Page 29 of Wanted
“Because you like syrup, because you don’t think whipped cream and sprinkles qualify as breakfast foods, or because you think that’s what I like?”
“All of the above,” she decided. “Why would you ask me that?”
“I’m gauging whether or not you might be a Little.”
Her jaw could have hit the table. “A-are you a Daddy Dom?”
“Nope, but one thing you learn once you’ve been in the lifestyle long enough. You never say never. I could see myself playing the part, for the right submissive.” He winked at her over a bite of bacon. “And you’d look great in pigtails. Just saying.”
She was so startled, she laughed out loud. She quickly clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the sound, but one look at his face told her that while he might currently be teasing her, he was also serious. That made her laugh all over again. He thought she’d look good in pigtails? Shock and delight battled until it was all she could do to stay sitting in her chair. Her nerves were tingling. She didn’t want to leave, but she ached for movement.
“Have you ever had a dom put your hair into pigtails?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ve only ever served. Really, I’ve only ever dreamed about doing serving.”
Was that sad or just pathetic? She sat, staring at her half-empty plate. It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d first ventured into Black Light, first scened, first met Ethen and fell in love with his absolute dominance. Fell in love with him.
She’d been so young back then. She felt so very old right now.
Old and tired. Her smile faded as she stared at her plate.
“You’re not eating,” Marcus reminded. “It’s also your turn.”
She picked up her fork again and poked at her eggs. He’d broken the ice, been the first to ask her lifestyle questions, so she gathered her courage and took a chance on irritating him with one of her own. “Have you got a submissive?”
“Used to,” he said without hesitation. “Her name’s Megan. We were together for, oh... five years or so.” Eyebrows arching to show the seriousness of the relationship, he said, “I almost married her.”
She really was prying now, but her next question was out before she could stop herself. And it wasn’t even her turn. “Why didn’t you?”
Shifting in his seat, he picked at his toast. “Because I was stupid,” he finally admitted. “A job went bad and I got hurt. Lost my leg and of course, I picked up all the baggage that comes with suddenly finding yourself to be literally half the man you were. You know, that sort of bullshit.”
She shook her head. “Half the man?”
“You know,” he said again, but she didn’t and her look must have said that for her. Both sighing and chuckling now, a self-depreciating sound, he spelled it out for her. “I wasn’t good enough anymore. I couldn’t walk, I couldn’t stand, I couldn’t fuck her. And no,” he added wryly when she blinked. “There’s nothing wrong with the equipment. But the phantom pain was constant back then, and you try getting into the mood or holding onto an erection when your leg’s in agony all the time. I wasn’t taking care of her needs; she was taking care of me twenty-four-seven. I knew she had to be miserable, though she denied it. But I was stubborn, and I just knew she had to be. So, eventually I wore her down until she was miserable, then I told her to go. Finally, she did.”
“You loved her,” Pony said softly. It wasn’t a question and he didn’t have to answer. She could tell just by looking at him. He’d loved her a lot.
Marcus picked at his toast for almost a full minute in silence. “Very much,” he agreed with a nod. “But, sometimes things work out for the best even when it feels god awful and wrong all at the same time. Megan’s happier now, and she’s definitely been happier with the guy she’s got now than I would have made her since I lost my leg.” He looked at her. “You may not have noticed, but I’m not always smiles and sunshine.”
Despite the sad turn the topic had taken, that vastly understated comment made her laugh again.
“Looking back on it all,” he softly asked, still picking at his toast, “do you think you loved your master?”
That he was able to say the word without sounding as if he were mocking Ethen or her was the only reason she answered him instead of immediately shutting down.
“Yes, but not... not in a love-love kind of way. I mean,” she huffed, trying to bring back the laughter although she wasn’t feeling it anymore. “He was everything I wanted a dom to be, at first. He was my first real experience and he gave me everything I thought I desired. He hit every trigger, was attentive and dominant. The sex was fantastic.” She took a bite so she would have a reason to stop talking, but the taste of it was gone and all she had was dry ash in her mouth by the time she swallowed.
“You sign a contract?” Marcus asked.
She nodded. “Twice,” she said, half laughing at herself. “First when we played, and then again when I moved in.” She thought about it. “Three times, actually. I signed another when he decided he wanted Kitty.”
“She a Menagerie girl too?”
She nodded. “His second.” She glanced up from her plate long enough to flash him a wry smile. “His favorite. And then, within a year he found Puppy. She was more of a whipping post, though, really. He... was really bad to her, and Piggy. She was the last one and the first to break free. It’s all her fault that things fell apart.”
Except it wasn’t, and looking back on that night, Pony couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Piggy. She couldn’t imagine how cold it had been, being made to kneel naked in that mud wallow, and for what? For daring to tell him that she wasn’t happy and didn’t want to stay. Her ‘defiance’, her ‘disrespect’ had set Ethen off for hours. He’d ranted and paced the house while Piggy had been outside, kneeling in filth.
Filth had been her special punishment, because it hadn’t taken Ethen any time at all to realize how OCD Piggy was about keeping herself and everything around her clean and tidy. Especially her hands. She was always washing her hands, and within days of taking her into his Menagerie, Ethen found something to punish her for just so he could march her out to the pig pen that hadn’t seen use in all the time that Pony had been on his farm. He’d wet it down in preparation for her. He’d been throwing food scraps out into it for days, prior to her ‘infraction,’ something so small that Pony couldn’t remember even what it was. He’d made Piggy kneel in it because it was the one thing above all others that she couldn’t stand to endure.
