Madara liked his leather thick and padded.
I had bought many sets for him throughout the years. Tonight, he was wearing his favourite, which also happened to be my favourite. It was a thick, black collar with the softest black padding, with matching cuffs for all four limbs that were stuck together in the middle with a chain, making him a bouquet for me. He was blushing, sweat running down his precious fucking face causing his black hair to stick to his pearly skin as if it had been glue. Saliva was running out of the gag ball.
"Mmm", he murmured, unable to say anything else because of said gag ball, although I wasn't certain he would've been able to say anything else even without it.
"Sorry, pet", I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper because I was so exhausted. "Too much too soon?"
He nodded. I was always hyper-alert to everything about him, but more so than ever in bed. Especially when he was gagged and bound, and so could not communicate with neither words nor taps.
I leaned forwards so my lips touched his cheek. I noticed him bending his head to hide his blush, yet his body pressed itself even closer to mine, letting me know that somewhere, he still remembered who I was.
"How about I loosen the chains three steps and free you from the gag ball a while and use the whip?"
He nodded, and I did just what we had agreed on.
The whip was a beautiful piece of art, a hand-made object I had designed for Madara together with an artist that had then implemented the design into physical form. The leather was vanilla, with a leather clutch and handle in metallic copper. All around the vanilla length was detailed sketches of different parts of the world we had visited together; the Great Wall, Santorini, Rome... Parts where we had been able to relax completely and actually enjoy ourselves and learn something from the culture.
I had gifted him the whip for our anniversary this year, and it was already breaking in parts because we had used it so much.
But we still loved it. It showed how much we loved to play. And I knew Madara liked it rough. Even if I always began carefully. Warming up with softer whips initially was not only for his sake, but also for my own. It clenched my heart to submit my life person to pain, even if I would never admit it. I warmed him up now, whipping on both sides, from thighs to lower back, and when I was satisfied I could give it my all, I did.
Madara screamed into the pillow as I made him bleed from the whip for the first time.
I had to do everything in my power not to hug him and cry, tell him I was sorry. Even if he kept screaming in pain, he tilted his body up towards me, begging me for more.
"Pet?"
"Mmm?"
"I'm going to lock you out." It was a code we had when I let myself go completely, not allowing any part of me that could feel empathy or compassion or care through. In those moments, there were no code-words; Madara had to trust me completely, and I had to trust myself. "You remember what it means?" He nodded. "Are you ready?" Checking. Always checking.
Madara nodded.
I took a deep breath and turned the necessary parts of my brain off.
And I locked him out.
I grabbed a fistful of his hair and jerked it up, fastening an even bigger gag ball into his mouth which I fastened uncomfortably tightly. I held on to his hair as I once more did him from behind, him still in his cuffs and chains.
I took the whip and used it on his back, now warmed up, creating deep rashes that made him scream so harshly, it made my ears hurt; like, actual, physical pain.
"Shut up!!" I screamed and smacked him on the side of his head, and he immediately obeyed.
Of course he did; he was my good pet.
It wasn't until he came that he dared to make sound again, whimpering into the pillow. I didn't stop, grabbed at his waist and thrusted by pulling him towards me in his skin over and over, in a way that I knew would leave delicious marks.
Then, my pet exhausted still, I released him out of the chains so he could move his limbs, and I laid down. He immediately understood and turned around so he could sit on me, riding me. He closed his eyes sweetly around his blush, the saliva glimmering on his chin. He had his beautiful fucking hands on his hips, arching his back for me in a way that showed his body off to me in my favourite angle.
He worked so, so hard for me until I came for him, and then, I let him in again.
He slumped down on the bed, whimpering and wet, and I immediately freed him from the gag ball. Its leather had made marks in my lover's cheeks, I was suddenly ashamed to see.
"Good boy", I said, kissing him on top of his head over and over. "You did so good. I am so proud of you, you know that, don't you?" He hugged his pillow to hide his embarrassment, but I could tell he was delighted. "You want tea?" I asked, and he nodded. "I'll make your favourite, with vanilla syrup and oat milk. We have some fruit. Pineapple or cantaloupe?"
"Pineapple, please", he said.
"Of course, my love." I picked him up and placed him on the couch in the big living room of our ranch, and handed him the remote. "You choose what we'll watch, and I'll come right back."
I left him.
I was always hyper-alert to everything about him.
Tears fell down my face as I made us both a cup of tea to relax with that evening. It had been going on for a while now. For how long, I didn't know, but at least a few years. At first, it had been so subtle that I didn't notice, or didn't allow myself to notice. But the symptoms had increased at such a rapid pace, I couldn't look past them anymore.
Small things. How he had become more clumsy, dropping things, stumbling in the stairs, missing his mouth with the fork. He had laughed the mishappenings away each time, and I had laughed with him, only half-heartedly but still. But then, he had started actually falling in the stairs. Stumbling on flat ground. Losing weight. Lifted lighter and lighter weights in the gym.
Walking to a different room when taking phone calls.
I waited for him to talk to me about it, as we always talked about everything. But he never brought it up.
I knew I could bring it up myself at any time, but I didn't. I tried to tell myself it was because I respected him too much, but I knew that wasn't it. I just didn't want to know. We were living happily, weren't we? He loved his job as a nurse. He had already used his fluency in Russian with several patients, and once he even spoke Italian to an Italian man, and saved us thousands of dollars in interpreter bills. We lived in the beautiful ranch. He had three beautiful horses. We had everything. Surely, it couldn't all be taken away from us, could it?
A drop fell into the cup of tea I was making; a tear. I had even noticed he was now more tired when we made love, unable to top for too long or suck me for more than a couple of minutes at a time because his muscles would hurt too much. That wasn't the reason I was crying, of course. I was crying because I didn't want this beautiful man lose himself when he had finally broken free.
What was happening to him? Was it the drugs that had damaged his brain? Something growing in his brain? Something autoimmune? What if I was making it all up in my mind because I was a doctor and in love?
I wasn't entirely present in the room as I brought the tear-salted tea and the pineapple to the table.
"Oh, wow, yumm!" Madara burst out, all shyness forgotten. "This looks so good! Thank you!"
"You're welcome", I said, trying to hide the emotions in my voice.
But failing, of course, because Madara knew me too well.
He paused the film, not wanting to miss a second of it, just as I didn't want to miss a second of life with him. He turned to me, a worried expression on his face. The marks from the leather holding the gag ball in place were beginning to fade.
"What's wrong?"
What's wrong? I think you're ill. I think you're terribly ill. I feel worthless for not making you feel like you can tell me immediately, so I can be part of it, whatever it is. I feel like a knife has been stabbed straight into my aorta whenever you leave me for a phone call, because I know you're hiding something from me. I want to know what's wrong with you, because unless I do, nothing can be right with me.
I took his hand.
"Nothing", I said and tried to smile.
"I don't believe you", Madara said sternly. "But you're a fucking adult. So I won't put pressure on you to tell me. Just know that you can."
Same, pet, same...
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Usually, I was the one to fall asleep first. Madara could be awake for hours after me, having some issues sleeping after his previous hectic lifestyle. But tonight, Madara started jerking sweetly almost as soon as we lay down together, and soon, he was fast asleep in my arms.
When I was certain he was sleeping deeply, I rolled over on my back, and looked up in the ceiling. Usually, I was always aware of Madara, but if you had asked me the next morning if he had nuzzled close to me then, I couldn't have answered, because for once, I was entirely focussed on myself.
It took me several hours until I realised what I should have realised a long while ago. I knew... I knew how I would ask Madara. I would ask him in a way I hadn't done for years. I didn't know what his reaction would be, but for his sake, and for my sake, and for our sake, I must try.
I took a deep breath, took my phone out, and went to the app I only used to communicate with M a long, long time ago.
Me: Dear M. Sorry to contact you like this, but I must ask you something...
End.