Page 35 of Blinded
“I never said it wasn’t important, but you don’t have to do it.” His throat constricted. This isn’t going to happen again! “I know work also stresses you, and you hate the amount of paperwork involved.” He softened his voice. “I want to take care of you. I want you to be happy, hana.”
Her eyes shot daggers, and she poked her finger at his chest. “Don’t you hana me! I work because I like to work, I want to work, and I need to work. I worked as hard for my degree as you did for yours, and I’m going to put it to use!”
“I’m not against you working, but I saw how much you enjoyed taking care of our guests at last night’s party. Although my house was always beautiful and comfortable, you turned it into a home. And what about children – don’t you want kids, hana?”
“How do you get to our having children from hosting a lousy Super Bowl party?” Red splotches of color appeared on her cheeks. “You’re just like David. You want a trophy on your arm, a way to improve your career, a maid in the house, and someone to have sex with once a week.”
He wasn't sure which one of her accusations to address first. His pride won, and he zoomed in on her last statement. He stepped toe to toe with her and growled. “If you were in my house and in my bed, we would have sex every day, not just once a week. I'm nothing like David! If David had broken his hip, he might have needed a ‘doctor’ of physical therapy, but I would have been fine with any good personal trainer." He made sure she knew what he thought of her doctorate by making air quotes with his fingers.
“You, you …” she sputtered, speechless for a moment at the insult. “It's good we're not living together," Sandra taunted, "because we're not having sex ever again." She pivoted on her heels and marched out, leaving him behind seething with anger and regret.
Chapter Eleven
It seemed like he’d ended up nursing a drink at Club Indigo more often than not. He had gone into the club fully intent on doing a scene with a sub that didn’t yell at him or cause him any problems. When he arrived, volunteers had decorated the place for Valentine’s Day. To GT, it was a stab through the heart, and his resolve to play evaporated. To make a bad day even worse, he was about to witness a collaring ceremony. GT scowled but turned his attention to the woman at the center stage in the main room.
Julie had been in a car accident four months ago, and GT knew how painful and hard her rehab had been. Although jam-packed, the room was eerily quiet. Mitch walked up, looking more sophisticated than usual in black slacks and a dress shirt.
“You and I have been play partners for a long time,” Mitch addressed Julie loudly enough for the audience to hear. “Until now, I kept a strict line between my private life and the club. You changed that for me.” Although in a submissive pose, Julie looked at her Nawashi, and GT was envious of the man. Only he didn’t want Julie. He wanted Sandra to look at him that way. “Julie, my sweet rope bunny, my sub, and my lover, you’re kneeling here to accept my collar, but …” Several gasps sounded as Mitch went down on one knee and held out a small velvet box. “… will you do me the honor of becoming my wife as well?” Julie launched herself forward and Mitch braced in time to keep from toppling over as she flung herself into his arms. “Yes, Sir.” She grabbed his face between her hands and peppered it with kisses as the crowd chuckled. GT couldn’t help but smile as the couple stayed lip locked for at least five minutes. He might be jealous, but they did make a lovely couple, and GT didn’t begrudge them their happiness.
“You didn’t even look at the ring,” Mitch teased his jujun'na.
“I don’t care what it looks like – it’s from you, so I’ll wear it proudly.” Her response prompted more chuckles.
A woman in the audience, probably Laura, said, “Typical Julie.” and GT agreed with her assessment. Julie was spontaneous; she cared deeply for Mitch, and she wasn’t interested in jewelry. Sandra was more reserved, but she probably wouldn’t care if her engagement ring was beautiful and expensive or not. That is if she would accept a ring!
Mitch laughed out loud, opened the box, and showed Julie its contents. “I figured a big rock would irritate you at work. This way, the ring will shine from every angle, like you.” Julie squealed and launched herself at her Nawashi again. Mitch carefully untangled her arms and smiled. “Let’s get this ring on your finger and the collar around your neck since I need to bind you to keep you in one place.” GT couldn’t tell what Mitch meant about the ring and he didn’t have the energy or interest to find out.
The crowd roared with laughter. GT didn’t join in because he was gutted by Julie’s response, “Whatever pleases you, Sir.” He closed his eyes as he let the memory of Sandra using those words sink in, and his throat constricted. He wanted to roar in frustration, but instead GT downed the last of his drink and gestured to Peter to refill his glass. From the looks of it he was going to need it tonight. Maybe he should go home, but something had him rooted to the spot.
Meanwhile, Mitch had collared and ringed his jujun'na and rose. “Now, let me add to your beauty with some ropes, hmm?” Mitch appraised the small Asian woman. “Arms to the side at a ninety-degree angle.” Julie did as Mitch ordered, and with efficient movements, he tied her first in a breast harness and then one around her hips. Mitch worked a new length through a hoop hanging from the ceiling, and the usually hyperactive rope bunny waited patiently beside him. The other end he looped through the front of her breast ties and he pulled her up until she balanced on her tiptoes. New rope went through another ring on the ceiling before Mitch worked it through the front of the hip harness. The next moment he had her airborne and despite his feelings, GT had to admit it was an excellent performance.
“I’m keeping you, my Valentine.” Mitch bent over Julie and cradled her head to press a possessive kiss on her mouth. “Mine,” he stated as he pulled back and looked her in the eyes. “Ready to be taken, princess?”
“I’m soaking for you, Sir.” Julie sounded needy and breathless.
“Good,” Mitch smiled at her, “because I’m going to claim you,” and he did. He teased Julie with his mouth and fingers until she was begging him to take her. When Mitch finally entered Julie on a rough deep stroke, GT turned away. Unable to watch the happy couple any longer, he looked at his glass. Empty? He couldn’t remember downing the drink and signaled Peter over again. The big man frowned but poured him another drink. GT smirked, luckily the submissive was behind the bar because Bob would never have given him another drink.
Something moved in his peripheral vision, and he slowly turned to come face to face with a scowling Ruby.
“Why are you mad at me?” he slurred. When did my tongue become this uncooperative?
“How many drinks have you had, Greg?”
“Fuck if I know.” He shrugged and grabbed onto the bar when the movement caused him to lose his balance.
Ruby slapped her hand on the bar, and GT winced at the sound. “Peter, coffee and a large glass of water.” The bald submissive scuttled off to do Ruby’s bidding, and GT grinned. She’d make a fine Domme, this one. Uh, no, she wasn’t, was she? His befuddled mind scrambled to keep up.
Peter returned with her order, and Ruby shoved the coffee and water GT’s way. “Drink. Both!” She didn’t even look to see if GT did what she told him but returned her attention to the man behind the bar. “How could you serve him this much booze?” Ruby glared at Peter, and the poor man swallowed several times before he managed to stutter, “H-he’s a-a D-dominant. I f-followed his orders.”
“Right now, you’re volunteer Peter and not submissive Peter. What did you think he’d do if you refused to serve him? Flog or paddle you?” GT sniggered at Ruby’s words, and the brunt of her anger landed on him. Whoops.
“You know,” GT slowly rocked on his barstool, “you remind me of Sandra when you go Medusa like that.” He stared into the dark steaming liquid in front of him. “So cute.”
“You aren’t going to get away with calling me cute if you don’t drink that right now, Mister.” Ruby pointed a finger.
“Don’t like to be pushed,” he protested.
“Then you shouldn’t have gotten drunk. Drink your coffee and water, and then we’ll talk.”
