“Yes, Kildar.”
“And is it clear that Anastasia shares that interest?” Mike asked. “And that I don’t, normally, let it interfere in the Rite?”
“Yes, Kildar,” Kiril said on surer ground. “Both. That Miss Rakovich… shares your interests and that you don’t… do that sort of thing during the Cardane.”
“Well, Miss Rakovich, as you put it, is very put out. She was looking forward to an evening of ‘who’s a bad harem girl?’, given that the Rite had gone so awry, and now she doesn’t get to have one. Straight question: Do you lean that way?”
“Straight answer, Kildar: No, sir. I just don’t have that much interest in that sort of thing. That is not a… ”
“I didn’t take it that way,” Mike said. “I’ve had more sexual experiences than you’ve had hot breakfasts. But I’ve got a problem. Anastasia, who needs a certain amount of being called a little bitch and a slut and a bad girl to keep her sunny disposition and incredible efficiency is now in the position of not getting that when she expected it. So your orders, Kiril, are to get in there and do your very damned best. Don’t ask her if anything is okay. If you want to do anything to her except hit her in the face or something that is clearly unsafe such as choking or, notably, gagging her, then go in there and do it. Don’t ask, don’t even call her by name. Just do whatever you want and call her bad names. That’s interesting isn’t it?”
“Yes, Kildar,” Kiril said, his eyes wide.
“Good,” Mike said. “Now I have other things to do and so do you. And I promise to treat Gretchen with as much care as I possibly can. But I want this made quietly but abundantly clear. The ladies who are involved in the Rite from here on out had better know, up front, that they are going to go through with it and not panic at the last second because their boyfriend is satisfying my harem manager when I can’t. In case you guys hadn’t figured it out, part of the whole thing with you getting laid is that I’m with another girl and Anastasia isn’t getting laid. The harem girls don’t bug her. The Cardane girls bug the ever living hell out of her. So while I’m cooking, you guys had better get it through your heads that you’re my stand in. Is that clear, Keldara?”
“Clear, sir!” Kiril barked.
“Now get in there and do your best,” Mike said. “I’m going to just sit here and let your future wife sweat a little longer!”
It was about thirty minutes later when Mike yanked open the bedroom door and walked in. He was still wearing the dominance outfit.
Gretchen was sitting on the couch, her knees pulled up, hands wrapped around them, looking very very nervous. She’d also, clearly, been crying.
“Starting all over is out,” Mike said, walking over to the stove-top and looking at the pots and pans. “This alfredo is ruined. Just totally ruined. The shrimp is starting to look a bit off, too, and you really don’t want to go eating an off shrimp… ”
“Kildar… ”
“I should be the adult about this,” Mike continued, cutting her off and refusing to look at her. “I’m the one with all the experience. I am, in every way, the adult here. Hell, you’re barely legal where I come from. But what I am is pissed. Everyone knows I’ve been pretty down on this whole Cardane thing ever since it started. What happens in the Cardane is legal grounds for murder in a Texas. I like virgins as much as any guy. But not when they’re the fiancees of people who stand behind me with guns. And I was just managing to take out my frustrations about it when I get doubly frustrated. So, tell me, Gretchen, where does that leave us?”
“Kildar, I just don’t know,” Gretchen said, sniffling.
“As far as I’m concerned, it means we’re done for the night,” Mike said, turning towards her and crossing his arms. “Because right now, if we had sex, the term would be ‘grudge fuck’, meaning I’d be taking out my frustrations on you. Which is the last thing you need for your first sexual experience. So you hop in bed and try to sleep and I’ll go find one of the many other rooms in this place to bunk.”
“Kildar, please,” Gretchen said, shaking her head. “Don’t do that.”
“Because it would doubly shame you?” Mike asked, shaking his own. “I had that one trotted out on me one time already. When I suggested that Lydia just spend the night up here. Doubly shamed, once for being ‘with’ the Kildar alone and twice for being found wanting. Right now, Gretchen, dear, I’m not sure I care. I did mention being pissed, right?”
“Kildar, please,” Gretchen pleaded. “Please, for Kiril if not for me, lie with me this night. You can just take me as you wish. You can rape me as you would. You can do anything to me you wish. Beat me, strike me, take your anger out on me in any way you would care to. I deserve it. I admit it. But you must take me this night!”
Mike blinked. He knew a sub that wanted to be abused when he saw one and he knew the opposite. This girl wasn’t being submissive, she was just willing to do anything to “lie with him this night.”
The anger blinked off in a second as he realized he’d just stepped into ground that he didn’t understand. Lovers quarrels, those were all well and good. But this was some sort of much larger issue. Cultural, yes, assuredly. But something else, deeper and stranger. He could smell it.
He walked over to the couch and sat down next to the girl, far enough away to not be terribly threatening but close enough that he could really watch her reactions. And while when he arrived she had been nervous, she was now frightened. He was pretty sure that it wasn’t her begging to be hit that had changed things, either. Gretchen had the full measure of the Keldara physical bravery; she’d take a punch and keep on going. And likely punch back, harder. Whatever was bothering her was something that slipped in through other doors.
“Why?” he asked, quietly.
“Kildar, I would be doubly shamed,” Gretchen said.
“We covered that,” Mike said. “Why? Really why.”
“I cannot say,” Gretchen replied. “May not say.”
Keldaran had the same dichotomy of meanings and Mike knew the language well enough at this point to catch it.
“You are not allowed to say,” Mike stated.
“Yes.”
“Okay,” Mike said, nodding. “How about charades?”
“Pardon me?” Gretchen said, blinking in puzzlement.
“Uh, the Alligator game.”
That was the local name for charades and while the game was old in the West, like bowling it was just catching on in the former Soviet Union.
“Wave my arms and you guess the words?” Gretchen said, finally smiling again. “No, I think that won’t work, either.”
“Then give me something,” Mike said. “Because I’m starting to realize that I might have been screwing up all along.”
“No, you have not,” Gretchen said, sliding over to grab his hand. “Kildar, the way that you accomplish the Rite is a joy. I am sorry that I was so stupid. I was more than willing, am more than willing, to come to your bed. Beyond the Rite, what you have made of it is wonderful. I am sorry.”
“Then give me something,” Mike said, nodding. “I accept your apology fully and equally apologize for not handling things better. But I need some idea of why you’re so terrified of me not taking you tonight. Anything.”