Page 38 of Leviticus
“She didn’t say anything,” I admitted.
“Well, that may just mean you overwhelmed her —”
“No, Kai. She didn’t say anything because I didn’t tell her.”
There was silence on the other end for a long, pregnant pause. “Malachi?” I asked again, hesitantly.
“You fucking moron. You’re a complete idiot. You do know that, right?” he chided.
“I think that’s taking it a little too far,” I protested. “When I took her in the study last night, she just pulled it out of me. I pushed her into the wall with my hand around her throat and, Christ, Kai, her eye lids fluttered and she sighed when I squeezed my fingers against her arteries. It was heady and indulgent and I had to have her.”
“Wait, you choked her without discussing kink first?! Levi! You know better!” he screeched, and I felt the guilt and shame hit me like a ton of bricks.
“I know, I know. But it just happened. I stopped it. I pulled away and asked if she wanted it. And she enthusiastically consented. We didn’t go full kink. More… vanilla sex with some kinky sprinkles scattered on top,” I tried to justify.
“Ugh, that’s such a tough line to straddle, Levi, and you’re just making it harder on yourself by doing so. What you did wasn’t technically wrong, but, Jesus, man! You know how much easier it would be if you just fucking talked to her,” he scolded, and I felt his words hit me hard, straight in the gut.
“I’m scared, dammit,” I admitted. The cool September afternoon air kept me sane; the brisk cold on my face making me feel alert. “I’m afraid of it going wrong. She’s not just some girl at Abditory.”
“You’re right. She’s not just some girl. She’s your wife. Did she say anything? Ask anything about your behavior? Has she given you any inkling she could share this interest?”
“When I refused to talk to her… when I told her that she couldn’t handle the things I wanted; well, she said she could handle them. She said, and I quote:try me. I dare you.”
Malachi’s laughter boomed out over the phone loud enough I had to pull the cell phone away from my ear.
“Oh, Christ, man! You’ve found yourself quite the woman, haven’t you? Hell, if she’d been my woman I would have her running through the hills so fast her head would spin.” Malachi’s particular kinks were about as far removed from mine as they could be, but we respected one another in every way, especially in kink.
“What am I supposed to do?” I all but begged.
“The same thing I know I’ve told you, and I know Ollie has told you. Just sit down and talk to her. The worst case, she runs and tells on you and we figure it the hell out, man. We always do, right?” I nodded before realizing he couldn’t hear me through the phone.
“Yeah, I suppose. I told her I would talk to her tomorrow night. Perhaps I should just go get it over with,” I sighed.
“No, hold to your word. Wait until tomorrow and then talk to her when you have a more level head. But take today and get all this ridiculousness out of your head. You aren’t some monster who wants to hurt her,” he insisted.
“No, just a Dominant who wants to beat her,” I laughed humorlessly.
“That’s the spirit. And who knows, maybe she’s a submissive underneath it all who wants the same things you want. You never know! Good luck, brother.” With that, Malachi hung up the phone and I sat there on the cold wooden planks of the back porch. I stared off into the heavily wooded treeline, hoping the scenery would somehow give me the answers I needed in order to have this talk successfully.
Who was I kidding? The trees were not about to give me words.
Shaking my head, I stood again and stepped back into the house, sighing with contentment as the warmth flooded over my body. I had a few hours of daylight left to kill and checked our supplies out of nothing but sheer habit. The woodpile in the garage was well stocked, but could be better, so I grabbed my gloves and a puffy vest and made my way back outside towards the shed to split wood. Perhaps it would clear my head and wash away some of this pent up energy that was coursing through my veins.
By the time I had stacked the wood pile as high as it would go in the garage, it was pitch black outside. I had split wood clear past dinner and into the late evening. When I had come inside, I saw the plate of food sitting out, covered in tinfoil for me. Ruth was a thoughtful woman; a trait I didn’t take lightly and respected within her. There were many things about her I respected, though, when I thought about it, I wasn’t sure I had shown her any of that. I wasn’t sure I had shown her anything but conflicting emotions, conflicting words, and then chastised her for being confused. I was an ass, just as both Malachi and Ollie had said.
It didn’t do well to dwell on it now, however. Tomorrow, things would change. Tomorrow I would speak to her and tell her my truth.
I walked into the bedroom, already peeling my clothing off. That uncomfortable unbalancing act between the cold chill that sets in your bones being outside this time of year, and the pouring sweat one gets after hours of chopping wood had set in and was driving me nuts. I needed a long, hot shower.
When I entered the bedroom, I saw her curled up on her side in the fetal position and clinging to the edge of the bed like a lifeline. Like she wanted to be anywhere but in bed with me. It made that shame and guilt sink lower in my gut like a leaded weight. I stood there for a long moment, just watching her sleep. She slept fitfully, her brow furrowed and her mouth drawn down in what looked like sadness or discomfort. That was the last thing I wanted for this woman. The last thing I wanted for my wife.
I shook my head, walking into the bathroom for a much needed shower. The warm water washed over me as I thought about tomorrow; as I thought about today. I had made her feel like shit, all because I wouldn’t talk to her. Honestly, I had thought this was what she had expected. My father and mother rarely actually talked. Sure, in public they spoke like any other couple did, but behind closed doors, they were cordial strangers at best. They didn’t fight, but they didn’t speak.
That wasn’t how things were going to be here. Even if Ruth and I did not stay married after leaving Zion, we would have at least something here. We would have honesty. I could give her that much. I could honor that much of my vows to her.
I dried off and quickly changed for bed, ready for tomorrow and the conversation ahead. I slept much the same as Ruth did that night, curled up facing away from her and clutching the edge of the bed. I didn’t want to crowd her. I didn’t want her to feel smothered or like I was invading her space. I should have just slept in the guest bedroom, but I was afraid she would take that as a sign of abandonment, which would only lead us on a worse path.
The next morning came with bright sunshine and stiff, aching joints. I rolled over, expecting to see her there, still huddled up away from me, but she was already gone. Panic set in my gut and I jumped from the bed, running from the room in search of her.
