Lex(140)

Me: I thought this was ask the master, not, question the questioner. Lucky for you, I’ll be nice… I want to know now because I’m curious. Gage has turned me into some horny madwoman. So I’m broadening my horizons.

Lincoln: You can ask. That’s fine. But if I ever hear of Gage using anything other than his dick in the bedroom and maybe a blindfold or a set of cuffs, then I’m castrating him. You are not to participate in this lifestyle Lex. Period.

Me: I didn’t say I was. And he’s already used a blindfold. Cuffs are for kinky cops. Gage is a lawyer. Now Questions 2. What kind of sex do you participate in with most with your subs?

I can’t believe I am asking him this. Consider me intrigued and deterring Lincoln from fussing over me is worth his discomfort in talking about this. Anything is better than him getting sick, worrying about me.

When Linc finally saved me from Brian’s, I was rushed to the hospital for an extensive medical evaluation. Doctors had no idea how the cops never realized I was being abused. What nobody knew was that I was locked in the basement for all but one of the sweeps through the house. The only one I wasn’t, I was too ill from being beaten that I was doped up with meds, passed out in Brian’s bedroom. I really don’t want to get into the Brian conversation now, not when I’m already in such a great mood.

However… When I was in the hospital, Lincoln sat in my room or just outside the door, for the entire two weeks I was there. Once, a nurse was changing my bandage from a cut that needed to be re-stitched and got infected, so it had to be drained, Lincoln held my hand the entire time the nurse re-bandaged me. He also refused to eat until I did, making himself sick for days with nothing but water to fill the hunger cravings that racked his body. And, he lived severely sleep deprived, because as soon as my nightmares took hold there wasn’t a person in my wing of the hospital that could outrun my terror-stricken screams. On the fifth day in the hospital, I finally ingested crackers and that’s all Lincoln ate. On the sixth day I ate a bland vanilla pudding cup and more crackers, so that’s what he ate. This went on for a total of fourteen and a half days. Now the last thing I need for him to do is put himself back in that mindset. Keeping him distracted is the only way I can think of to keep him from overreacting. I know there is nothing he wouldn’t do for me.

Lincoln: Do you really need to know that?

Me: Yes

Lincoln: Why?

Me: Consider me interested.

Lincoln: Consider that a topic on the do not disclose list.

Me: Why?

Lincoln: I already discuss with you more about this than I’d like.

Me: Why does it matter?

Lincoln: It does because it’s not part of your life.

Me: You’re part of my life.

Lincoln: I know. But sex isn’t a part of our relationship.

Me: Love is.

Glancing up from my phone, I watch Emma immersed in her play time. I love this. The sun is shining brightly through the large almost floor to ceiling windows, the light blanketing a warm glow along her back, highlighting the undertones of auburn in her hair.

Emma awoke this morning and we all ate breakfast with daddy before he left for work. I got in my yoga after breakfast, and we came down here to officially start our day. Even though Roni has been a slight bit distant lately due to late night vomiting, my life is amazing.

My phone buzzes in my lap.

Gage: Don’t leave the house today.

That doesn’t sound good.

Me: Why? Did Lincoln’s ear to the ground pull something up?

Gage: No. Just stay home and keep your phone on.

Me: Why?

Lincoln: Sorry, just stopped to talk with Barbie. Told me to tell you she misses you. Hopes you’ll bring Emma in this week for some ice cream. On the house.

Me: Tell her she can count on it. Since you’re not going to answer my questions and I’ve got to get some work done. I’ll text you later.

Lincoln: Be good. Love you.

Me: Love you too.

Me to Gage: Care to fill me in?

Three minutes later of staring at my phone, guess he doesn’t want to fill me in.

Leaning forward and setting my phone on the coffee table. I turn my attention back to my computer.

“Do you need anything before I get back to work?” I ask Emma, before I start rummaging through my obscene amount of work emails.

“No, thank you, Mommy.” She mutters, never breaking away from her toys.

I love when she calls me that. Mommy. I’m Emma’s mommy. I love the sound of that.

Ding dong–bang—bang—bang—ding dong.

Somebody is at my front door. Emma looks back at me and I set the laptop on the coffee table. Guess I won’t be working right now after all.

“Stay here and play, I’ll be right back.” I tell her, padding my way bare feet around the side of the couch, toward the door.