Chapter 80

Ira

"Sit still," Kathleen says, scraping a tiny razor across the bottom of my chin. "I don't want to cut you and watch you bleed all over my sink."

I'm trying to wash my hands without getting my rolled-up sleeves too wet. This is what I get for telling her I don't plan on shaving for another two days. I will have you know that Kathleen Allen is perfectly fine with my random errant chin hairs rubbing against her pussy, but for some reason, it's not okay for watching a movie. Even though she has them too!

Honestly, I think she gets off on shaving me. Next it will be my legs. Silky smooth.

"I cut myself all the time. What's the difference if you do it?"

Kathleen puts the razor down and wipes my face with a hand towel. "The difference is that this is my sink and I don't want your DNA all over it. What's going to happen if you turn up dead and the police see how much blood of yours is in my bathroom? Boom. Prison."

"You're loaded. You can afford a good lawyer." I shrug, taking the towel from her hand so I can finish up in her stead. She rolls her eyes and grabs the lotion I keep here. Haha. I keep stuff here. You know how serious that makes our relationship. I've got her tampons in my bathroom and I've got my favorite cologne here. We're practically married.

And my cat has a plethora of toys whenever she sneaks into my bathroom and opens the cupboard. You ever seen a cat stalk around with a tampon in its mouth? Film it. I have!

"Besides," I continue, as Kathleen smacks my face with lotion, "I hear some good shit happens in those women's prisons. Good lesbian shit. You'd have my blessing."

"You think I could run some BDSM ring in there?" Kathleen puts the lotion away and picks up a hairbrush. She tackles her scalp with more force than I give her ass when I spank it. Ouch. "I could be the Monique Grant of the state pen. Get me some girls, some patrons who pay in cigarettes, and watch the cash roll in. As cigarettes, of course."

"Of course."

Kathleen pulls a wad of blond hair from her brush before tossing it aside. Tonight she's wearing a white one-piece that sparkles in the soft lights of the bathroom. We've come back from dinner, her treat. I plan on treating her to something else later.

We give and take, Kathleen and me.

It's been over a week since her debut in Midnight. Since then, I've become the envy of every dominant I know, and she's not seen a blip in her social life. Although she keeps mumbling something about someone named Dawn Lovett, whoever she is.

Things are going well. Kathleen and I have found balance in our relationship. I've learned to give up control as well. Like letting her pay for dinner without raising a fuss. Hey, I can get used to free food.

She's talking about me getting a tattoo on my shoulder, though. Something like "Property of Kathleen Allen," and, uh, we're going to have a long talk about that. I know how this works. You get a tattoo with your girlfriend's name on it, and the next thing you know you're getting an artist to somehow turn it into your mom's name.

Oh, speaking of, my mom and dad are back together for the time being. Don't get too excited. This is like the third time since the divorce. Kathleen and I have a friendly bet on who will cheat first. Although last I heard from the Queen of TMI, the older Mathisons are shopping around the Manoir for a mistress like the Anderssens have. Ew. I'm never going back again.

"Once we have some time tomorrow," Kathleen begins, flicking the hand towel against my shoulder, "we need to talk hotel business. My dad's gonna jump all over my ass the moment the council approves the museum, and I need your input."

"Oh, no, we'll be still working together!" I grin. "Mayhap we shall find new places to copulate, Ms. Allen."

"Why, Ms. Mathison," she says, putting on a fake Southern Belle accent. With her dress and hair, I almost believe it. "If I didn't know any better, I would think you're trying to compromise me."

"Darling, you've been compromised every which way to Sunday by now. I don't think you've got an orifice left for me to penetrate for the first time."

"Not true. I've got a left ear."

"When did I fuck the right one?"

"Who said we can't pursue both? You've got some holes I could fill yet."

My ass clenches. Yeah, I don't think so. I will do a lot of things for Kathleen, but receiving anal is about as appealing as bathing in liquid lava. Actually, I'd take the lava. I don't care how good she can make it feel. No. Nooooo.

Okay, okay. Maybe one day. On her birthday. Ten years from now. Ask me about it then. Actually, don't ask. I'm gonna conveniently forget riiiight… now.

"Anyway, when you're not thinking about fucking my ear, how about we go start the movie? Think I'll slip into something more comfortable."

"This isn't comfortable?" I brush my hand against her dress. "I could take it off for you."

"As helpful as that would be," Kathleen says, shrugging me off her. "I was thinking more along the lines of a T-shirt and some pajama bottoms." She pats my arm. "You can stay dressed like this, though. Looks good on you."

"Oh, sure, make me stay in the itchy clothes."

"The more you wear scratchy clothes, the more likely I am to take them off you and lick your cunt during the boring parts of the movie."

"Why would we watch a movie with boring parts?"

She glares at me, that hint of a Domme gleaming in her eyes. "So I can polish your pearl, dumbass."

"Oh. Better pick a real snore then." I follow her out of the bathroom. "If it's really boring you might get a turn on the couch too."

Kathleen opens a dresser drawer and gestures for me to unzip her dress. My pleasure. "There won't be enough time. I'm suiting up the strap and eating you for forty-five minutes."

That sounds… interesting. "Suiting up the strap, huh?" I slowly lower her zipper as she picks out a cute white T-shirt. She better not wear a bra beneath that. I wanna flick her nipples while we watch this long and boring background-noise-to-sex movie. "Is that what other Dommes are calling it these days?"

"Absolutely. I've got you a brand new one. It's got ridges. For both of us."

"Oh, Lord." I don't know if I'm intrigued or scared. So far, we've only dabbled in strap-ons for me, but I think I could get used to the idea. Of, you know, Kathleen getting all up in my physical business and hearing the crazy sounds I make when a once-in-a-lifetime woman finds my G-spot. Another thing I'm saving for her birthday! Or mine! I haven't had a G-spot orgasm in five years. At least.

Just as Kathleen is about to shimmy out of her dress, the doorbell rings.

"Mother fucker," she mumbles, smacking my hand until I zip her back up with a sigh. "This is what I get for taking my ban off visitors. I did that for you, you know."

"You could've okayed your assistant and me."

"It gets complicated then." Kathleen fluffs her hair and smoothes out her dress. "Keep your cunt in your pants while I deal with this."

"What would I be doing with my pussy without you?"

She steps into the maw of her apartment. "I dunno. Playing with yourself."

"You know, what would this world be like if we made the same observations about you?" I don't care that she's shushing me so she can answer her door. "‘Put your pussy away, Kathleen, we're in church.'"

Yeah, that's the last thing we hear the moment she opens the door. Wish I kept talking.

Because fuck who is caught pounding on the door and then spilling into Kathleen's apartment, teeth bare and ready to bite.

"Oh hell no!" Kathleen latches onto Stephanie's arm and attempts to drag her back into the hall. "Get the fuck out of here!"

I intervene, but only because Stephanie looks like she's out for blood and about to claw out Kathleen's eyes. Which would be a shame, because my Katie has the most gorgeous eyes you've ever seen.

Next thing I know, Stephanie May breaks free from our hold and lands most unceremoniously in the middle of Kathleen's living room floor. As I'm about to kneel and fetch her, all the while telling Kathleen to call security, I get… a slap on the cheek. Classy.

"Fuck you, Ira Mathison!" Stephanie struggles to get back up. "I don't know how you found out about me but fuck you."

I raise my hand. "That was my mother. You stole her ex-husband. She was pretty pissed."

"I don't care who it was!" Has she been drinking? Either that or crying a fuckton. Probably both. She's lost a lot recently. "It's because of her that my career is ruined and I'll never get work again."

"Uh, no, pretty sure that has to do with you being a shitty mother and a big fat liar." I watch Kathleen shut the door with a look of "Why do we have to do this?" on her face. "I mean, really? Lying about your age by a whole ten years?"

"What's wrong, Ira?" Stephanie stumbles where she stands. "Pissed that I'm older than you?"

"Nah, but you lied about it. You had to have known there was no way you would keep that… wait, how is this Kathleen's fault?"

Stephanie cackles. And I mean cackles. Like, has this woman been appearing in movies as witches and banshees when I wasn't looking? When we dated, Stephanie was poised, flirty, and fun. I wouldn't have dated her otherwise. Is this how she is? Is this the bullet I dodged when I shouted Kathleen's name while fucking this other woman? Wow. What a fateful night.

I apparently owe Kathleen a lot.

"You mean she hasn't told you?" Kathleen steps forward, but Stephanie continues. "Your slutty girlfriend has been paying me off to keep my mouth shut. Until she wasn't paying me anymore. Then I had to let the tiger loose if you know what I mean."

I look at Katie, but one thing sticks out to me. "It was you who leaked us to the press?"

"I had to! I told Blondie that if I didn't keep getting my money, I would tattle on her kinky lifestyle. Though I've heard you've done that on your own recently." Stephanie continues to laugh, a little maniacally, a lot of levels of weird. "You two really deserve each other."

"Me? What did I do?"

"Really?" When Stephanie narrows her eyes at you, it's almost as scary as when Kathleen does it. "You think it's not uncouth to say the wrong woman's name during sex?"

"You're still hung up on that, huh? Sorry. Turns out my heart only beats for Dommes around here. Don't think you fit that bill. You're too naturally submissive."

"Don't categorize me you piece of shit!"

Well, fucking, well.

I've had a hunch recently that Stephanie is a bit… unwell. Maybe not unwell. I don't want to make it sound like such people are bad and terrible, but there is definitely something going on in Stephanie's head. Otherwise, there's no way to explain her lying about being ten years younger, abandoning her child, and sucking everyone around her dry.

I'd feel bad for her, especially since her promising career is tanking, but she's been hurting the people I love. For that, I can't forgive her. Or pity her.

"I'll categorize you as much as I want, Stephanie." I approach her, cautiously, because we all know you don't go running up to a bear going HEY HEY HEY HEY HEY. I may be bigger than her, but she's the one on the defensive. "It's my job to categorize people. I do it in my professional life and my personal life. And you? You're what we would call a bratty sub. When you're not pleasing your dominant to manipulate them and get your way – which, by the way, makes for a super shitty BDSM relationship, not that you care – you're acting like a brat until someone has to take matters into their own hands and force you to obey."

"That's sick," Stephanie spits. "I knew you were a sick pervert, but I didn't know you were into assault too."

Whoa boy, that is some serious fucking tension in this room.

"You misunderstand me. The sub wants to be controlled and put in her place. That's what she gets off on and what appeals to her side of kink. It's all consensual with safe words and extensive conversation beforehand."

Kathleen's hand snakes over my shoulder. She leans against me, smiling deviously. "What do you think, Ira? This pain in our ass is the bratty kind of sub. Assuming, of course, she's into that."

"I am not." Stephanie is vehement, but I see the tell in her face. A blip of uncertainty. A flash of… consideration. Eyes glazing over in fantasy. Ha. Ha.

"That's funny," I say, putting my hand on Kathleen's. "Those two dates of ours seemed kinky. If I hadn't been so eager to fuck you that night, what would you have done for me?"

"I think it's obvious. I sucked your fake dick in front of all those people."

"You sure did, honey," Kathleen says. "It was pretty hot."

"You… you saw…"

"I saw and continue to see everything." A well-manicured nail points to Stephanie's chest. "Like those. You getting horny hanging out with us?"

Stephanie's nipples are saying hello in more ways than one. Mostly by poking through the bodice of her black dress. Ah, I remember what those breasts looked like. When I was dating her, I remember not being able to wait to have a lot of fun with them – okay, and her too.

Things change, don't they?

"I am not. Is everything about sex with you two?"

Kathleen and I exchange glances. My beautifully kinky Katie steps away, ass sashaying in the belly of her living room as she extends a hand and caresses Stephanie's flinching face.

"Yes," she purrs. "It is. And we would like to arouse your unworthy cunt. Together."