Chapter 9 Freddie
FREDDIE
I can’t stop thinking about Nora, or the bombshell she dropped on us last night.
Brett and I have never been the closest of brothers, but then again, I can’t say I blame him. He was four when I was born, and he’d just gone through a rough time with his mom leaving his dad, and then all of a sudden I came into the picture to pull focus from his mother.
But for a while, we were it. We were the two Sterling brothers and all we had was each other; and as such, even after Russell and Tommy were born, we still very much held that bond. Until Brett got picked up by the NHL, and I stayed with the AHL.
And sure…over the years, things have changed, but I reasoned that change is inevitable.
I don’t think Nora would lie about something like this, but I’m not as impulsive as Russ or as removed as Tommy.
I like to know all the information before I make a decision.
While that might be aggravating to some people—like Russ—it’s also always kept me on the safe side of things. It’s helped me win plenty of games too.
Details are what is most important, and sometimes when you’re invested or emotionally compromised, you don’t see the forest for the trees.
Which is why I need to talk to Brett.
I need to know if what Nora is claiming is true and if it is…I’m not sure how I’m supposed to handle that sort of thing. On one hand, I know it’s not really any of my business what Brett does or how he lives his life. Especially because I have my own to live.
But on the other hand, he’s family—whether he wants to be or not—and his actions affect the rest of us too.
I pace back and forth in my kitchen, debating whether to call him or just…not. Brett and Nora’s relationship problems are none of my business. And if they did break up, then that’s between them and it’s not like I owe Nora anything.
But I can’t help but feel that urge—the need I haven’t felt in a long time, resurfaced in her presence. The need to provide. To care.
I felt it last night at the club, when I saw her. Dancing with Russ. Drinking. When her friends were pulled from her for one reason or another.
She wasn’t my responsibility, but I reasoned that breakup or not, she was still someone I cared about. Even if that care was misplaced.
Because the truth is I that I hadn’t felt that dominant desire Nora brought about in me last night, in years.
Most of my family think I prefer to be alone because I don’t want a girlfriend, because of my failed engagement, but in truth, it’s a lot more complicated than that.
I can’t exactly explain to my parents or my brothers that my interests and relationship dynamics are a bit more niche than just finding a sweet, cute girl to date.
I have…needs.
Needs that most women would balk at or judge me for. Because most women just see my dominance as a need to control them, or they see my list of soft and hard limits and get as far away as they can. Which hurts more than it should.
Which is why I prefer to keep my sex life—and my subs—and my relationships separate, if only because the last time I tried to integrate my ex into an arrangement, it didn’t end well.
As in, the lines got a bit blurry and Vicki—my ex-fiancée and sub—pushed me too far. Over the edge.
I safe-worded when I knew I was getting too close to the danger zone. I needed control. I needed to be in control, because it was slipping fast. But she didn’t listen. She pushed me. Said she didn’t hear me, but I don’t know if I believe her.
She thought that because of my preferences for consensual-non-consent and my breeding kink, that I’d be fine with what happened, but I’m not. I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with what happened, because even now when I think about it, I feel conflicted.
I didn’t know she had stopped taking her birth control. She didn’t tell me. I didn’t know she was trying to get pregnant on purpose. I was too trusting. Too wrapped up in the newness of our engagement. I was young. Stupid.
I thought I loved her and she loved me, but…
She wanted my money. Not that I had a lot of it then, since I’d only just signed to the Lions, but she thought, like most people, I had access to that NHL money because my brother had just been picked up for a professional contract.
I don’t know if I can ever trust a woman again. Not after what she did.
She took my choice away, and I’ll never forgive her for it. She assumed if she got pregnant, because of our engagement, I’d be thrilled.
Maybe if we’d had a discussion about that before she forced me to come inside her when I didn’t know the risk, things would have been different.
She assumed that because of our scenes, because of the nature of those scenes—that I wanted to actually get her pregnant.
But I didn’t. I was twenty-one. I was still exploring my kinks and my preferences and I wanted to have fun. Hockey was my first priority, and I figured if we got engaged, we could ride out an engagement until I was ready to focus on building a family of my own, in a few years.
The last thing I wanted was to have a baby then.
Scenes were just that for me—scenes. I know enough of myself to know what turns me on mentally isn’t the same thing I want in real life.
It’s a way for me to control the situation. Control my wants, my needs. The release isn’t always sexual. Sometimes it’s just about what I can give to my sub and what she allows me to provide for her.
I like it when a woman begs for my cock, begs me to fill her with my cum.
I like the idea of swollen breasts and bellies and pushing my cum back inside my sub as she begs me to breed her. But that night, Vicki didn’t heed my warning, and ever since, I haven’t been able to bring myself to consider finding a girlfriend again.
When someone shatters you like that, trust isn’t afforded easily. Which is why it’s just…easier to not be with anyone. To not give anyone that kind of access to me again.
And she wanted a baby. Not my baby, just…a hockey player’s baby. I realized that after we broke up and she started sleeping with other players on other teams, like our rivals the Badgers.
I’m not sure what hurt more—knowing it wasn’t actually me she wanted, or that she thought she could babytrap me, or that she destroyed my trust and and fucked me up for life because of what happened.
Maybe all three.
Sure, I miss having sex, but I don’t miss being taken advantage of, and I certainly don’t miss feeling used like a damn stud pony. I tried to date after that, and for about a year I just tried hiring subs to do scenes, but neither seemed to work.
The girls I tried to date wanted to have sex—and I didn’t. And most of them took one look at my sub contract with my preferences and said fuck this. It’s not worth it.
Flash Sterling is not worth the trouble.
And the subs? They worked for a little while, until they’d get attached. Until they wanted more, and I couldn’t give that to them. I couldn’t risk them blurring the lines.
I got lucky with Vicki, when she turned out to not be pregnant, but it was a wake-up call.
The only person who knows what really happened between Vicki and me is Brett.
I told him after one of his games, because I was shit-faced—after I found out through the pipeline that Vicki was pregnant.
She’d been fucking a few guys off the rival team, and no one wanted to tell me since it was still a sticky subject because we were freshly broken up.
She was about four months pregnant, and we’d only been broken up for five months, so I know she moved on fast.
I told Brett what happened that night, because I was upset. Because not only did she destroy my trust, but she didn’t really want me. She didn’t love me.
If she had, she would have never pushed me over my limit.
I was broken up about what happened between us. Part of me thought she wanted my baby because she loved me and just…went about it the wrong way. Assumed my kinks meant I wanted the same thing. And I struggled with that pretty hard, because I thought I loved her and maybe I was being an asshole.
Maybe I could give her a baby if she wanted one. Maybe I could give her the things she wanted if I tried harder to accept her wants and needs…
But when I heard about her and Kreuss, when I heard she slept with three men off the Badgers and didn’t know who the father was, I knew it was never about me.
She never wanted my baby. She just wanted to be a kept hockey wife and didn’t care who was going to foot the bill.
That was seven years ago.
Seven years since I swore off dating all together, in favor of focusing on my career and my family so I would never be hurt by a woman again.
And I was fine with that. I was fine working through my trauma on my own with my sex toys and porn and the occasional visit to the sex club. I was fine with taking out my aggression on the ice or on scrubbing my kitchen counter. I was fine taking care of Tommy and Russ. They became my priority.
They aren’t women, obviously, but I still get to scratch that provider itch once in a while because I do take care of them.
Make sure they have everything they need.
Make sure they stay hydrated, well-fed, and of course if they have a problem with anything, they know they can come to me. No matter what.
It’s not the same as taking care of a woman. A partner.
Or a baby.
I try to shove the thought away, because I feel like an asshole when I think about Vicki and the baby we could’ve had. Despite what happened between us, I know deep down beneath my trauma and kinks…
I do want a baby. I’ve always wanted to have kids and a family of my own, and I still want those things. I just…didn’t want them then.
Now I’m older, and I think about it a lot. But I’m also aware enough to know that I’m too fucked up for that to happen. No woman in their right mind would want to deal with my trauma, my kinks, and my trust issues.
And I was fine with that.
Until Nora showed up last night and scratched that provider itch.