Saturday, January 26, 2013

The Art of Breaking - Part 10 & 11

Kyler felt his cheeks redden and looked down. “I can’t help it.” He put his hands under his legs but aside from that he couldn’t stop his legs from doing what they wanted. Being locked in for days on end to avoid the outside world had a way of messing with one’s head. Dare he tell Ashton why he felt the need to keep moving? Even if it were just his hands, he needed to. No, Ashton would never understand.
“My mother used to put me on a time-out when I fidgeted around like a crazed chicken without its head,” Ashton said. “Do you do speed?”
Kyler gasped, his hands finding their way back to the top of the table. “No! I don’t do or believe in drugs. Though my doctor is convinced I’d benefit off of taking anti-depressants. I told him to go fuck the fuck off. Then he suggested I exercise more, to work off the nervous energy.”
“And? Did you take that to heart?”
Kyler grinned and shook his head. Again, he wiped the imaginary crumbs away. “I’d get bored with it too fast. I can’t do things by myself. I need someone to help push me. Yet I don’t want anyone at the same time. I’m better off alone.”
“You’re a true sub at heart and you’ll always be a sub. What you need is a good strong master who can show you what it’s truly like to give yourself over to someone who loves you. Someone to push you, to find yourself. Someone, who will take care of you and not hurt you. You will find that, but you can’t do that by giving up.”
Kyler felt the tip of his ears heat up. Yeah, a master is exactly what he didn’t need. His last two masters just about killed him and blew trust right out the window. His relationship with Master James lasted all of seventeen months. Over a year of constant abuse, both physical and emotional. Why did he even stay with that crazy guy anyway? Was he so desperate for someone that he convinced himself it was that way for all subs like him? He shoved the glass away to make room for his dinner plate and patiently waited until the young waiter left, then he glared at Ashton. “Never again! I’ll kill myself first! Now...let’s eat.”
“I will hear nothing more about it, Kyler. You’ve been locked up in this house since we met up for dinner a week ago. We are going out, a night on the town. Just you and me.”
Kyler grumbled under his breath and leaned against the wall. He looked around his small apartment to keep from looking at Ashton. He didn’t want to yell at his oldest friend, but if he didn’t stop trying to get into his business like this, Kyler was pretty sure he’d have to strangle the other man to keep him from doing this. “You go and have a good time. I’m staying right here. Alone.”
Ashton stood in the hallway and glanced around Kyler. His face was one of pure shock. “I can’t believe it. You’re fucking leaving me?”
Kyler slowly turned his head and nodded. Boxes lined one living room wall, sheets of brown wrapping paper laid spread out on the coffee table, rolls of packing tape, and bubble wrap lying on the floor was a dead giveaway. “I told you I was.”
Ashton grunted and stormed past Kyler and went right to the packed boxes. “You are fucking running away from me? Were you even going to even call me?”
            Kyler walked behind the very upset Ashton with his hands behind his back and took a seat on the dark blue loveseat. He glanced around the room and frowned. No, his apartment wasn’t much, but it had been his home for three years. Even when he lived with his masters, he kept his home as a sanctuary. A place to go when he was allowed to leave, to gather himself and be alone. Living in downtown Toronto had its rewards and drawbacks, but for the most part, it had been a dream.
Five blocks from Lake Ontario, a couple blocks from the Dome, a short bus ride from Church Street where he was always in his element. It was in a perfect location. The apartment itself wasn’t all that, but the two bedrooms, one bath had been his home. His haven.
“Kyler! Stop ignoring me and tell me why.”
“It’s for the best. I’m leaving in a week.”
Ashton actually growled and slapped one of the boxes, causing it to rock sideways.
“If you break anything, you’re so paying for it.”

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