Chapter Fourteen #6
But yet… holy shit. What if it was? So what’s why Cassiel’s wife had died before her time. He’d fucked her to death.
What a way to go. I could only be so lucky.
“You think this was Emperor Cassiel’s idea, and he told Charlie to do this?”
I did my best not to laugh.
“Yes, but you’re insinuating that’s not the case,”
Abigail stated.
“It’s not. Some people can take this lifestyle too far, and it can get abusive. But for other people, it can actually be a safe choice. It’s all about how well the couple communicates.”
“How? Explain it to me.”
Abigail’s eyes flashed. “As far as I’m concerned, all this is about is a woman being subservient to a man.”
“This lifestyle isn’t dependent on gender roles. A man can be submissive to a woman, in this kind of situation, and couples with queer identities can participate, too. If you’ll have an open mind, I can tell you more.”
Abigail held a breath, then let it out. “Very well. I’ll listen to whatever my princess has to say, because I want to understand the situation, and be sure you’re safe.”
I leaned back in my chair. “Charlie and I are full-time dominant and submissive. We know our roles, and we live them out at all times, including outside the bedroom. If I listen to what he tells me, then he rewards me.”
“But is this something you need to do?”
Abigail asked.
“For my mental health, yes. But also, no. I can be Charlie's sub, but I could never be anyone else's. I love this life and the dynamic we have, but he’s my one and only, and I could never be intimate with another person like this, because even though it’s a lot of fun, it requires me to be excessively vulnerable. And he’s the only man I could ever be that open with.”
“And how does he… dominate you in a respectful way?”
she questioned.
“We’ve created our relationship to be respectful by default, because we both have our needs, and if we don’t get what we need from this, it doesn’t work,”
I said. “He needs me to trust him. He needs me to know that he’s going to respect my boundaries, and take care of me after he pushes my limits. This kind of situation doesn’t work if he doesn't love me and I don't love him. What we have is a power exchange, where I’m giving him something valuable, and he’s giving that back to me. I know some people are into this kind of lifestyle for just the dynamic, but that’s not us. I’m his equal, but I’m also his submissive. And he never pushes me to do anything I don’t want to do. I have full control.”
Abigail seemed to muse on this. “How does this lifestyle work, in a practical sense outside of the bedroom?”
“I have rules I have to follow,”
I explained. “Charlie set them for me, but we discussed them beforehand, and I agreed to all of them before we actually put the rules into practice.”
“Rules?”
Abigail seemed slightly repulsed. “What kind?”
“Well, for example, some of the rules are very straightforward. I have to take a nap after lunch every day, so I don’t get too tired. My nails always have to be done— because I like doing them, and because Charlie appreciates it when they’re nice. I have a set bedtime, and a time to wake up. I have to eat three meals a day, and when we’re being intimate, I do my best to do as I’m told. He’ll give me commands to follow, then reward me with pleasure when I listen.”
“Does he tie you up every time?”
Abigail questioned.
“No. We don’t always get kinky. Sometimes we just have normal sex. And sometimes the rules change due to circumstance. For example, I wasn’t feeling well over the past week, so I had to rest more. One of my rules is I have to make Charlie’s coffee for him in the morning, because even though the servants can, I like doing that for him, because I consider it my thing. But because I was sick, he told me I had to stay in bed while he made his own coffee, and that made me very grumpy.”
I gave a shrug. “A lot of our rules fly under the radar. In public, people wouldn’t think I’m being submissive. They’d just think I was doing something nice for my spouse, or taking care of myself. Charlie has a lot of rules for that. He wants to help me improve in life and meet my own goals, as well as keep me relaxed. So the rules he sets center around that. The whole point of having rules is for me to enjoy having to follow them, so I can get pleasure out of pleasing him, and he can focus on making me happy.”
“What if you break a rule?”
Abigail wondered. “What happens?”
"I would say the punishment suits what rule I broke. For example, if I skipped my nap that day, I would have to take an extra long one the day after, to make up for it."
“He doesn’t hit you, does he?”
Abigail asked softly.
I felt absolutely repulsed by the thought. “No. Charlie won’t physically hit me in any way. Plus, spankings don't work on me, because I see them as a reward instead of a punishment. They turn me on, and that’s the opposite of being disciplined. A lot of the traditional punishments don’t have any effect. For example, putting me in time out would just make me think something exciting is coming later. And that's another reward. He’s got to get creative to want to deter me from misbehaving. Also, he never withholds attention or sex from me. That’s abusive, and I’m the kind of person who needs sexual contact to stabilize my moods and keep me grounded.”
“I know it’s not my place to ask, but what about in the bedroom?”
she whispered. “I know some couples like striking each other with…”
She shuddered, and whispered lowly, “Paddles.”
Angelic purity culture had really done a number on this poor girl. I wanted to help her, because even though it wasn’t my obligation to teach her about safe, kinky sex, I didn’t think anyone else would. Ivy had been a big help to me when I’d started exploring, so now, I wanted to pass on that knowledge.
“We haven’t used crops or whips yet, but I’m into the idea. Charlie’s hesitant, because he doesn’t enjoy striking me, not even in a sexy way. But I get a vote, and I’m sure with enough convincing I can push him to try it.”
I raised a coy eyebrow. “He might be the head of our family, but I’m the neck that turns his head, so to say. And I know my opinion has a powerful influence.”
“So who’s really in charge, him or you?”
“Him. He’s the boss, always. But he always takes my thoughts and feelings into account, so in the end, I typically get what I want, anyway.”
I sighed. “And sometimes I don’t make the best choices, so it’s easier on me for him to make those decisions for me. Especially when my bipolar is out of control, because when my mind is all over the place, it’s hard to keep centered. He becomes my center.”
“So are they rules, or more like guidelines?”
Abigail asked.
“If he gives a command, I’m obligated to follow it,”
I said. “For example, the other night, I really didn’t want to do any stretching exercises for my physical therapy. But Charlie said I had to, and I’m submissive to him, so I did as he asked. But I felt better afterward, because I hadn’t realized my muscles were really sore, and I needed to stretch them in order to get the muscles to release. Charlie did, because even without our bond, he can sense micro changes in my behavior that I don’t necessarily notice. Then he can direct me toward what I need. I’m not the best at taking care of myself, so I need the extra guidance and help.”
“This sounds like you have to do all the work and he gets off with no responsibility,”
Abigail grumbled.
“Oh no, he has rules, too,”
I explained. “One of his rules is he can’t come home to me later than seven o'clock, because the time from dinner until we go to bed he’s promised exclusively to me, and that's my time to have him to myself. Unless it’s a Thursday, of course, or a Sunday."
"What happens then?" She sounded terrified.
"Thursday evenings are friend days. He’ll go out with Marcus or Chancey, and I’ll see Opal or Kallie, or go see my family. On Sundays we have alone time by ourselves, so we can recharge for the week. But honestly, we don’t use a lot of that alone time on Sundays, because we like spending the free time we have together.”
I took a sip of tea and continued. “He also has to be open and honest with me at all times. He’s not allowed to conceal things from me. He has to be patient, and not let his emotions overtake him when I’m not doing as I’m told— because sometimes, I don’t. I try to obey his orders as much as I can, but I’m a brat, and I like being one, and he likes my bratty behavior. I know when to push his buttons and when to behave. Sometimes I’ll mess up just because I want his attention, and he knows that. So there’s a balancing act we both ascribe to. But if we really don’t like a rule, or it’s not working for us, we can agree to throw it out. It’s a constant work in progress. I like my role because I get pampered a lot. Charlie spoils me, and I show him I appreciate that by being submissive to him. It works for both of us.”
“But do you belong to him?”
Abigail insisted. “In a way that’s possessive, and not loving?”
“I don’t love the idea of ownership, but he owns my body, and I own his, so to say. I’m not his property, but his treasure. He knows that he belongs to me, and he’s dedicated to my needs, wants, and desires in all areas of life. And he knows that I adore him, and will do what he asks because I do. We’re both committed to improving ourselves, because you can’t maintain this kind of lifestyle without growing together. It takes work, like all marriages do.”
Abigail nodded. “I see. Although I don’t quite understand, I think I can acknowledge this isn’t hurting you. And if this is what you truly want, and your choice, I have no business getting in the way of that.”
“We’re really in a good place,”
I said dreamily. “This setup works well for us, because we know what to expect out of each other and ourselves.”
“I’m glad,”
Abigail responded. “All I wish is for my princess to be happy.”
I finished my tea and said, “I don’t mean to intrude, but you’ve never been with anyone, have you, Abigail?”
“No,”
Abigail said sadly. “I prefer the female variety, myself, but I’ve never even been on a date. Or been kissed.”
“It’ll happen at the right time,”
I promised. “And when it does, all that waiting will have been worth it.”
“I hope so,”
Abigail said sadly. “It was really hard, being a lesbian in angelic culture. I had to hide all the time, and pretend to be someone I’m not. I’ve suppressed so much of myself that it’s difficult for me to even admit that I like girls in private, because it still seems wrong. It goes against what the Almighty One says, and that feels like a sin.”
“It’s never a sin to be who you are,”
I told her. “What Charlie and I have isn’t so different than the relationship between you and me.”
“How so?”
Abigail asked curiously.
“You are my lady-in-waiting, and you serve me. You listen to my commands, and follow my orders. I have authority over you, but that doesn’t mean I get to treat you however I want,”
I said. “You and I have to trust each other, like Charlie and I do.”
“Okay. I think I get it now.”
Abigail nodded. “You’re serving Charlie, but he’s also serving you. And trust grows as the connection deepens.”
“Exactly. You shouldn’t be afraid to be who you are, Abigail, at least not in Ilamanthe. People are accepting here.”
“It’s just…”
She took a deep sigh. “Whenever I find myself having feelings for another woman, I just see my father’s face, and those feelings instantly feel filthy. He would be sickened by me if he knew who I truly was. He doesn’t want to have someone like me for a child.”
“What your dad wants isn’t important, because this is your life, and you deserve love,”
I insisted. “To trust that Charlie will take care of me, I have to trust myself. And you need to trust that your heart is leading you in the right direction.”
Abigail straightened her shoulders, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her. “Thank you, princess. You are very wise.”
“I’ve just been through a lot of stuff,”
I explained. “Wisdom comes with the territory.”
“Indeed.”
Abigail turned her chair. “We need to get to your dress fitting. Your grandmother is probably very cross that we’re late again.”
Cross wasn’t the word for it. I was fully expecting to get yelled at the minute I arrived. Being a princess meant nothing when your grandmother thought she ruled over all.
I could sense Oberi was waiting for me at the dress fitting, and getting a little impatient. She wanted to see me in my dress and gush over how pretty it looked. We left Charlie’s quarters and ventured into the hall, on our way to my grandmother’s suite. My guard, Eldin, followed behind.
I went to say something more to Abigail, but stopped when a figure crossed our path and stood in our way. I gasped in a mixture of shock and relief when I recognized who it was.
It was Professor Hemlock. Her clothes were tattered and dirty, and her face was covered with dozens of bruises and cuts. Her hair hung mangled and ratted around her thin jaw, and her skin gave off a gaunt, sickly appearance.
She was alive. I couldn’t believe it! She must’ve escaped the Warden!
“Professor!”
I was so happy to see her. I wheeled forward to give her a hug. “You’re okay!”
Hemlock didn’t respond to my gesture of affection. Instead, she reached into her robes and pulled out a thin, bloody dagger, her mouth sinking into a snarl.
I halted my chair, and my insides flipped inside my abdomen. “Professor?”
“You must die!”
Hemlock screeched, charging toward me. Abigail screamed. I found myself frozen, unable to comprehend that my favorite teacher was actually attacking me.
“Princess!”
Eldin cried, charging forward to save me. She drew her sword, and I shut my eyes tight as Hemlock raised her dagger high, aiming to bring the blade down upon my throat.