Page 101 of Bottoms Up
I lowered her into a tub laced with Epsom salts, with music I knew would soothe her, and I let her float in her head for an hour while I hovered near in case her eyes opened, in case she needed physical contact. She didn’t, but I watched the tension drain from her frame, minute by minute.
And then I carried her to the shower and examined every inch of skin as I cleaned and rinsed it. She was bruised to hell and back, but everything would heal.
A soft towel to dry her, and I rubbed healing oils all over her body — seated at first, and then I carried her to bed and laid her face down in the center of the mattress to work on her ass and the backs of her legs.
And then rolled her over and made love to her — slow, deep, devastating — until she was spent in every way, and slipped into sleep, boneless and safe.
* * * *
Silver
I awoke the following day in better shape than I expected. The best way to work soreness out is with exercise, so I left Julian a note and headed to the T-Wall. How lucky am I that one of the best places to climb in this part of the world is a five-minute drive from my house? Someday, I’ll bring Benji and show him all my favorite routes.
Sometimes, Atlas climbs with me, other times he stands at the bottom and keeps watch. Today, he stood at the bottom, probably because there were so many people on the wall.
On the short drive home, I said, “Just checking in. I know everything gets fixed when youchange, but it still feels as if I should make sure you’re good.”
“Better than good. You are the perfect sadist, you know? You never apologize for hurting me. You don’t negate my pain with stupid words.”
Was he telling me he didn’t want to talk about it? Or thanking me for the way I handled the scene? I wasn’t sure, but I figured it was probably best not to stay on the subject too long, either way. Part of our deal is that what happens behind closed doors stays there. We don’t talk about it when he’s guarding us.
“Any issues I need to know about? Everything good with the hawks and the wolves?” He was part of the Homewood security team when Julian and I were both on the property, and our personal guard when either or both of us left.
“I work well under highly organized people and processes, and I’m pleased with my new home and job. Thank you for checking in with me.”
I was exhausted when we returned, but I forced myself to swim laps in the pool before I went inside to eat and then play video games. I didn’t know when Julian would rise, but I figured it would be at least an hour later than the day before, which meant I still had some time on my own before we were due to go furniture shopping.
Chapter 32
Three months later
Julian
Our house is about a quarter mile past the main house, hidden in the woods. I can quickly fly between the two so long as I stay below the treetops. Silver usually walks, but we have an electric bike she can ride back and forth if she isn’t up for walking, or if she’s in a hurry and doesn’t want to run. Her car stays parked at the main house, since we didn’t run a road to it. We like it being nestled in a grove, super-private.
The power lines are buried, so other than the scent of us walking back and forth, there’s no trail to follow.
It’s both small and large. Aboveground is a spacious living room, a dining room, and a kitchen with an adorable nook so my Silver can eat and feel like she’s in the forest. Which she is. Also, a tiny half bath, and a combination workout room and office. Every room is big except the bathroom, so the space feels large, it’s just there aren’t many rooms.
Downstairs has twice the footprint and includes our oversized bedroom, a sitting area, a kink area, and a super-fancy bathroom, including a massive jetted tub plus a shower big enough for four people, with jets coming in from every direction. We have three vast walk-in closets — two for Silver and one for me.
The kink area isn’t huge, but it has what we need: a cross, a winch, and a multi-use bench that’s most often set up as a spanking station but can be configured for other purposes. We bought a sturdy, stainless steel bed that’s strong enough for me to bind her into pretty much any position. It looks bronze and it’s beautiful, but super functional. We can still use the dungeon and playroom in the main building, but it’s nice to have our own space.
Atlas only comes downstairs to be hurt. Everything with him happens on a schedule, now. Every fifth day, whether he’s ready for it or not. I kept a log of how soon he needed pain again, and it tended to be between four and nine days, so I experimented around with the timing and landed on this. It’s especially powerful when he doesn’t think he’s ready for it yet, but there’s also value in making him wait a day. Also, the sadist in me loves watching him walk in when he doesn’t want to be hurt on this day, but comes because he agreed we get to make the rules about how often it happens.
And, of course, he and I still do our once-a-month session where he feels zero arousal. I repeated the ball-rolling scene during one of our monthly sessions, and there was something devastatingly right about holding the roller this time. Feeling the weight of it in my hands. Feeling every shift, every shudder from the outside instead of the inside, and remembering what it meant when I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe through it, could only scream. It was brutal, it was cathartic, it was pretty fucking therapeutic, and webothcried at the end.
There was power in hurting him when his dick wasn’t hard, as mine hadn’t been. I thought I’d dealt with it long, long ago, but I didn’t. Not really. I set it to the side and ignored it, which worked okay, but now that I’ve faced it head on, it no longer has so much power over me.
This is who I am — a giant of a vampire. Even more, it’s who Silver loves, so I wouldn’t change a thing.
I’d never picked out furniture before. It was overwhelming, at first. Silver helped me find a favorite color, a style, a wardrobe. Our space looks like us now. Feels like us. Our kitchen, dining room, and living room are all decorated in hunter green and a pale sage that works with it, while our bedroom and bathroom are indigo.
I thought Atlas would live with us, so our original plans included an upstairs bedroom for him, but he chose to live in the main house. He’s at our place a great deal, guarding us, but he’s never downstairs unless he’s our toy.
Undressing upstairs, walking downstairs naked, offering himself for our use and his pain — it’s become a ritual for him, and he thrives on those.
Always, he’s our friend, and we’re quite close to him. He cuts up with us, shares things with us — he teases Silver about her bad coffee, critiques my fighting stance, and loves watching old war documentaries with me. He’s still Mr. Silent when away from the property, but he relaxes enough for conversation at Homewood.
