Page 7

Hours upon hours of back and forth between the founding families of Dominion, we’re finally released from the ballroom. It got quite heated for a while, where Caleb shut the doors then leaned on them, not allowing anyone to flee. Far from the largest man in the room, no one dared cross him.

Racing to catch up to my enraged wife, I try to catch Katya before she blends into the stampede flowing toward the now open doors. Cort’s gasp of hurt goes unheeded, because Katya garners my full attention. Palm wrapping around her thin wrist, I try to draw her away, but she tugs free.

“Really, Ez?” With a look promising to incinerate me to ash, Katya stands her ground. “So we’re just going to pretend what happened earlier didn’t happen?” Hands fisted on her hips, Kat keeps several paces between us, like she doesn’t even want to be in my orbit.

“What?” puffs out in a breathy rasp, unsure why Katya acts like I’m evil incarnate. “What are you talking about–”

Then it hits me, why Katya’s look of utter betrayal was the last memory I had before I mentally roused in the SUV on the way to this meeting. A large chunk of time was stolen by Master Ez and Ezra, featuring events with Katya, then Whitt and Dalton.

When I integrated, the influx of memories from a lifetime piled on top of what was purposefully withheld from me.

It wasn’t Cort telling me he was gay that had me running off to Whitt and Dalton. It was panic, agony, and shame. Cort forcing my hand to leave Katya had me fracturing, but it was what I did to Katya that was the final nail in the coffin.

Earlier this afternoon

“I’m gay,” echoes in my ears as Cort steps out of view down the hallway. Heart pounding in my ears, a cold sweat beading my skin, the sensation of being a trapped animal overpowers me.

The ultimatum.

The terror over losing Katya.

Master Ez rises to the fore, fracturing us in half, then chases after our wife.

Go away, Ezra!

Master Ez, what are you doing? This is exactly what we’ve always wanted. Cort is ours. He’s gay!

That spoiled asshole is making us choose between him and our wife.

Cort is our husband.

Shut up! Let me think straight.

You shush!

If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’ll shut you up by hurting Cortez.

But that will hurt Ez, and you never hurt Ez.

Hands braced on the doorframe, I peek into the nursery, finding it empty. Then I make a jog down the labyrinth of hallways, wondering where Katya would go in only her nightgown. Ava’s bedroom is next on my search, but Katya isn’t buried beneath the discarded piles of clothing littering the floor.

Why are you going after Katya, Master Ez?

Katya is mine!

Panicking, my mind spins, trying to think where Katya would feel safe enough to run. Other than back to Pennsylvania, my mind is drawing a blank. Perhaps her office at Edge?

Cort will leave us if you continue to carry on with Katya. Go tell Kat to fuck off. That will make Cort happy.

I’ll find a way. Negotiate. Something. I’m not losing them both, because I’m not losing either one of them.

Cake and eat it too is not going to fly this time. Katya probably knows all your dirty deeds. I bet Faith told her everything.

You just said I never harm Ez. Well, Ez loves and wants Katya too– it’s you who doesn’t.

I’m me. You’re me. You’re you. I’m you. Ez is us. If I don’t want Katya, none of us want Katya.

Wrong. If I want Katya, that means Ez wants Katya, or I wouldn’t want her. It’s you who doesn’t want her. That’s why our triad was the perfect compromise, before Cort and Kat decided to mutiny.

Quit trying to mind-fuck me, Dr. Zeitler.

Just shut the fuck up! You’re purposefully trying to distract me, because all you give a shit about is Cort. You only like our children because Cort loves them.

That’s not true.

Liar. You’re twelve– it freaks you out how our daughter is older than you.

Cowering in the corner of our mind, Ezra pouts, then clasps his palms over his ears. Eyes tightly shut, he plays pretend, as if we’re still in the mid-1990s, not grown men with children. The only time Ezra behaves like an adult is when sex is involved.

Taking a wild guess, I check out Cort’s borrowed office at the end of the hallway. Cracking the door open, I find Katya pacing the room, nightgown billowing around her with every step. She doesn’t look up, but she senses it’s me invading her space.

“Leave the door open, Ez.” Katya demands, her tone dipping into the dominant being that allows her to survive all the hits she’s been dealt.

Katya has her own demons, which always magnetizes me to her. Tasting her mind is like candy to Dr. Zeitler. Unlike how we are two parts and a whole, Katya is always in control. She only shows us the parts of herself she wishes us to see. Right now, she is using steely determination.

… and she evidently fears being left alone with me.

I shut and lock the door to push at Katya’s boundaries and limitations.

Green eyes narrow from my defiance, pouty lips purse with annoyance, fine lines indent her forehead from fear. “Ez.” Katya all but growls. She takes the edge of Cortez’s desk. I probably shouldn’t tell her that isn’t very wise, with how her nightgown parts to show off a slice of smooth thigh begging for my hands to caress.

“I realize you’ve been emotionally distancing yourself from me for years, Katya,” flows smoothly from my lips. “Now you’re trying to physically distance yourself, but sitting in the exact spot that Cortez and I take turns fucking each other… Well, I wouldn’t exactly call that safe. I may decide it would be fun to do the same to you,” is a warning dripping with lust.

“Knock it the fuck off, Ez!” Katya snarls in my direction, fingernails biting into the maple desktop, fury licking at her emotions. “I’m not dicking around.”

I move in a heartbeat, because Kit Kat doesn’t understand. I can’t allow Ezra out to play, and the only reason he’s passive right now is because I struck him where it hurts. Ezra hates our wife’s guts– everything about her. He would mentally, emotionally, and physically harm her.

That’s why I’m driving our actions, with Ezra riding close to the surface, because the whole of us couldn’t stomach what needs to be done.

We’re on edge, in need of fortification. The only issue is how I require payment to remain in control. I’m not gay. I’m not straight. I’m pure dominance, and Katya’s defiant demands are pressing my buttons.

Katya’s mine– how can she not see that?

Pinning a gasping Katya to the desk, the warning is seethed between clenched teeth. “Watch your tone with me, woman. You have no idea how close you are to being completely dominated, and I won’t be able to stop myself. No safeword on the planet will break through the power surge.”

If we allow me to have free reign, I’ll demand total submission.

“Ez, I said knock it the fuck off!” Palms braced against my chest, Katya breathlessly pushes me away, only an inch or two. She’s furious, fingernails digging into my chest like talons– scoring the flesh, drawing blood.

My cock swells in an instant. Not from lust. Not from need. My cock swells for a baser reason.

Punishment.

Katya doesn’t want us. Not anymore. Instinctively, intellectually, and in my heart, I know she is already gone.

Katya left us.

I want– no, I need to punish Katya for it, because Ez hates how we’ve failed her. Hates how we weren’t strong enough for her. Hates how the lengths we went to get her are the very acts that pushed her away.

I have to punish Katya to punish us, because Ez won’t learn otherwise. Ez always forces me to use our loved ones as his greatest pain. Just ask Cortez what I mean by that.

In a swift move, I flip Katya over the desk. She struggles, fists lashing out, claws digging into my forearms. Papers fly. A laptop crashes to the floor. Tiny feet kick out and hit my thighs. I don’t recognize anything but the red tide of madness descending as my need to dominate our wife takes over.

Maneuvering Katya while she thrashes, I pin her belly to the edge of the desk. Quickly, while she sucks in air to prepare for a scream, I flick up the sheer, virginal nightgown that’s taunted me for weeks on end. My fingers seek the edge of her panties, curling into the fabric. With a forceful tug, the fabric rips from her flesh.

“Shut up!” I order Katya as I shove the panties into her mouth. A fingertip is nearly shorn off as she tries to bite me. I push the fabric in until it hits the back of her throat, careful not to suffocate her, but just barely. While she works the fabric with her jaw muscles and tongue, trying to expel the blockage, I smack her ass for trying to amputate me.

“Bad Kat!” Growling deep from my chest, I strike five heavy swats until her ass is enflamed with large handprint-shaped welts. “Bad Kat, trying to give me orders, trying to leave her husband and children.”

My hand lashes out with brutality, throat open wide to release a scream. “Bad, abandoning Kat!” It’s an everlasting reminder of the pain she’s inflicting upon me.

Tears escaping the corners of my eyes, I gaze down at the angry marks marring the back of her thighs. The edges are reddening, bruising, welling with the pain I feel in my heart.

Katya is leaving me, and I fear Cortez is as well.

Lost in the pain, I stare down at Katya as she wails around the fabric, her panties only slightly silencing her. A torrent of tears flows down her cheeks as her body tries to adjust to the level of pain I’ve inflicted. It’s a level I’ve never inflicted on another soul– a level Katya, the budding sadist, has never inflicted.

The pain isn’t entirely physical, and that is why it hurts on the deepest of levels.

Pushing through the agony, I join us as one, needing the connection. The completion. The act of possessiveness and ownership.

Katya sobs harder, body flailing as I enter her dry flesh. Inwardly wincing, I chafe from the friction of my body slicing though hers without preparation, without the moisture of arousal– proof I’m not wanted nor needed by her any longer.

This isn’t rape. I’ve known true RAPE. I’ve committed true rape. I’ve watched as the gentlest human being on the planet committed rape against his will.

Distantly, I register somewhere in the back of my mind how my soul is dying a fraction for harming my wife, for betraying her trust once again, ruining any love she may have felt for me. The ethical part of my mind, the doctor of the psyche, he’s screaming, crying, wailing for Katya and myself.

My own mind violates me on so many levels that I lash out by psychologically and physically violating others.

I know this.

I accept this.

But Katya shouldn’t have to suffer the consequences…

Katya doesn’t have the ability to tell me no, and that is why she cries. She’s trying to leave me. She doesn’t want this, but she does. I can sense it– her need to connect with me.

Katya is irrevocably in love with me.

Always will be.

Katya’s body, her heart, and her soul belongs to me. Why she would try to leave me is beyond rationale.

The violence of the act dissipates, turning from jarring jabs to gentle, slow, rocking and comforting thrusts. My body moves within Katya’s well-moistened flesh, her mind protecting itself with a flush of arousal.

Katya’s body betrays her as deeply I am. In fact, she’s so moistened, it drips down my cock to bead on my sack.

Katya may cry, shriek as if I am physically harming her, but her body recognizes mine. Always has, always will. Her body prepares her for me. But her mind… Katya’s mind has always been distanced. Katya’s mind is calling out for help, because that’s the part of her being harmed.

Katya’s body betrays her mind as it finds release, just as it had our first time in the woods surrounding the Cowanesque Lake. There is a sick congruency to how we finish as we began– by force.

I don’t speak reassurances. If this were any other coupling, I would comfort Katya, profess my love. But she plans to tear my still beating heart from my chest the moment this act is completed. She deserves no comfort, no reassurance.

I deserve whatever Katya does to me.

I deserve nothing less.

…and Katya deserves so much more.

With my lips pressed to the shell of Katya’s ear, I menacingly pant my exertion against her flesh. Cock jerking and spasming, closing in on release, Katya is tight, like a fist gripping and releasing my flesh.

I refuse to acknowledge this is the last time we’ll be connected in a carnal embrace. This is as close to heaven as I can get, without a shadow of a doubt. I would be happy to have this slice of hell as long as I had heaven. But I fear in moments, I will be forced to walk this earth alone.

Katya’s whimpers spear me on. Thrusting blindly, Katya attempts to yank her wrists from my grip, using her rage to fuel her strength. The fight she puts up has me harder than ever, feeding the sadistic part of my nature that loves to conquer.

While I may be fucking Katya, it’s not into submission, for she would never be tamed against her will. I fuck Katya until her screams are no longer of protest but that of pure ecstasy. Together, Katya and I release the pain, the torment, the pleasure. I fill her body with mine, pouring for all of eternity. Thankful and simultaneously sad that she is on contraceptives, a woman will only fall into that trap once– a smart woman, at least.

Getting me at my most vulnerable, when the hormones are thick in my blood and my body is sated and exhausted, Katya slips from my grasp. A feral animal attacks me, taking me to the ground to beat the ever-loving hell out of me. Katya hits everything but my face, including but not limited to my exposed junk.

Curling up in the fetal position on the rug in front of the desk, I’m left writhing in agony, as the need to vomit overshadows the endorphins flooding my system. The future of my reproductive abilities comes into question, with my testicles somewhere in the vicinity of my lungs.

“Oh, Lord,” flows in a strained whimper. “Oh… please, make it stop.” Repeatedly swallowing, I fight back the bile threatening to drown me.

“You cocksuckinsonofabitchbastard,” is strung together in a continuous expulsion of profanity. Katya growls, kicking me in the side for good measure. After exhausting herself, she falls onto the sofa, green glare incapacitating me.

“All of that is highly accurate.” Panting roughly, I win the war against the need to wretch. “I suck cock when Cortez allows it. I’m the son of a bitch, and no one will dispute I am literally and figuratively a bastard.” I don’t hesitate to admit, but I have to wheeze the words out, since Katya gelded me.

“I forgot insane!” That mass of red hair is a disaster. Kit Kat looks like a pissed off, glorious demon. My wife is never more powerful than when she’s furious with me. I do my damnedest not to force a laugh through clenched teeth, because I do have a sliver of self-preservation left.

“No one will argue my lack of sanity.” Rolling onto my side, I struggle to tuck my ruined manhood back into my pants. “I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not. I could blame my mental illness, but I won’t. I could blame you for pushing my buttons, but I won’t. I simply enjoyed fucking you– so sue me.”

“Ez.” Katya has acquired a new tone, one that promises more than gelding– death is a strong possibility. “You’ve screwed me for the last time, and I don’t just mean my pussy. You’ve been fucking me in every way possible for so very long. I hate the cerebral-fuckage the most.”

“I’m sorry?” I don’t mean for it to come out as a question. “Katya, I am who I am,” I sadly admit, and for the first time ever, I worry no one can handle who I truly am. I may only be half of Ez, but when we’re whole, I still exist inside him.

I lost control, to the point Ezra ceased to exist. Right now, he’s playacting the Three Wise Monkeys. Blind. Deaf. Mute. All the while rocking in the corner of our mind, which means when he’s in the driver’s seat, his retaliation will make Ez regret our existence.