Midnight Eternal (2 page)

My words were supposed to make her feel loved, special, but the way her body went rigid and the instant glassiness to her eyes let me know she was terribly upset and on the verge of tears. Perhaps she regretted accepting my collar. That thought made me feel like I’d eaten a boulder.

We had to talk—to make sure we were on the same page.

“Is something wrong butterfly?”

“No, Master.”

I sighed. She was keeping something from me so I called her on it. “You are lying. I’ll repeat the question, and this time I want the truth. Is something wrong, butterfly?”

Tears spilled from her eyes. “Yes, Master.”

It occurred to me for the first time that she might be hurt from last night. She’d appeared fine, but I had no idea how she was doing internally. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head and I was relieved.

“Then tell me what is bothering you.”

“It would be disrespectful of me to talk about it, Master. And it’s silly anyway.”

As much as I wanted to know what she was thinking, forcing her to talk about it wouldn’t help, and it really wasn’t fair given the fact that we were clearly on an uneven playing field.

“Alright. We need to talk anyway. I will go and make breakfast. I’d like you to go use the shower and come join me in the kitchen. Do not keep me waiting long”

“Yes, Master,” she said, scooting to the edge of the bed and getting out. When her hair moved, I swore I saw the shadow of something on her back. Not wanting to cause her any more distress, I let her go. If all went well, I’d have plenty of time to check out her body later.

butterfly

Last night had been the best sex of my life. I’d come more times than I could count, and I swore my Master had, as well. He’d given me a permanent collar and told me that he loved me. Things had been perfect.

When I’d found out that my Sir—now my Master—was Oliver, I’d been shocked. I had even gone over our relationship in my head to see if there had been any clues I’d missed. I recalled the first time I’d met him and his brother, Shane, at Voltz Games. It had been after he’d contacted me on the phone, yet he showed no signs of knowing me.

I remembered thinking that his voice sounded like my Sir’s but I’d dismissed it. Initially, I thought it was me not being able to get my Sir from my mind.
 It seemed ludicrous to accept the idea that a graphic artist at my place of employment could be the man who called me and watched me masturbate.

I headed into the bathroom and began to undress. That was when it occurred to me that it probably hadn’t been chance that he and I worked at the same place. I’d always assumed he saw me through my window somehow—probably with night vision goggles—and then did some sort of reverse look up to find me. Now, knowing it was Oliver, I wondered if he had seen me at work first and
then
found me at home. Had he requested to work with me or had it just been chance? The thought that he might have wanted to work with me because he’d found me attractive and
not
because of my artistic ability stung a little.

I stepped into the shower and thought it over some more. I couldn’t be upset with him for wanting to spend time with me any way he could, because I felt the same about him. From the first moment he called me up until right now, I’d felt drawn to him and would have done what I could just to be near him at all times.

It was possible that he tried to tell me last night. He had attempted to tell me something about himself, but I’d told him it didn’t matter. Before I’d seen him, I told him I didn’t care what he looked like, that I just wanted him. Of course, at the time I’d thought he was deformed or unattractive in some way. I’d never expected him to look like a Roman Gladiator when he was undressed. I felt the same way about whatever he was going to tell me. He could have been a fugitive in hiding, an alien, or even Elvis reincarnated for all I cared. I was in love with him, and as long as he was free to be loved, it didn’t matter.

I still had doubts about whether or not he had other submissives, but this afternoon, he’d told me that I was the only woman he’d ever given a permanent collar. In telling me that I was the only submissive he’d given a collar to, he’d confirmed that there were others. What I didn’t know was if the others were in the past, or if they were current submissives. As I stood there in the shower washing my body, I had to wonder how many other women had stood in this exact place, doing the same thing after being with my Master.

I felt the hot tears build again but pushed them away. This wasn’t the time to feel sad or insecure. My Master had made love to me all night and he’d told me he loved me. I was going to bask in that feeling and I’d talk to him about my concerns soon enough. Perhaps I’d ask him in my next journal entry.

Lost in thought, I winced when I scrubbed my pussy a bit too hard with the loofah. I really wasn’t surprised it was still puffy and swollen. After all, he’d fucked me harder than I’d ever been fucked before. The funny thing was, it didn’t really hurt; it was just warm and tingled deliciously, reminding me he’d been there.

I shampooed my hair twice and used conditioner on it before stepping from the warm water. I no longer smelled like him and it was a shame. He had the most delicious smell, and taste for that matter. I’d read in romance books that some women said they liked the taste of men’s come, but for me, I’d always found it barely tolerable. My Master’s was different. I thought back to the first time he’d allowed me to taste it, the recollection causing wetness to gather between my freshly showered legs. That night I’d knelt before him, taking in his length. I hadn’t been able to see it at the time, but the stretching of my lips told me he was thick, and the fact that I couldn’t get all of him in my mouth told me he was long. I’d deduced he was well endowed, and last night, with the blindfold removed, I saw that I’d been right. Perhaps his size was another reason I could still feel the tenderness between my legs.

As I relived that first time, and all of the times after, I recalled how he had not allowed me to touch his body. In fact, I’d never touched him until last night. When I had, I could tell right away something wasn’t right. His body was cool to the touch, and I wondered if he had some sort of illness. Perhaps he was on medication that made his come taste so good. Whatever it was, I prayed it wasn’t something terminal. I couldn’t stand it if I lost another person I loved.

I finished drying off and realized I didn’t have any clothes to change into. I knew my Master had seen my body—inspected every inch of it, in fact—but I still wrapped the towel tightly around me and headed back into the playroom.

On my way though, I glanced quickly at the bed. I could see the evidence of our lovemaking, and instead of blushing like I normally would, I felt pride. I sighed and thought of the first time he’d entered me. Our eyes had been locked and he’d done it so slowly I thought I was going to die.

“Mine,” he said as he pressed into me.

I felt my eyes grow wide as my pussy lips stretched around his cock. It felt wonderful and I wanted more—I wanted all of him.

Just when I was starting to adjust, he pulled back a fraction of an inch and pressed back in again, almost as slowly as the first time. I looked into his eyes, pleading for him to continue.

“Am I hurting you?” he whispered. I shook my head, maintaining eye contact. “Then what is it, my butterfly? What is it you need? Speak.”

I blinked once, then slowly opened my eyes, looked directly into his, and moaned, “More. I need more.”

He gave me what I wanted. Pulling all the way out, he entered me again quickly and with much more force. “Yes,” I groaned, my eyes rolling back in my head. “Mmmmm, yes.”

I smiled at the memory. It had been wonderful and it was only the first of many times he’d taken me last night. Hoping he would fuck me again today, I glanced around the room and wondered if it would be in the bed or in another place. That’s when the picture on the wall caught my attention. It was another charcoal sketch. This one was a close up of breasts with a necklace—my necklace. The heart of my collar lay on the top of my left breast. He must have done it while I slept today, and I wished I wouldn’t have slept so I could have watched him draw it.

I thought back to how I’d once heard Oliver sketching at work and it had reminded me of Sir. Now I knew why. I loved watching Oliver draw, and I hoped that my Master would allow me to watch him create a sketch for the wall. Once again pushing aside jealousy, I ignored the illustrations that had been there before I’d entered the playroom and concentrated on the newest one. I could have stared at the piece for hours, but my Master had told me not to keep him waiting. Pulling the towel a bit tighter around my body, I left the playroom, hoping to return soon.
 

Master

She hadn’t kept me waiting. Twenty minutes after she’d entered the bathroom, she walked out of the playroom, hair damp, wrapped in a towel. She glanced down at her clothes, which were still folded neatly in a pile at her feet just outside the playroom door.

I’d been so preoccupied with what would happen last night during and after the collaring ceremony, I hadn’t even thought about clothes for today.

“Wait one moment.” I quickly went into my bedroom and grabbed a shirt out of my closet. It was amazing how sexy a man’s dress shirt could look on a woman.

“Do I look alright, Master?” she asked, running her hands up over the material. Her fingers grazed the chain of her collar and I could hear her heart rate increase.

“Yes, you look beautiful, but I wanted to talk to you about your collar and calling me Master.”

The look of devastation that covered her face nearly broke my heart. “Did I do something wrong? Did I not serve you well enough last night?”

While her insecurity was endearing, it was something we would need to work on. She should know that she’d served me well and that her body—her pussy in particular—had been the best thing I’d ever had wrapped around my cock, though her mouth had been a close second. As far as serving me, there was no way it could have been any better.
  

“Please come and eat something so we can talk. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to eat. Is a salad and sandwich alright?”

When she nodded and sat at the table, I brought her the food I’d prepared while she showered.

She took a few bites of her salad before she spoke. “It’s delicious. Aren’t you eating?”

I smiled and shook my head. “I’m not hungry.” It was a lie—I wanted nothing more than to throw her on the table and feast on her pussy—but it wasn’t the time. “I ate earlier.” That was the truth; I had eaten from her earlier, and it was enough to satiate me. I just always craved more.

It was time to talk to her, though. I loved her and she’d said she loved me. I just hoped it was enough to allow her to hear me out and possibly accept me for who I was.

Reaching over, I ran my finger along the metal chain of her collar. We had to discuss that first so she felt comfortable communicating with me. “I’d like to start by talking to you about your collar.”

I saw her swallow thickly, as if she was expecting the worst. “You understand that it’s a permanent collar and should be kept on at all times, right?”

“Yes, Master,” she said, her eyes trained on the plate in front of her.

“It is a symbol of our commitment to each other. You have given your body to me, and in exchange, I will care for it…for you.”

“Yes, Master,” she said again. I could hear the question start to build in her voice. She was intelligent and wondering where the ‘but’ was.

“Do you know the difference between a permanent collar and a play collar?”

She thought for a moment. “Well, you used play collars on me before, right?”

“Yes, I usually like to put a collar on my submissives at the start of a scene.” That same look of hurt that flashed across her face again. Once we were finished with this conversation, I was going to ask her what was bothering her. “The difference between your permanent collar and a play collar is that, although you will always wear your permanent collar and always be mine, when you are not wearing a play collar, you do not need to act as my submissive.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “So, then…right now?”

I nodded. “Yes, right now you are only wearing your permanent collar. You are not obligated to address me as Master. You may speak when you choose to—make your own decisions. Of course, you are always to be respectful to me, as I will be to you.”

“Thank you, Master.”

I smiled. I still loved hearing the word from her lips, but right now I had to level the field as much as I could. “You’re welcome, but why don’t you try calling me Oliver.”

Color flooded her cheeks. “Alright, Oliver.”

“I was hoping we could talk about what’s bothering you. Earlier, you said it would be disrespectful to tell me what you’re feeling. I’d like you to tell me what’s bothering you.”

She thought for a moment. “It really is my issue, not yours.”

“If it’s your issue, then it’s my issue.”

She closed her eyes and spoke. “It’s just that I get jealous.”

“Jealous?” I hadn’t expected that. “Of what?”

“Of the other girls. You said that you used play collars on other girls. Are there other girls when I’m not here?”

“Rebecca, please look at me.” Her eyes lifted, though they settled on my lips and not my eyes like I’d hoped. Hers were glassy and I knew she was holding back tears.
 

“You are the only submissive I’ve been with since the first night I called you.”

“Really?” There was a hint of a smile on her face and relief in her eyes. I nodded in affirmation. “And there has been only you,” she added.

“I know,” I chuckled. “I couldn’t have beared the knowledge of another man taking pleasure in what is mine.”

She shivered at my words, and I couldn’t help but notice her erect nipples poking at the material of my shirt. As much as I wanted to tear it off and remind her of how her body belonged to me, I knew we had to talk. I’d put this moment off long enough.

“Last night, I wanted to tell you something about myself, and I know you said it didn’t matter, but I think it does. You just told me the truth about how you were feeling, so now it’s time I was honest with you.”

She looked up at me, her brown eyes trusting, yet I could see the worry behind them.

“There is something you need to know about me. I’m not who you think I am…I’m not
what
you think I am.” Her brows furrowed. “I’m Bocaj.”

Of course, my admission meant nothing to her. She stared, waiting for me to continue. “What I mean by that is that I’m not human. My kind, the Bocaj, come from another planet named Salocin. We migrated here over—”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said, standing up. The look of confusion on her face had turned to anger. “If you didn’t want to see me anymore, you could have just told me. You didn’t need to make up some crazy story about aliens!”

“I’m not making it up, Rebecca.”

“Oh, sure. Yeah. You’re an alien who came here in your space ship. Look, I just spent the last…I don’t even
know
how many hours in bed with you. I think I would have noticed if you were an alien.”

This was not going as I expected. I’d anticipated questions—fear even—but not believing me was something I hadn't planned for.

“I’m not making it up,” I said calmly. “You are the only person I’ve ever told, and I’m only doing it because…well, because of how I feel about you.” I didn’t want to tell her she was my mate, created just for me, driven by some primal force beyond our control. Like so many other species, Bocaj mated for life.

The thought of her being my mate made the skin on my chest hum. I looked down and saw the lines on my mating mark slowly changing.

“I can prove it.” She looked up at me quickly, disbelief all over her face. “Look at my chest.” I removed the shirt I’d put on while she showered. Her eyes took in more than my chest, and when I watched them fill with lust my cock sprang to life. That would have to wait; I had to make her understand.

“Last night, I didn’t have this marking,” I explained, running my hands over the warm spot on my skin. She squinted her eyes and I could see her trying to remember.

“I don’t remember…well I do remember and it wasn’t there. Maybe you had makeup covering it.” I could tell from her tone she didn’t believe herself.

“It wasn’t there. It appeared when we started making love. Marks like this show up on my kind when we…uh…find our mate.”

“So you’re telling me that a tattoo appears when you mate with someone?” She was practically rolling her eyes at me.

“Not when we mate, when we find
our
mate. And it’s not a tattoo, it’s a marking. It wasn’t
injected
into my skin, it grew there. Look.”

I stepped closer and she saw the intricate tribal pattern that had taken shape on my chest. In an effort to mimic us, humans had begun using ink to recreate patterns like ours on their skin for thousands of years now. Theirs weren’t even close, though. Since ours came from the inside, they grew and changed.

Bec looked more closely and her eyes widened as the tiny lines shifted slightly to create a new pattern, and then shifted back to the original again. “How are you doing that?”

“How do you make your heart beat? I really don’t know, my body just does it.”

She shook her head. “No, really…how?”

I had to show her in another way, so I picked up the knife I’d used to slice the strawberries. “Bec, please look.” When her eyes spotted my hand with the knife, I made a small cut on my forearm.

She initially looked away but then glanced back. The clear fluid pooled in the cut and dripped from the opening, causing her to gasp.

“Oh, my God. You’re telling the truth.” She blinked rapidly a few times as if trying to clear her vision. “You’re not…not…human.”

“No, I’m not.” I was whispering, though she didn’t seem afraid.

She stepped closer to me and stared at my arm, which was already starting to heal from the small cut. “Is that your blood?” she asked, pointing at the clear fluid.

“I don’t really have ‘blood,’ and I don’t have a heart, but it’s the fluid that moves throughout my body.” I dipped my finger in it and held it up to her.

Her nostrils flared then her cheeks turned pink. “Oh, it smells a bit like, well…like your, uh, stuff.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “My stuff?”

Her pink cheeks were now scarlet. “You know, your,” she dropped her voice to a whisper, “come.”

“Hmmm, I wonder if it tastes like it, too?” I’d been teasing, but she sucked on the tip of my finger and moaned in delight.

“Oh it does,” she giggled.

Was this really happening? Had she just accepted me for what I was? There had to be more questions. Perhaps she was in shock.

“So you don’t really have a heart?”

“Listen,” I answered, pulling her head gently to my chest. She rested it there for a few minutes, listening carefully.

“I don’t hear your heart, but I can hear
something
—like a swishing sound.” She kept her head pressed to my chest for a while longer. “Is that why you’re cold?”

“I’m not really cold, but yes. I’m not a mammal in the traditional sense of the word, though I do have hair that grows and female Bocaj produce a substance to feed our young. I really wouldn’t classify it as milk, however. As for my temperature, it’s always that of my surroundings. Right now the room is seventy-two degrees, so I am, too. You’re nearly one hundred degrees all of the time, so to you, yes, I would feel cold. The only place on my body that produces heat is my marking.”

Bec pulled her head from my chest and touched my marking with the tips of her fingers. The entire mating mark was new to me, and I’d been getting accustomed to the warm humming feeling I got from it as it moved all night, but when she touched it, warmth spread throughout my body and I could feel the lines speed up. I groaned in pleasure as my cock hardened, but she pulled her hand back. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, Babygirl. It felt really good.”

She smiled and sat at the table again. “Tell me more about the marking. Is it your only one?”

I loved how curious she was, and I couldn’t believe she was just taking this at face value. “Actually, I do have one other marking.” I placed my bare foot on the empty chair next to her. “This is my birthmark. It’s identical to my parents’ mating marks.”

“Parents? Are there more of you?”

“Of course there are. Many more, actually, though it is a very well kept secret. Baby, you can’t tell anyone.”

She smiled, then giggled. “Of course. Can you imagine if I went into work tomorrow and I was like, “Hey, Shane, guess what Oliver…” She stopped mid sentence and I watched her work it out. “Oh, Oliver! Is Shane? I mean, he’s your brother, isn’t he?”

“Actually, he isn’t my brother, but yes, he’s Bocaj.”

Her eyes went wide. “Wow, this is amazing. Are you two related at all?”

“Not genetically, but he is married to my sister.”

“You have a sister?!”

“Yes, you met her—Sydney.”

“Oh my God! Her, too? Is Candy?”

I burst out laughing. “No, Candy is
not
one of us. Though, I’m not sure she’s human, either.”

We laughed for a moment, then she got quiet. “Oliver, I really don’t know what to think. It’s a lot to take in, you know?”

I didn’t know actually, but I could assume. “I can give you some time.” It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I could see how she might need a bit of space and a chance to think.

“No, I just need to digest this. Can you tell me more? I still want to know about that mark on your chest. Why did it appear?”