Chapter 7

The piece-of-shit decided that he wasn’t going to press charges. He was looking at several charges being leveled at him for assaulting Anna. The security guard that tackled me had to apologize to the piece-of-shit though for causing his finger to break. I found that amusing for some reason.

I stayed with my two lovers through the weekend. While I was in no shape to perform my usual role in our play, there was nothing wrong with my mouth or fingers, and my ladies were very appreciative of my desire to participate. I considered it an investment in future play times, not to mention just how selfless they were when it came to attending to my needs. When they were satisfied that I was on the mend, I was allowed to return to my dorm room.

I thought about how much control they had over my life. For all of their talk about wanting me to be their man, they spent a great deal of time telling me what to do. My father explained to me how a couple belongs to each other, and I realized that I was finally experiencing what he meant.

I even received another thank you from Anna’s father. It was a letter, but you could say it was suitable for framing. Not that I would bother. All I could feel was contempt for the man.

By the second week of November, I was back to my usual work out routine. I had managed to not lose too much of my strength, and my endurance was as strong as ever, or at least I thought so. My ladies helped me celebrate over the weekend. I found myself delightfully put in my place when it came to just how in-shape I really was.

Thanksgiving was coming up, and I talked to Anna and Risa about any plans they might have had. It turns out that I didn’t have to worry, as they were expecting me to stay that weekend as well. It was almost like having family again.

The safe house turned out to be a house that the company had purchased for their in-house security detail to use. They had even provided servants to attend to the house and grounds. If this was the life of their security, I could understand their loyalty.

The night before Thanksgiving, I arrived to a busy home. My clothes were taken by Kimi, and then she disappeared. I was told later that she was taking them to wash them. I knew they were wrinkled, but honestly, they were clean.

The house was not a safe place to remain, and I was told quite politely but very firmly to go away. I slipped out onto the patio where two of the detail were playing a Japanese board game that consisted of a lot of tiles. They greeted me with smiles, and I waved as I passed through, out to the rock garden.

I sat on the bench and thought back to my family’s own Thanksgiving traditions. My father would stand at the table saying the traditional prayer. Afterwards, he would ask everyone that dined with us two questions. What blessing did we receive that year that was obvious, and what blessing did we receive that was hidden.

I asked him about that once. He told me that often the greatest blessings were the ones hidden behind great pain.

“Growth is painful,” he stated, “Learning how to be the best version of you will mean having things you believe to be true proven a lie. That feeling of having your identity ripped away from you is intensely painful. Never hate suffering that forces you to grow,”

And then he pointed out a part of “To Kill A Mockingbird” where the son has to tend to the old neighbor until she died.

“Attacus saw the real woman buried under her addiction and pain,” he began, “And when his own son attacked her flowers, he sent him there to learn what real suffering looked like, and the kind of courage it takes to stand up to your own inner demons. How much do you think that boy learned from tending her?” he asked me.

I didn’t know. I’d never known a woman like her in real life. And I didn’t know how I would react to someone like her. I doubt that I would ever want to find out, though I hoped that I would at least have the wisdom and compassion to understand her suffering. I sometimes wondered at what kind of demons I would have to face. I didn’t follow that thought.

I let my mind drift along the waves in the sand, trying to empty it. I kept being pulled towards memories of my father’s voice, my mother’s laugh, the sight of the mountains. I turned my head East looking for the Rocky Mountains, but they were too far away. My face had gotten wet again somehow.

“Eric!” Risa shouted, “We just got back form ... Hey! Are you alright?” concern thick in her voice. I offered her a sad smile.

“I’m fine. Just missing my family,” I explained, turning my face back to the stone garden, “Thanksgiving was a really big deal for them,” I continued, “We’d invite as many people as we could, and sing after the dinner,” I smiled as more tears flowed, “After my mom died, it wasn’t quite the same. My father tried, and we still had lots of people over, but... “ I shrugged.

“I’d missed the last two years with my father,” I continued after a moment, “I hated it, but I simply couldn’t get the time off from work. I was the new guy at the bottom of the list.

“My father understood. My father always understood. Now I...” I couldn’t finish. There were only the tears.

Risa wrapped herself around me. The girls were still fairly gentle with how they manhandled me.

“It hurts!” I hissed, chocking back a sob. Oh God how it hurt. I was blinded by my silent tears. I kept focusing on my breathing, trying to regain my center.

“How long have you kept that inside of you,” Risa asked.

“It comes and goes,” I explained, “But I am not trying to suppress it. It’s just that this was a special holiday for my family. For me too I guess,” I wiped my eyes.

“And when Christmas comes?” she asked. I felt a flash of anger and pain as my body tensed.

“That’s what I thought,” she stated. I sighed.

“At some point, I am going to have to embrace this when I am alone,” I cautioned her. My two angles couldn’t be with me everyday. And they had let me know that they could not be with me forever. At some point, I was going to have to deal with the holidays alone.

“I don’t like that idea,” she informed me. I couldn’t help it, I let out a choking laugh.

“There is much in the truth that we find we don’t like,” I stated, another thing my father would remind me of.

“That is very mature of you,” she said.

“It was something my father told me,” I said, smiling softly at the memory.

“Your father was a very spiritual man?” she asked.

“Very,” I emphasized.

“I think he raised a very wonderful son,” she encouraged.

“Yes,” I thought to myself, “I was the living legacy of my parents. Don’t fuck it up,”

I chuckled at the thought. Risa wanted to know what was so funny, so I explained it to her. She didn’t find it as funny as I did, but told me that it was another great truth.

That evening, Anna and Risa took turns worshiping my body, seeking to sooth my spirit.

Risa kissed me as Anna suckled on my cock. It felt wonderful to be able to touch them both. I felt something stirring inside of me, a deep wound that ached to be filled. My kisses became hungrier, more demanding. Risa moaned. My hips became more insistent.

I grabbed Risa and pushed her down onto the bed. I my cock slipped out of Anna’s mouth and I rolled onto Risa, pushing into her. She was wet, but not quite ready. I needed too much to stop, and pressed harder into her. I stretched her painfully, tears in her eyes, but there was no recrimination, only acceptance. I started with slow strokes until she was wet enough for me to move in her with out feeling like I was chafing myself, and then quickly picked up speed.

I told Anna to squat over Risa. She moved quickly to comply, her unusually large eyes wide as my aggressiveness. I grabbed Anna by her hair, and pulled her towards me, kissing her hard, demanding her submission. She surrendered with a whimpering moan.

I pulled back, looking into here eyes. I could feel my need, and my emptiness. I could feel the fear of what I could lose when they left me, and the pain of what I had already lost. I tried to pour all of that into Anna as I stared into her, and then growled out, “MINE!”

It was part proclamation, and part plea. Anna simply nodded, “Yes, Eric. Yours, all yours,” and she moved in to kiss me just as greedily.

I felt hot tears on my face as I kissed her, my heart breaking already, and tried to punish them both for being so beautiful. I wanted them to feel how much they were going to hurt me when they left me and took with them their beauty and the serenity they gave me. I wanted to hurt them for being so wonderful to me, for giving me reason to care, to want to be a better man.