Raw and Broken Ch. 02

"We all missed them," Malcolm said.

"There was also a copy of your wedding announcement in the envelope. I didn't see it until I was on the plane. It was in a smaller envelope that had a Delaware address. I knew you were engaged. I saw your ring back in March." I punched my fist into the arm of the couch, thankful for the padding. "I can't believe he knew you were married, and he didn't tell me! That you'd moved!"

"I'm sorry I didn't try harder," Becca said. "I should have insisted you guys come to the wedding. I had no idea he was hiding stuff from you."

"It's my fault, too." My legs were cramping up, so I lowered them and adjusted my position again. "I should have reached out. I should have known you didn't hate us."

"I can understand why this would all be disturbing," Darryl said. "As it should be. But I'm just curious. You said Drake has been acting like this for months—even with the realization Jimmy was behind part of it. And last night was no doubt traumatizing. But why would you suddenly want to make a break?"

I hadn't wanted to reveal it yet, but the opportune moment had presented itself. It compelled me to release the final secret. I covered my eyes and blurted out, "I'm pregnant!"

"Daphne!" Becca yanked me into her arms as tears coated my cheeks. I wasn't sure if they were mine or hers or a combination of both. She held me out from her for a moment and then pulled me back against her. "I'm going to be an aunt!"

"Yeah, I guess so," I mumbled against her shoulder.

"How long?" Malcolm said, waving his hand in the air toward me as if to complete his question.

"Three weeks. I think." My whole head felt hot as I added, "Except for on our wedding night, he's always used protection since I can't handle the pill. It hasn't been my preference, especially since we're married, but you know... what he wants he gets. We've never really discussed having kids. I just took his directive to mean that he didn't want any right now since he hasn't gotten fixed."

Becca was clasping my hand again. "Does he know?"

I shook my head. "I just found out this week when I missed my period. I went to the doctor to make sure. I didn't trust him to not search through the trash for a pregnancy test. It was too much for me to face as it was. I was going to find a way to tell him this weekend, but then Jimmy showed up last night. I knew I couldn't tell him. Not yet. I needed some air. Some distance. To go some place where I could put things into perspective...without his perspective."

"Oh, Daphne, I'm so sorry. I never realized my brother..." Becca hugged me again. I had never known her to be so... affectionate. I liked this version of her. Marriage suited her.

"Drake will be here in the morning," Darryl said. "So now we have a dilemma."

"Yes, we do," Malcolm said. "We certainly do."

###

When I woke, I stared at the ceiling of the guest room for a long time. Through the open window, I could hear the waves crashing down on the beach. I thought of how I'd had a restful night despite the turmoil of traveling and discussing what had been going on in my life.

After my revelation, Becca made dinner, and we sat around the dining room table discussing how best to approach Drake. I still hadn't wanted to tell him the news about the baby, yet. However, the other three thought he needed to know. It did me no good to keep secrets when that was apparently part of the problem in our relationship.

It had been late when we'd all retired for the night. I'm sure I wasn't the only one feeling a little tense. I had both wanted the morning to come to get this confrontation with my husband over with, as well as for the night to last so I wouldn't have to face him. Jetlag made the decision for me.

Malcolm, Becca, and Darryl were all sitting on the front porch drinking coffee when I went downstairs. They suggested I take a walk along the beach. It would help me relax and to mentally prepare for the inevitable. After the conversation from the night before, I had insisted Darryl stick around until I could talk to Drake. Like Becca said, I could use all of the support I could get right now.

I stepped down from the patio and followed the path to a wooden bridge, letting the grasses tickle the palm of my hand as I walked past. The breeze was inviting and warm as I headed north with the ocean on my right. The only sounds were the rolling waves and seagulls calling off in the distance.

This. This is what I had imagined this trip to be as I had been flying across the country. Granted, I had planned to be in Chicago, not Delaware, but the change of venue had been just what I needed. A time of reconnection, relaxation, and rejuvenation.

I frowned. I just wish it had not been crammed into less than twenty-four hours. Practically over before it had even begun.

I hadn't anticipated everything coming up roses after my visit. But I had wanted time to process all that had happened. To make a decision I could live with. This wasn't like leaving Jimmy. I was married. And I now had to consider the third person in this relationship. I didn't even want to think about divorce. But if I had to...

As I shuffled barefoot through cool, course sand, I thought of the day Drake and I had returned from Chicago in March. After Malcolm's accident and seeing Becca at the hospital. After the heated exchange between brother and sister that had left the already meager bridge between us all burnt instead of repaired like I'd wished for.

--

We left immediately after Becca departed from the hospital's conference room. Drake didn't speak to me directly as we took a cab back to the airport, bought our return tickets to California, and waited for our plane to board. I followed a few steps behind him, my back straight and head up but my eyes just slightly downcast. It had actually been my idea to express my submission to him that way after we had gotten married and decided to explore outside of the bedroom.

At first, it had been exciting, like a game. Seeing how long I could stay in my role without breaking it. But the more often I did it in public, the more aroused I got from obeying Drake. The more I wanted to do it. Needed to do it to achieve the same results. I was a submission junkie eager for my next fix. It hadn't been that way with Jimmy. I didn't feel required...obligated...to do this. I chose it.

So two months into our marriage when Drake suggested we be Dominant and submissive 24/7, I was fully on board. He thought it could only strengthen our relationship, even if not everyone understood the lifestyle we were living. It only mattered what we understood.

I learned that I got the same high at home when I dedicated myself to seeing to his needs. And not just the carnal ones. I loved cooking for him. Keeping up the house. Making sure his clothes and lunch were ready for the next day.

That included waiting on him, although he was not a bossy husband. It made my heart beat faster if Drake spontaneously asked me to obey him. I was filled with such joy just to see the approval in his eyes—in the smile on his face. To know that he was pleased with me.

When I obeyed him, he rewarded me. And when I didn't, I was punished. It was the basics of any BDSM relationship. However, my punishments for disobedience were not physically painful or even confined to a session. Drake's approach was withholding orgasms or intercourse. Sometimes it lasted for days or weeks depending on the infraction.

Even when I was being punished, I strove to obey him more. Give him more control. Because I loved him. And I wanted our kinky marriage. I wanted to please my husband. My partner. My lover. It's what I had agreed to do when I married him.

I had never considered any part of our relationship to be demeaning. That anyone would possibly see my constant obedience as something abnormal. But apparently, Becca did. And her opinion? It mattered to me. More than I ever thought anyone's opinion ever would. It was as if she were an older sister who disapproved of my actions—and therefore myself—and the disappointment ran deep.

The flight back to California had seemed longer than the red-eye we'd caught to the Windy City. I was jetlagged and should have tried to sleep. But I spent the time going over every word Drake and Becca had exchanged.

When Drake had said we were flying to Chicago—that Becca had been in an accident—my body had gone numb. I could only think that we'd screwed up a wonderful relationship for the sake of our own. That we should have never left Illinois. In the least, we should have repaired the wounds our selfishness had created before we moved.

I'd been utterly relieved to see Becca walk into the waiting room. Just the sight of her bedraggled face and body had made me forget my place. It had been too long. But Drake had been there to remind me that this was not a social call.

Then my heart had felt like it had been ripped out when Becca said my husband—her brother, her own flesh-and-blood—was no better than the man who had raped her. I had been so distraught that I'd wanted to defend Drake, though I sympathized with Becca's plight, too. But it was their own fight, not mine. And I had been instructed to let him do the talking when he broached the topic of our new life. Drake had been adamant about that in the taxi from the airport. So I'd done the only thing I could do: I'd obeyed and kept my mouth shut, like a proper submissive.

Despite the seriousness of that conversation, I'd really hoped we would be able to spend more time hanging out with Malcolm and Becca. Like we used to. Especially after finding out Becca was unscathed and Malcolm would recover.

I wanted to talk about the progress of Becca's kinkier books. To get the chance to giggle with her about how she got the diamond on her left ring finger. Find out when she was getting married, and how I could help like she had done for me. I wanted the four of us to sit around and laugh and share stories of the club like we used to, even if it was in a hospital room.

But Becca had made it clear she had given up the ghost with trying to understand her brother. To my dismay, Drake let her. He didn't press for more understanding. And he wouldn't agree to her one, simple request. It felt like the miles between us increased not only geographically as we traveled back from Chicago to California. Quite possibly, for good.

On the drive home from the airport, I wondered what Drake was thinking about. Did he wish he had apologized like Becca wanted? Hadn't brought up the ceremony in the first place? Insisted we stay longer to make amends? Or maybe that we hadn't gone at all?

The sunshine cut off suddenly as we pulled into the garage and the door rumbled shut behind us. I hesitated in the darkness for a moment while Drake got the suitcase out of the trunk. Back to our regularly-scheduled kinky programming without any discussion.

He set the suitcase down inside the door of our mudroom and pulled the key out from under his shirt. A multitude of reasons sped through my head for why he wanted a scene right now when we were both so deadly tired. But I lifted my chin and waited for him to unlock the choker around my neck.

I watched over his shoulder as he retrieved a black box from a shelf on the wall and removed the silver collar from our ceremony. The shelf wasn't the normal storage place for it, but we'd been in a scene when he'd gotten the phone call about Becca. While he'd packed, I had run back downstairs to get the box where he'd temporarily placed my choker. I had to remind him as we were walking out the door that he hadn't changed the collar. He'd merely glared at me in response as he swapped it out, securing and locking the choker back around my neck. There hadn't been time to take the collar back downstairs, so he set the box above the coat hooks.

My throat felt tight now as I swallowed. I'd gotten used to wearing the binding there after all these months, but every time he put the collar on, it took a minute to adjust to the difference in weight. It was heavier than the choker necklace. Solid with no give. A reminder that I was shackled. Owned. In fact, that word and the date of our ceremony were engraved on the inside of the collar.

"Come."

I followed him to the kitchen where sunlight streamed in the windows over the sink. Past the island that looked out into the open living room on the other side. Down the shadowed hallway to the back of the house. As soon as I saw our soft bed, my body seemed to groan that it was ready to sleep. For days.

Drake set the suitcase on the duvet. "Unpack and go downstairs."

"Yes, Sir."

I didn't dawdle with putting everything away. The sooner I was done, the sooner he'd get done. Which meant the sooner I could crawl beneath the cool sheets and slip into dreamland.

But I did groan as I realized that we hadn't used a single thing in this bag on our trip, so I couldn't toss any of the clothes in the hamper. I had to hang them up or make sure they were folded properly in the dresser drawers. He would notice if I tried to take shortcuts. He always seemed to know.

When I was finally done, I toed off my shoes and retreated down the hall, my bare feet sticking slightly to the hardwood. I sighed as they touched the cool tiles of the kitchen floor. Then I shivered at the cooler air as I descended to the basement.

Drake was sitting on the couch in one corner of the room, his head in his hands. He was still fully clothed except for his socks and shoes. I stayed in the doorway, as was our procedure, and I just watched him. His slouched shoulders made him look overly fatigued. As if the world was weighing down on him. This trip had been harder on him than I had imagined.

I knew nothing of what he did every day. He didn't talk about work, and I didn't ask. He left it at the office. He paid all of our bills and took care of whatever needed to be fixed. He made sure I had money to buy groceries and to meet any of my wants or needs. Plus I had some income of my own from modeling jobs. He took very good care of me. I had no reason to complain or be concerned.

It wasn't like it was with Jimmy. I was free to go wherever I wanted with whomever I wanted for the most part without getting approval. While I did go for drinks occasionally with some of the other models, I preferred to stay in and keep up the house. To cook Drake dinner when he got home. He didn't ask me to, I just felt that I should. It was my contribution, my thankfulness for what he did to provide for us. To give me the life I had now. Besides, I was his wife. It's what wives did, wasn't it?

Drake let out a big sigh and lifted his head. He jerked back as he saw me standing there. But he regained his composure and smoothed back his hair with one hand before he stood. In his other hand was the black, leather leash I'd presented to him at our collaring ceremony. He approached me without a word and linked the leash to the D-ring on my collar.

He led me across the expanse of the basement and stopped before the locked door to our secret room. I knelt at his feet, sitting back on my heels. He hung the loop of the leash on a clip next to the door and punched in the security code. When the lock snicked, he turned the handle and propped the door open.

I waited silently as he flicked on the light and adjusted it until it was just a dim glow, leaving most of the room in shadows. I could hear him opening drawers in the metal tool cabinet he'd converted into our private toy chest. I forced myself not to yawn, to not give away my exhaustion. I couldn't imagine how he could be up for this. He needed to rest as well.

It was several minutes before he returned to lead me to the brick platform in the far corner.

"Strip. All of the way," he said.

My fingers trembled as I removed my pants and then my shirt, the latter impossible until he released the leash from my collar. As I unclipped my bra and slid my panties down my legs, I bit my lip to silence a whimper. I didn't know what he had planned. Would I be punished? Or just fucked? Or both?

I heard his footsteps slapping on the hardwood as he departed. Then I felt the heat of his body as he stood behind me again, his fingers quickly gathering my hair and braiding it into a long plait. My eyes downcast as was my usual stance when we were in here, I saw his bare feet and jeans as he stepped in front of me. His chest was naked now above his waistband.

My eyes rose slightly, focusing on the silver key at the end of the black band swaying slightly against his defined pectoral muscles. I resisted the temptation to lick my lips. I may be tired, but that didn't always quell the desire I had for my sexy man.

"Up."

I stepped past him onto the rounded platform, the texture of the bricks rough beneath my feet. As I walked the three feet into the alcove with bricks lining the wall on either side of me, the temperature seemed to decrease even more, making me shiver in my nakedness. Ahead of me, the two walls came to meet in the corner where a single column of bricks were set vertically from floor to ceiling.

The platform was mimicked above with a metal grid on the ceiling. Silver eye-bolts were embedded into the grout lines between the bricks at various positions in the wall, and carabiner hooks hung from the grid above. It looked like a slice had been cut out of a tall, brick pie with a metal crust on top.

We had seen the design in a fireplace warehouse. The display had shown a wood-burning stove set in the middle with the exhaust pipe going up through a faux ceiling. The salesman had said the brick enclosure helped retain and radiate the heat. Drake had sketched out a plan that night and started construction the next morning after visiting a home improvement store.

Behind me, I heard the squeaky wheels of the portable table as he rolled it closer. He used it to lay out whatever he planned to use for the session. Like a doctor with a tray of instruments he'd prepared for a surgical procedure. The first time Drake had brought it out, though, I had been slightly frightened because I couldn't see what was on it. I guess I'd seen too many horror movies set in hospitals. Now, the unknown intrigued me. There was an element of mystery in what he'd chosen for playtime, and it was part of the thrill.

"Over."

I bent at the waist, letting out a slow breath as he attached a double-cuff to my wrists and then chained it to a hook straight ahead of me. I watched his hands and feet through the valley of my breasts as he secured a cuff and chain to each of my ankles and then to the wall on each side so my legs were stretched wide.

There was a sound of plastic snapping. I was surprised when he suddenly touched my pussy, his fingers spreading something cool and wet around. Then they eased inside me, rubbing gently. I relaxed and closed my eyes at the unexpected intimacy. It had just occurred to me that he was applying lube when he removed his hand and thrust his cock into me.

I let out a startled scream.

"Silence! Or I will gag you."

I squeezed my eyes closed...as well as my mouth. His fingers gripped my hips almost painfully as he pumped in and out of me. This wasn't a pleasurable screw. This was hardcore fucking. It felt good, and yet, that was not his intention.

An orgasm was building within me when he suddenly yanked on my braid. He slammed into me harder a few more times. Then he rubbed his body against my ass for a moment while his grip tightened before he pulled out.

"Do you want to come?"

I had to swallow three times before I could find my voice. "Yes, Sir."

"How do you want to come?"

I tossed a couple of ideas around in my head. Did I dare give him full reign? I cried out as he jerked on my hair again.

"Now, Lady Daphne!" he growled in my ear.

"Do as you wish! Take out your frustrations on me."