventually ask me to tone myself down or get out of the sex business or take off my cage and be a ‘real’ man.
It was exhausting to think about it. So, I knew a real-life situation would be unattainable.
Those thoughts had started to change in the time between the expo and now, though.
Simmons was different. There seemed to be something beyond his Dom persona that was like me.
I had a need for care, for complete visibility and acceptance, as the world seemed cold and lonely otherwise.
Kody had told me that Simmons couldn’t keep a sub.
That his last one was only servicing his cock once a week at his office.
Would his contract have a similar plan for me?
Simmons was in for a shock if that was the case. Yes, I would crawl under his desk and service his big bear cock that wept with delicious honey. But I would turn up in a head to toe latex outfit, caged and with a gag that had a cock attached so he knew I had warmed up my throat for him first.
My Dom deserved the best. And boy, is he going to get it.