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Subject: (ASSM) RP: SoulMates Part 19 of 19, the Conclusion (Romance, Femdom)
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SoulMates Part Nineteen: An Ending
by Tigger
Copyright 1997, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 56:    The Escape

Murmured voices tickled at the peripheries of my drowsy mind.I
tried to roll over to get off my stomach and into a more normal
and more comfortable position.  That was a mistake - for two
reasons.  My hands and feet were restrained, keeping my on my
stomach.  Whatever held me was loose enough that I could move
about the bed, but prevented me from turning over.  The effort to
do so made the second reason painfully evident.  Deep, stabbing
pain lanced from my buttocks to my still drugged brain. 
Instantly I stilled; my eyes clinched tightly shut as I fought to
control the hurt.

The pain dulled to a constant ache once I settled.  Fighting the
dopey lethargy, I tried to reconnoiter.  Where was I?  How did I
get there?  And most importantly - What had happened to me?  

A sweet scent tickled my nose, telling instantly me where I was. 
It was the lavender sachets that Monique used liberally in her
bedroom.  And that realization answered the 'how' and the 'what'
questions.  I tried to force my brain to clear, wanting to
analyze and to plan, but before I could manage that, the
murmuring grew louder, came closer.

A door latch clicked behind me, and hinges hissed ever so lightly
as the hall door to Monique's room swung open.  ".... can't you
keep him out for another day?  At least until I can make
arrangements for having him looked after?"  

"No, Monique, I can't.  We have to ensure that he is lucid since
neither of us can stay with him tomorrow.  If he isn't, then we
have to put him into a hospital.  There isn't any other choice."

"But, it is only three o'clock.  Surely we can let him rest
another few hours...."  Monique's hushed voice was almost frantic
in its intensity.

"No."  I finally recognized the other voice.  It had to be Dr.
Jennifer.  "I don't want to wait until midnight or later to deal
with him about this.  If I give him another shot, that is the
earliest he will come around.  And I don't want him to have
anymore of that stuff right now anyway.  As it is, I am in
serious jeopardy of legal action.  He is not my patient, and I
have been dispensing controlled sedatives to him without his
knowledge or permission.  I could lose my license if he elects to
take action against me."

"But..."

"Enough, Monique!  I am NOT going to administer another sedative
and that is the end of it."  Her voice was very near me, coming
from just behind my head.  "Here, hold this so I can clean and
treat these cuts."  Glass clinked on glass and a strong, sharply
astringent odor permeated the room.  I kept my eyes shut, trying
to keep up the pretense of sleep.

A cool, wet cloth gently wiped my backside.  It was then I
realized my butt was bare and that no blankets or sheets covered
me.  "God, he looks so pale, so diminished."  Monique's voice
broke, and I could hear her crying.  "It was not supposed to be
that way, Jennifer, it wasn't.  I never meant for anything like
this to happen."

"Don't tell me.  Tell him!"  Jennifer's voice dripped with
derision, then added  "I can't believe I participated in this. 
Christ, I even threatened him.  Told him he was lucky it was you
whipping him and not me.  Guess I was wrong."  Her disgust was
palpable.

"He was supposed to safeword, damn it.  I WANTED him to safe word
it, so I could show him that I would honor it from now on.  I
even exaggerated what I intended to do.  I purposely built the
whip into the ultimate bogey man while refusing to discuss the
test with him at all.  I thought he might even safeword before
the fact."

"Ha!  All that means is that you don't know him nearly as well as
you should by this point.  And since I know you do, don't try to
bullshit me, Monique.  You knew he would try for you, no matter
how terrible you tried to make him think it would be."

Silence filled the room for several long heartbeats.  "All
right."  Monique's tone was a sigh of defeat.  "I knew he'd try,
but I figured five, maybe ten strokes, tops."

Jennifer's response was a disbelieving snort.  "He passed out
twice while you laid into him.  Twice he kept on fighting, and
twice you did not let up.  Think about it, Monique.  Your answer
in the dungeon may have been closer to the truth than what you
just said.  Make him leave first, you said." 

The cool, wet cloth was removed leaving me feeling chilled. 
"This may bring him to."  Jennifer's voice was matter of fact. 
That warning was insufficient and inadequate.  

The renewed fires of hell lit up my ass as another liquid was
drizzled onto me.  I screamed in spite my best will not to.  The
leather bindings on my wrists and ankles creaked under the stress
of my escape attempt.  They creaked, but continued to hold me in
place.

Cool hands gripped my neck behind my ears.  "Easy, Nathan.  That
was a very strong antiseptic, antibiotic lotion.  Relax.  You
will only hurt yourself more fighting like that."  It was
Jennifer.

With great effort, I fought for control.  I took deep breaths,
and consciously ordered my straining muscles to relax. 
Jennifer's grip also relaxed, and she began massaging my
shoulders and back with strong, knowledgeable fingers.  "Do you
know where you are, Nathan?"  She asked in that soft, detached,
doctor's voice of hers.

I nodded.  "Yeee...eessss" I rasped, my throat dry and sore.  An
ice sliver pressed against my lips and I opened to admit it and
sucked greedily at it.  I looked up to see Monique.  Unable to
deal with her just then, I turned my head back to the other side
of the bed, to Jennifer.

Behind me, I heard a sob, and then Monique rushed from the room,
crying.  I tried my voice again.  "Reee leeee me."  

Jennifer's face loomed in front of my eyes as she hunched down
beside me.  "I don't understand, Nathan."

Furious, I rattled the chain attached to the  wrist restraint
next to her face.  "REEE Leee sssss Meeee."  I sounded out each
letter.  

Looking me in the eyes, she sadly shook her head.  "No, not until
the sedative has worn off and you have better control than that,
my friend.  Relax, now, and let your head clear.  Once you can
communicate better, I will free you and tell you what your
condition is.  Do you want more ice?"  I wanted to turn my head
away from her in response, wanted to ignore her, but my body was
screaming for liquids.  I gratefully accepted the ice chip she
offered.  "All right, let me explain to you what has happened."

                            *********

Much later, I reviewed what Jennifer had told me.  It had been
dark outside for several hours as I lay awake, alone in Monique's
large bed.  Much had come to light in the hours following my
awakening, and since I could not find natural sleep after my
extended period of anesthetized slumber, I played and replayed
those happenings over and over again in my mind.

My injuries, though painful, would for the most part heal in a
couple of weeks.  The whip that Monique had chosen was not heavy
enough to cause the deep muscle bruising that the strap had. The
whip had, however, cut me several times.  My ass was a sight.  I
don't think there was a square centimeter of normal flesh tone on
the entire expanse of my butt.  No fewer than twelve of the
"cuts" had indeed cut me, four of them quite deeply, deeper than
Jennifer liked, in any case.  The real fear was infection,
particularly one of the cuts that was very near my anus, but the
antibiotic lotions used before and after the fact by Jennifer
should serve to prevent that problem.  

Although not deeply bruised, the large muscles of my glutes and
thighs were stiff and sore from the constant tension and strain
of fighting the restraints and from anticipating the whip
strikes.  More like sports' injuries than anything I had
previously experienced with Monique, those would be the longest
lasting of my hurts.  Even my arms and shoulders hurt - also from
the muscle strain of pulling on the restraints.

After Jennifer had finished explaining my physical condition to
me, Monique had returned, and tried to help, but I could not face
her.  The feeling of hurt, of betrayal was too new, too fresh. 
She may have felt that exceeding the count was not exceeding a
limit, but I did not agree.  Particularly, when it had taken all
the strength and courage I possessed to give her the count she
had initially demanded.  I had been almost proud when the
supposedly last blow had been struck without resorting to
SoulMate.  Only to be taken to the fiery pits of hell.   And for
what?  So she could be magnanimous and "prove" to me that she
would accept and honor my safeword?  Or so she could show me that
I was out of my league and drive me away before I became too
important for her.  Neither reason justified what she had done.
She had taken one look at the emotions roiling on my face, and
had fled from the room.

After that, Jennifer had returned, only to tell me that neither
of them could stay with me the next day, Monday.  Both women had
appointments that could not be rescheduled, but that they would
work around to minimize the time I was alone.  Jennifer's
appointment was after lunch, and Monique's was at 10:00. 
Jennifer would stay with me until just before noon, and Monique
would return home just as soon as she could after her meeting. 
She assured me that I would not have to be alone more than a
couple of hours.  I had other plans that I did not share with
her.

Chapter 57:  Disappearance

Darkness was falling as I unlocked the door to my townhouse New
Years day.  The air inside was stale.  I carried in the fresh
milk, soda  and cold cuts I had bought at the Supermarket - what
luggage I had with me could wait until later.  

Other than an incredible weariness, I was physically fine. Two
weeks of wandering around the snowy hills of my upstate New York
hideaway had cured what had ailed me. The deepest of the cuts
still showed pink on my buttocks, but the last of the scabs were
gone. I had been able to move about normally the second or third
day after I had left Monique's place.

I had spent the first night in a motel somewhere northwest of the
city.  The decision to go to New York had been an impulsive one. 
When I had gone into "my" room at Monique's to gather my clothes,
I had found my wallet, but not my keys.  Monique must have taken
them to make a stop at my place for sundries.  That was not an
immediate problem, because I had, due to an unfortunate
predilection for locking my keys in my car, put a spare car key
in my wallet.  I also had spares of my other keys in my
briefcase, which was safely locked in my trunk.

Dressing had not been fun, but the more I moved, the more I
loosened up.  I was moving pretty freely by the time I crept out
of the house.  Sitting was another matter - my bottom hurt - a
lot, but I did not want to chance the use of one of the pain
killers or muscle relaxers that Jennifer had left for me when she
had left.  

The motel was the first place I had found once the discomfort
from sitting in one place started to become too much to ignore. 
The direction that had taken me to that place had been chosen
because it was as far from where I might be expected to be as
possible.  At that moment, being found by Monique was the last
thing I wanted.

I had carried my briefcase into my room because I badly needed
the toothbrush I had packed inside, but when I opened the case I
saw the letter from my sister.  My Christmas surprise for Monique
was in that envelope - the key to the cabin I'd had constructed
on that piece of land above the lake back home.  My sister, who
had overseen the project for me, had mailed the key to me earlier
in the week.  With all the tension and stress of waiting for the
whipping, I had tossed the letter into the case and forgotten it. 
Finding it had seemed like a providential answer to the immediate
questions facing me - what to do and where to go.  Resolution of
mind brought relief from the anxiety that had burdened me for
hours, and after taking two of Jennifer's pain killers, I went to
bed, falling immediately into a deep sleep.  The next day, I had
bought camping equipment, including a very, very good (read that
soft!) air mattress, some provisions and then headed north to New
York.

The contractor who had built the cabin had left the large lot
otherwise untouched.  It was still thickly wooded and, even with
all the trees and brush leafless for the winter, the cabin and my
car were well hidden from the rarely traveled road.  Which suited
me down to the ground.  I kept to myself while up there, neither
seeking nor wanting much in the way of human contact.  My only
exception was to call my sister on Christmas and wish her and the
family a happy Christmas.  And even that was in the way of
avoiding people.  God only knows what she would have done if she
could not reach me for the regular holiday greetings.  When we
chatted, she made the incorrect assumption that I was calling
from home.  I did not correct her.  

Vigorous walks in the snowy woods that surrounded the cabin had
consumed my days, while long hours of brooding contemplation
filled my nights.  I slept when I was too tired to think or walk
anymore, then I would wake up to walk, think and brood some more.

And now, I was back home - maybe not quite ready to face my life
again, but unwilling to hide from it any longer.  A quick check
of my closet produced a clean suit to wear for work the next day. 
If I still had a job.  Two weeks of unexcused absence was more
than enough reason for any company to fire me.

The issue of my current employment, however, was a question for
tomorrow.  I made a sandwich, popped the top on a Diet Coke, and
settled on the sofa to watch the last of the New Year's Day
college football bowl games on television.  

It was futile.  After twenty minutes of mindless staring, the
sandwich was untouched, the soda was going flat, and I could not
even name the teams that were playing.  Hell, I did not even know
what bowl game I was not watching.

I was just standing up to go pitch the sandwich and get ice for
my soda when a key rattled in my door.  The door slammed open
against the stop and a haggard, windblown Monique stormed into my
living room.  "Where have you been?  I have been frantic."  

My blood quickened just to look at her.  Her auburn hair was as
unkempt as I had ever seen it.  Tiny jewels of snow twinkled in
the flyaway strands indicating that the weather had turned in the
past hour.

I shook myself from that line of thought and answered her.  "I am
sorry about that, but I had to get away.  I went home to N.Y.,
stayed in a little cabin I had put up on the land I bought there.
no phones."  I did not tell her I had built it for her, for us. 
I couldn't.

She stared at me for a long moment.  Her hand started to reach
out toward me, but she pulled it back, uncertain.  Finally, she
pulled herself together and looked me over.  "Are you all right?"

I nodded.  "Yes. Physically, I am healed." answering her, while
not answering her.

"I am glad."  Her voice broke and she swallowed.  She spoke
again, her words tumbling out in a rush.  "Are you coming to
work, tomorrow? You don't have to worry about the time you took. 
I had excess sick leave which I had transferred to your account. 
Roselie and I put out the word that you were recovering from a
bad case of the flu."

"Thanks.  I did wonder if I still had a job."  Although I was not
sure I wanted it.  Being fired would have taken some very hard
decisions out of my hands.  Decisions I no longer had any choice
but to make for myself.

"So, what now, Nathan?  What about us?"  

The very question that had consumed so many sleepless hours.  I
did not like the answer staring at my mind's eye, but she had
asked and I could no longer deny what I had to do.  "It has to
end, Monique.  As a person submitting to a domme, I am required
to trust you, but you don't trust me.  It is like you are afraid
that because I am not "submissive enough".  That you are afraid
that one day, I will decide that I don't love you and leave you. 
It is as if you are trying to drive me away, trying to force me
to justify your worst fears.  And it has been escalating,
Monique, even with the deal we made to give me more of a say in
your games, it is escalating.  Three times, now, you have hurt me
enough to lay me up.  Three times, I have had to miss work.  And
each time, it was worse.  Each time, you were inconsolable
afterwards.  I don't know how else to break the cycle.  If we
permit this to continue, I can't see any way to avoid you hurting
me, and ultimately yourself, really badly.  It has to stop."

I looked into her eyes, tried to give her a chance to refute
this, to find a way for her help breech this gap, to allay this
fear.  Nothing.  I shook my head, and continued.  "Have you
_ever_ done to a submissive in your keeping what you have done to
me?  Laid them up for a week?  Failed to honor the safeword? 
Continued a whipping beyond the promised number, just to try and
get the safeword invoked?  Did you ever stop to think I might
have been afraid to safeword?  Is that stretching limits, or is
that failure to accept limits?  Tell me, Monique, please.  I
don't know.  I am at a loss how to deal with this."

Monique simply stared at me.  There was no visible life in her as
she stood there, rigid, white faced - her subtle makeup the only
color in her face, her normally hazel eyes a murky brown muddy
color.  Tears sparkled against the light of the halftime ceremony
fireworks on television.

Again, nothing.  "I love you Monique.  I still do love you, and
that I can say that to you, and mean it when I say that amazes
me.  But I know that hurting me, really hurting me, will destroy
you.  And so, because I love you, I will now justify those worst
fears of yours. I thought I could pay the price, and I could
have, if the price was merely to be paid by me.  But that is not
the case, now, because the price is you, your self image and
esteem, and maybe, just maybe, your sanity. That price is too
high."  My voice broke, and I turned to hide the tears that now
filled my eyes.

"I only have two hopes.  The first is, if you cannot come to
trust me enough, is that eventually, you find love and submission
enough to fulfill you.  I love you enough to want you happy.

"The second, and more selfish hope is that eventually, you will
come to trust my love enough to accept what I can safely give.  I
love you."  I walked to the chair I had tossed my coat onto and
fished a small, blue velvet box out of it.  I turned back to
Monique and pressed it into her hand.  She hesitantly opened it
and saw the pearl and diamond engagement ring inside it.  Her
eyes flew back to mine, hope flaring in them.  I shook my head.

"I have had that since before San Francisco.  I bought it shortly
after we made love the first time, back when I still thought
there was a chance I might be the man who would earn the right to
be your husband.  It is yours.  It has always been yours, and
will always be yours. I will have a letter of resignation ready
tomorrow morning.  Tell me what you want me to do with it then."

Monique stared at the ring.  "I guess that says everything."  She
wiped her eyes with the back of the hand that held the ring box. 
"I will leave you alone, then.  Farewell, Nathan.  I do love you,
my SoulMate.  I wish I could be different for you."  She turned
to leave.

"I never asked you to be different.  I simply asked you to trust
my love.  Farewell, Monique.  I love you, too." 

With that, she rushed out, leaving the door open in her wake.

I was alone again.

Chapter 58.  Rebuilding a Life, Again.

Monique was not in the office the next day.  A convenient out of
town problem had arisen over the holidays and Monique had
volunteered to fly to the west coast to handle it, but she had
been busy before she left.  Shortly after I had arrived, Roselie
had brought a note into my office. 

Nathan,

I know you will do what you feel you must
with your resignation letter.  Maybe, it is
for the best.  Maybe, the saying about
keeping business and pleasure separate is
correct.

I have, however, made provision for you to
stay on here if that is what you want, and if
the only reason you would be leaving is your
association with me.

There is a temporary assignment waiting for
you in personnel.  The Executive Manager at
our Crystal City hotel has had a mild heart
attack.  I have recommended you as his
interim replacement.  Jim Faquare gave his
whole hearted approval and you are in, if you
choose to accept the position.  It will have
you in a different part of the building and
you won't have to interact with this office
in the conduct of your duties.

Your typical superb performance will put you
in line for the job if, as the current
expectation is, the current manager be unable
to return to those duties.  If he does
return, you will still be well on your way to
another such position in the company.

               Be well, dear one

The letter was signed "Monique".  

I read and reread the note, not realizing until she cleared her
throat that Roselie was still there.  Her eyes were wide,
worried.  The color and effervescence I normally associated with
her was absent as she stood there, silently watching.  I was
trying to find a way to break the silence when the inter-office
comm line buzzed.  Roselie went to her desk and came back to tell
me that Faquare wanted to see me immediately.

I was gone from the headquarters offices within the hour. 
Faquare wanted me at the other building and that was that. 
"Normally, Nathan, we don't move people into management this
quickly, but there are exceptions to every rule.  Monique's
reports on you are glowing, and the fixes you pulled off on those
problems in Chicago and San Francisco, not to mention the way you
handled those prima donna hotel managers in Boston have given you
quite the reputation in the company."  There was never any
question in his mind that I was going to take the job. 

I was in my new office before lunch time, marveling at the turn
my life had taken, thanks to Monique.

In reality, the new job was not all that difficult.  The staff,
particularly the assistant managers, were excellent.  I was a
leader/manager again, and the skills developed in twenty years of
navy life came in handy.  Oh, there were the usual bent out of
shape noses, upset that an outsider had been brought in to handle
the shop, when one of them could have handled the job just as
well, if not better.  

Actually, that issue turned out to be not all that big a problem. 
After a few weeks in the job, I reached the decision that this
was not what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.  If I stayed
with the company, I wanted something else.  What that "something
else" was, I did not know, but I did know that I was not a threat
to anyone's personal ambitions and aspirations at the Crystal
City hotel.  Anyway, I took each of the assistant managers aside
and told them that I was brought in because the home office had
every expectation that the regular boss would be back and did not
want to have to break up his team while he was getting back into
the harness after his recovery.  I strongly hinted that the home
office was worried about these people getting out of hand if they
had to be "demoted" back to their real jobs.  Besides, I
sweetened the message, I would also be reporting on their
performance and "teamwork", when I returned to my old job and
reported to Mr. Faquare and Ms. Sanderson.  That effectively
ended the turf battles with the aspiring, upwardly mobile types,
and made the remainder of my stay a great deal simpler.

Roselie kept in touch.  She said she wanted to make sure I knew
what was happening in the "old office", but I was uncomfortable
being alone in her company.  We had shared a lot in the preceding
months, but that had all happened because of our mutual
involvement with Monique.  I ensured our "dates" were in public
places, and that they ended early in the evening; actions that
did not please Roselie overly much.  

These meetings continued in much the same vein over the next
several weeks.  We would get together at my hotel's restaurant
for dinner about once a week.  Finally, Roselie had had enough,
and she ambushed me with a kiss after I had walked her to her
car.  It was a hell of a kiss, and truthfully, I wanted it to be
wonderful.  Roselie finally broke the kiss, sighing.  "It is
never going to be for you like it is for me, is it, Nate?"

Sadly, I shook my head.  Lord, but I wanted it to be.  She was so
lovely, and I cared for her deeply, but she was not Monique, and
I was not over her, or over the sense of loss for what might have
been between us.  I began to treat her like a kid sister, which
she finally came to accept, and we settled into a teasing,
sometimes flirting friendship.

After about three months of holding down the new job, I knew it
was not going to work.  It was just too painful living in D.C.,
seeing things that reminded me of Monique.  A decision had to be
made.  I sent out my resume again.  The irony that this mailing
was almost a year to the day after the mailing that had brought
me to this company and to Monique was not lost on me.  One
difference was that this mailing was to companies that would use
my "old" Navy and engineering skills.  The types of job that
would have me working in a lonely, impersonal cubicle again. 
Lonely did not seem so bad anymore.

April is a funny month in Boston. It had been snowing at Logan
Airport the day before when I had arrived in town.  Now, it was
one of those achingly beautiful, almost warm, early spring days
that only seem to happen in New England.  Of course, since it was
New England, that could change to a blizzard or downpour in less
than an hour, but that was part of the charm of this part of the
country, too.

I had just finished lunch and was at loose ends.  My job
interview with the Draper Laboratory in Cambridge had started off
well earlier in the morning.  There had been a minor snafu when
the manager who was supposed to finish the interview and decide
whether to make me an offer had been called upstairs for an
unannounced program review.  I would have to go back the next day
to finish the interview, but that was okay.  I had the afternoon
free and it was a beautiful day.  I decided to explore my old
haunts from my M.I.T. days and set out on foot.

Eventually, I headed down Massachusetts Avenue, past the main
M.I.T. grand entrance way, and then crossed over the Harvard
Bridge from Cambridge into Boston.  I ended up wandering down the
park in the middle of Commonwealth Blvd, then over to Boyleston
Avenue and past the huge Prudential Tower.  Memories of good
times at M.I.T. with friends and colleagues washed over me, and I
wound up in the Red Light district before realizing where I was
heading.  I made a quick about face and headed back toward the
main part of town, this time walking down Newbury Street.  

A strangely familiar painted glass picture window caught my
attention, snapping me out of my reveries.  The window read "Chez
Maria.  By appointment and referral only"  I checked my watch -
4:30 pm.  On a whim, I walked up and pulled the old fashioned
bell pull.  A sense of deja vu washed over me as I waited at the
door, wondering if anyone would answer the door.  I certainly had
not made an appointment.  In fact, I had pretty much put that
particular episode out of my mind.

The sense of having been here before became intense when the door
opened.  The hair was still ash, and the chocolate brown eyes
still twinkled with internal good humor.  "Yes?"  the quietly
modulated, cultured voice asked, "What can I do for you..." Her
voice trailed away as her eyes went wide and her mouth formed an
"O".

"Hello, Maria."  I said quietly.  "I was in the area and decided
to see if you were here."  It was lame, but it was also the
truth.

"Nathan?"  She seemed stunned.  I knew how she felt - I was
somewhat shocked to be there.  "NATHAN!"  she squealed and
launched herself into my arms.  "Come in, come in."  She all but
dragged me into the house.

The house was all but deserted and I asked Maria about that.  She
smiled.  "Slow day.  They happen in this business just like any
other.  Today we had a couple of early appointments for simple
make overs and a late afternoon passing in public drill.  Vicki
is out playing safety watch on that one.  Our other ladies are
taking advantage of the time off to take care of personal
business or to just unwind."

I picked up on her words and asked "Safety watch?  What is that?"

She smiled wryly. "I promised you, Nathan.  Vicki is there to
covertly watch over and protect one of our girls.  This person's
Mistress wants him to become completely passable and this is her
first "solo".  Her task is to go to the airport where her male
clothes are locked in a locker, and then make her escape.  Vicki
has a backpack with a change of clothes and a van to change in
should something go wrong for our student.  She should be back
later on."

"How are the others? Libby and Dru and Granny Andrea?"  I asked.

"GRANNY Andrea??" she spluttered, laughing.  "Fine, all fine,"
she giggled.  "Dru and Andi are still with me.  Libby graduated
last year from B.C. and has gone out to California to work on her
doctorate in clinical psychology."  She chuckled again.  "Granny
Andrea. God, Nathan, you better hope she never hears that or that
you never have to play with her again."  She looked up at me, her
eyes bright with laugh tears, and her face fell as she saw my
reaction.  "Nathan, what is the matter?"

I looked away, trying to avoid the discussion.  Why hadn't I
known this would come up?  Maybe I had known it and
subconsciously wanted to talk about my relationship with Monique
with someone who would understand?  Perhaps even understand parts
I did not understand.  Is that why I was here?  "Nathan?" 
Maria's soft query brought me back.

Mentally steeling myself against the still raw hurt of loss,
"Maria, I don't have to worry about Andrea's retaliation.  There
is nothing in my life that will bring me back here as a client or
whatever anymore.  Monique and I have broken up."
Soft brown eyes glowed sympathetically as Maria let me recover my
composure.  On reflection, I realized that was the first time I
had acknowledged the breakup out loud since I had last seen
Monique on New Years Day.

"That is very sad, Nathan, because I know how much she cared for
you, and if what you went through with us is any indication, you
must have cared for her a great deal, too."

"Care, Maria.  The word is still present tense.  I love her -
probably always will."

"Then Monique is the one..." she let the question hang unsaid.

I shook my head.  "I think her feelings are unchanged, but that
is at least part of the problem."  Her confusion was evident, and
I found myself pouring out the days leading up to the whipping,
and the feelings of betrayed trust I still felt over the
extension of the whipping, the so-called stretching of my limits. 
I tried to describe the anger I had experienced when I had
discovered Monique's "safeword or leave" strategy for the session
and that led into a reprise of the San Francisco safe word
failure and the subsequent punishment Monique had visited on me.

Maria listened without comment as I vented my frustrations,
angers and hurts.  Her hand came to rest on top of mine during a
particularly emotional juncture and gave me the strength to
continue.  That hand did not move again throughout my entire
tirade. It took nearly an hour for me to wind down.

The silence that followed sharply contrasted with the sound of my
own words, but it was not unwelcome, and Maria recognized that I
needed that almost as much as I had needed to talk earlier. 
Finally, she glanced at the clock and stood up suddenly.  "Well,
look at the time. I am starved.  You will stay to dinner, Nathan. 
Come along and help me throw something together."  Her hand still
had not left mine and she dragged me off up the main stairway
into a part of the house I had not been in before.

"I live in this townhouse, Nathan." she explained. "As do a
couple of my instructors including Vicki.  The school is in the
other building, the one facing Commonwealth Avenue.  We come and
go through that side to keep up appearances, but our clients come
through this side.  That way, the school house appears to be a
lived in home, and the association with this business type
storefront building remains largely a secret.  My business people
neighbors here don't mind the comings and goings of strangers
since this is a business, and the residential neighbors on
Commonwealth don't associate the school with strangers coming and
going at odd hours."

The kitchen was large and spacious "eat-in" affair with the
dining nook overlooking the front of the storefront buildings on
Newbury Street.  It was a far cry from the formal, starkly
feminine dining room over in the building she called the
schoolhouse.  She handed me a knife and set me to work chopping
vegetables for a stir fry.

As we worked, she made small talk, carefully avoiding anything
that might lead to a continuation of our earlier discussion.  I
figured she did not want to get more involved and decided to
respect that.  Hell, just by listening to me she had made me feel
better than I had in a very long time.

The absolute "normality" of the meal preparation and dinner
bemused me, somehow.  I mentioned this to Maria as she spooned
the chicken and veggie mix over fluffy white rice.  Her laugh was
deep and rich.  "Nathan, you have a very skewed view of me." 
then she stopped and became pensive.  She gave me a very
searching look.  "Or perhaps it is the view you have of anyone
who is involved with dominance and submission type play or
lifestyles."  She took a bite and chewed thoughtfully.  "I do
eat, Nathan, and I even have friends who do not come calling in
leather, rubber or satin lingerie. Although," and her face became
mischievous, "I can't always" (she drew that word out
meaningfully) "be certain about the satin undies.

"I shop at the corner market, pay my exorbitant taxes mostly on
time, do trick or treats for the kids who come calling on
Halloween and call my Mom every Sunday night like a good little
daughter.  I cry over sad movies, giggle at funny ones and hide
my head at the scary parts of the horror movie my nephew insists
his Auntie Maria take him to see when I visit.  Nathan, by
whatever method you choose to measure *normalcy*, my life
measures up.  In every way, except for that one aspect of my
life.  And before today, that is the only experience you have
with me and my life."

I had no answer to that.  She was right.  I struggled to find
something to say, but she continued.  "Of course, I suspect that
you can lay much of your confusion about such things at Monique's
feet."

That stopped me and I looked at her, my fork halfway to my mouth. 
"Huh?  Come again, Maria?  You have just lost me with that one."

She daintily chewed the forkful of food she had just taken, her
eyes sparkling laughter at me.  She was enjoying this.  She saw
my spark of anger and chuckled.  "Sorry, Nathan, that was unfair. 
But you are just so open that it is easy to tease you.  Now,
don't get huffy.  Let me explain."

I took a sip of water and waited for her to continue.  "Nathan, I
already knew much of what you told me earlier.  Not that you had
broken up with Monique, but I should have guessed something like
that when the phonecalls stopped.  Ever since she sent you here,
and we had that foulup with the train, she has been using me as a
sounding board about you.  I was the first one she called when
she got back from San Francisco, and the one who listened to her
diatribe of self disgust after she punished you, only to find out
that you had safeworded.  What I mean to say is that I have been
the one Monique has talked to when she was insecure about where
she was going with you."

"Did you know that she expected me to leave her?  Did you know
her plan for that damned whipping?"

She sighed.  "Parts of it, yes.  She often asked me what she
would do if you left her.  As for the whipping, I knew she wanted
you to safe word during that scene.  Today is the first time I
heard just how poorly that plan turned out, though."  She started
to say something and stopped - her brow furrowed in
concentration.  I saw her shrug and then straighten her shoulders
in resolution.

"Nathan, I am going to meddle a bit.  You gave me a second chance
when you could have hurt me personally and professionally.  My
friend, Monique, loves you and I want to help her, too.  You may
not want to hear this, but you are still very inexperienced in
the nuances of a D&S relationship.  Understand that your whipping
scene was not all that out of the ordinary for this type of play. 
'Stretching limits' by adding more of something you have already
agreed to accept is something that most D&S practitioners expect
and accept.  You had agreed to the whipping."

Fury burned anew.  This was the same bullshit argument Monique
had tried to use.  I would have none of it from her and I would
not blithely accept it from Maria.  "I agreed to the whipping." I
growled in the quiet tones that used to send junior officers
running for cover.  "She set the number.  She broke her word. 
She broke faith.  It is as simple as that."  In each sentence,
the word 'she' was a soft explosion of sound.

Maria's eyebrows rose in surprise at the intensity of my
outburst.  "My goodness."  she said weakly.  Gone was the self
assured mein that had accompanied her championship of the so
called "limit stretching."  She seemed to lean back into her
chair to make herself a smaller target.  "If I had heard you
speak like that before I agreed to train you in August, I
probably would not have accepted you as a student." She took a
sip of her wine.  "You have a very rigid view of limits and the
extent of power exchange, Nathan.  Knowing that, having
negotiated your limits with you, I don't see how Monique could
possibly have considered attempting what you say she did."  Maria
shook her head in disbelief.  "She is a much better domme than
that.  If your limits are that hard and fast, there is no way
that scene should have gone the way it did.  The risks of you
reacting as you obviously have would have been too great."

I snorted in derision.  "Limits?  What limits?  The limits were
set by Monique from the get-go.  'Accept my style of play and
submit to me, or forget any relationship with me.'" I snorted
angrily.  "I loved her, Maria.  Hell, I still love her and I
wanted her in my life forever.  I just could not pay the price
anymore."

"My God, Nate!"  Maria gasped in amazement.  "Do you believe
that?  No wonder you can't believe in the normalcy of my life. 
Nathan, it is implicit in any type of D&S relationship that there
be full and complete honesty and acceptance of both participants'
limits.  You consented to the whipping yet you say she broke her
word.  Are you saying that you negotiated the number and/or
intensity of the strokes ahead of the scene and she exceeded the
stated limit?"

"No.  I did not believe that was something I could do.  She set
the test.  She set the number.  She is the one who did not play
by her rules."

"God, Nathan.  Listen to me.  It has to be your rules, too.  If
they are not your rules, then it is not submission by you."  she
shook her head again.  "Lord, what a mess.  I take it that you
and Monique have never discussed your perception of limits?" 

I shook my head.  "Not enough, I guess."

"Okay, here is what I think.  Monique and you both made
assumptions about the other.  She assumed you were more....
standard in your definition of limits.  You assumed she knew how
you viewed limits; both as regards to *what* constituted a limit
and how flexible a limit was.  Dammit, Nathan, you two did not
talk enough about the important things.  That is not your fault
as much as it is hers.  She is the experienced player, but don't
you see?  You might not be in this mess if you had been a
tougher, more careful negotiator.  Yes, I can see from your
perspective that Monique went too far, that she "broke faith" as
you put it, but you have to see that maybe," she cut off my
interruption with an imperiously raised hand, "JUST maybe, you
did not keep up your part of it, either.  She did not explore
your limits deeply enough, but neither could she make correct
decisions for both of you in a scene when she lacks critical
information about how you really feel.  Truly, Nathan, your
perception of limits is unique in my experience, at least among
those whom I would term 'regular players'."

"If she lacks information, then that is her responsibility.  How
am I supposed to know what I don't know?  She is the domme.  She
is the one who wanted this from me."  

"And your gift of submission is great.  All the more so because
it is something you do just for her, and not for yourself. But,
Nathan, think for a moment.  If she doesn't give you what you
need in return for that gift, how can you continue to give it? 
If she does not know what it is you need, how is she to find out? 
Nate... have you done more than stoically accept what she wanted
or what she did?  Have you done more than the most limited
interplay with her on the subject?  I am not asking you to answer
anyone but yourself.  If the answer is yes, then the breakup is
most likely the best for both of you.  In that case, you are
someone who will never be able to find the love in loving
dominance.  Submission will never be good for you.  However, if
the answer to that question is not a definitive 'yes', then you
have to decide if you are truly walking away from a dangerous
situation, or if you are simply running away from love."

That question haunted me for days and through long, lonely
nights.  The answer was not clear cut.  Yes, we had talked.  Even
the whipping came out of her request to go to that party at
Victoria's farm.  That had grown of negotiation, hadn't it?  Had
we ever discussed my militaristic yes/no, go/no go, binary view
of the world?  Yes, but only in the context of work. Hell, had I
even recognized that aspect of my response to this before the
whipping?  Answers continued to be yes and no and maybe.

The day after my visit with Maria, things got more complicated.
The folks at Draper offered me the job I had interviewed for. 
Just the day before, I would have accepted on the spot.  I
promised to give them my answer within two weeks.  They, of
course, wanted an immediate answer, but right there, at the last
minute, I could not give them one.  I went back to my lonely
house in Burke to try and reach a decision about where my life
would go.

Chapter 59: Endings and Beginnings

Roselie knew about my trip to Boston and about the job search. 
She was not happy about the possibility of me leaving the area,
and had made me promise to get in touch with her as soon as I got
back.  I called her when I got from my house.  We chatted for
awhile, and I told her I had not made a final decision.  After a
short chat, we agreed to meet at the hotel later that week for
our usual weekly dinner get together.

Friday nights are slow nights in the hotel business in Crystal
City.  No government contractor wants to stay in town over the
weekend, even when staying in town was a better financial
decision than to bring the home and then send them back to town
on Monday.  It gives the appearance that there is some type of
fraud going on - a free vacation in beautiful Washington at
government expense.  Of course, there probably was more than a
little such fraud in the bad old days.  Anyway, except for the
odd tour bus and high school senior trip group, the many hotels
in the Crystal City area are almost always nearly empty on
weekends. 

The dining room was similarly empty when I came down from my top
floor office to meet Roselie.  I was looking forward to the
diversion that Roselie's bubbly nature promised.  The decision on
whether to accept the Draper offer had been agonizing, but I had
just made the phone call.  For better or for worse, I had made
the choice.  Now, I simply wanted to forget the whole thing for a
few pleasant hours.  Besides, a look at my calendar had given me
something else to deal with.  Tonight was the anniversary of that
first date with Monique - the charity ball where we had danced. 
The night that I had fallen irrevocably in love with her.

The Hostess smiled warmly in greeting and told me that my party
had arrived.  I declined her offer to seat me, and asked her to
have the server wait for a few minutes before coming to the
table.

The Manager's table at this hotel is a semi-private affair in the
back of the dining room, next to a floor to ceiling window that
overlooks National Airport.  As I  rounded the large green plant
that separated the table from the rest of the room, the first
thing I saw was the lights of aircraft taxiing about the runways. 
The second thing I saw was the fire of dark auburn hair where I
expected to see blond.

"Hello, Nathan."  came the soft, slightly tremulous voice of
Monique Sanderson.

I stopped cold in my tracks.   My mind stopped functioning and I
simply stood there, staring at her.

"Please, Nathan.  Don't leave.  I really would like to talk to
you."  Her eyes were wide, amber instead of hazel green in the
candle light.  "Please?"

My eyes never left her as I moved slowly to the chair opposite
hers, and sat down.  "Hello.."  my throat was incredibly dry and
the word came out as a croak.  I sipped some water and tried
again.  "Hello, Monique.  This is quite a surprise."

She shrugged.  "I know.  It was supposed to be.  I did not know
if you would see me, and I do so want to talk with you.  Roselie
took pity on me, and agreed to let me take her place tonight. 
She apologizes for the deception."

I nodded my acceptance of that.  Rosie loved us both, and after
her abortive attempt to become more intimate with me herself,
this was something she would try.  "You are looking well,
Monique."

"Liar."  she retorted.  "I have lost too much weight and too much
sleep for even cosmetics to hide the flaws."

She was right.  Her cheeks looked hollow, and shadowed circles
rounded her eyes.  As for cosmetics, those seemed strangely
lacking.  She wore one of her more somber workday suits - a gray
affair that did not fit her very well and that she usually wore
for comfort on light work days.  She was not dressed for
seduction.  Why was she here?  "What do you want, Monique?"

She closed her eyes and smiled ruefully before looking me in the
eyes.  "Ever to the point, Nathan.  Very well.  Roselie tells me
you are leaving town."

"Roselie told you that, eh?"  I asked, not giving her anything.

"Yes.  Ever since she tried to jump your bones, that is her
description, and you sidestepped, she has been keeping me
apprised of what she knows about you and your plans.  I think she
wanted to make sure I did not forget about you, as if I could. 
So, Nathan, are you leaving town?"

I did not immediately answer.  Her choice of words taking my
attention for a moment.  What was this all about?  I decided to
play for more information.  "I have been job hunting, Monique.  I
wasn't sure it was best for either of us for me to stay in the
company.  One of the job interviews was with Draper Lab near MIT
in Cambridge.  They have offered me a job."

She set her glass down with a thunk.  "And are you going to take
it?"

"I like New England."  I said diffidently.  "At least, I like the
parts of New England I have discovered on my own."  She winced as
the barb hit home making me feel guilty for taking the easy cheap
shot.  She was at least trying to reach something of an
understanding and I was not helping.  I sighed.  "Sorry, Monique. 
Anyway, to answer your question, the job in Cambridge is one
option open to me.  I also have two offers here in Northern
Virginia."

"You liked the type of work you did with us."  It was not a
question.  "You liked it, but now, you think you have to leave. 
You don't, you know.  I would never do anything to hurt you more
than I already have, Nathan.  You would be able to make it on
your own not inconsiderable talent. You already have Faquare's
eye, and that can take you a long way in this company."

"I guess, Monique, but I don't know.  Somehow, it seems that my
moving would be cleaner."

She shook her head sadly.  "I am sorry you feel you must lose
that, too.  I never wanted to diminish you in any way, Nathan. 
It is poor recompense, I know, but maybe you'd be pleased to know
that I have not been able to scene since you left.  Not with
Roselie, not with Sondra, not with anyone, not as a top or as a
bottom.  It is not fun anymore.  Nothing is the same.  Dominance
is no longer fulfilling.  It is heartbreaking.  I lost the joy of
it when I lost you."

"Whipping you gave me nothing.  Not even while I was doing it. 
In all the years I have been involved in dominance and
submission, that is the first time that I felt nothing during a
session.  I was only a taker in that scene, and in return, gave
you nothing but hurt.  It has taken me a long time to figure it
out, but finally, in the end, I understood.  You cannot give me
what you don't have to give, and taking it from you is not what
dominance is about.  Not for me, anyway."  She looked at me for
something, but did not seem to find it, and decided to press on.

I've dismantled the Colonial Room in my basement and donated all
the equipment to the local chapter of Black Rose.  I couldn't
stand having it in the house another minute."  

I had heard of Black Rose, a local support group for people
interested in B&D, S&M and D&S, but the choice of where to send
the equipment surprised me almost as much as her decision to get
rid of it. "Not to Tory's place?"  

Her answering head shake was emphatic.  "No, I don't often go to
Black Rose events, but I do plan to go to Tory's sometime in the
future, once I get my head back together.  I don't want to see
that setup again.  Ever."

"Sondra and Jennifer and Roselie have all talked to me," she
smiled sadly.  "Yelled at me is closer to the truth.  Told me how
stupid it was to press the whipping."  I saw a memory flit past
her eyes, and she half chuckled. "Sondra was very direct." 
Monique imitated Sondra's cultured, slightly Germanic accents
perfectly.  "There are pain sluts a-plenty, you foolish girl. 
People who want nothing more of you than that type of scene from
you.  How many men want to be THERE for you?  How  many men are
strong enough to dare to bottom and strong enough to be there FOR
you when you need him?  Dammit, Monique, I would kill to have a
man want to do that for me.'  That was the kindest thing she had
to say to me.  And she is right, Nathan.  I need that as much or
more as I need my domme side valued.  I need you."

Whatever I expected her to say, that was not it.  I was stunned
at the totality of what she said and simply sat there, looking at
her.  She waited expectantly, than shuddered and let her head
hang down in failure.  She stood, reaching for her purse.  "I am
sorry I hurt you, Nathan.  God knows, I hurt myself, too.  Be
well, dear man.  I will always love you."  

She rummaged in her purse and pulled out a velvet box.  I
recognized it instantly - the box that held the engagement ring. 
She set it on the table and started to leave.  My head still
awhirl, I caught her wrist before she could escape and pulled her
backwards.  She fell awkwardly onto my lap, and we ended up
embracing as we both tried to keep her from falling.  "I never
said I did not value your dominant personality.  I do, because it
is integral to the complex and fascinating woman you are.  I
simply could not watch you slowly destroy yourself waiting for me
to leave you. And I don't want that damned ring back.  It was
yours when I bought the damned thing, and it will always be
yours, just as my heart always will be."  I forced the box back
into her hand.
She dropped the ring into our lap, and with a confidence I had
not seen in her yet that evening, she faced me down, eye to eye. 
"The only way I am taking that ring back, Mr. Evans, is if you
put it here..."  She held out her left hand, ring finger extended
expectantly.  One brow lifted in challenge.  It was going to be
all right.

"The only way that ring goes on that finger, Ms Sanderson, is if
you are going to be my wife."

She finally smiled.  It was a tearful smile, but a smile none the
less.  "Please, Nathan, marry me?"  

I quickly pulled the ring out of the box, but could not resist
one last tease.  "Wait a minute.  Isn't popping the question my
job?  

She grinned, and answered pertly "Hey, who is the domme in this
family?"  Then her face fell as she realized what she had said
and the memories came back.  

I took her now limp hand and slipped the ring on her finger.  "We
will work on it, darling.  I don't know how much of that we can
have in our relationship, but that is something we will have to
work out together.  Together."  I kissed her to seal the promise,
then pulled back.  "You know, I talked to Maria when I was in
Boston.  She suggested that we write a contract for that stuff,
and given my" I cleared my throat and shifted into my "Natalia
voice" "'Somewhat inflexible definitions and perceptions' as
Maria put it, that we stick to the letter of the written word for
a while."

She kissed me back before continuing. "We will talk about it,
Nate.... I am not certain I want to domme you any more.  I am
honestly not sure I ever really wanted to.  And I am glad you
talked to Maria.  She was the one who gave me the guts to come
see you one last time, to try one last time.  She called me right
after you left her place.  Gave me a royal chewing out, too."

"Well, whatever we do with Mistress Monique in our life together,
we will work it out between the two of us.  Maria gave me a lot
to think about as far as communication, too.  We will do it. 
Together."

"Together...."  her voice fading as she put her mouth to more
enjoyable pursuits.  

"Nathan..?" she mumbled my name around my lips, still not
breaking the kiss.

I really did not want to talk anymore, but given the promise to
communicate, I tried to answer without breaking the kiss, either.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm?  What...?"

She suddenly pulled back, the old mischief alight in her face. 
"Did you REALLY call Andrea Granny?" I nodded.  She laughed.  "I
just love a brave man."

"Good thing, sweetheart.  Only the brave would be daring enough
to take you on for life."  We laughed together, and then, I stood
up, keeping her in my arms, and headed out of the dining room,
much to the entertainment of the few diners and the staff.  One
of the perks of hotel management is a suite that is always
available for the boss' use.  A suite with a lovely, big bed.  I
could not think of a better place to seal our promises and to
start our lives together.  Monique happily agreed.

The End of the Beginning


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