Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (112 page)

I
peek to see if the boys noticed what accidently happened. Unlike most kids, mine like that Wil and I love each other. We don’t kiss or hang all over one another. Cuddling on the sofa or holding hands is the most PDA we can handle. But I never hear puking noises or intercept looks of disgust. Zane is smiling to himself, radiating contentment. But Torian gives me a knowing look. My eyes snap shut as a blush blooms.

A deep masculine chuckle fills the air and I freeze like a scared rabbit. “Oh… God…
please tell me that sound didn’t come out of your throat,” I ask a smirking with way too much knowledge Torian. He flashes me an unashamed and amused grin.

“
Don’t worry, Momma. He’s all talk and no action. Tori hasn’t even kissed a girl,” Zane reassure me.

“Why
do you sound like you have,” I draw out in horror, my voice cracking.

“Gross,” Zane sound like he’s going to be sick. “
Do you know how many bacteria are in saliva?” A shudder wracks his tall body.

“I cannot wait for the day that Zane gets gobsmacked by a girl and falls to his kn
ees,” Torian says, a wistful note in his voice. “Then I’m going to stand by and laugh when he doesn’t think her bacteria are gross.”

“I don’t think so,” Zane quietly says, looking pretty skeeved out.

“It happens to everybody. My parents look like that when they aren’t cage fighting. Yours walk around with a perpetual look of delirium when they are around each other. Prepared to be tormented by me when it happens,” Torian taunts Zane.

Zane just turns his face away, ignoring all of us. After twelve years of being taunted by Torian, it doesn’t have the desired effect. Zane watches a burly man drive an eighteen-wheeler down a frozen highway as if we weren’t in the middle of a fun and uncomfortable conversation.

“You got a girlfriend yet… or three?” I ask the hormonal teenager.

Torian looks like a cross between his parents.
Short like his father, and you don’t notice the stockiness until he’s kicking your ass, with the creamy café au lait skin and huge hazel eyes of his mother’s. He has his father’s geekiness and charisma, and the raging hormones passed down from my parents’ side of his family. It’s an unassuming combination. By the time Torian charms you with his innocent boyish looks and reels you in with his intelligence, it’s already too late- you’re hooked. He is going to wreck the female population.

“Not yet,” Torian says
, with an amused twist in the corners of his lips. “But I plan on having a baker’s dozen,” he says without shame, causing all of us to laugh. I love the sound of Wil’s hearty laughter beneath my ear as it rests on his chest.

“
Oooohhh… not at all cocky, are you?” I drawl out.

“Just confident,” he replies as the front door opens, and Aunt Amelia breezes in. “Grammy,” Torian sings, face lighting up.

The boys call Aunt Amelia Grammy. Our Simpson family is a small one, just Amelia, Fate, Boyd, me, and the boys. Gwen gets called Grandma, but that’s it. Torian has no other grandparents besides my mother, so he calls his great-aunt Grammy and Stanton Papa. Zane does have a pair of grandmothers, Gwen and Diane, but Diane doesn’t know he exists. Stanton and Marcus have been adopted as Zane’s official Papas, and Torian calls them the same. The boys have no blooded grandfathers on my side- one died in prison, and I killed the evil one. Zane’s grandfather is serving a term in prison for assault and kidnapping. As for Torian, Wil and Greta’s parents died when they were young, and Boyd’s adoptive father died of old age. We may have a big family, but not all the members are good people. We only keep the good ones.

“I brought a doggie bag!” Amelia holds up a bag in her hand, wiggling it around. “Who’s hungry?” In her late sixties, Amelia act
s and looks a lot younger, much to Wil’s disappointment.

“No,” Wil says, hand reaching out to catch a lunging Torian. “You know the rules, no eating after nine p.m., or you’ll never fall asleep. I bet that bag is filled with processed sugars.” He pulls Tori back down to the sofa. “
And you know this, Amelia,” he hisses with a glare that would make most men cringe. Amelia just emptily smiles, as if no one is home upstairs.

Wil and Amelia are like oil and water. Responsible Wil and irresponsible
Amelia clash constantly. It’s been a decade long feud, and Amelia loves to bait Wil. I love my aunt, and I let her do whatever. Everyone else in my life lives by my guidelines and boundaries- ones Wil and I are in complete agreement on- all but Amelia. I tend to let her do as she pleases. I don’t know why I do, maybe because the woman raised me. Amelia is the only reason Wil and I ever fight. That bag laden with sugar and fat will no doubt start another one.

“Boys, could you be sweethea
rts and put this away for your grammy?” Amelia hands the bag to Zane, winking.

Zane isn’t even halfway to the kitchen before
the paper bag is opened and pastries are being shoveled into two eager mouths. Wil shoves to his feet, growling and hissing about
impossible women, and he wished he had a whip with the name Amelia on it
.

“I can’t punish her, but you know I can punish you.” Wil’s threat reaches the kitchen before he does, and I know that bag is empty and the boys will have wicked stomach aches from eating a couple thousand calories in less than thirty seconds. “Zane’s room, now! We’re gonna have a little chat about rules and consequences.”

An innocent angel with chocolate ganache all over his face slowly walks by without a lick of guilt. He sucks sugar off his fingertips while his uncle growls at his heels. Torian’s taller shadow glides behind without any evidence on his face, but I can tell my son ate the bulk of the treats. You don’t get to flirt with six feet tall by the age of twelve without eating constantly. The boys fight over food like lions with a fresh kill on the Serengeti.

“It was just a treat,” Amelia innocently says, but her wicked smile screams it was on purpose. She wasn’t rewarding the boys; she was sticking it to Wil.

“You know I can love you both, right? Wil is my husband and you are my aunt- that is a huge difference.” I meet her challenging gaze and smirk.

“I am but an old woman,” Amelia says in a feeble voice.

“I call bullshit,” I snort. “You date a string of men and get into more trouble than those teenagers.”

Amelia isn’t much taller than me. While womanly, she isn’t very curvy. She never had any children of her own, and she refused to talk about why. It wasn’t for the lack of male companionship. She never married, preferring to have a few beaux at a time to being tied down to
just one man. If she would’ve been born in my era, she would’ve been accepted better. The people of her generation called her a domineering brassy broad. Men her age liked to screw around with a woman like her but marry a softer female.

“We all have to have a hobby,” she salaciously purrs. “G’night, baby girl,” Amelia whispers against my cheek as she kisses me goodnight.

“Thanks a lot for riling up Wil,” I snarl as she heads for the front door.

“Anytime… it was my pleasure.” Her
wicked laugh hangs in the air, even after the door closes behind her retreating form.

I cowardly outwait Wil
, not wanting to say goodnight to the boys until his lecture is complete. I stand up and make my way to Zane’s bedroom after I hear our bedroom door open and close.

“It’s my turn,” Torian’s high-pitched whine hurts my ears.

“It’s my telescope,” Zane calmly states.

“No, it’s Papa’s. He just lets you use it!” Tori pushes Zane out of the way of the telescope. “He’d let me use it in my room, but I don’t have your view.”

“My family,” Zane rudely says.

“I’m your family,” Torian says in a hurt voice. “What’s yours is mine. Don’t be
a selfish prick. I want to watch. You’re too young to see that, anyway.”

“No,” Zane quietly says, refusing to budge.

I don’t know why they are fighting to look in the telescope, but I lean on Zane’s door to see what they do next. I am an observer. Watching anyone will predict their future behavior. Torian tries to shove at Zane, but all Zane does is bat his cousin’s hands away, eyes never leaving the eyepiece. Wil, Boyd, and I have been training the boys, and I’m curious to see who will win. Torian should, if he uses his brains.

Finally fed up, Torian does as he should. He charges Zane, low on his body, wrapping his arms around Zane’s knees. He uses Zane’s tall center of gravity to his advantage. My son falls to the floor
. Before Zane’s ass lands, Torian’s eyes are glued to the telescope’s eyepiece.

With the fight just beginning, I decide I need to know what is worth them beating the shit out of each other over. I walk over to the telescope, wanting a look. Zane watches me with huge gray eyes, nervousness radiating off of him in waves- that alone gets my curiosity up.

I put a hand on the enthralled boy’s shoulder, and Torian nudges me away, thinking I’m Zane. In a practiced move, my shin connects with the back of his knees while my hand shoves backwards in the center of his chest. Torian falls to his ass next to Zane.

“Mine,” I calmly say. “Everything in this apartment is mine. You’re both just borrowing it because I let you. Only gifts and things you purchased yourself have your nametag on them. Don’t forget that,” I warn as I turn to the telescope.

“Sonofabitch,” I hiss. I close my eyes to what I see, but the vision is burned into my retinas. I quickly stride over to Zane’s desk and jot down an angry note.

-Ez
Next time Cortez and Katya want to play ‘choke to death on a huge cock’, I’d appreciate it if they’d draw the blinds. I don’t want my boys thinking that girls should kneel on the floor at a man’s feet and passively get skullfucked. Next time, I’m going over there and slapping a bitch- got it? & what’s up with the masquerade mask on Katya’s face?
Don’t make me feed you your balls!!!
-Faith

“Give this to your father when he makes his appearance during his nocturnal stalking,” I say
, shoving the note into Zane’s hand. “That is not how you treat a woman,” I seethingly hiss. “E V E R!”

Furious, my hands shake with suppressed frustration. I detach the scope from its tripod while biting my bottom lip against the nastiness that threatens to erupt. One does not bitch about their s
on’s father to their son’s face. At least not a good parent, anyway. One simply packs up the source of perverted entertainment and drags it back to their bedroom while their husband watches them lock it in their closet.

“I’m going to bleed Ez,” I warn, voice dipping to the pits of Hell.

“Finally,” Wil sings. He lounges in the center of our bed, one of Grant’s numeral books on his lap.

“You…” I pant, trying to calm my anger. “You won’t believe what I just saw- what the boys were watching. I hate that Zane has to watch his father stalk Katya. I hate that he watches their adjoined apartments and their offices. I hate that the woman is being played. But what I just saw… it makes me hate her, too.”

“What?” Wil asks, looking too amused for my pissed off mind.

“Katya was kneeling on the floor with Cortez shoved down her throat. She was masked- the woman probably didn’t even know who was skullfucking her,” I spit.

“Whoa…” Wil breathes out. An aroused smile flirts with his stern lips.

“I found the boys watching-” I don’t get to finish the sentence before Wil is out of the room. A second later Zane’s bedroom door meets the wall. 

~Chapter Ninety-Eight~

The caustic thud is making my brain bleed. Watching the crowd dry hump one another is mildly amusing. I’m not a prude in the least, but I draw the line at watching a guy bend a woman over a table and fuck her from behind.

The couple
arrived together, both wearing matching wedding bands. I assume it’s a husband/wife combo wanting to add some danger to their boring lives. The husband takes control of his wife with the finesse and determination of an abuser. These morons think control and dominance are an excuse to abuse. The patrons of Restraint are a dime a dozen- abusers, users, tourists, and thrill seekers. The realists pay for a membership to the dungeon and leave the front of the club alone.

By the time the husband allows another little puke to touch his wife, I
have to look away. I don’t do anything about it, but I refuse to watch. They are grown people with freewill. It was their choice to behave like this. If the woman didn’t like it, she could say no. If he doesn’t listen, that’s her fault, too. She married him. She knows what he’s like. If she didn’t trust him, she shouldn’t have come here tonight.

Self-respect: you can’t buy it and you can’t earn
it, you just use it. And there is a lack of self-respect and dignity in Restraint. The air reeks of desperation.

Restraint is a vile place. Listed as
a hedonistic delight, Restraint draws an astronomical crowd. But Ez has his head up his ass or he just doesn’t care for the safety of his clientele or the legalities of the law. I’m sure there a dozens of rules and regulations being broken this very second- one of which is the public sex on display for hundreds of clubbers. But I guess that is the appeal of Restraint.

My level of disgust reaches its breaking point when random stranger number three walks up with a cruel smirk on his pockmarked face, whips his dick out, and barebacks the prone wife. The husband laughs and slaps his crying wife’s ass.

The part of me that is named Faith, longs to interfere. The hardhearted part of me named Syn, thinks this is a valuable lesson for the woman. Just because you are a woman doesn’t mean you don’t have a voice. Don’t want to do it, then say no, and never put yourself into a situation you can’t get yourself out of. This is what happens when you put your faith into someone that is faithless, you get abused, and possibly leave with an unwanted pregnancy from a nameless scumbag that will pass his scumbag DNA to your child… not to mention the plethora of STDs you can catch off one dirty dick. It’s the price you pay for using your vagina as a garbage can. Feels good, don’t it?

I’m not ashamed to admit that the sadist in me is glad the bitch is get
ting this very important lesson. I just hope she lives through the experience to change her life. The realist in me knows she will still be with that ass come morning, and she will be back here because she is a perpetual victim. She isn’t a submissive any more than her husband is a dominant- they are victim and victimizer… and neither is my concern.

Fed up with the bullshit, I seek the quiet solace of the dungeon- not that the dungeon is silent. But the sounds in this room take up residence in my ears and feed my soul. The dungeon isn’t how I would’ve designed it, but the level of professionalism eases my throbbing nerves.

Since it’s a Monday night, the dungeon is almost empty. Queen is patrolling the club. Ez is in his office playing spy-master on his laptops. Now that Cortez is monogamous with Katya, and kind of giving Ez what he needs, he stays away from the temptation of Restraint’s dungeon. Truth be told, he’s probably at the Brownstone with Marcus’ cock shoved down his throat.

My baby brother took to the lifestyle like a pro- but it’s bullshit. Whitt gets blow
n by three beautiful ladies- little pink tongues lapping at his cock. Yeah, I’m looking at his junk. While it’s perfect and none of my business, and he doesn’t know I’m his sister, I’m just checking for latex. The first time I see him barebacking a blowjob, let alone sex, we’re gonna throw down. Sex should be intimate, and skin-to-skin contact should be sacred.

But I doubt I will have to punish my brother. Whitt enjoys his blowjob while watching another out of the corner of hi
s eye. I’m not policing the use of prophylactics between those two. When Whitt and Dalton finally converge, sparks are going to fly. They’ve been eye-fucking each other for years, and multiple people have been trying their damnedest to get them to give in to their true nature.

When I see her, I’d rather go back into the obnoxious club
and risk bleeding out from the ears and eyes- listening to that God forsaken music and watching the abused be assaulted by their abusers. Anything is better than this travesty. Katya Waters with the flaming red hair to her waist, her poser leather outfit, and her head firmly planted up her tight ass.

I’d liked her at first. I
’d felt badly for her, as Ez, Cort, Aaron, and Kayla played their own game using her as the token. The woman was confused, and rightfully so. But she did a stupid girl move- more than one or two or fifty. She pulled the same shit that idiot wife is pulling out in the club. Katya allowed her mind to be clouded by a man, better yet, men. The woman thinks she is in control as her world does a death spiral.

Ez and Cort are pathological liars- worse, they believe their own lies. Some days, Ez seems to forget that he has a son, that he even knows me. I harbor secrets that could burn his fake little world to the ground. He honestly believes his own lies inside his head. He creates an alternate reality where they all are living a happily ever after
, where the past doesn’t exist. I can see it in his eyes, he is drawing Katya in, and he is going to ruin her. I know Ez will marry her and make her pop out kids as soon as possible, as a way to trap her. Ez will force Cortez into this twisted ménage, as a way to form a bond between the reluctant lovers. Ez believes he is doing the right thing, marrying the mother of his child and satisfying Cort’s need for feminine flesh. But he is selfishly using Kat to get Cort. Why am I the only one who sees this as an imminent disaster?

I could have forgiven Katya for her naïve need to immediately fall in love with Ez and Cort. It’s infatuation. It’s built on lies, so it’s not real love. How she saw past their machinations and rationalized their abhorrible behavior is beyond my scope. What I couldn’t forgive, is her
bringing my son’s sister into the mix so quickly. A mother should protect her child at any cost, and Katya failed to do that.

What I can’t believe is that Ez managed t
o find another Cortez Abernathy: selfish, greedy, self-involved, gluttonous, and self-deluded. Katya Waters does not have the ability to look outside of herself or see the real her when she looks in the mirror.

Katya Waters’
vagina is just another well-used garbage can.

Wil has toyed around with the idea of playing with Grant, but I haven’t gone there with them. I may or may not. The difference is that I love Grant- he is a lifelong friend and has been Wil’s friend for almost fifteen years. That is a past, present, and future. Sex would mean something.

I don’t understand the ménage situation with Ez, Katya, and Cortez. Wil is enough for me, but I get why we would enjoy Grant on a pleasurable level. But Katya already has TWO men in her bed. How big of a whore are you if you need more than that to satisfy you? You can’t be satisfying your lovers if you’re worried about your next conquest… and the next… and the next.