Sebastian
Theearlymorningsun bursts through the evergreen trees and casts a golden glow on the silken snow blanketing the spacious backyard, transforming it into a magnificent winter wonderland. My gaze follows a lone squirrel jumping between the feathery pine branches, bending under the weight of the heavy snow and ice. Winter is my favorite season. Before I was forced into the foster care system, we lived near Cedar Falls. I remember, as a child, the excitement of waking up early in the morning, running to the window and seeing everything covered under a perfect blanket of fluffy snow. I'd dash to my parents' room, jump on their bed and urge them to get up, so we could go out to play in the glorious snow. We sledded together down the slopes in the frozen snow, made snowmen, and had epic snowball fights. These were the happiest days of my life, before cancer stole my mother.
Shortly after my mother's death, my father died in a freak accident at the construction site he supervised, changing my sister's and my life forever. With no relatives coming forward to claim us, my baby sister and I ended up in foster care. Losses and lack of stability plagued my early life, so closing down emotionally was the only way to bear the unbearable. I tried hard to remain strong and in control, just like my father. The years I spent in foster care were difficult. Prior to losing my sister, I tried to protect her from any harm as we bounced from one foster family to another. I remember one day I went to school and when I came back, she was gone. I didn't have the chance to hug her and kiss her goodbye. Everyone I ever loved was now gone. I lost my parents, my home and now my baby sister. There was no one to comfort me or love me. The next day, they shipped me to another family.My dad taught me to always protect those who couldn't defend themselves, so in school, I stood up to bullies, protecting the underdogs. He was an amazing role model, kind and protective. Wherever we went, his presence commanded attention and respect despite being a man of few words. I remember how my mother's eyes would light up every time he came home from work. I was too young to understand then, but on reflection, my parents had a wonderful marriage, based on unconditional love and respect. They were in tune with each other. My throat tightens, making it hard to breathe as the icy hand of grief clutches my chest.Bringing myself back to the present, I exit the open plan living room and stride towards the grand biosphere housing the indoor/outdoor pool. Natural light bathes the biosphere, accentuating the vibrant green color of the luscious tropical foliage surrounding the pool. I was lucky to find these seventy acres of remote land, which offers an amazing view of Mt. Rainier. It gave me the freedom to design and build a spacious, eco-friendly, two-story house with an adjacent dungeon. While I have a split-level penthouse with all the modern conveniences in the city, I prefer the stillness and privacy nature provides.
Leaving my towel on the lounge chair, I stroll to the edge of the rectangular indoor pool. I rock my body forward, then glide into the warm water headfirst. After coming up for air, I settle into my routine. I use swimming to meditate and exercise at the same time. Normally, the repetitive arm strokes and breathing shuts down my other senses, allowing my mind to switch off. Not today. The little sub is all I can think about. If I'm not careful, she could take up permanent residence in my mind. I couldn't believe my luck when I saw her walking into the shop with her friend. It's as if the universe is working hard on crossing our paths. Usually, I don't pursue submissives, but the little kitten has awakened my primal desire to pursue her, like a hungry lion chasing its prey. I want to unwrap her like a Christmas present. The thought of stripping her naked, layer by layer, makes my cock hard as a rock. Get hold of yourself, man. This fucklust is messing with your head. Finishing my last lap, I pull myself out of the pool. Drizzles of water slide down my face and legs as I pad across the marble floor to the lounge chair. I've only got time for a quick shower before Ben pops in to see me. He shows up half an hour later just as I finish checking work emails. I lead him into the spacious open plan living room.
"Sorry Seb, traffic was at a standstill. You'd think this city's never seen snow before." He chuckles while brushing snow from his chestnut brown hair. I shake my head, flashing a grin at him.
"Make yourself at home while I make some coffee for us." Nodding, he collapses on the sectional. After brewing coffee, I amble back with two large mugs and place them on the wooden table.
"Lemon and blueberry muffins, courtesy of my gorgeous wife." Ben opens a large box, revealing perfectly raised, fluffy muffins. The delicious citrus smell wafts in the air, making my mouth salivate.
"Thank you. She shouldn't have baked for me. How are Sam and the baby?" Picking up a muffin, I bite into it. The riot of contradictory yet well-balanced flavors explodes on my tongue. It's so good, the muffin melts in my mouth.
"Good. I don't know how she does it, man. She looks after the baby full time, yet finds time to clean and cook. I help whenever I can. She almost bit my head off when I mentioned we should get someone to help around the house."
"She comes from a traditional Sicilian family. You're lucky Sam didn't skin you alive, Ben."
"Trust me, I've learned my lesson." He opens the leather document folder, adding, "So, I've found interesting information on the owner of the license plate you gave me." My stomach clenches with anticipation.
"Tell me." I fight against a frown forming on my face. Ben grins in a maddening, teasing way and hands me the document.
I snatch the papers, desperate to see what he's found out. My heart drums in my chest as I skim through the information that interests me the most. Alexandra Frey, born 12 March 1997, San Diego. Single, moved to Seattle one year ago, works as an oncology nurse at the North Star Hospital. It doesn't surprise me she is an oncology nurse. She appears delicate, like a rare orchid, yet I could sense the fighter in her. People who have survived many storms can easily recognize other survivors. Her quiet strength is like a beacon calling me home. Warmth spreads through my chest. You are diving into dangerous waters. Are you sure you can keep your heart safe if you get involved with her? Shaking my head to stop my pesky mind reminding of things I already know, I raise my head and meet Ben's eyes.
"She doesn't have any social media, but I've found her roommate. She has some interesting photos on her Instagram you might like to see." He scrolls on his phone, and when he finds what he was looking for, he hands me the phone.
I grab the phone like a man possessed. The second photo captures my attention immediately. The little vixen lies upside down on an unmade bed with her legs spread-eagled against the headboard. My gaze drinks in the skimpy, lacy bra barely holding her full breasts, suspender garter belt and stockings hugging her curvaceous hips, and six-inch heels pressing into the headboard. I stare at Alexandra's tilted chin, exposing her neck, closed eyes, long fingers gripping the crumpled sheet and her sultry blood-red lips sucking a sweet cherry. Damn it, I feel like a voyeur watching a woman in the throes of an intense orgasm. If the intention of the photographer was to titillate her audience, then she's most definitely accomplished her goal. The little sub looks hot as fuck, making my stone hard cock strain against my pants. Calm down, man. You're not a horny goddamn teenager. While tastefully done, the other photographs look raunchier. I clench my teeth, the ugly head of jealousy rearing its head. A low growl escapes my lips. What the fuck is happening to me? Why do I care who sees these photos? She's not mine, yet the thought of other men looking at her makes me mad as hell. Sebastian, stop acting like a Neanderthal. I can't ignore the chemistry between us…this crazy instant connection defies logic. I expel a deep breath and hand back the phone to Ben. I'll need to work hard on keeping cool, calm and collected.
"The photos have tons of likes and comments, but it doesn't surprise me. She's gorgeous, man. What made her move here after living all her life in San Diego?" The question piques my curiosity. "The weather is much better there. She had a great job. Do you want me to dig deeper?" He tilts his head, his gaze studying me with anticipation.
"Nah. I've a feeling we'll meet again soon. I'd like her to open up to me when she's ready." Ben bobs his head in agreement.
His phone vibrates on the coffee table and Sam's name flashes on the screen. He picks up his phone, springs to his feet and dashes towards the main hall. While waiting for Ben to come back, I fire a quick text to Christopher to let him know that I'm coming to the club tonight. He shuffles back and presses his hand on his forehead in obvious disappointment.
"Oh, man, I need to go. We're out of diapers again. If you need anything, just call me."
"Likewise, Ben. Thank you for everything." I grin back and tap his shoulder. Before he leaves, we agree to meet up for a pre-Christmas drink at his place.
I sink into the comfortable leather sectional next to Master Dan. It's not even nine o'clock, yet the open play areas are already buzzing with activity. The pulsing beat of dark electronic music drowns the cracking sound of whips, palms connecting with bare skin, whimpers, and moans of pain and pleasure. My gaze darts to Master Julian's ball-gagged and tied submissive, kneeling obediently next to him. His mouth tugs in a smirk each time Zoe's eyes roll and her ass cheeks tighten. He told me she's been sassy all day and now is refusing to apologize.
"I bet you want to come, don't you, baby girl?" Julian leans forward, pressing the remote control again. Zoe's brown eyes light up in agreement. "Are you ready to apologize?" He rises to his feet and tugs on her collar, signaling for her to follow him.
He salutes me, a massive grin quirking the corners of his mouth. As I grin back at him, Christopher saunters in with Emma, the club's regular submissive, trailing behind him. Every Friday, we show an impact play, which draws sizable crowds. He's one of the most sought-after Doms, but since his wife died a few years ago, he's not collared another submissive. Being a widower is like catnip to women, and his grief is an aphrodisiac. While he helps me with demonstrations and occasionally plays with an unattached submissive, he never goes any further. The grieving process can take years to go through. I've learned the hard way that grief isn't linear. It's like a raging ocean wave and the more you fight against it, the faster you drown. The road to acceptance is long and hard, but once you get there, the real work starts.
"Hey, Seb. The crowds are gathering already and getting restless. It's not a full moon tonight, is it?" Amusement laces his deep voice. Rising to my feet, I lift my bag and flash him a playful smirk.
"Nah, man. They can't wait to see you in action." I tap his shoulder and lead him to the play area.
Christopher cuffs Emma's wrists while I flick my flogger, warming my wrist. Before we start, he ties his long blonde hair in a messy low ponytail and rolls his shirt sleeves in a deliberately slow motion, making Emma squirm with anticipation. I cast my gaze on her voluptuous naked body restrained on the massive seven-foot wooden frame. There's no hiding. She stands completely exposed, both her front and back accessible to us. Emma stares at the flogger, the smooth skin on her face and neck flush pink with a mounting excitement.
"What is the safe word, pet?" I caress her arm up and down with the flogger.
"Red, Master Seb," her voice shakes slightly.
"Good girl." I give her a warm, reassuring smile.
Christopher twirls her erect nipples between his fingers, then pinches them hard, eliciting a loud moan. He grabs a plastic bag full of disposable wooden clothespins. Emma bounces on her toes expectantly as her gaze darts between me and Christopher. After attaching clothespins on her nipples, he flicks the ends with his finger, making her moan deep in her throat. He rewards her by giving her a gentle pat on her bottom before he continues clamping the rest on the soft skin around her breasts, inner thighs, and labia. By the time he finishes, Emma's body trembles with pain and pleasure.I circle around, coming to a stop behind her, and exchange a knowing look with Christopher. We have a well-practiced routine, working together as one. I draw the tails across her body to warm her, giving her a few light strokes across her buttocks, pausing for a moment to let her mind adjust to the pain, then work gradually to harder ones. Emma often takes part in impact play demonstrations and feeds off the mixture of thuds and stings across her back, buttocks and thighs. Her pain threshold is high, so I need to monitor that I don't push her too far.