“Is she still seeing one of the psychologists?” I inquired as I leaned forward to find patients’ names within the psychology and counseling services department. I skimmed the screen for her name, and just as Garrett spoke up, I’d found her. She was seen this past week.
“Yes, we’re going weekly, but she’s not opening up much with the doctor.”
“Things of this magnitude take time, Garrett.”
“I know, but I feel kind of helpless with her. And months and months have passed.”
“I know how you feel. Brandon buttons up about certain things, while he talks more about other topics. Sometimes I want to push him to keep talking, but I can tell when he’s reached his max.”
I offered up the info about Brandon’s similarities to not being open at times as a way of offering support to Garrett. If he was helping this young lady, chances were that he felt very helpless most of the time. It was obvious he wanted to help her and felt drawn to her. I knew from seeing him in Oxygen that he wasn’t a sadist by any means. Garrett was somewhat quiet in the club, when he did come in, which wasn’t often. Sometimes he’d come in purely to watch sessions. He strictly had sessions with females, when he had them.
“Does he have nightmares a lot?” Before I could answer his question, he added, “I’m not trying to get you to divulge information about him. I just wondered if he is dealing with some of the same stuff as Salem has been for the last several months.”
“I understand, Garrett. Your questions are fine. Brandon still has nightmares. As the months have gone by, they have lessened. Sometimes there are things that will set him off or set the stage, if you will, for a nightmare.”
“How so? What do you mean exactly?”
“Brandon has a low tolerance for rain, or water hitting his face. When he washes his face in the shower, he won’t put his face under the spray to rinse it off. He uses a wet washcloth. When it rains, he won’t go outside unless necessary. And nearly every time it rains here, he has a nightmare that night.”
“I see what you mean; thank you.”
“Anytime, Garrett. You know you can always reach out to me.”
“I hate to ask this, James. But do you think the four of us could have lunch or dinner sometime? I keep thinking that if Salem saw someone else who was there with her that maybe she’d open up a little more. I don’t have the counseling background that you do, and I don’t know how to help her.”
“Of course, we could meet for lunch. But don’t go into it expecting a grand result, Garrett. From what Brandon has said, toward the end he had been kept separated from the others—”
“In the cage. I remember, James. I will never, ever forget walking into a pitch dark room, turning on the light, and finding him. This job has shown me a ton of things that I will never be able to forget. The mental picture of Brandon curled up in a cage will never go away.”
“Sam showed me the photos that night at the hospital. They’ve been burned into my memory as well.”
“I just thought if Salem saw him again, she could see that she wasn’t alone and that it might spark her to start talking more about her time in captivity.”
“Let’s plan for lunch Friday. That’s a few days away, and it’ll give you time to prepare Salem and me some time with Brandon.”
“That works. Thank you, James. I’ll begin to look into the man in the photo.”
“Very well. Text me on Thursday the name and location of where you guys would like to meet.”
“Will do.”
* * *
I’d givena lot of thought to making Brandon my permanent submissive since my conversation with Russell a few days ago. In the months that he’d lived with me, I’d detected that he was far more submissive than he’d realized. His genuine desire to please me was very evident. He wanted to do tasks that he was given, and he wanted to do them well.
Since I’d been taking Brandon to Club Oxygen and educating him on many elements within safe kink play, he had a good grasp on the various dynamics and types of play. Over the months Brandon had been with me, he had learned a lot about himself in regard to what he wanted and needed in a relationship. He understood that he was not only a masochist, but a submissive. We naturally fell into a D/s relationship; I was his protector, and he was my pup. It had only intensified since we'd added sex into the mix.
I believed that Brandon wanted there to be an ‘us.’ But I didn’t think he’d grasped yet how badly that I wanted it. He had no idea how much I burned for him, or how eager I was to show him the depth of desire for him. Both of us ached to see how far we could push one another while staying intact.
Genuine masochists were hard to come by, but Brandon was both an emotional and physical masochist. Every time I thought about the possibilities with him, I was incredibly aroused. Given his background, it scared me to death, though. It was concerning, and yet comforting, that I knew exactly how to destroy Brandon, or how a session could go drastically wrong for him. Each time I began to dwell on that, I reminded myself that I was a compassionate sadist and even if I took Brandon over the edge with me, I could safely bring us back.
We were about to test my ability to remain completely in control with him. I’d given a lot of thought to the type of play session that would drive both of us wild and meet each of our needs. We’d see how well I planned and what needed to be tweaked for the next one. And I wanted the next one to be in Oxygen.
Before I walked into my bathroom where I expected Brandon to be waiting, I checked my pockets to ensure that I only had the necessities and no excess. I picked up the thick wooden paddle and tilted it toward the natural light that filled the bedroom. I checked the edges and the few splintered cracks to ensure nothing would cause harm. Pain was what I desired to inflict, not harm. The paddle checked out just fine and met my glance over.
I unbuttoned my shirt and pulled my undershirt off. I needed my arms and range of motion free from obstruction. I stood in the doorway of the large bathroom and drank in the sight of Brandon. Adrenaline and excitement flooded my veins. Brandon had spread out a towel on the floor as I had instructed him. He knelt on his knees and sat on his heels. His legs were parted, and his flaccid cock hung just to the left. Carrying the paddle loosely in my hand, I walked to him and took hold of his chin and tilted it upward.
As I stared down at my naked pup, his bright blue eyes stared up at me through the strands of his hair. Energy and excitement radiated off his body. While his eyes were focused on mine, I went over the safe word with him.
