Dalton (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (4 page)

Dexter looks at me with an expression I can
’t
fathom. I hear the key in my door and freak.
“Dad,” I yell.

He comes striding in from the bathroom. “What?”
“She’s here. Cover me up. I don’t like her s
eeing me this way,” I say in a panic.

He finishes tucking a blanket around me when the door is flung open.

“Oh my God, are you alright, Font,” she says as she charges to the bed leaving the door wide open.

“I’ll be fine, Master.” I lie so she doesn’t worry. I’ll be physically fine in a few days, but the acts I’ve committed for her will always leave me wounded.

Her hands flutter over me looking for a safe place to touch. She finally settles for my hand. I smile up at her in absolute adoration.

I watch in mild amusement as Dexter sees the woman.
His eyes bug-
out when he recognizes her.
I don’t see her as a woman, but I know that she makes one hell of an impact on the opposite sex,
actually both sexes. Her tall, curvy figure combined with her flowing black hair and green eyes is a stunning combination. It seems conceited to admit that since I look exactly like her- My Master- My…
“Mom, I’m fine. Quit fussing with me.” I grab her hands before she can pull the blanket down and see
s
my chest. She always weeps when she sees it and it hurts to watch.
Devlin
drags the other chair over and places it next to Dexter. She immediately sits and clutches my hand to her chest.

Dexter’s eyes rove between my Mom and me noting our likenesses. I see the worry etch his face as the impact of his actions comes into
sharp
focus. Yeah, it’s not wise to try to beat the so
n of Olivia Fontaine while she’
s on the phone with said son. Not wise at all.

“Hi, Dexter,
I’m Dalton
Anthony
Fontain
e
Marconi- Font. I
just turned twenty-
four and I apologize for all I’ve done to you in the past and for what I may have to do in the future. It’s for the sake of our organization, so suck it up, Sir.”
I allow my true voice to shine through and smile when the tone hits Dexter’s ears.

My mother and I share
our accent as well. Even living in the US the affect of my Grandmother’s inability to speak
English has worn off on me. I’
m fluent in French and English. My true voice holds a strong accent and sometimes I mix the wording on accident.

To say that my nights at Restraint have been difficult would be an understatement. I have to watch my accent, the language I speak, act as an asshole, and act straight. I do this all while
making sure no one
notice
s
that I’m in disguise while I pump them for information. I should get an Academy Award.
I reach my hand out for him to shake in acquaintance. He bewilderedly stares
at
my hand for a few seconds before his manners kick in and
he
takes my hand in a shake.
His broken and bloodied knuckles are rough under my fingertips.
“Mom, could you take Dexter into the bathroom and aid him with his hands, please?”

She looks at me for a moment debating on leaving me. My father gives her a nod knowing why I need her out of the room. She places a hand on the smaller man’s wrist and directs him towards the only room in my apartment that offers privacy.
“You and I need to have a talk in private, Dexter.” He flinches at the implications, but I know my mother well. She wants to offer explanation as to why she sent me here.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the bathroom door is closed. I need my ribs
bound, but didn’t want my mother to see the scars.

Devlin tightly wraps a stretchy bandage around my torso. The pressure is a relief and I can breathe easier. I take in several large breaths in ecstasy.
“There is a loose, long sleeved shirt in the mi
ddle drawer.
Will
you help me put it on? And I need some pajama bottoms.”
He quickly brings me the soft, gray shirt and I snuggle into it. My attitude changes as soon as my nightmare is covered. I struggle with my jeans because I refuse to be undressed like a baby. I wad the soiled jeans in my hands in shame. I make sure he doesn’t touch the soiled part and pass them over so he can toss them in
to
the hamper.
“Dad, I need a damp cloth,” I say in shame as I cas
t my eyes down. “There are dish
cloths next to the sink.”

He hands me the cloth and I wash my earlier shame and excitement from my crotch. My hands tremble as I remember what I did with an audience. How Whitt embarrassed me in front of everyone I’ve ever tormented. I know I deserved it, but it doesn’t take the sting away.
I pull the soft pants over my boney hips and breathe a sigh of contentment.

Devlin approaches me with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a bag of cotton balls. Uh-huh- not happening.
“I’ll do that. I don’t need coddled.” I say as I place the items in my lap. Thankfully my face was spared by my upraised arms and my cowardly fetal position during the beating. It was the mildest beating I’ve ever had. I’ll live. My hands and forearms are covered in bruises and cuts where the skin ruptured from the force of Dexter’s hits.
For such a small man he’
s as strong as a bull.

Dexter and my Master return to their seats while I tend to my broken skin. Dexter looks at me with pity and I flinch. I’ve hated that look since I was eleven and the burns began. I’m saved from his pity when a spider
crawls through my open front door. Well, not crawls-
runs
and lunges.
“Oomph,” wheezes out of me as my lungs empty of air. My sister crawls on the bed with me and I’m thankful that it’s my right side.
“Watch the rib, Itsy Bitsy.” I wince and draw her to my side. She and are the same size, but she has a few pounds on me. She isn’t a big girl, just curvy like our mother. I, on the other end of the spectrum,
am emaciated to the extreme. I’
ve
had
no control over myself since birth. It’s a difficult notion for someone as dominant as me. I use my food intake as my only c
ontrol. It’s also a proper
form of
self-
punishment.
“Are you alright,” she asks. She worries her bottom lip and I see tears in her bri
lliant eyes. We’
re six years apart in age, but she sees us as twins.

I don’t answer her
.
I just hold her to my side in happiness. I’ve seen her a handful of times since she and my mother came to visit a few weeks ago, but never in private. It was torture to ignore my sister, worse than it has
been
to ignore my father. Spyder is the closest person in my life. I snuggle her onto my chest not caring when the pain radiates from my side. The past three years apart hasn’t been easy
on either of us
.

Dexter gasps as he watches Spyder snuggle with me. His face is set in awe. It takes me a moment before I understand the implications of him seeing my sister. She and I look identical except for a few minor details that wou
ld be obvious to the observant M
aster. We share the same pale skin, red lips, and emerald eyes. Her hair
,
while
black, isn’t inky silk,
it’s
tight ringlets. Her facial features are that of her father’s.
“
Does she know who I am
?
” Dexter asks in wonder.
“Yes, Master wouldn’t
ever
tell us who her father was. I found out when I was
sent here and saw him
, but I
waited
to tell her in person. I told her before your wedding ceremony.”
I stare between the distraught M
aster and my sister. Her eyes no longer hold the tears back. I decide I should formally introduce the pair.
“Dexter Hayes this is Spyder Fontaine. She refuses the last name waiting to use her father’s. But that is who she is.” I say informally.
“Call me Spy,” her voice wavers as she crawls off me to give the man a hug. He pats her back and twines a curl around his finger. He stares at the coil and smiles. He gives her a tight squeeze and laughs a sound of pure joy.

“Cousin,” she sobs out.
My mother looks stunned and I watch her rebuild her composure. I unders
tand why she’
s fearful of Spy knowing her relatives and of them knowing she exists. I think it’s best for her to know them. Even if her father
can be the
biggest bastard and her only cousin just beat the shit out of me
,
I want her to
be welcomed into their family.
No way would they treat her with the same welcome I had with my father’s family.

“Let’s leave Font in peace. He needs to rest up so he can heal,” my father helpfully supplies.

He slowly pulls his daughter away from Dexter. She was slowly mapping the man’s features with a fingertip in awe. I understand since she doesn’t hold any resemblance to
me
or my
mother
. But it isn’t polite to randomly touch virtual strangers, relatives or not.

My mot
her stands and it’
s a cue for everyone
that the visit is completed. She kisses my cheek and departs to the outer hallway. Dexter pats my shoulder and gives me that damned look of pity again, this time it’s accompanied by shame and guilt. Tomorrow when I act heinous he will rethink the emotions.
Spy leans down and brushes a kiss to my cheek. “Mon frère, feel better.”
“
Bonne nuit, Itsy Bitsy,” I say
sadly knowing that tomorrow I’ll be
Dalton Thompson
again
. If I see my sister I have to act as if she doesn’t exist in my world. Worse, I may have to be mean to her in my quest of ferreting out the mole. I feel queasy at the prospect.

“Do you need me t
o check on you in the morning, S
on?” Devlin’s deep voice rumbles with concern.
“I’ll be alright. I’ve had worse. I’ll see you
tomorrow sometime. I think I’
ll wait a few days before I engage operation piss off the Devil. I don’t think I could
with
stand your punishment.” I chuckle at the look of horror that flashes across my Dad’s face.

I keep teasing that I will cause him to punish me in front of the members. I’m not teasing. Eventually it will come down to that. I need to break them. I need the mole to see me as like-minded
and
for them to
out themselves to me.

I watch as the group converges in the small hallway outside my front door. Devlin loc
ks my deadbolts in place and I ‘
m safe and tucked in for the night. I drift off to visions of crystal blue pools of water feeling confused, ashamed, and in pain.

Chapter Two

“You little
freak, I can’t believe I sired you. You’re an abomination.” A rough voice growls in m
y ear. His vapid breath scalds
the shell of my
lobe.
His thick fingers twist in the rope of my ponytail. He wrenches my head to the side with one hand while the other strikes me with an open-hand across my cheek. The force of the hit almost pulls his fingers from my hair. A few strands yank out of my skull at the root. The sting from the slap and the ache from my scalp are nothing compared to the burns that flame my skin.
“Bruno, show my nancy of a son what it means to be a real man.” The man yanks my head farther back bowing my spine, presenting a perfect canvas for Bruno.

Bruno sneers at me in anticipation as he relights his cigar. I watch as he cuts the end of the hand-rolled Cuban. He swirls his lighter in a circle igniting the end. He
puffs out white
plums
of smoke
stoking it to flame.
Bruno’s brown eyes never leave my face as he takes
a few drags off his cigar. He’
s building the moment. His eyes glaze with his eagerness to cause pain.

“Dalton, I swear you think you’
re a girl. It’s one thing to ruin your father’s hopes of a future with your love of cock. But I’m starting to think you wish you had a cunt. Maybe I will m
ake you wear a dress since you’
re so fond of kissing boys.”
My head is yanked farther back pulling
a whimper from my lips. S
everal
more inky
, black strands break from the force of his fist.
“Bruno, burn the fag out of my son.” He commands his underling to do his bidding and it isn’t a hardship for the si
mple-minded buffoon.
At twelve-years-old I’
m more evolved th
an Bruno. He’
s great muscle for my father though, as is apparent as he slowly moves in with the lit end of h
is stogie. Flames sear in white-
hot agony on my chest. The sizzle of flesh and the scent
of my burning skin
have
me retching in my father’s hold. Nothing comes up
my throat si
nce I haven’t eaten since the ni
ght
before
. I don’t scream knowing that it will feed into their pleasure. I drag in large breaths of air that are tinged with the putrid scent and cigar smoke.
Bruno draws on the stogie stoking its flame. I watch as
embers ignite the end to cherry-
red. The torture stick is applied to my left nipple and I cannot control the wail that frees from my throat. My body gives out at the knees and the only thing keeping me upright is my father’s hold on my hair.