Beg Me: Part Eight
http://www.interracialerotica.net/erotica/articles/109/1/Beg-Me-Part-Eight-/Page1.html
By Tracy Ames
Published on September 29, 2009
“How did this get out?” #1 asked, storming into Sydney’s office.
“No one knows,” #4 replied out of breath. “I received an urgent email from Master Charles last night. There are rumors circulating,”
“Then we must do our best to contain them. Have you contacted Greta?”
“She called me this morning. She says her phones are ringing off the hook,” #4 sat catching her wind. “You know how rumors are. Once they’ve begun they’re difficult to hush. Mistress and Master have to come clean about their relationship before this gets out of control. By saying nothing, they appear guilty,”
#4’s looked up from Sydney’s address book. “Guilty of what?”
“Guilty of attempting to corner the market. Don’t be naïve. Look at the numbers. Mistress make five thousand dollars per session. That’s a lot of money. If they appear to be a couple it will be assumed they’re concentrating their cliental; weaseling others from their fair share,”
“But they aren’t. They’re in love,”
#4 exhaled. “You and I know that but it’s all about perception. And from the outside looking in, their relationship looking like an ill-planned merger. If those rumors get the wrong people, we call stand the can of being ruined overnight,”
“You’re right. We need help. Reply to Master Charles, he is a good friend and we can trust him, have him give you the names of any powerful clients that would be willing to help us. Then find #2 and 3 and then start making phone calls to their underlings, especially the ones receiving a pension. Use flowery words but remind them our their obligation,”
“Right. I’ll call Greta and have her start making some call also,” #4 said spring into action.
“Wait. Leave her out of this. I have a sneaking suspicion she’s our leak. If she ask how things are going, tell her that we have everything under control. Don’t let on that we’re in disaster recovery mode. And for goodness sake, don’t tell Mistress. Let her enjoy herself. Lord knows this could be the last bit she has for a long time.”
#4 lowered her voice. “Do you think it’s too late?”
#1 exhaled. “Not if you move your ass. We’re not going to resolve the problem with you standing around looking at me,”
******
The house took on the mood of merriment that it hadn’t seen in years. The children ran around being children meanwhile Jane’s husband, Ted, entertained Mark’s friends in the living room awaiting Margret, Ian and Howard. Things seemed like old times. Even Sr. cracked a joke or two.
Mark looped his arms around Sydney’s delicate waist as she stood helping Helen, Jane and Cece put the finishing touches on dinner. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?” resting is the nook of her graceful neck.
Cece’s eyes shot sideways, seemingly jealous of the affection Mark paid Sydney.
“You tell me everyday,” Sydney replied.
“Should I tell you less often?”
“You can never say it to often if you truly mean it,” Cece pointed out, her vacant expression took everyone by surprise. “Excuse me,” she took up her dish and walked out.
“Is she alright?” Sydney asked.
Jane and Mark exchanged gazes. Mark’s eye motion prompted Jane to go tend to her.
“She’s fine. Cecilia has always been the more emotional of the group,” Helen proclaimed. “Now, come on. This food isn’t going to walk itself to the table. Mark and Sydney took up platters and followed Helen to the dinning room.
“Are we going to start without them?” Sydney asked.
“Yes, they knew what time to be here. It’s no sense in us waiting around,” Helen replied plainly. “We’re ready, come and get it.” she called to the others. They herded into the room and took their seats. Within minutes, Margret, Ian and Howard walked through the door.
Howard was a contradiction of handsomeness. His short stature, wide-eyed ambivalence and slightly hooked nose gave him the appearance of a fretting bird rather than a respectable gentleman. And that was to say little of his not-quite blonde…not quite brown hair which looked like a pile of rotting ruins. There was no way this guy shared Mark’s bloodline. No way in hell.
Margret, on the other hand, matched Howard’s ugliness with beauty and conceit. Slim and gorgeous, she stood the same height as Jane but seemed more worldly. It was in the ice blue eyes she shared with Mark. It was in the arrogant smirks she and Sydney exchanged.
At first glance one could tell her marriage to the furry corpulent creature beside her was purely one of convenience. Ian embodied nothing of the image of his name conjured up. “Ian” was a strong Nordic name which lent itself to tall manly men. This “Ian” however was a cross between Yoda and Chewbacca. And quite obvious he had no prior acquaintance with a razor. His presence immediately killed Sydney’s appetite.
Helen made their introductions. Mark kicked Sydney under the table, hoping she would attempt to mask her revulsion as he was on the verge of bursting into laughter. She gave a forged smile that quickly gave way to disgust when Ian offer her a handshake. Sydney looked like a kitten holding a firecracker: adorably nervous.
Ian slipped into Wookiee obscurity as he sat along with the others. Howard greeted his young boys, already eating, with detached sentiment. They rolled their eyes.
The siblings swapped biting looks over the table. Mark and Jane verses Margret and Howard, as it had always been. The peacekeepers, James and Kenneth, were nowhere to be found. Helen and Sr. prepared for the worst. Mark’s friends contemplated the practical functionality of their eating utensils and the kids were oblivious to the storm clouds gathering.
Sydney sensed there was something else, something heavy going on at the table. She wrinkled her brow with confusion to Sr. With a slight shook of the head, he warned her against stepping in. She felt Mark’s Dom raise but there was more, much more. Sydney sensed her father, but why? She was fine.
Sr. grinned and dissolved into open laughter; clearly amused by the tension in the room. The others, save Margret and Howard, looked on nervously but soon followed in tearful hysteria. With that one gesture, Sr. changed the mood in the room.
“Well, it’s good to see some things haven’t changed. You kids are still the same,” Sr. said with a smile.
“Amen!” Helen shouted.
Cece touched Sydney’s hand under the table and they laughed like children.
******
An hour passed with pleasant conversation—a lighthearted strolling down memory lane filled with it’s stories of past antics and transgressions. Based on the looks Sydney observed from Margret and Howard, there was pitch of bitterness lurking below the surface; an unspoken hostility towards Mark for an undetermined crime.
Margret and Sydney eyed one another throughout the meal. Dissecting one another’s character. It took Sydney all of ten minutes to lay waste to Margret, while Margret rushed to her assumption of Sydney. “Bad move,” Sydney thought to herself. Howard, on the other hand, posed little resistance. Sydney sniffed out his weakness in seconds. He was a self-doubting fraud and, even with Mark’s departure, he had not managed to secure the spot of being his parents’ favorite son and it ate away at him. It was only a matter of time before his insecurities would cause him to lash out at Mark. And Sydney braced herself for verbal battle…insults in hand.
“Howard, are you still preaching?” Victoria asked.
“Yes, I haven’t seen you in church in a while,”
“You saw me once and that was more enough,”
“You didn’t enjoy yourself?” Howard inquired.
“I enjoyed myself immensely. I found it comical,”
“How so?” Margret cut in.
Victoria drew a breath. “You spoke a lot but said nothing. And what I could made out was pure insanity,”
“I preach the word of God,”
Everyone’s heads bounced, locked in this linguistic tennis match.
“You preach your beliefs,” she snapped evenly. “Not one time did you crack open the Bible. But then again you wouldn’t want your tendrils-trapped parishioners to get caught up in biblical fact whilst you stand up there, all high and mighty, spewing your speculative hate doctrine. Yeah, I’ll come back,” Victoria snorted. “I’ll come back the next time I need one of your well crafted scriptural enemas,”
“It’s not hate doctrine,” Margret defended.
“It is hate doctrine,” Jane entered the battle. “Anything that singles out a group of individuals based on their lifestyle is hate doctrine especially when the person speaks from a podium and the ear of followers,”
Margret smile wickedly at Jane. “My pastor tells me that if you haven’t embraced God then you are going to hell and so does yours. So my question to you, Jane, is this your new religion speaking? As I remember you once felt the same way we do about their lifestyle,”
“I left that church for a reason. There was no scriptural basis for what they taught. It was simply a huddle of pathetic men professing to be the reincarnation of God Himself. Just men in ridiculous suits screaming the same old rhetoric nonsense and hatred,” Jane exclaimed passionately. “My faith doesn’t preach against anyone or anything. We are taught to blindly love everyone because JC didn’t discriminate, He didn’t walk around picking and choosing who He would save. He embraced the highest of the high and lowest of the low and so will I.”
Everyone looked to Margret for a rebuttal. Her deadly gaze fell on Mark. He waited, poised and ready to rip her apart.
“My pastor is no ordinary man. If he says you and your little friend are going to hell for your practices, then you are going to hell,”
Sydney nails dug into Mark’s thigh with such ferocity she was certain she drew blood. He didn’t flinch. Neither broke their stare. Sydney felt the room go heavy again. She had to do something before Mark went through the roof.
“Margret,” Sydney interjected. “Can you help me clean the table? I’m sure everyone is finished,” she turned to Sr. prompting him to direct everyone out of the room at once.
“Let’s go,” he stood. “Sydney, please bring out dessert when you are done.” He gave her an approving smile, signaling open season on Margret’s ass.
“She’s not your daughter,” Margret called to him as the guest filed into the living room, and the kids ran off to the basement.
“She is now,” he declared. “I will have one less daughter after she manhandles you,”
“Be as rough as you like,” Mark kissed Sydney’s cheek and went to leave.
“Brother,” Margret said to him as he passed.
“Bitch,” he said plainly, joining the others.
“We’d better get started,” Sydney rose and collected the abandon plates, careful not to display any emotion. “Jane mentioned that you and Ian are trying to have children,” heading for the kitchen.
“We are. Hopefully this time next year we will have one. Why?”
“No reason. I’m just making small talk for your sake. I really don’t care for you.” Sydney said bluntly while raising the plates. She’d seen Helen perform this feat and was itching to take a swing at it herself.
“Good! Then at least we’re on the same page. I hate you as well,”
Sydney stopped mid raise. “There’s that word again. Hate. It comes off your tongue too easily. Hate is a very powerful word. It’s one thing to dislike someone yet another to hate them. I was taught that it is fine to dislike someone’s actions but I should never hate them as a person. Hate is wicked.”
“It keep us away from people like you. What you and Mark do is disgusting. It’s an abomination against nature,”
Sydney’s guts tightened. “You have been watching too many porn videos. You don’t the first clue as to what we really do. If you did, you would probably step farther away from me.”
Margret stepped closer. “You will be called to answer for your sins.”
“You will…back the hell up before I clean the floor with you,” Sydney warned for the last time, walking to the refrigerator. Margret followed close behind.
“Do you sleep with my brother?”
“That’s none of your damn business,” Sydney blood boiled beneath the surface….she tried desperately to control her Domme; it was no use. Iowa had calmed her but she hadn’t forgotten who she was. It was obvious Margret didn’t know who she was dealing with.
Margret shot Sydney a cunning glare. “Sex is morally legitimate only within the confines of marriage; nonmarital sex is immoral,”
Sydney stared straight through her. It was game time. “How long have you been sleeping with your pastor?”
“Excuse me!” Margret gasped. “Why would you ask a question like that?”
“Because I want an answer. How long have you been sleeping with him?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she turned to leave.
Sydney violently grabbed a fist full of Margret’s hair and drug her into an empty bedroom, locking the door behind them. “Answer me!” she barked.
“Nine months,” Margret confessed, sitting nervously on the bed. “How did you know?”
“It wasn’t that hard. You smug, pretentious, little bitch,” she slipped into full Domina. “Did you think you could keep it from me? The fact that you refer to marriage as being ‘confining’ was the final straw. Are you that miserable that you had to fuck your pastor? He’s married isn’t he? What does God say about that?”
Margret’s back straightened. “He’s unhappy…I...I was trying to comfort him in his time of need,”
“So, you’re an ethical whore?”
“I’m not…”
Save it,” Sydney interrupted. “Your self-opinion doesn’t concern me. I know exactly who you are,”
“You don’t know me,”
“I know you better than you know yourself,” Sydney stood cross-armed and leaned against the dresser just feet away from Margret. “Your dull vanilla life bores you. You’re sick of being the girl next door; you want to be the slut down the street. Every time your repulsive little husband climbs his fat ass on top of you for another banal session of ‘making love’, you silently wish that he’d go and jerk off on a corner But you would allow your pastor to mount your ass all night,”
Margret’s jaw went slack, visible shaken by Sydney’s assessment of her character.
“You probably allow him tie you up,” Sydney continued. “He pulls your hair. He talks dirty to you. What names does he call you? What names get you off? Are you his slut, his whore, his fuck-toy? Does your pussy belong to him? Does he want to you think about him while your husband screws your brains out? “Does he ask you to recount every detail of your sex life and then punishes you for giving away what is rightfully his? Does he fuck you into submission?”
Margret wilted.
“Does sleeping with him behind everyone’s back validate who you are? Does it make you feel powerful? Does the fact that others revere him turn you on….why wouldn’t it…. only you know that it’s just a matter of time before he has you bent over his desk with your ass in the air, letting him use your meek little pussy to for his sexual gratification. Does getting him off, get you off?” Sydney’s word tailed off.
Exposed, laid bare and speechless, Margret’s spirit went flaccid.
She continued, ‘Topping from the bottom’….If you were Mine I’d wring your neck.” Sydney gave a light chuckle. “You don’t hate me. You want to be me. But you don’t have the courage,”
I don’t have to listen to this,” Margret stood.
“Sit down!” Sydney growled. I don’t remember giving you permission to speak much less look at me. Lower your eyes!”
She sat at once; angling away from Sydney’s looming down cast eyes.
“You stupid little submissive!” her voice ran cold. “Do you know who you’re dealing with? I’m one of the baddest bitches in the industry and you are hardly worth My time. You walk around here with your high morals and high standards; holding yourself up on a pedestal. You’re fake and so is your pedestal. From where I stand, you appear to be on a sacrificial altar; waiting for anyone to come by and partake and you dare to cast stone at your brother! That man has touched the lives of thousands of people. That’s more than can be said for you; you worthless piece of shit. Take your ass out there and apologize to your brother in front of everyone. And if you ever disrespect him again, I’ll beat you within an inch of your pathetic life. Don’t I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” Margret whispered.
“Do I make myself clear?” Sydney repeated more forcefully.
“Yes,” Margret coward, frozen with fear. “I understand,”
“Get out of my face,” she ordered. “I want it done before I get out there,”
Margret hurried from the room, leaving Sydney to pull herself together.
“I should have charged her for that,” she chuckled to herself.
******
In Sydney’s absence, the room had gone through a renaissance of sorts. Everyone sat/laid around casually, amidst laughter and jovial conversation. The heaviness was gone and Margret sat humbled into submission. Sydney and Jane dished out dessert and coffee before they squawked between their significant other’s legs, joining the banter.
“How’d it go?” Mark asked quietly.
“We spoke briefly. Nothing to write home about,” she shrugged. Sr. and Helen nodded their approval.
“Mark, when are you going to settle down?” Jill, Daniel’s wife, asked.
“I don’t know. It’s never come up.” He answered. “I don’t think it will be any time soon.”
“You might want to ask Sydney before you answer that question the next time.” Reggie added.
“What do you say, Sydney?” Victoria butted in. “Can we be expecting a wedding invitation soon?”
Sydney was shell-shocked. “It had occurred to me that we…would…um you know…um marry so soon. It’s too soon.” She took on the kitten with firecrackers, glazed over look again. She turned to Cece for help.
“Not all of us are meant to marry right away. Some of us prefer to wait.” Cece mercifully came to the rescue.
“You sound like you’re against marriage.” Ian to remarked to Cece from beneath his thick underbrush.
“Oh, I’m not against marriage, I’m just saying that not everyone should rush into it. We’ll know when the right person comes along. Then again some of us should never attempt the feat at all.”
“How can you say that?” Daniel asked. “As I recall, you had a massive ‘thing’ for a certain Mr. Bryant or am I mistaken?”
Sydney turned her head, looking up at Mark.
“Don’t look at me. Cece and I are like brother and sister. I’ve never touched her,” Mark threw up his hands.
“No, Sydney. There is nothing to worry about there. I’m talking about a Mr. Kenneth Bryant, God rest his soul.”
“He was brilliant. He had the rest of his life ahead of him. I still can’t believe he’s dead.” Victoria lamented.
“I know. He was in and out of town in spurts right before he passed,” Helen said. “It’s as if I’m expecting him to walk through that door any minute.”
“How are you two managing?” Sydney inquired of Sr. and Helen.
“Sometimes it's rather difficult. I don’t feel complete. It is hard to let go when there is a piece of you lying in a jungle unattended,” Helen gave a dismal grin. Mark’s heart broke for her and Cece. “But, day-by-day, it gets easier.”
“Having Mark and Sydney home has filled a void….for all of us,” Sr. added.
His words weren’t directed at Mark but in some small way, Mark felt they had come to a turning point.
“I can’t imagine what you have been through. If one of mine died, I wouldn’t know how to cope but to have it happen so far from home, without a proper burial,” Jill shook her head. “You’re strong, damnit you’re strong,”
“God will see us through it,” Howard tailed in.
“Which God?” Cece questioned. “Yours? Hardly. Yours, and what I mean by ‘yours’ is you, probably preaches against offer healthcare to non-Christians. Heaven forbid a Muslim falls ill.”
“She’s gotta point,” Reggie agreed.
“It has to be some comfort knowing that he was doing what he loved.” Daniel said.
“Oh yes!” Helen perked up. “He wasn’t one to sit on the sidelines of life and watch everyone else play. Nah, he and Mark were very much alike in that aspect.”
“He’d grown into such a wonderful man, so kind and generous.” Victoria rose to clean the dessert plates. “But, like Mark, he could party with the best of them.”
“Good God, he could! He knew how to blow off steam.” Sr. chuckled. “That was a martial trait. I had nothing to do with that,”
“Whatever. You’ve forgotten the way we met. You weren’t always this rigid. We have six children as a testament to that fact.”
“Oh shit, too much information! Change the subject,” Mark insisted. “We don’t need to hear another word.”
“Yes, please be quiet,” Jane frowned and covered her ears. “You guys are gross.”
Sydney sat back studying the effusive nuances of this family. She had found a home outside the walls of her parent’s mausoleum. Her father was right. She could feel him wherever she was.
******
“What are you doing here?” Sydney pulled Mark into her bedroom and closed the door quickly. All the guests had gone and the family retired to bed. “Are you crazy? You know how your folks feel about us sleeping together,”
“I can’t sleep,” he crawled into her bed. “I need you.”
“We can’t have sex. Not…”
“I don’t want sex. That’s a lie. I could with some sex but more importantly, I need to talk to you….about me and Cece.”
“This had better be good,” Sydney settled under the covers and into his arms. Mark fell silent. Sydney knew this was serious. “Just tell me.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you but I’m terrified that your impression of me will change,” he paused. “I’m afraid of loosing you because of a mistake I made years ago,”
“Short of murder, I can forgive anything,”
Mark didn’t reply.
Sydney’s heart pounded in her chest, his beat in her ears. “Tell me what happened.
“Kenneth and I were a year apart; I’d just turned eighteen. He and Cece had dated since childhood. As you can tell, we’re all extremely close. Anyway, I was a freshman in Montreal and Kenneth and Cece were seniors in high school. Over spring break, Kenneth was touring his potential universities and Cece and Jane came to visit me. I swore to him I would take care of her. A friend of a friend was throwing and Cece begged to come along with me. She wasn’t into the scene but I didn’t see a problem with her tagging along. As usual, Jane decided to stay in for the night. We get to the party and I immediately get a bad vibe. I didn’t recognize anyone and my friend wasn’t anywhere to be found,”
“What do you mean ‘bad vibe’?”
“It’s the same feel we get from an unresponsive client; weightiness, a sense of urgency. The crowd was too experienced for Cece. She was fresh meat in a lion’s den. After thirty minutes, I was ready to leave. But she wasn’t. I begged her to come with me. I should have dragged her out of there by her hair,”
“They raped her,” Sydney assessed.
“Repeatedly. I can’t even recount some of the things they did to her without gagging. It turns out they weren’t Kinksters after all. It was a sex ring.”
“This is why we have such a bad reputation. Most people can’t tell the difference,” She rubbed his chest. “So what happened?”
“We filed a report with the local police and campus security but Cece didn’t want to push the issue. She was afraid Kenneth would dump her.”
“That doesn’t make sense. She was raped.”
“It makes sense to an innocent girl from Iowa whose only had one guy ever look at her twice. My brother was her world. So, Jane and I backed off and kept our mouths shut. Then a couple of months after they returned home, Cece found out she was pregnant. She didn’t know whether it was Kenneth’s or one of the guys that raped her. There was no way for her to know for certain. Jane called me frantic, Cece was mess and they needed help. They made up some bogus excuse and flew them to Montreal overnight without anyone’s, including Kenneth, knowledge. She had an abortion and we promised never to speak of it again,”
“And you never did?”
“Never. Not even amongst the three of us,”
“Did Kenneth ever find out?”
“Not that I’m aware of. He loved her. Everyone thought they’d get married after graduation but I don’t know what happened. Somewhere between their graduation and me being cut off from the family, things fell apart for them. He called me a few times while I was living in Montreal but I didn’t bother to call him back,”
“Why not?”
“I lumped him with the rest of them. I let him down. I let her down. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have been put in that situation. I should have been there to protect her. Now…I don’t know…Kenneth is gone and I can’t atone for what I have done. I feel as though I killed him. I killed them. I killed any hope of normality she had after the abortion.”
“We all made our known decisions. Cece made the one that was best for her.” Sydney said in earnest.
“Yes, but I should have been there,”
“You were. When she needed help, you were there. You gave her a way out. You gave her a second chance. Did it ever cross your mind that he was calling to tell you that he knew about the abortion and it wasn’t your fault?”
Mark sighed. “I don’t know. I was too pigheaded to pick up the phone. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to him. That’s what hurts the most. I didn’t get to see him and unlike you, I don’t have a place of refuge to sit and chat. He’s not here.”
“He is here. Remember what you said about my parent’s: they are with you at all times. Kenneth died doing what he loved and if the photos Helen showed me are to be believed, then he lead one hell of a life after your left. Tomorrow, talk to Cece and find out what happened between the two of them. I doubt you had any barring of their situation. You can’t go back and fix everything at once, but you can start to heal bits and pieces at a time.”
“You sound like a therapist,”
“A wise man once told me that I wasn’t broken; I just hadn’t healed. Maybe it’s time you began to heal.”
For Your Viewing Pleasure...."Beg Me" Part Eight
Top Dom/mes, Sydney Cummings, an African-American Goddess and Mark Bryant, a man with a body that was chiseled from a slab of solid hotness, have a score to settle. Who will be the first to beg? With both of their reputations on the line, this is going to be a fight to the very end.
This story is sensual, sexy, and HOT...you've been warned
Top Dom/mes, Sydney Cummings, an African-American Goddess and Mark Bryant, a man with a body that was chiseled from a slab of solid hotness, have a score to settle. Who will be the first to beg? With both of their reputations on the line, this is going to be a fight to the very end.
This story is sensual, sexy, and HOT...you've been warned
Beg Me: Part Eight
Sydney sat, arms outstretched before her, caressing the keys on family piano while Elisa, Jane’s infant, lay silently napped in her bassinet beside her. Eyes closed, Sydney swayed her head gently to the ethereal melody entangling itself in the serene midday rays of sunlight washing the room.
Jane stood studying her slow deliberate movements. Her gentleness. Her vulnerability. Aside from her profession and indifferent veneer, this is who she was…. indulged, strong-minded, infinitely patient when given a chance to prove herself and endearing to those around her.
“Bravo,” Jane clapped, shaking Sydney from her trance. She sat on the sofa in front of Sydney.
“I didn’t think anyone was here,” Sydney offered, brushing slight tears from her eyes.
“Everyone has gone out. Please keep playing. It’s been a long time since someone has played that thing,” she yawned and reclined. Sydney continued.
“What time is everyone coming over for dinner?”
“Howard and Margret and her husband Ian will be here around seven o’clock but I’ll have Howard’s sons with me for the day. Are you ready to meet them?
“As ready as I’ll ever be I suppose. I’m glad Mark’s friends are coming over. I like them. There are times I wish I had childhood friends,” Sydney focused on her fingers.
“Don’t we all,” Jane pulled her thick blonde hair back into a bun, “Mark mentioned that you were musically inclined. Is that one of your pieces?”
“No, it was composed by Patrick Doyle. It’s entitled “My Father’s Favorite”
“It’s beautiful,” Jane paused for a moment. “Was it a favorite of your father’s?” she ventured, hoping to lure Sydney into talking about herself.
“Yes, he would play it often. It was composed around the poem “Weep No More Sad Fountain”. He father was a man of the classic.”
Jane covered her legs with a throw blanket and drifted with Sydney’s melody. “Mark also told me your mother was a singer,”
A short-lived reluctance to open up rose and gave way. “My mother was a great singer. I have most of her records, I’m still missing a couple…they’re difficult to find and before she passed, she misplaced the only copies we had. I’ll find them one day,” she felt at ease talking with Jane. It was too easy. “I always wanted to be like her. Her voice was hypnotic,”
“You can’t hear her voice anymore, can you?” Jane spoke softly, meeting Sydney’s gaze with a light smile. “Mark said you visit your parents once a week. You talk to your father but you can’t hear your mother,”
“You think I’m crazy. You mock me.”
“I don’t mock you. The parental bond is timeless. Just because one passes it doesn’t mean the ones left behind can’t feel them especially with the individuals they were closest to,”
“Then why won’t she talk to me? Why can’t I hear her?” Sydney fingers graced each key with delicate reserve.
Jane blow a thoughtful breath. “I can say for certain. I can only speculate,”
“And what’s your opinion?”
She thought for a moment. “Well, I imagine that you were very young when she passed away, so this is why you don’t have a clear recollection of her speaking voice. But I also think that you can’t hear her because you doubt yourself. You fear that you haven’t lived up to her expectations,”
Elisa stirred. Sydney’s protective eyes fell on her and she picked her up in her arms, rocking her back to sleep.
Jane smiled. “I’ve watched you with her these last few days. You’ll make an excellent mother,”
“How?” Sydney laughed. “I can’t even shop for myself. How can I raise a child?”
“When the time comes, your mother will be there every step of the way and you will hear her voice loud and clear. That’s the way we mother work…we step in when we’re needed, the same way you did just now with Elisa. She was in distress and, without prompt; you went to care for her,”
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I? Sydney nodded.
“Yeah, you did,” Jane watched her. “Sydney, your martial instinct is there. Don’t doubt it,”
“Janey, you are the sweetest person I know,”
“Thank you. So are you.”
Sydney say rocking Elisa, lines creased her forehead.
“What is it?” Jane questioned.
“What does your faith say about people like me and Mark?”
“Do you believe in a God?”
“Yes, but I don’t wear my religion on my shirt sleeve,”
“That’s good enough,” Jane grinned, her eyes softened more than usual. “My faith teaches me that as long as a person has a belief, that it all that matters. Our belief in a higher being is the common thread that connects us all as humans. Only our expressions of our faith are different,” she shook her head softly. “It doesn’t matter what faith you are, you just have to believe in something outside of yourself,”
“I love you, Jane,” Sydney offered, covering Elisa’s ears.
“Well, I am Mark Bryant’s sister so it’s rather difficult to hate me,” she teased. “He is a God amongst men,”
“He is, isn’t he?” Sydney could barely contain herself.
Beg Me: Part Eight
“How did this get out?” #1 asked, storming into Sydney’s office.
“No one knows,” #4 replied out of breath. “I received an urgent email from Master Charles last night. There are rumors circulating,”
“Then we must do our best to contain them. Have you contacted Greta?”
“She called me this morning. She says her phones are ringing off the hook,” #4 sat catching her wind. “You know how rumors are. Once they’ve begun they’re difficult to hush. Mistress and Master have to come clean about their relationship before this gets out of control. By saying nothing, they appear guilty,”
#4’s looked up from Sydney’s address book. “Guilty of what?”
“Guilty of attempting to corner the market. Don’t be naïve. Look at the numbers. Mistress make five thousand dollars per session. That’s a lot of money. If they appear to be a couple it will be assumed they’re concentrating their cliental; weaseling others from their fair share,”
“But they aren’t. They’re in love,”
#4 exhaled. “You and I know that but it’s all about perception. And from the outside looking in, their relationship looking like an ill-planned merger. If those rumors get the wrong people, we call stand the can of being ruined overnight,”
“You’re right. We need help. Reply to Master Charles, he is a good friend and we can trust him, have him give you the names of any powerful clients that would be willing to help us. Then find #2 and 3 and then start making phone calls to their underlings, especially the ones receiving a pension. Use flowery words but remind them our their obligation,”
“Right. I’ll call Greta and have her start making some call also,” #4 said spring into action.
“Wait. Leave her out of this. I have a sneaking suspicion she’s our leak. If she ask how things are going, tell her that we have everything under control. Don’t let on that we’re in disaster recovery mode. And for goodness sake, don’t tell Mistress. Let her enjoy herself. Lord knows this could be the last bit she has for a long time.”
#4 lowered her voice. “Do you think it’s too late?”
#1 exhaled. “Not if you move your ass. We’re not going to resolve the problem with you standing around looking at me,”
******
The house took on the mood of merriment that it hadn’t seen in years. The children ran around being children meanwhile Jane’s husband, Ted, entertained Mark’s friends in the living room awaiting Margret, Ian and Howard. Things seemed like old times. Even Sr. cracked a joke or two.
Mark looped his arms around Sydney’s delicate waist as she stood helping Helen, Jane and Cece put the finishing touches on dinner. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?” resting is the nook of her graceful neck.
Cece’s eyes shot sideways, seemingly jealous of the affection Mark paid Sydney.
“You tell me everyday,” Sydney replied.
“Should I tell you less often?”
“You can never say it to often if you truly mean it,” Cece pointed out, her vacant expression took everyone by surprise. “Excuse me,” she took up her dish and walked out.
“Is she alright?” Sydney asked.
Jane and Mark exchanged gazes. Mark’s eye motion prompted Jane to go tend to her.
“She’s fine. Cecilia has always been the more emotional of the group,” Helen proclaimed. “Now, come on. This food isn’t going to walk itself to the table. Mark and Sydney took up platters and followed Helen to the dinning room.
“Are we going to start without them?” Sydney asked.
“Yes, they knew what time to be here. It’s no sense in us waiting around,” Helen replied plainly. “We’re ready, come and get it.” she called to the others. They herded into the room and took their seats. Within minutes, Margret, Ian and Howard walked through the door.
Howard was a contradiction of handsomeness. His short stature, wide-eyed ambivalence and slightly hooked nose gave him the appearance of a fretting bird rather than a respectable gentleman. And that was to say little of his not-quite blonde…not quite brown hair which looked like a pile of rotting ruins. There was no way this guy shared Mark’s bloodline. No way in hell.
Margret, on the other hand, matched Howard’s ugliness with beauty and conceit. Slim and gorgeous, she stood the same height as Jane but seemed more worldly. It was in the ice blue eyes she shared with Mark. It was in the arrogant smirks she and Sydney exchanged.
At first glance one could tell her marriage to the furry corpulent creature beside her was purely one of convenience. Ian embodied nothing of the image of his name conjured up. “Ian” was a strong Nordic name which lent itself to tall manly men. This “Ian” however was a cross between Yoda and Chewbacca. And quite obvious he had no prior acquaintance with a razor. His presence immediately killed Sydney’s appetite.
Helen made their introductions. Mark kicked Sydney under the table, hoping she would attempt to mask her revulsion as he was on the verge of bursting into laughter. She gave a forged smile that quickly gave way to disgust when Ian offer her a handshake. Sydney looked like a kitten holding a firecracker: adorably nervous.
Ian slipped into Wookiee obscurity as he sat along with the others. Howard greeted his young boys, already eating, with detached sentiment. They rolled their eyes.
The siblings swapped biting looks over the table. Mark and Jane verses Margret and Howard, as it had always been. The peacekeepers, James and Kenneth, were nowhere to be found. Helen and Sr. prepared for the worst. Mark’s friends contemplated the practical functionality of their eating utensils and the kids were oblivious to the storm clouds gathering.
Sydney sensed there was something else, something heavy going on at the table. She wrinkled her brow with confusion to Sr. With a slight shook of the head, he warned her against stepping in. She felt Mark’s Dom raise but there was more, much more. Sydney sensed her father, but why? She was fine.
Sr. grinned and dissolved into open laughter; clearly amused by the tension in the room. The others, save Margret and Howard, looked on nervously but soon followed in tearful hysteria. With that one gesture, Sr. changed the mood in the room.
“Well, it’s good to see some things haven’t changed. You kids are still the same,” Sr. said with a smile.
“Amen!” Helen shouted.
Cece touched Sydney’s hand under the table and they laughed like children.
******
An hour passed with pleasant conversation—a lighthearted strolling down memory lane filled with it’s stories of past antics and transgressions. Based on the looks Sydney observed from Margret and Howard, there was pitch of bitterness lurking below the surface; an unspoken hostility towards Mark for an undetermined crime.
Margret and Sydney eyed one another throughout the meal. Dissecting one another’s character. It took Sydney all of ten minutes to lay waste to Margret, while Margret rushed to her assumption of Sydney. “Bad move,” Sydney thought to herself. Howard, on the other hand, posed little resistance. Sydney sniffed out his weakness in seconds. He was a self-doubting fraud and, even with Mark’s departure, he had not managed to secure the spot of being his parents’ favorite son and it ate away at him. It was only a matter of time before his insecurities would cause him to lash out at Mark. And Sydney braced herself for verbal battle…insults in hand.
“Howard, are you still preaching?” Victoria asked.
“Yes, I haven’t seen you in church in a while,”
“You saw me once and that was more enough,”
“You didn’t enjoy yourself?” Howard inquired.
“I enjoyed myself immensely. I found it comical,”
“How so?” Margret cut in.
Victoria drew a breath. “You spoke a lot but said nothing. And what I could made out was pure insanity,”
“I preach the word of God,”
Everyone’s heads bounced, locked in this linguistic tennis match.
“You preach your beliefs,” she snapped evenly. “Not one time did you crack open the Bible. But then again you wouldn’t want your tendrils-trapped parishioners to get caught up in biblical fact whilst you stand up there, all high and mighty, spewing your speculative hate doctrine. Yeah, I’ll come back,” Victoria snorted. “I’ll come back the next time I need one of your well crafted scriptural enemas,”
“It’s not hate doctrine,” Margret defended.
“It is hate doctrine,” Jane entered the battle. “Anything that singles out a group of individuals based on their lifestyle is hate doctrine especially when the person speaks from a podium and the ear of followers,”
Margret smile wickedly at Jane. “My pastor tells me that if you haven’t embraced God then you are going to hell and so does yours. So my question to you, Jane, is this your new religion speaking? As I remember you once felt the same way we do about their lifestyle,”
“I left that church for a reason. There was no scriptural basis for what they taught. It was simply a huddle of pathetic men professing to be the reincarnation of God Himself. Just men in ridiculous suits screaming the same old rhetoric nonsense and hatred,” Jane exclaimed passionately. “My faith doesn’t preach against anyone or anything. We are taught to blindly love everyone because JC didn’t discriminate, He didn’t walk around picking and choosing who He would save. He embraced the highest of the high and lowest of the low and so will I.”
Everyone looked to Margret for a rebuttal. Her deadly gaze fell on Mark. He waited, poised and ready to rip her apart.
“My pastor is no ordinary man. If he says you and your little friend are going to hell for your practices, then you are going to hell,”
Sydney nails dug into Mark’s thigh with such ferocity she was certain she drew blood. He didn’t flinch. Neither broke their stare. Sydney felt the room go heavy again. She had to do something before Mark went through the roof.
“Margret,” Sydney interjected. “Can you help me clean the table? I’m sure everyone is finished,” she turned to Sr. prompting him to direct everyone out of the room at once.
“Let’s go,” he stood. “Sydney, please bring out dessert when you are done.” He gave her an approving smile, signaling open season on Margret’s ass.
“She’s not your daughter,” Margret called to him as the guest filed into the living room, and the kids ran off to the basement.
“She is now,” he declared. “I will have one less daughter after she manhandles you,”
“Be as rough as you like,” Mark kissed Sydney’s cheek and went to leave.
“Brother,” Margret said to him as he passed.
“Bitch,” he said plainly, joining the others.
“We’d better get started,” Sydney rose and collected the abandon plates, careful not to display any emotion. “Jane mentioned that you and Ian are trying to have children,” heading for the kitchen.
“We are. Hopefully this time next year we will have one. Why?”
“No reason. I’m just making small talk for your sake. I really don’t care for you.” Sydney said bluntly while raising the plates. She’d seen Helen perform this feat and was itching to take a swing at it herself.
“Good! Then at least we’re on the same page. I hate you as well,”
Sydney stopped mid raise. “There’s that word again. Hate. It comes off your tongue too easily. Hate is a very powerful word. It’s one thing to dislike someone yet another to hate them. I was taught that it is fine to dislike someone’s actions but I should never hate them as a person. Hate is wicked.”
“It keep us away from people like you. What you and Mark do is disgusting. It’s an abomination against nature,”
Beg Me: Part Eight
Sydney’s guts tightened. “You have been watching too many porn videos. You don’t the first clue as to what we really do. If you did, you would probably step farther away from me.”
Margret stepped closer. “You will be called to answer for your sins.”
“You will…back the hell up before I clean the floor with you,” Sydney warned for the last time, walking to the refrigerator. Margret followed close behind.
“Do you sleep with my brother?”
“That’s none of your damn business,” Sydney blood boiled beneath the surface….she tried desperately to control her Domme; it was no use. Iowa had calmed her but she hadn’t forgotten who she was. It was obvious Margret didn’t know who she was dealing with.
Margret shot Sydney a cunning glare. “Sex is morally legitimate only within the confines of marriage; nonmarital sex is immoral,”
Sydney stared straight through her. It was game time. “How long have you been sleeping with your pastor?”
“Excuse me!” Margret gasped. “Why would you ask a question like that?”
“Because I want an answer. How long have you been sleeping with him?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she turned to leave.
Sydney violently grabbed a fist full of Margret’s hair and drug her into an empty bedroom, locking the door behind them. “Answer me!” she barked.
“Nine months,” Margret confessed, sitting nervously on the bed. “How did you know?”
“It wasn’t that hard. You smug, pretentious, little bitch,” she slipped into full Domina. “Did you think you could keep it from me? The fact that you refer to marriage as being ‘confining’ was the final straw. Are you that miserable that you had to fuck your pastor? He’s married isn’t he? What does God say about that?”
Margret’s back straightened. “He’s unhappy…I...I was trying to comfort him in his time of need,”
“So, you’re an ethical whore?”
“I’m not…”
Save it,” Sydney interrupted. “Your self-opinion doesn’t concern me. I know exactly who you are,”
“You don’t know me,”
“I know you better than you know yourself,” Sydney stood cross-armed and leaned against the dresser just feet away from Margret. “Your dull vanilla life bores you. You’re sick of being the girl next door; you want to be the slut down the street. Every time your repulsive little husband climbs his fat ass on top of you for another banal session of ‘making love’, you silently wish that he’d go and jerk off on a corner But you would allow your pastor to mount your ass all night,”
Margret’s jaw went slack, visible shaken by Sydney’s assessment of her character.
“You probably allow him tie you up,” Sydney continued. “He pulls your hair. He talks dirty to you. What names does he call you? What names get you off? Are you his slut, his whore, his fuck-toy? Does your pussy belong to him? Does he want to you think about him while your husband screws your brains out? “Does he ask you to recount every detail of your sex life and then punishes you for giving away what is rightfully his? Does he fuck you into submission?”
Margret wilted.
“Does sleeping with him behind everyone’s back validate who you are? Does it make you feel powerful? Does the fact that others revere him turn you on….why wouldn’t it…. only you know that it’s just a matter of time before he has you bent over his desk with your ass in the air, letting him use your meek little pussy to for his sexual gratification. Does getting him off, get you off?” Sydney’s word tailed off.
Exposed, laid bare and speechless, Margret’s spirit went flaccid.
She continued, ‘Topping from the bottom’….If you were Mine I’d wring your neck.” Sydney gave a light chuckle. “You don’t hate me. You want to be me. But you don’t have the courage,”
I don’t have to listen to this,” Margret stood.
“Sit down!” Sydney growled. I don’t remember giving you permission to speak much less look at me. Lower your eyes!”
She sat at once; angling away from Sydney’s looming down cast eyes.
“You stupid little submissive!” her voice ran cold. “Do you know who you’re dealing with? I’m one of the baddest bitches in the industry and you are hardly worth My time. You walk around here with your high morals and high standards; holding yourself up on a pedestal. You’re fake and so is your pedestal. From where I stand, you appear to be on a sacrificial altar; waiting for anyone to come by and partake and you dare to cast stone at your brother! That man has touched the lives of thousands of people. That’s more than can be said for you; you worthless piece of shit. Take your ass out there and apologize to your brother in front of everyone. And if you ever disrespect him again, I’ll beat you within an inch of your pathetic life. Don’t I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” Margret whispered.
“Do I make myself clear?” Sydney repeated more forcefully.
“Yes,” Margret coward, frozen with fear. “I understand,”
“Get out of my face,” she ordered. “I want it done before I get out there,”
Margret hurried from the room, leaving Sydney to pull herself together.
“I should have charged her for that,” she chuckled to herself.
******
In Sydney’s absence, the room had gone through a renaissance of sorts. Everyone sat/laid around casually, amidst laughter and jovial conversation. The heaviness was gone and Margret sat humbled into submission. Sydney and Jane dished out dessert and coffee before they squawked between their significant other’s legs, joining the banter.
“How’d it go?” Mark asked quietly.
“We spoke briefly. Nothing to write home about,” she shrugged. Sr. and Helen nodded their approval.
“Mark, when are you going to settle down?” Jill, Daniel’s wife, asked.
“I don’t know. It’s never come up.” He answered. “I don’t think it will be any time soon.”
“You might want to ask Sydney before you answer that question the next time.” Reggie added.
“What do you say, Sydney?” Victoria butted in. “Can we be expecting a wedding invitation soon?”
Sydney was shell-shocked. “It had occurred to me that we…would…um you know…um marry so soon. It’s too soon.” She took on the kitten with firecrackers, glazed over look again. She turned to Cece for help.
“Not all of us are meant to marry right away. Some of us prefer to wait.” Cece mercifully came to the rescue.
“You sound like you’re against marriage.” Ian to remarked to Cece from beneath his thick underbrush.
“Oh, I’m not against marriage, I’m just saying that not everyone should rush into it. We’ll know when the right person comes along. Then again some of us should never attempt the feat at all.”
“How can you say that?” Daniel asked. “As I recall, you had a massive ‘thing’ for a certain Mr. Bryant or am I mistaken?”
Sydney turned her head, looking up at Mark.
“Don’t look at me. Cece and I are like brother and sister. I’ve never touched her,” Mark threw up his hands.
“No, Sydney. There is nothing to worry about there. I’m talking about a Mr. Kenneth Bryant, God rest his soul.”
“He was brilliant. He had the rest of his life ahead of him. I still can’t believe he’s dead.” Victoria lamented.
“I know. He was in and out of town in spurts right before he passed,” Helen said. “It’s as if I’m expecting him to walk through that door any minute.”
“How are you two managing?” Sydney inquired of Sr. and Helen.
“Sometimes it's rather difficult. I don’t feel complete. It is hard to let go when there is a piece of you lying in a jungle unattended,” Helen gave a dismal grin. Mark’s heart broke for her and Cece. “But, day-by-day, it gets easier.”
“Having Mark and Sydney home has filled a void….for all of us,” Sr. added.
His words weren’t directed at Mark but in some small way, Mark felt they had come to a turning point.
“I can’t imagine what you have been through. If one of mine died, I wouldn’t know how to cope but to have it happen so far from home, without a proper burial,” Jill shook her head. “You’re strong, damnit you’re strong,”
“God will see us through it,” Howard tailed in.
“Which God?” Cece questioned. “Yours? Hardly. Yours, and what I mean by ‘yours’ is you, probably preaches against offer healthcare to non-Christians. Heaven forbid a Muslim falls ill.”
“She’s gotta point,” Reggie agreed.
“It has to be some comfort knowing that he was doing what he loved.” Daniel said.
“Oh yes!” Helen perked up. “He wasn’t one to sit on the sidelines of life and watch everyone else play. Nah, he and Mark were very much alike in that aspect.”
“He’d grown into such a wonderful man, so kind and generous.” Victoria rose to clean the dessert plates. “But, like Mark, he could party with the best of them.”
“Good God, he could! He knew how to blow off steam.” Sr. chuckled. “That was a martial trait. I had nothing to do with that,”
“Whatever. You’ve forgotten the way we met. You weren’t always this rigid. We have six children as a testament to that fact.”
“Oh shit, too much information! Change the subject,” Mark insisted. “We don’t need to hear another word.”
“Yes, please be quiet,” Jane frowned and covered her ears. “You guys are gross.”
Sydney sat back studying the effusive nuances of this family. She had found a home outside the walls of her parent’s mausoleum. Her father was right. She could feel him wherever she was.
******
“What are you doing here?” Sydney pulled Mark into her bedroom and closed the door quickly. All the guests had gone and the family retired to bed. “Are you crazy? You know how your folks feel about us sleeping together,”
“I can’t sleep,” he crawled into her bed. “I need you.”
“We can’t have sex. Not…”
“I don’t want sex. That’s a lie. I could with some sex but more importantly, I need to talk to you….about me and Cece.”
“This had better be good,” Sydney settled under the covers and into his arms. Mark fell silent. Sydney knew this was serious. “Just tell me.”
“I’ve been trying to tell you but I’m terrified that your impression of me will change,” he paused. “I’m afraid of loosing you because of a mistake I made years ago,”
“Short of murder, I can forgive anything,”
Mark didn’t reply.
Sydney’s heart pounded in her chest, his beat in her ears. “Tell me what happened.
“Kenneth and I were a year apart; I’d just turned eighteen. He and Cece had dated since childhood. As you can tell, we’re all extremely close. Anyway, I was a freshman in Montreal and Kenneth and Cece were seniors in high school. Over spring break, Kenneth was touring his potential universities and Cece and Jane came to visit me. I swore to him I would take care of her. A friend of a friend was throwing and Cece begged to come along with me. She wasn’t into the scene but I didn’t see a problem with her tagging along. As usual, Jane decided to stay in for the night. We get to the party and I immediately get a bad vibe. I didn’t recognize anyone and my friend wasn’t anywhere to be found,”
“What do you mean ‘bad vibe’?”
“It’s the same feel we get from an unresponsive client; weightiness, a sense of urgency. The crowd was too experienced for Cece. She was fresh meat in a lion’s den. After thirty minutes, I was ready to leave. But she wasn’t. I begged her to come with me. I should have dragged her out of there by her hair,”
“They raped her,” Sydney assessed.
“Repeatedly. I can’t even recount some of the things they did to her without gagging. It turns out they weren’t Kinksters after all. It was a sex ring.”
“This is why we have such a bad reputation. Most people can’t tell the difference,” She rubbed his chest. “So what happened?”
“We filed a report with the local police and campus security but Cece didn’t want to push the issue. She was afraid Kenneth would dump her.”
“That doesn’t make sense. She was raped.”
“It makes sense to an innocent girl from Iowa whose only had one guy ever look at her twice. My brother was her world. So, Jane and I backed off and kept our mouths shut. Then a couple of months after they returned home, Cece found out she was pregnant. She didn’t know whether it was Kenneth’s or one of the guys that raped her. There was no way for her to know for certain. Jane called me frantic, Cece was mess and they needed help. They made up some bogus excuse and flew them to Montreal overnight without anyone’s, including Kenneth, knowledge. She had an abortion and we promised never to speak of it again,”
“And you never did?”
“Never. Not even amongst the three of us,”
“Did Kenneth ever find out?”
“Not that I’m aware of. He loved her. Everyone thought they’d get married after graduation but I don’t know what happened. Somewhere between their graduation and me being cut off from the family, things fell apart for them. He called me a few times while I was living in Montreal but I didn’t bother to call him back,”
“Why not?”
“I lumped him with the rest of them. I let him down. I let her down. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have been put in that situation. I should have been there to protect her. Now…I don’t know…Kenneth is gone and I can’t atone for what I have done. I feel as though I killed him. I killed them. I killed any hope of normality she had after the abortion.”
“We all made our known decisions. Cece made the one that was best for her.” Sydney said in earnest.
“Yes, but I should have been there,”
“You were. When she needed help, you were there. You gave her a way out. You gave her a second chance. Did it ever cross your mind that he was calling to tell you that he knew about the abortion and it wasn’t your fault?”
Mark sighed. “I don’t know. I was too pigheaded to pick up the phone. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to him. That’s what hurts the most. I didn’t get to see him and unlike you, I don’t have a place of refuge to sit and chat. He’s not here.”
“He is here. Remember what you said about my parent’s: they are with you at all times. Kenneth died doing what he loved and if the photos Helen showed me are to be believed, then he lead one hell of a life after your left. Tomorrow, talk to Cece and find out what happened between the two of them. I doubt you had any barring of their situation. You can’t go back and fix everything at once, but you can start to heal bits and pieces at a time.”
“You sound like a therapist,”
“A wise man once told me that I wasn’t broken; I just hadn’t healed. Maybe it’s time you began to heal.”