Safeword Quinacridone (20 page)

She dropped into a heap on the floor, tears streaming from her eyes as she fell apart. Travis held and supported her as Jonathan went to work unlacing the boots, but she didn’t care what they said and wasn’t listening. She allowed Travis to hold her until the boots were finally removed, but the instant they came off she pushed him away and stood. Her calves protested and her feet weren’t working right but she was prepared to run, anyway. Jonathan stopped her, gently but firmly keeping her with them, and she snapped, “Quinacridone, dammit. Let. Me. Go.”

He released her and she ran, stumbling through the garage, sprinting up a dozen steps, tearing across the length of the house, into the kitchen and out the back door. She didn’t stop running until she was past the pool area, finally stopping in a garden area and curling up at the base of a tree several feet off the footpath and angled so she wouldn’t be seen by someone on the path. She needed time alone to think before she faced Travis.

Her tears dried quickly and she felt her consciousness turning inward until she wasn’t aware of her surroundings, and didn’t have to think about what happened. She stared straight ahead without focusing on anything, her eyes hearing and seeing without her brain processing the information. She was vaguely aware when the men came outside looking for her, but not enough to wonder if she should respond. She later compared it to a functioning television invading one’s dreams while sleeping.

She had no idea how much time had passed when she gradually became aware of her surroundings again and remembered why she was outside. Standing, she walked to the lights of the pool area, taking inventory of her stiff muscles as she walked, surprised her feet didn’t hurt.

Stepping onto the diving board, she walked to the end, bent her knees, and dove in what felt like slow motion. Her body knifed through the cool water, bringing her mind the rest of the way back to reality; and she surfaced at the opposite end long enough to take a breath before turning and kicking off the side to return to the deep end. She didn’t count the laps but when she finally stopped she saw Travis sitting on the side of the pool, watching with troubled eyes.

“I couldn’t find you. I was worried.”

“I needed some time alone.”

“I’m sorry, Cara. I thought we could adjust his program to work on you, because even though you aren’t submissive you respond like one when you’re on the edge. We’ll find another way to work on your flexibility. I’m sorry.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it and submerged again, giving herself a few minutes to be sure of her words before she said something she couldn’t take back. She swam to the steps and flipped over, surfacing in position to lean backwards and sit, with ten feet between them.

“No, we won’t. If you don’t want me in your life unless I can do the splits then I guess this is goodbye.”

Travis looked thunderstruck, and he stuttered, “You... I... no...”

He took a breath and started again. “I’m sorry if I gave you the idea this was mandatory. I miss being able to bend my partner any way I want, and I was hoping to find a fun way to increase your flexibility.”

“Fun?” She realized she was screaming but didn’t care. She stood on the steps and pulled air into her lungs so she could scream louder. “You thought that was fun? It was hell! I hated it!”

“I’m sorry. Please Cara, I realized it wasn’t working without me, but once I was in there you responded as if you were enjoying it. You were turned on, and moving like...”

He trailed off and she viciously said, “Yes, because you got me horny and then held me on the edge. I’d have done almost anything to get off and you knew it. You put me through
hell
because you knew how to trick me into accepting it.”

Travis head fell forward and he looked at his knees for several long seconds before standing, carefully keeping his eyes averted so he didn’t look at her. He mumbled another “I’m sorry,” before he turned and walked away, leaving her standing on the steps in knee-deep water, pissed.

Stunned, Cara watched him walk up the steps and into the house. Jonathan stepped out of the shadows of the porch and walked into the pool house, quickly returning with a large towel. It wasn’t the first time he’d known where to find something and she remembered again how close the two men were.

“Come on, love. Let’s get you dried off. I have a closing sequence to keep the lactic acid from building up in your muscles, and since we didn’t get to it you’re likely a bit sore. If you’ll allow it, I’ll give you a massage to help work some of the kinks out.”

She looked up, met his eyes, and was surprised to discover she wasn’t angry with him. He’d been trying to help, and had followed Travis’ instructions. It appeared he was trying to fix things now, and while she didn’t want a massage from him, she appreciated the towel.

She stepped the rest of the way out of the pool, and allowed him to drape it over her shoulders. She resituated it, wrapping the fabric around her body and under her armpits, and folded it down a few times to hold it in place. Quickly deciding she didn’t want to go inside, she stepped to the swing and sat.

He gingerly sat beside her, with a foot of space between them, and said, “He’s right, you know. We both thought you were handling it okay, and into it enough so any discomfort was an added spice to your arousal.”

She pulled her right foot into the swing, planting it in front of her bottom and wrapping an arm around her leg. “Well then, you were both wrong.”

“All I can do is apologize, Cara. We stopped the instant you safeworded. Travis helped with the belt and I took your boots off as quickly as I could, once I realized you wanted them off too.”

“I’m not really mad at you.” She sighed. “Travis is the one who made this happen; you were just following his instructions, trying to help.”

“I’ve worked with a lot of submissives over the years, many of them sent to me by their loving Masters. I’ve seen so many couples forget needs and wants on
both
sides have to be met. Travis has done a lot to cater to your need for objectification; have you taken the time to see what needs
he
might have, that you should perhaps try to indulge? Don’t answer, just consider it for yourself.”

He stood and took a few steps before turning to say, “The offer for a massage is still there, if you wish. I’ll go inside and give you some more time to think. I’m positive the two of you love each other and will find a way to work your way through this.”

Cara had thought Travis was happy, and before their conversation on the plane two weeks before, had never considered he had needs she wasn’t able to meet.

Long ago, she’d told him if he needed to whip women more than she could handle, she’d be okay with it as long as he took his sexual urges out on her afterwards. However, this wouldn’t really work that way, as he wanted to bend someone in half and pull their legs every direction
while
he fucked them.

Sighing inwardly, she ran the evening’s events through her mind. The boots hadn’t been fun but were bearable — perhaps they could reach a compromise there?

Cara knew he’d be in his office, as he always retreated to programming complex logic when confronted with an issue he couldn’t easily compartmentalize and resolve. When the humans around him didn’t act logically, he could always depend on the computer to follow the rules.

Stopping in the doorway, she waited a few seconds for him to acknowledge her, and when he didn’t she said his name. When he continued to work without looking up she finally said, “Can we talk?”

Still not looking at her, he kept typing and said, “Sorry, it’s not a good time. I’m working through a process.”

Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t bother her. Just as he understood when she couldn’t break away from her art, she understood he had times he couldn’t stop and start when he was deep into programming. But with the way he’d walked away, his brush-off hurt.

“Fine, I’ll just call home and see if someone can come get me.

She spun and heard, “Wait. Don’t do that. Just...give me three minutes to jot some ideas down and we can talk. Why don’t you go get dressed and I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Peevish, she said, “I’m not hungry, and it’s nice outside. I’ll meet you on the swing.”

She didn’t wait around for his response.

She’d left her clothes in his bedroom and changed as quickly as possible — the sight of his bed almost bringing tears to her eyes as she wondered if she’d ever lay in his arms in it again. She rubbed some conditioner on her damp hair and pulled it into a ponytail, washed her face, and went outside.

Travis was sitting on a padded loveseat on the porch and she walked by him, down the steps, across the pool area, and to the swing.

She didn’t look back to see if he followed, but wasn’t surprised when he sat beside her a few seconds later.

She spoke before he had a chance. “I’m trying to find a compromise and I hated the boots the least, so will it be enough to teach me to walk in them?” Suddenly remembering the first time they had sex, when he’d pushed her legs up until she couldn’t breathe, she added, “And maybe help me learn how to breathe when you push my legs all the way to my shoulders? But no splits, no backbends, and no armbinders.”

“You thought I used my familiarity with you
...
how well I know you to somehow manipulate you into bowing to my whims. I’d never truly hurt you on purpose Cara, and your accusal hurt.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I get how you thought I was getting off on it, but you were wrong, and I hated it. I’m trying to get past it and figure out how to give you something you want, since there’s no way in hell I’ll ever manage the splits or bend over backwards for you.”

He hadn’t touched her yet, and now he reached towards her and hesitated before pulling his hand back to his lap. “Can I touch you? I don’t want to run you off but it’s hard to sit beside you and not have you in my arms.”

Without warning, her emotions burst from the protective shell she’d pushed them, and she dissolved into tears. “I don’t know. I’ve never fought with someone and made up before. I’m torn between wanting to walk away and never see you again, and terror we might not work this out and this is the end. Shit Travis, I don’t know what to do.”

He pulled her into his arms, turning sideways so she fit into the curve of him. “It’s new for me, too. God, what a pair we are.” He kissed the top of her head. “I love you, and I’ll never ask you to do anything like this again.”

“No,” she shook her head. “You’ve done so much to make my fantasies come true and help me understand what I need in bed. I don’t want to shut you down when you tell me what you want, but I can’t do all of it.”

She took a breath and wiped her eyes. “Show me how to breathe when you push my
knees to my shoulders,
and teach me to walk in the boots. I couldn’t handle shoes like that, but the boots support my ankles enough I wasn’t worried about twisting them.”

“I don’t know how to teach you, Cara. The girls I paid already knew how to do all of this. I brought Jonathan down to instruct you in the things I didn’t know how to safely teach.”

“Well then, let’s go get Jonathan and explain the problem. He can teach the two of us what needs to happen and then you can work with me once he’s gone. If we get stuck on something later I’m sure a phone call should answer our questions next time, without your having to fly him back down.”

* * * *

Within two weeks Cara had the hang of breathing with her knees pressed to the bed beside her ears. The lessons hadn’t been terrible, and she read up on the process of training the arms and shoulders into armbinders, but couldn’t bring herself to mention it to Travis again.

It took a little over a month before she could confidently walk for short periods in the ballet boots. Once she had the hang of it, Travis purchased pony boots as well, alternating the lessons between the two until she could easily handle longer and longer sessions.

He never brought her lack of flexibility up again, but every time he pushed a limb farther than it would comfortably go, and backed off when he saw her discomfort, she cringed on the inside — wishing she could give him what he wanted, but terrified to try again.

Chapter Fourteen

Cara was glad most of her housemates had left for the day. They’d all said goodbye to each other at her going-away party last night, but leaving was harder than she’d expected.

All of her belongings were on the truck and she fumbled the house key from her key ring, awkwardly handing it over to Papa Bear. He took it and wrapped his arms around her, his voice a little deeper than normal as he said, “I’ll miss having you around. I’m proud of you, and happy for you.” He leaned back to look down at her. “I know it’s time for you to go
. Y
ou can stand on your own feet as an artist, which means your spot he
re should go to someone else,
but it doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier.”