Page 81 of His Atonement
Zan growls as he leans into me and nips at my lips with his teeth. "If you're a good little slave then perhaps, yes, we can try the hot wax. I might even be inclined to let you try it on me."
"That's what I meant." I grin. "You can spank me with the cat, but afterward I want you at my mercy for a little while."
"Oh, my darling girl." He bites my shoulder, then licks up to my ear and bites at that too. "You must earn my submission in the bedroom. That, I cannot give as freely as I've given you everything else."
"We'll see about that.” I kiss him one more time then roll to grab my phone off the floor.
It may have been scary as fuck, but telling Zan about my disease, telling him I have Huntington's, was probably the best thing for us. I feel lighter, and oddly enough, more confident in our bond than I did before.
I'm not sure who's responsible for assigning mates, but I owe them big time for giving me Zan.
Sure, he's a pain in the ass, but he'smypain in the ass and I'm going to enjoy every second with him, annoyances be damned.
Time Stamp
Twelve days later. September 18th.
Ipromised Frankie I would notGoogleHuntington's Disease because she feared I would end up finding articles and testimonials from people that were ill informed, uneducated, or affected negatively by it.
Not that there's a positive effect with something such as this, but she didn't want me reading horror stories from people who shared the diagnosis or family members that had a loved one who did. My darling girl simply requested that if I have questions I ask her in order for her to provide me with a reputable source as well as her own experiences so that I do not worry.
The problem is, I've done nothing but worry since Frankie confided in me.
I meant what I said, it will not change anything about our relationship, nor my feelings and how we interact, and it hasn't, not one bit. Unless you include the frequency in which I give her both necessary and unnecessary massages. She does not argue, and welcomes fully my eagerness to touch her because as promised, I always make sure they have a happy ending.
But now that she's shared with me about her struggles, Frankie has also allowed me to see them as they happen, and though it warms me to my core that she has so much trust and faith in our bond, so much love for me that she knows she can share those things without fear, it absolutely terrifies me the way Frankie suffers and it crushes me that I cannot change it.
Over the last eleven days since she told me of her diagnosis, my darling girl has had four of what she callsbad daysand one of which she referred to as afucking shit show.
The first—the Monday following her confession—Frankie had a rather severe bout of her OCD.
Overall her mood was fine, and the physical symptoms were minor, just more jerking of her arms than I had yet to see, but her obsessive compulsive disorder was very prevalent.
It started as soon as we woke—I have not been back to my dungeon in almost three weeks for anything more than clothes or my shit to smoke—despite the way Frankie smokes no less than two bowls before even getting out of bed, but once she did, it wasgame on,so to speak.
She stripped and made the bed three times because she didn't like the angle of Nic Cage's face, and didn't like the direction he was looking in. After that, she found the position of the bed itself to be all wrong and very meticulously moved and measured it five times before it felt right to her.
Then Frankie pulled everything out of her wardrobe and reorganized it I believe a total of seven times and only stopped because she discovered what bothered her was the fact that I hadn't added my clothing with hers. Despite the compulsion of it, I liked that.
She retraced her path from the bedroom to the bathroom three times until she could no longer feel the slats in the wood floor, then returned to the bedroom to reorganize our very impressive collection of sex toys she has displayed on the shelving I built. Frankie had me participate in that little tick, had me counting dildos and corsets, anal plugs and floggers, nipple clamps and ball gags, vibrators and cock rings for almost two hours, and though most of her ticks frustrate her, this one did not. No, as a matter of fact, Frankie laughed through most of it and really seemed to enjoy my participation, especially when her OCD required me to try something on or out no less than three times.
I was happy to do it in order to bring a smile to her face.
The rest of our day consisted of staying in while she continued with her compulsions; cleaning the kitchen repeatedly, ordering the food from three different restaurants, things of that nature, and by the end of the night, my darling girl was exhausted, embarrassed, and a tad emotional. So once the obsessive behaviors stopped, we attempted to take a bath together, which is when I resolved to purchase a new, larger claw foot tub because it was a rather tight fit for us before we crawled into bed and watched Netflix until we fell asleep.
The next two days went well, but then Thursday rolled around and Frankie couldn't get out of bed.
The dystonia was bad, so bad it had spread to her hands and I had to assist her in smoking a bowl as well as recording on her phone so she could document it.
She explained her vlog further after we first talked, and I found my respect for her grew even more when she told me its entire purpose, though I got the distinct feeling Frankie left something out. I didn't question her, and I haven't since. I merely assist with filming when she needs it and make the occasional guest appearance because she seems to love that.
It took a few hours of massage and smoking weed but eventually the dystonia passed. It was, however, replaced by periodic bouts of chorea, and my darling girl refused to leave the cabin.
Friday was much the same, the dystonia and chorea with a touch of depression, but Sunday, gods Sunday was a day I shall never forget.
I woke before my darling mate and went to visit Cora for a bit, then helped Havok finish a few things on their new home. My sister is damn near ready to pop despite not being due for another month and a half, give or take, and her mate is absolutely getting a little hysterical under the pressure. So I've been trying to assist whenever needed, but had I known Sunday was going to be as hellacious as it was, I never would have left.
I felt the shift in my mate the moment she opened her eyes but it was almost as if she threw up a wall between us because I felt the sour mood then nothing for a beat before it was replaced by an eerie calm. I almost left then, but it evened out, so I stayed with my sister and her mate for a few hours while merely mentally checking in with Frankie periodically.
