Stray Master

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[Chapter Twenty Seven]

🔓🔎🗝

Scottish Translation -

Bonnie - Beautiful/ Pretty

M’eudail - My Dear/My Darling

Bairn - Baby

mo chridhe - my heart

🔓🔎🗝

Three months into the new year and I already feel much happier than I did last year around this time, it’s March and it seems every day I’m smiling and laughing and breathing much easier than I ever had. I’ve always had this fear in the back of my mind, reminding me of my past and the remaining person from it, a small, quivering voice whispering ‘She’ll find you. She’ll hurt you, kill you.’. It made me hide away, push others away in fear of ruining their lives if I was found. I never felt safe, though I know the person responsible for my anxiety is behind bars states away, miles far from me. It’s been a nightmare that has haunted me when I think about the scenes too closely, remember too clearly. The safety that was supposed to come with her being charged and arrested, moving, and starting a new chapter; never came.

Every day was a little better, sure. I had CeCe and my friends, Miss Parry was a good adult figure and Oliver was the father I wished mine could’ve been if allowed, I was happy to build a routine and live with my Aunt until I gathered the money to move again. It was time-consuming and it took my mind off things, but even after years and becoming my own person and growing into a young, still-learning adult, I had never felt safe in the way that caused the doubt and fear to decrease to near nothing. Working and dealing with other people only helped in taking the fear of her away, then I realized I had triggers that kept me from being fully free. Anxiety, fear of yelling and alcohol, blood in big amounts makes me dizzy; people touching me without warning makes me flinch so violently I often drop whatever I’m holding.

I’m okay with people I trust, I’m normal around them and can be touched without knowing it’s coming. My anxiety is highest at work, all the people often overwhelm me if it’s more crowded than usual. The regulars know not to raise their voices with me and I’m used to them, I appreciate them paying attention to our interactions to know I have issues with certain things. Whenever new people enter though, they aren’t in my routine and I’m not accustomed to them. My anxiety makes an entrance then. I’m unsure if it is Social Anxiety or if it’s just a reaction I have from dealing with what I did. I’ve had multiple occasions when CeCe had to step in and defend me when a person got too impatient with me, raised their voice, or insulted me because of this.

I thought that perhaps I’d be the same with the added presence of Lewis and Seán, that nothing would be very different. My Anxiety and triggers are very present, I know that it won’t ever go away unless I get help for them. However, I have noticed something very important about myself. The little voice in my head, the dread of being found, of not feeling the sensation of safe; is, most of the time, completely gone. I still hear it when I’m in my apartment alone, sometimes I do get a nightmare that starts with the voice. But It never lasts long, because I know I have Lewis to help me. When I wake up from a nightmare, he’s either directly next to me in bed and comforts me with kisses, or I call him and he’ll talk to me.

Being with Lewis has given me the safety I’ve been missing, when he’s around I feel this intense peacefulness that puts my mind at ease. In his arms or presence, I know he’ll never let anything happen to me. He fights for what’s his and he wouldn’t let me go without throwing punches, he’d keep me from harm and he’d make someone hurt for causing me pain. That’s why I find him being possessive good, at least some of the reason. His being possessive would make him eager to protect me from anything. Although some may think given my background, that would be a turn-off and red flag, that Lewis being as violent and near unpredictable as he is, I’d be frightened off. I know possessiveness has certain limits, it can go from cute protectiveness to intense stalking and considering a human being as an object made special for them.

Lewis is a perfect middle ground, he’s protective and he’ll fight intensely to keep me with him, but he’ll let me go if I wish to leave. He doesn’t consider me as an object of possession, not as others might. I’m his, he owns me but the difference is that I’m still seen as human and he takes care of me. I’ve seen many people talk about possessiveness as if it’s bad and depending on the person, it can be. Someone can be treated horribly and seen as a mere pet for entertainment, being killed and abused or kidnapped. I’ve read one too many stories where a person is possessive and ends up harming the one they supposedly care for.

With Lewis, he cares and gives me what I need. He gives me space and understands that I’m a human first, Submissive second. He has never given me any red flags that he’s more possessive than getting into a few fights and getting upset when I’m the focus of other men. It makes me feel safe and loved, something I hadn’t felt in ages, if ever.

We have been together for six months now, including the months we dated before agreeing to be official. I trust and, admittedly, love him. I have an intense love for him and it scares me slightly because isn’t it too soon for love? I get attached easily and I don’t want to scare Lewis away by saying it, in case he thinks it is too soon for love. We’ve been going strong, kissing and touching and fucking. We haven’t done much with the Master/Sub counterpart of our relationship, Lewis has written down the rules he does have for me and we’ve been exploring our sexual and non-sexual needs. I’ve enjoyed the cock warming that has become a routine that we do at least four days out of the week, we’ve been changing the position we sit in and have found that we both love when I’m on my knees between his knees and when he’s standing doing something around either apartment we’re at. When he’s washing dishes, for example; I’ll just sit on my knees with his limp cock in my mouth, eyes closed and leaning against his thick thighs, listening to the sound of him humming and the water and the dishes clinking together. It’s comforting, relaxing.

I worked up the courage to ask if I could clean him after he gets home from whatever site he’s working at, had to explain that I liked the idea of him allowing me to lick him clean then do the service again in the shower with soap and water. He agreed easily, intrigued by the thought. He wanted me to explain why I’m interested in the service, to get a better understanding of my needs and wants, and was told that I love the thought of performing a service that he’d normally do himself. I like being the one to clean him, watching him relax under my touch after a hard day at work. It’s something intimate that he does alone in the shower and I want to be involved in it, to satisfy the urge I have to serve him in all the ways he’ll allow.

Licking him clean is just something I found on the internet and wanted to try, I didn’t know if I’d like the taste of sweat and musk from Lewis, I know I don’t like the smell of it even if it does bring a sense of comfort when it’s just his clean scent after a shower. I was curious and exploring is a good thing to do when it comes to sexual experience, we both agreed it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try. So, on a Monday after he picked me up from the Cafe on a particularly warm day, we gave it a shot. He was sweating and was shirtless, his tank top wet and spread over the back seat of his truck, I could smell the sweat and musk coming from him, and whenever I got a glance of his skin glinting with the perspiration I felt a jolt of anticipation. When we got to his apartment, he gladly kicked his boots off and tossed his jeans with them, then he stood there, eyeing me with a raised eyebrow. I asked permission to lick him, knowing it was something we both like and that I want it to be another rule of mine.

Once he granted it, I stepped in close and started running my tongue along his firm chest, sliding it across one of his large pectoral muscles. It was embarrassing because I groaned when I processed the taste of his skin, a sharp musky, salty flavor that lingers deliciously. I couldn’t believe that I actually savored it, but I didn’t once complain, ignoring Lewis’s eyes on me in case I changed my mind. I had eagerly continued, gripping his sides and pressing myself closer to him. He only laughed, relaxing and petting big hands down my hair and back. I spent a good hour just licking his torso and arms and hands, even got curious when I considered his armpit; I decided that day that I’d save the best for last as his armpits are mouthwatering, as odd as that sounds. Afterward, we moved to the shower where he leaned on the wall to make room. I kneeled and got to work on his body again with soap and water. We decided that we both approved it, agreeing to make it part of our routine to work up to a Master/Sub relationship.

We’re happy, getting into a working routine that pleases both of us. We agreed to wait until a year to bring in tiles and the official BDSM lifestyle, right now, we’re just learning each other’s needs and building more trust. We’ve been talking much more about our past, how school was, and different stories from friends or kids in our grades. He told me about meeting Seán for the first time when they were eighteen; following him home from a bar after waking up in Lewis’s old truck, Lewis had eaten an old sandwich he found under the seat and said Seán had slapped it from his hand with a disgusted look and a few curses and knew the Irishman would be his best friend. His stories stay in Ireland and his family there, he never mentions Scotland and I know we both need to share more, trust is earned and if we both take the risk we’d never have as much trust as possible. Besides, trust and communication are the key to relationships, especially BDSM ones.

I’m planning on telling him my past, it’s a scary thought and I’m nervous, but I know the reward for being open will be worth it. I’ll be open and honest with Lewis, no secrets what so whatever. Lewis hopefully listens and doesn’t react badly to it, being open with me as well. I think he will be, Lewis is a shameless man and he gives as good as he gets, he may take his time to decide on what he’ll tell me about his past, but he’ll still be open with me at his own pace, and that’s all I can ask for. Although, I may have picked the wrong day to tell him. It’s March Seventeenth, Saint Paddy’s Day, and Lewis is in a good mood and wrestling Seán as they come into the Cafe.

I can hear both cursing each other, shoving and trying to pull the other into a choke lock playfully. Thankfully CeCe gets Seán’s attention, wanting him to try the new Saint Paddy’s Day drink Miss Parry made, ‘See if it’s Irishman approved, yeah?’. Lewis laughs as he’s shoved by his brother, rolling his eyes and pushing Seán toward CeCe, before grinning at me and walking closer. I just got off my shift, appearing out of the Staff Room when they walked in, and I’m instantly pulled in for a kiss, soft and passionate and I feel my knees go weak as I cling to Lewis.

He grins when he pulls back and I chase his lips, my own tingling from his beard and the nip he left on my bottom lip. “Hey, Bonnie. How ya doin’?”

“Hi, Lewy. I’m great, you? I’ve missed you.” I smile and kiss his cheek, feeling him chuckle as he wraps his arms around my waist, squeezing me.

“Missed ya, too. Been busy with some other new lady, seems she’s a bit pushy. Been annoyin’, she is.” he rolls his eyes as he explains this, allowing me to see his displeasure of this new lady, and I laugh while I lightly nudge him.

“She can’t be that bad, I’m sure she’s just excited to be working with you. You’re a hard worker, maybe she just wants advice or something.” I try to keep an optimistic view of this, I’ve never seen him be annoyed by someone that wasn’t saying something about him or messing with me. He usually only gets angry when someone insults him or tries to get my attention from him.

Lewis doesn’t seem convinced, but shugs anyway, leaning down to kiss my temple. “Maybe, you’re right. I’ll give her a few days till I get tired of her and have another lad take her from me.”

He leads us to the door, nodding at some regards in hello when they do. Seán shouting that he’ll stay and party with CeCe for Paddy’s Day, Lewis shouts over my head that he couldn’t care less with a laugh that speaks against his words. I wave bye to Miss Parry and CeCe, Seán fake saluting me with a smirk. Miss Parry has a small smile on her face, she has grown to tolerate Lewis, I know she likes that I’m happy but she doesn’t trust Lewis. I’m positive the first impression of him is staying with her, how he implied he’s hurt someone for me and that he’d teach someone a good lesson for touching me. That’s a red flag to Miss Parry but she doesn’t understand that I like it. She wants to see me with Ryan and I still don’t understand why, Ryan and I didn’t work out; we’re better as friends. She has been speaking to Lewis more though, in an attempt to get to know him. It’s still strained, but it’s better and I’m happy. Everything’s coming together, slowly, but sooner or later, she’ll come around.

As we’re nearing the huge, rusty truck, parked near the door of the Cafe, the sun shines on Lewis’s pale tattooed skin, my mouth practically watering at the thought of licking the dried and fresh sweat there. I hate the smell, it’s strong and sour, but I’ll deal with it if it means I get to lick him, it’s a huge deal-breaker in my opinion. Lewis happily lifts me into the passenger seat of his truck, revealing that he vacuumed the inside and cleaned any trash for me, there’s also an air freshener hanging from the headrest. I had mentioned I didn’t like the smell of dirty man even if I happen to enjoy his taste, and that his truck was messy as hell, and he promised he’d fix it for me. It smells better and the mess is gone, hopefully, he’ll get in the habit and keep his vehicle clean.

Once Lewis climbs in, I quickly catch his hand when he goes to start the truck, gaining his attention. Concerned green eyes stare at me, thick eyebrows raised as he leans back in his seat, giving me his full awareness and not speaking to allow me to say what I need. I smile to show I’m okay and see his shoulders relax, eyes staying on me even if it isn’t in concern. “Are you and Seán doing anything for today?”

He blinks as he shakes his head, “Nah. Don’t drink and we already called home. What’s up, ghràdh?”

My eyes glance out the windshield as a man passes the front of the truck, cheeks going a faint pink and I play with the sleeves of the big hoodie I’m wearing that belongs to Lewis. “Nothing’s wrong, I just want to talk about something with you.”

He leans on the armrest and gently grips the back of my neck, pulling me closer to kiss my forehead. “We’ll talk at home, aye? Somewhere quiet and just us. Sound good?”

I nod, stealing a quick kiss from his lips to which he laughs and squeezes my neck again before pulling back to start the loud truck. The drive is pleasant, quiet with just Lewis humming along to some rock song on the radio, hand on my upper thigh. It’s a comforting weight that keeps me from getting too lost in my thoughts, a reminder that he’s here to catch me if I break down and that he’ll take care of me in any way that I may need. He may not react until I’m finished, wanting to remain quiet in case I clam up and stop speaking, but he’ll have his full attention on me and be there if he sees I need a break. What I’m most scared of is him leaving me or taking pity on me, everyone that knows my background has always pitied me because of what happened and I’m sick of that. I don’t want Lewis to see me as some boy who can’t deal with anything, because I can.

My past shouldn’t matter now, I have a new life with someone that will protect me as much as he’s able. I have a good job and friends and an awesome boyfriend, my past doesn’t define this life even if I came here out of what happened. I’m able to deal with triggers and nightmares, I dealt with the real thing that caused both, I’m strong in my own way and don’t need pity. Lewis doesn’t seem like the type of man to leave because of what happened in my past, especially about what happened with me. I’m hoping he just holds and kisses me.

I know Lewis sees that this topic I want to talk about is serious for me as he keeps checking on me from the corner of his eye, hand squeezing my thigh when I get too deep remembering scenes that play on a loop in my head. I don’t want to tell him, yet I know to help further our relationship I need to be as open as I can with him. It’ll cause more good than bad in the future with him aware that I have certain issues, he can make sure I stay away from triggers and protect me better when we’re out in public, keeping me away from any yelling or big crowds. He needs to know the causes of these triggers and how to stop me from having an anxiety attack or a dizzy spell when something ignites one of them.

He silently helps me from the truck when we get to his apartment, giving me time to think and not interrupting them unless he sees I get too far gone. Lewis holds my hand as he leads me inside, squatting down to remove my shoes for me before kicking his boots off. Then he lifts me into his arms, chuckling when I wrinkle my nose at his scent as he walks deeper into the living room, and he drops me on the couch gently. My thighs are covered with a thin blanket and I’m kissed on the head, “I’mma go shower. Want ya to change into some sweats, get comfortable. We’ll relax after ya get out what you need to. Aye?”

I nod, smiling at how he’s making this the first priority for our time home. Having us sit down and talk, not do what we usually do now, him allowing me to lick and clean him. Instead, he’s showering because he knows I dislike the smell of him dirty after work then he’ll sit down and let me talk for however long I need to. I do as told, changing into a pair of sweatpants while he’s in the shower, then making myself comfortable on the couch with the blanket on me. Lewis is quick, in the bathroom for merely fifteen minutes before he’s walking out in low riding sweats and shirtless. His hair is still damp and it is hanging in his eyes as he plops down next to me, putting his bare feet up onto the table and his arm on the back of the couch behind me.

“There. Now, what ya got in that head of yers, M’eudail?” He gives me his attention again, fingers softly tracing lines on my shoulder.

I take a deep breath, gathering the courage I need and reminding myself that he needs to know to further our relationship. I make sure my voice is as confident as I can make it, “I need to tell you about my, um, my past. I know we avoid that topic but I think it’d help our relationship.”

He doesn’t appear to mind I’m bringing this up, only nodding his understanding and pulling me to sit against his side with my head on his shoulder. “Tell me whatever ya want, Tommy Boy. I’ll try to do the same.”

I feel my body relax somewhat at his encouragement, gathering another breath. “Well, I lived with my parents before I moved with my aunt here. I barely saw my father unless it was allowed by my mother, he’d make us breakfast sometimes but she forced him to stay in their bedroom. I always remember her with a bottle of beer, she preferred vodka though. She’d hurt us if we didn’t do what she said, if we were late coming home from school or work. Every memory I have of her she’s either beating me or drunk, or I hear her shouting and beating dad in the bedroom. She’d yell more than speak, throwing bottles at us or laughing at any blood.”

The more I talk the more Lewis tenses, his arms wrapping around me and holding tightly. I knew he’d dislike what I have to say but I’m happy he doesn’t speak, he stays silent and allows me to continue. “When I was younger, I didn’t know who my dad was because I never saw him. I just heard him in that room crying or begging her to see me. I came home from school one day and he was cooking dinner, he cried when I asked him who he was and we both got in trouble for touching when I hugged him. Mom threw a knife at us and cut him on the arm. It always got worse, she liked making us bleed, him more so. I think she tortured him because all I heard in the bedroom were his screams.”

Lewis kisses my head, letting me cuddle into him so much I’m basically sitting in his lap. “It came to a head the first day of freshman year, I came home to the police surrounding my house and neighbors crowding the street. I guess mom decided to beat dad up in the living room and one of the neighbors walking her dog heard him screaming. I was questioned by police after they brought my mother from the house, and was told my dad didn’t survive. I told them everything she did to us and asked why no one heard us before. My mom soundproofed the bedroom, had planned to torture him in there, I only heard him because of the door. She was charged with child endangerment, first-degree murder, and sentenced to life in prison. I was forced to move with my aunt to avoid child services.”

I don’t cry like I thought I would, a tear does come out and runs down my cheek but nothing else comes. I figure that perhaps I finally moved on and shed all the tears I could for what had happened. I loved my father even if I hadn’t known him as well as I would’ve liked and he always tried to protect me if he was outside the bedroom. I think he would be happy I have moved on and accepted my past, not letting it define me and finding someone that will take care of me. I think he’d like Lewis, be proud I have such a strong protector as the Scotsman.

“I do have some triggers because of what happened and I thought I should tell you of them. Alcohol, shouting and yelling, blood in big amounts make me dizzy. I’m fine with small cuts or a few drops. But pools of it, I can’t see that. Anxiety, although I don’t know if it’s social or just something that developed over time, I hate huge crowds though and I’m shy around faces I don’t see all the time….Maybe it is Social Anxiety.”

Lewis shifts me onto his lap, hugging my waist and kissing my head, taking a breath to calm himself down. “Thank ya for telling me this, Bairn. I’m proud of ya, really am. I’ll try ta help ya with yer anxiety or anythin’ else.”

I smile and cuddle into him, proud of myself for being so open with him and speaking about what happened. He lets us sit in silence for a few minutes, each of us going through what I just told him and I know he’s calming his anger down. He hates the thought of me being hurt and him not being able to do anything about it, but he understands it is in the past and he can’t do anything but he being here for me.

“Want me ta share with ya too?” Lewis asked after some time in the quiet.

If you want to, if not, it’s okay.” He just smiles and kisses my lips.

He keeps it short, adding details where needed, but saying it in a careless tone. “Parents fought all the time, verbally and physically abusive to one another. Old man brought me into the fights when he deemed I was a man and I had to hold my own against a grown man at thirteen. Spent my time on the farm, listenin to them and fighting both if one came at me. His wife was as bad as him and was no victim, she hit just as hard as him and stood her own, just as angry. Had enough when I turned eighteen, disowned them, and moved to Ireland.”

I kiss him when he’s finished, smiling and hugging him. “Thank you, I’m glad we’re being open with each other, especially when we both have been through bullshit.”

He laughs, holding me tighter. “Aye, feels good to tell ya this. We’ll be open with each other, no secrets. Aye?”

“Does that mean I should tell you another thing?” I lean further onto him, gathering more courage.

He nuzzles my throat, “If ya think yer hiding somethin.”

I spit it out, forcing my fears and doubts away. “I love you.”

He pauses for a mere second, then I feel myself being flipped on my back on the couch with Lewis’s weight on me. His lip attacking mine and I feel a giggle escape my throat as he quickly pulls back, “Love ya, too, mo chridhe.”

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