Page 33 of Healing Hazel
I think I’ve always known that I wasn’t like all my friends growing up. I grew up in a family that was about as vanilla as the wafers Mom would put in the banana pudding she made. We did all the family things, gathered at the dinner table every night. Talked about school and such, but mostly about football. Like a lot of small towns, mine thrived on all things sports and the week’s entertainment was always played out every Friday night on the football field. Maybe it was the fact I was the onlydaughter among four boys who constantly competed to claim the crown of the toughest cock on the walk, but believe me, that had nothing whatsoever to do with anything that even hinted at upsetting the apple cart.
Those subjects were reserved for the preacher to warn us girls about. Since we carried the genes of Eve, we were weak and drawn toward sin. We were supposed to listen to our betters, who, of course were all male, but if I’d so much as asked about sex, I would have sent my parents to an early grave.
So I dated the “good boy” from next door and had never felt anything other than a little disgust when his first kiss reminded me of the puppy I’d gotten one year for Christmas. Every time he kissed me all I could think about was that puppy’s tongue slobbering all over me. Not about to ask any member of my family what was wrong with me, I turned to books and the internet.
I confirmed that preachers don’t have all the answers, and that they contradict each other on almost everything. I read studies on psychology and how the brain works and all sorts of other subjects. But it wasn’t until I found stories about submission that I recognized myself. They had my blood heating as did books about Doms who treasured the gift of their partner’s submission more than any gift of gold.
That was what I wanted. Not to be someone’s sinful mate, but to become someone’s chosen one, to be that gift.
Once I turned twenty-one, I began exploring a bit. When I found nothing close to a sex club in my small town, I moved to a larger city and got a job as a waitress in a fancy restaurant. I figured not only would the tips be better, the clientele would be older and more experiencedthan the boys I’d dated. I didn’t want a boy. I wanted a man. And not just a man, I wanted a Dominant.
Over the next year, I was invited to a few parties, even a couple of what I learned were called munches. Those provided confirmation that I wasn’t a freak, that other people, people who worked regular jobs, who looked like everyone else and yet were also drawn to kink were far more common that I’d thought. They also became the source of information on where to begin exploring the actual play, clubs to try, what to expect, what to wear, that sort of thing.
I supposed they also gave advice onwhoto play with, but I was so excited to have found that what I’d come to believe were places only existing in fairytales were real that I just didn’t pay attention.
To be honest, it comes down to the fact I just ignored anything I didn’t want to consider. After a few months, I was ready to stop watching from the sidelines and get into the game. I scened with a few Doms, spankings over a bench, a bit of bondage, some humiliation which I learned is definitely not on my kink list. I suppose all of that is why I wound up bound to that cross by a man I only knew as Sir.
I paused and lifted my glass only to discover that I’d emptied it.
“Here, babygirl,” Nigel said, taking the empty glass from me and handing me another. “Take your time. You’re doing great.”
“Am I?” I whispered wondering why I was spilling secrets that most likely made me sound like some woman who’d not had the sense of a slug.
“You are,” Mira confirmed. “Don’t let that box close. You’re going to smash it completely.”
I met her eyes and then those of her husband whose gaze was unwavering and could have caused me to shudder except for the fact it was filled with both compassion and resolve. A shift to Cedro’s eyes reflected the same.
“When you’re ready, I’ll take over,” he said softly. “But Mira’s right. Scratch and claw your way through if you need, but you’ve got this.”
I was pretty sure I didn’t until Nigel simply scooped me up and resettled me on his lap. His arm came around me, not tightly, but a solid weight that I knew wasn’t offering capture, but support.
“I’ve got you,” he said softly.
I nodded, took several sips of the water, and began again.
It was loud. Too loud and too dark. When I agreed to scene with him, he told me he’d blindfold me and wrapped something around my head. When I moved to lift it, he barked at me to be still. It not only cut off my vision, it was hampering my breathing—more a hood than a blindfold. When he reprimanded me so sharply, I froze, not wishing to call any more attention to myself. I was grateful he’d let me keep my underwear on so didn’t want to push it, I suppose. Anyway, the hood wasn’t cloth, it was latex, and his fingers adjusted it so that my nose popped free, allowing me to draw in a breath. I could feel my lips pushing out of the mouth hole of the mask, but that turned out to be only a momentary freedom.
The words, the orders came flooding back. I hesitated, but a gentle press against my hand reminded me I wasn’t in that club.I wasn’t alone. So I spoke the orders as they’d been said that night.
“Open your mouth,” Sir commanded, his voice sharp, his tone undeniably one of someone who expected instant obedience.
Once I opened my mouth, I felt him pushing something past my lips and then my teeth until I felt as if he were attempting to feed me a softball.
“Relax, it’s not like you’ve never had something in your mouth before. Open wider and stop trying to push it out with your tongue.”
I could feel a blush adding its heat to my body but stopped fighting and let him seat the ball-gag. The click of a buckle told me he’d locked it in place with a strap that went around my head. Rendered speechless, I couldn’t even tell him the strap was caught in strands of my hair, pulling it painfully.
I remember I almost fell, my balance off due to not being able to see as he turned me around and then lifted my arms and spread them. I knew what he wanted and tried to find the support of the wooden beams that made up the upper section of the St. Andrew’s Cross he’d chosen as our playground for the scene. Once he secured my ankles, I discovered he’d lied about letting me remain covered. He cut my bra straps and pulled it off and I guess just tossed it aside. I-I never saw it again.
Part of me wished to flee but it was far too late. I’d ignored the urge just as I had the part of my mind that had started to warn me that this wasn’t right. I’d pushed both aside because I thought I knew better. Told myself I needed this. Why, I wasn’t completely positive, just that I did. I’d craved someone to take control for so long. I’ddreamt of surrendering control to another and allowing someone stronger, someone more schooled, someone who knew exactly what a submissive needed when she couldn’t voice those needs herself.
I’d watched this man go through a couple of scenes with other women. I’d watched those women obey without question and knew that any doubts I had were simply carry overs from my prudish upbringing. So when he started, I… I just took it… until-until I-I couldn’t anymore.
I was aware of the wetness of my cheeks as well as the weight of a hand on my arm. It belonged to Cedro and when his eyes silently asked the question, I nodded and allowed myself to be drawn back against Nigel’s chest as both arms wrapped around me.
“For those of you who don’t know, before I came to the Ranch, I spent a few years in the high-end private security sector and maintained contact with a few clients. I began to hear about a club in Butte that had some very questionable dealings. Rumors included it being a front for criminal activity and abuse of unsuspecting clientele. I’d gone to the club to check out the validity of those stories. It took all of about ten seconds meeting with the owner to know the place needed to be shut down. I was leaving when I happened to look across the floor on my way out the door.”
His fingers squeezed my arm gently. “That’s when I saw her. I was all the way across the room and I could tell she was in trouble. Not a single fucking soul standing there watching seemed to care that she wasn’t enjoying what was happening, she was struggling to stay alive. The asshole had made sure she couldn’t utter a safe word. Hell, I doubt he’d ever even considered one necessary. Not when he was the man in charge.He’d also made damn sure she couldn’t drop a ball or cloth as he’d given her nothing to hold and her wrists were bound to that cross as were her feet. As for her panties, he didn’t cut them off with a knife. Instead, he used the strap. They were in tatters, hanging on to a waistband that was a mere stroke away from splitting apart.”
