Finn Ch. 13: Chaos

"So do you," Trevor replied, pointing at his eyebrow.

He was certain he looked a lot better than he felt. He spun his drink around on the bar top, contemplating if he should take a sip before he began impulsively rubbing his neck.

"Did the behaviorist finally give up trying to rewire you?" Trevor asked, thumping his fingers while he waited for his drink.

"No," he said quickly as if he needed to diffuse Trevor's sentence immediately or it would become the reality. "I think she just wanted some time to herself."

Trevor laughed and turned towards him. "So she told you to leave and you left?"

Of course he left. He always did as he was told. "Why is that funny?"

"I may not be a behaviorist, and I may not have the trifecta or whatever you called it, but I'm not stupid." He laughed again and took a sip of his drink.

"What would you have done?"

"All women are the same."

He rolled his eyes and stood up, silently scolding himself for allowing the conversation to get this far.

"Can you just sit down and hear me out?" Trevor said, grabbing his arm. "You don't have to get so defensive about this girl all the time."

"She's not the same," he grumbled, sitting back down.

"Girls never say what they mean."

His fingers grazed over his neck. "She always says what she means."

Trevor smiled and shook his head. "After all the hours I've spent listening to girls talk in hopes of getting at least fifteen minutes of pussy, I know they may mean to say what they say, but they damn sure don't say what they mean."

"You actually listen to them?" he questioned, raising his eyebrow in surprise.

Trevor downed the rest of his drink then looked over his shoulder for a moment, scanning the room. "How am I supposed to say all the right lines if I'm not listening when they give me hints of what they want to hear?"

He thought back to how much mindless conversation he had participated in, all in the hopes of adding another name to his list. Oftentimes he couldn't even remember the name so it became a faint memory of a body part, a quirky habit or an odd birthmark.

"Go home, Finn," Trevor said, reaching over to grab the untouched glass of Jack and Coke and raising it to his lips. "You don't belong here anymore."

He stood up and pulled out his wallet, but Trevor's hand waved him away before he could pay for the drink. Trevor was right, he didn't belong here anymore. He belonged at home on his knees.

Twenty minutes later he walked through her front door and stopped in the dark hallway, staring at her closed door. He thought back on the last few days, trying to determine where he had made an error. Madame Lexi took away Ian's collar to punish him, so maybe he was being punished. No matter how hard he tried, though, he couldn't pinpoint what he had done to upset her. He knelt down in the hallway a few feet from her closed door, wondering how he was going to manage to sleep tonight without his collar.

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The roar of the thunder woke her from a restless sleep. She lay in the darkness listening to the sound of the rain pounding against her window. She had heard him leave but hadn't heard him come back. No light was shining in from underneath her door indicating the hallway light wasn't on and neither was his. She had told him to leave. She had told him he was free for the night, and she hadn't told him when to be back.

When she couldn't take it anymore she got out of bed and went to her door. She unlocked it and pulled it open, staring out into the dark hallway. She took a step forward and peered into the other room, but in the darkness she couldn't see if the bed was empty. She walked forward, running her hand along the wall to find the light switch. She managed two steps before her foot caught on something, sending her tumbling to the floor.

She scrambled forward on her hands and knees, screaming when a large form began shifting in the shadows.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Mistress!"

The voice brought her to a stop. It was like silk rolling down a gravel road, and she would recognize it anywhere. Though the beating of her heart didn't slow down, she started laughing. Not just in relief he wasn't an intruder, but also because he was there.

"I'm sorry, Mistress," he said again, though this time in a calmer tone. "I was going to tell you I was home but I didn't want to disturb you, then I must of fallen asleep."

"What is it you want, Finn?" she asked, biting her lip as she braced herself for his answer.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you want to be a community slave or a personal slave?"

"Personal." The word was automatic as if he had known and assumed she had as well.

She reached for him in the darkness, grasping whatever part of him it was she found and pulled him towards her. He didn't smell like alcohol or another woman, and he tasted like he always had. Like want and need and desperation and longing. She climbed into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Take me to my bed."

He stood up, taking her with him. They moved as one down the hallway, never releasing each other's mouths. He fell on top of her on the bed and began pulling off his clothes. Once his body had been set free she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him down onto her. His weight pushed her into the soft mattress, the feel of it making her desperation peak.

"No," she said when he began moving his mouth lower. "I want you inside me. Now."

He brought himself back up to her mouth and reached down, positioning himself over her then pushing himself inside. She pulled her knees in towards her chest, moaning when his hips hit against hers. The thunder rolled through the sky outside, but it was no match for the sound of their bodies crashing together. The room lit up with random flashes of light, illuminating the body she loved to torment into broken images of muscle and skin.

"Good boy." The words came out like a moan that he pulled from her lips. Her hands grasped at his hair then scraped down his back. She wanted him at her fingertips, always. She wanted his mouth where it was always available to please her, his hands where they were always available to caress her. She wanted his skin against her own, and she wanted to feel him inside of her, filling her whenever she wanted. If she told him to stop she knew he would in an instant. If she told him to keep going all night she was certain he would find a way. She didn't want to give him away for another domme to enjoy. She wanted him to be hers, and she could be his.

His breath blew hot against her neck, his hips pounding down harder. She gasped as his body drove the electricity through her, sending it firing up her spine like a thousand explosions steeling her breath away.

"Please, Mistress...Please can I come?" he begged, pressing his mouth against hers before she could answer.

"Yes," she gasped, breaking away from his lips.

He pushed into her harder, and she grasped at his skin. However rough he needed to be she would embrace. His desperate need was her reminder of how much of himself he had given her, and his release was his reminder it wasn't all for nothing. When she felt him shove into her she closed her eyes, memorizing the rhythmic pulse of his climax.

"Good boy," she whispered as his body started to relax. Her hands ran up through his hair, her mouth lightly trailing over his.

He didn't attempt to roll off her. Instead he stayed where he was, deep inside her with his lips still hunting for hers.

"Enough," she finally said, but he continued pressing his mouth to her smile. "Enough."

He grudgingly rolled off and collapsed next to her on the bed, turning onto his side to look at her. She wondered what it would be like to have him in her bed all night, and how long she would have to wait before he could be inside her again.

"Mistress?" he started, hesitating before he continued. "Can I please have my collar back? I have a hard time sleeping without it."

She rolled over, away from his stare. "Go wait for me in your room." She held her breath until the burning in her chest had passed, though several tears managed to escape and drip down her face to the bed. He had come back for his chains, nothing more.

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Something had changed. There was a shift in the imbalance he had grown so used to. Every encounter with her seemed robotic. Her mind was elsewhere. He didn't know where, he just knew it wasn't where he was and wasn't somewhere he knew how to get to. He was trying his hardest to be a good boy and would do whatever it took to hear the words confirmed from her lips. But it felt like an eternity had passed since he had last heard them, and she appeared intent on not saying them.

He sat down at her feet as he always did for dinner, but her hands didn't reach for his hair. When he was done eating he lie down on the floor beneath her and ran his lips over the tops of her feet. He wanted to move them higher, run them up her legs to the part of her he craved tasting the most. She crossed her legs as if she read his mind and continued picking at her food.

"If you're done go get dressed."

"Yes, Mistress," he replied, crawling out from under the table. "What would you like me to wear?"

She looked up from her plate but her eyes looked past him to the wall behind him. After a minute she shoved her plate away and stood up. He moved forward to grab it to bring it to the sink.

"Leave it," she said, walking by him. "Come."

He followed behind her to his room then knelt down on the floor. She slid open his closet door and leaned on it while she peered inside. Her fingers trailed lightly over the shirts hanging before her. There weren't many options, just different shades of stripes or plaid, but she stood contemplating as if her decision may cause the world to crumble around her.

"Here," she finally said, reaching in and pulling out one with blue and grey pinstripes.

"Yes, Mistress." He got up from the floor and took it off the hanger. When he looked up she was already disappearing out the door.

He pulled on a pair of jeans then weaved his belt through the loops. Another Tuesday had already come and gone, and he was discovering he enjoyed the sting more than the thud, especially with regard to the aftermath each provided. Now Tuesday was days away and the hours couldn't tick by fast enough.

"Come," her voice came from the hallway.

He quickly hurried to where she was then helped her into her coat, making sure to take as many glances as he could at her body beneath the sheer fabric of her black dress before the view was lost.

The limo pulled up in front of the house and he followed her to it then sat at her feet for her to buckle the collar around his neck. He was thankful they were going to the château. It was a place he knew she could let her demons out, and he would be there to meet them head on. Maybe once she set them free she would come back to him.

Her eyes stared out the window as if drawn to the rain, but her teeth bit into the inside of her cheek. He knew he shouldn't be looking at her face but the shadows lingering there kept forcing his eyes back. He wanted to ask her where she was and if he could join her, then together they could find their way back to her smile.

When they arrived at the château the collared chauffeur opened the door to the limo. She got out without a word and the chauffeur held an umbrella over her as she made her way to the door. He followed behind her up the steps and watched the door swing open when her heel hit the porch. Alex glanced up from under his brow as they walked by then shut the door behind them. She undid the belt from her coat and he watched it slide down her shoulders revealing the body he loved to worship.

"Eyes on the floor." Her command brought his eyes to her boots, and they stayed there as he followed her into the room with the red couches. She sat down in the same place she had his first time there, and he sat down at her feet then leaned down to kiss her boot.

Madame Lexi was seated on her throne with Ian kneeling quietly at her feet. He caught Ian's eye and Ian bit into his lip. One of the dommes he had met while bowling was seated on the couch opposite his mistress. Though he didn't know what her proper title was, he thought he remembered her name was Rachel. Seated next to her was the blonde, he thought her name was Natalie, holding a laptop.

"Strip," his mistress said from her seat on the couch.

He nervously began unbuttoning his shirt. He had noticed the only slave he ever saw dressed at the château was Ian, and all Ian ever wore were pants. He imagined it was based on owner preference, and if his mistress preferred him to be nude, he had to accept it. Once all his clothing was in a pile next to him Ian picked them up, folded them and placed them in one of the cabinets.

"What life have you chosen for yourself?" Madame Lexi's voice jolted through the air.

He sat quietly for a minute until he realized she was staring at him. "Ummm... Slave, Madame," he replied, hoping his answer was appropriate.

"Community or personal?"

"Personal," he said, then began to fidget when she continued staring at him as if he had forgotten something. "Madame," he added, though it still wasn't an answer she seemed satisfied with.

"Mistress Morgaine..." Madame Lexi started, and for once her stoic demeanor seemed to falter. "Who will you be giving your trainee to? Or will you be keeping him in your service?"

His mistress hesitated before she spoke, bringing his heart to a stop. "He is being given to Mistress Rain," she said, gesturing towards the woman he remembered as Rachel. "She and I have already discussed the transaction."

Though he could hear the sound of the discussion continuing, the words were now blurred along with his vision. He couldn't feel if his heart had resumed beating, all he felt was the collar fall from his neck.

"Come, Slave," Madame Lexi's words broke through his panic.

He reached up and ran his hands over his neck, the bare skin like poison on the tips of his fingers. He couldn't imagine going a day without his collar, but only because it was hers. Her collar, her chains, her will. It was her touch, her praise, her control that kept his heart beating, and right now his breath wouldn't return to him.

"Come, Slave," Madame Lexi repeated, this time louder.

He stayed frozen where he belonged, at his mistress' feet. The silver collar in Mistress Rain's lap taunted him. His hands wrapped around his neck, protecting it from the metal he didn't want anywhere near his skin.

"Now, Slave." Though Madame Lexi's words were harsh, her voice was soft when she spoke them.

"Morgan." It was more than a safeword. It was a broken plea falling from his lips.

The silence in the room went from somber to absolute, and he turned away from the others towards his mistress. "Morgan." He said it again then wrapped his arms around her legs, soaking her boots with his tears.

"Game over." Natalie's voice echoed in his ears followed by the sound of the laptop clicking shut.

"You're free to go," Madame Lexi said, reminding him his world would now disintegrate. "You can get dressed, the limo will bring you home. Mistress Morgaine—"

His mistress didn't give Madame Lexi time to finish her statement. She stood up and pulled her legs out of his grasp. He tried desperately to cling to them, crawling after her as she headed towards the door. But she kept moving, each step just out of his reach. He scrambled up from the floor and chased after her out the door.

"Wait!" Ian's voice stopped him in the hallway.

He turned and Ian smiled at him then shoved his clothes into his hands. When he turned back she was already gone. He stumbled forward, trying to run and pull his jeans on at the same time. They were still twisting around his legs when he ran into the rain. He jerked them up then threw open the back door to the limo, pausing when he didn't see her inside.

He frantically looked around the driveway, unsure where she could have gone. When the collared chauffeur began walking towards him he turned to head back into the château to find her. The chauffeur grabbed him by the arm then gestured towards the front seat. He glanced at the side mirror and could just see the outline of her face.

He nodded then climbed into the back. He knelt down on the floor, bent forward and buried his head in his hands. Her will inside him wasn't enough to bring back the air into his lungs. Ian had said it wasn't hers, but he was wrong. It was hers, and he would never wear it for anyone else. She could burn her initials into his flesh or carve them straight into his skin. She could whip him until his blood pooled on the floor beneath her, or she could peel the skin straight from his bones with her bare hands. There was no pain she could inflict upon him he wouldn't endure. The only pain he couldn't survive was a life without her.

When the limo pulled up to her house he saw her run out into the rain, hurrying to the door. He followed behind her, realizing he hadn't finished getting dressed when the gravel dug into the bottoms of his bare feet. By the time he limped his way to the front door she was already inside.

"You can take your collar out in the bathroom if you want. I can't do it for you," she said when he walked through the door.

He shook his head, his tears falling harder. "Mistress, please..." he managed to get out as he followed her down the hallway.

"You used your safeword," she started, turning left into his room, "you shouldn't call me Mistress anymore."

He shook his head again, this time knowing no words would be able to break through his sobs. He knew the rules, and he had spoken the word he had told himself he never would. But she was his mistress, and he would never disrespect her by referring to her as any other name.

She ran the leather collar through her fingers then opened the top left drawer of the dresser and dropped it inside. She pulled out a brown box then pushed the drawer closed. "You're free to go," she said, wrapping her arms around the box and holding it tight against her body, "unless there's something else..." She stood staring at him, her teeth digging into the inside of her cheek.

His tears fell harder down his face, and he gave up trying to wipe them away. How was he supposed to speak when he couldn't even breathe? When he realized it was impossible he did the only thing he knew to do when his world was spinning. He walked towards her and knelt down on the floor at her feet. It was the only place he found comfort in the chaos, the only place he felt whole and safe.

"What is it you want, Finn?"

"I just want to be yours, Mistress," he answered, his entire body shaking along with his voice.

Her fingers ran through his hair then trailed down his cheek. "Then mine you will be."

He felt something lock around his neck and ran his hand over the cool metal collar. His fingers traced over the grooves where her initials and emblem had been engraved in the silver.

She grabbed his hand and he watched as a key attached to a thin chain slowly coiled into his palm. She knelt down in front of him then turned away, lifting the hair away from her neck. He put the necklace on her, his hands trembling as he fastened the clasp.

"Good boy," she praised, turning back towards him and wiping the tears from his face.

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