The Aviators

It’s been two days. Two days. And, I can’t shake this feeling of unease that has come over me since meeting JD at the studio. I can still see his eyes staring at me. Feel them, burning into my skin. Talk about the heebie jeebies. He gives me the creeps. I hope I don’t have to see him again anytime soon. Even if that means convincing Matt not to take me with him next time. Maybe I’ll ask Brian if I can hang out with Michelle again. Unless she’s busy working, or something.

Talking of Matt. He’s outside right now, in the back yard, cleaning the swimming pool. I don’t think I’ve ever described the backyard, have I? I don’t go out there much. But, when I have...it’s massive. Like...I’ve never seen a yard so big. Plenty of space for Bella. And the pool...I’m not kidding you, it’s big enough to fit almost twenty people in it.

Anyway, I can just see Matt through the large sliding doors; Bella is racing around him trying to get his attention. He’s laughing at her; I can see his shoulders shaking, and the dimples on his face. Love those dimples; they make him look less serious, less, forbidding. Love everything about him really, physically that is.

Oh, by the way, did I mention? He’s shirtless. A pair of shorts is hanging on his hips, but other than that his tattoos, and his muscles, are all on display. Which I absolutely have to salivate over. Seriously, he’s just too...perfect. The way his biceps tense and relax as he’s plying the scoop into the water, the play of muscles in his back as he leans down to pluck larger leaves from the surface. It’s just so totally, mesmerising...

Jeeze, I can’t believe I just said that... I’m not supposed to think things like that. I’m his slave, not his girlfriend.

Looking away from the back door, I stare down at my journal, which I’m currently attempting to write in. Nothing is really coming, though. Too much to think about. Well, actually, I’m just too distracted by thoughts of Matt with no top on...leading to images of him with no clothes on at all...

Crap, I need to quit thinking about him like that. I’m not allowed... not allowed. Closing the journal, I curl up on the seat and prop my forehead against my knees. Every time a thought like this pops into my head, it feels as if my heart will break. Not being permitted to feel certain ways about my master never was an issue before; but, with Matt, everything is different.

I want to be able to love him. Never before have I ever wanted something so much. Ever. It hurts, that’s how badly I want this. Months ago, if someone had told me I’d feel this way about one of my masters, I’d have laughed it off, or at least given them a look as if to say that they’d gone mad. But, being in the middle of the situation is a different beast altogether.

Sighing, I rock my body on the chair, halting only when I hear the door sliding open and Matt’s footsteps on the tiled floor. He doesn’t speak, just approaches my chair, crouching down in front of me. I peek at him through my crossed arms. There is an anxious expression in his eyes, as he tilts his head at me. I try to smile, but fail, dropping my eyes to the floor.

He sighs, reaching out to tangle his fingers in my hair, stroking in a light, soothing motion. I lean into his touch, letting it comfort me. Just having him close is enough to calm my nerves, really. But, I drink up any contact he gives me, because, I guess I’ve been starved of tenderness. And it’s like a thirst that I never even knew I had is being quenched by any attention he gives me. And in a way, I think it shows me how much he cares...more than any words.

After several moments, Matt clears his throat. I peek up at him again. His brow is furrowing, thoughts flickering in his eyes. Before he can speak, though, the phone begins ringing in the kitchen. With a soft curse, he stands and heads for the other room, grabbing the phone.

While he plants his ass on the kitchen stool, he answers in a brusque tone, “Matt speaking, who’s this?”

I remain curled on my seat, watching and listening. He’s still in my line of sight, which is obvious as he glances toward me, an echo of a smile on his lips. The smile disappears in a matter of seconds though, a scowl taking its place. Whoever is on the other end of the line is causing the change in his demeanour, and I wonder who it is.

“What? You said you’d give us a week.” Matt’s voice is tight, his words rasping at the ends. “Yeah, it’s only been four days...barely even that.”

Stiffening, I realise who it must be; that guy from the Guild. I feel a shiver of apprehension course down my spine. I’m not ready to face that guy again...he scares me more than JD does, and that’s definitely saying something, considering how much he creeps me out.

I watch my master as he rants at the Guild guy, not listening to the words, just observing Matt’s actions. His right hand is resting against the bench. But, he’s far from relaxed. His fingers are curling into his palm, over and over, forming into a hard fist before relaxing. Then flexing once more. If looks could be transferred down the phone line, and if looks could kill, the guy on the other end would probably be dead by now.

I don’t think I’ve seen Matt so angry before. It’s not like he’s lost his temper. Even though he does have one. A temper that is. No, this is a white hot rage; he’s absolutely seething, but he is ultra-calm. Apart from the whole fist-clenching action he has going on.

“Fine,” his tone stiffens, as I listen to the final part of the call, “we don’t have anywhere to be today.” He hangs up without bothering to give the guy a ‘fare thee well’. Not that I blame him. And then, what he just said registers on my mind, and I start shaking.

“No,” I whisper to myself. “No...no...”

I can’t handle having that guy near me, not so soon after his first visitation. Just the mere thought of him sends a sensation of utter terror through me. It honestly gives me the urge to hurl. He just gives me this uneasy, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Fear of what he can do to me if the Guild decides things aren’t right...

Matt looks toward me from the kitchen bench, frowning. Something shifts in his gaze, and then he crooks his finger at me. Trembling, I force my body off the chair, and drag my feet to where he’s sitting. He gives me a long, steady look.

Then he says in a low voice, “Do you trust me?”

I stare at him, trying to get my head around the question. “What, Master?”

Matt groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck. Val, do you trust me?”

Do I trust him? Do I trust the only master who has ever given a shit about me? Yes, I guess I do. I’ve never had anyone in my life I could trust...but Matt is definitely one person I can rely on to be there, and to never let me down. Even if it’s only been several months...yes...the answer is...

“Yes, Master. I trust you.” I feel a certain sense of conviction behind my words. And I see in Matt’s eyes that he senses it too, because he appears to relax; the set of his shoulders becoming less hard; mouth curving in a tender smile.

“Good...uh...great. Well, um.” He rubs at the back of his neck, the muscle in his right arm moving beneath the skin. “You can probably guess who that was.”

I nod, biting at my bottom lip. Matt sighs, the sound rough, exasperated. “We’ll have to finish looking at the guidelines. Fuck...” The curse is drawn out long, ending on a low groan. “I really wanted to spend today writing for the record.” He leans an elbow against the bench resting the side of his head against his hand, staring up at the ceiling, brow drawn in tight lines.

I wait, figuring he’s trying to decide how to go about this. His chest moves as he breathes, sweat beading all over his ink covered torso. Shifting his weight more on his elbow he brings his eyes back to my level.

“Go and get that file. It’s still in the living room.”

Nodding, I go and get it, coming back and setting it down on the bench in front of him. Matt flips it open, turning to the pages we have yet to look at. He lays his palm flat over it, glancing sideways at me.

“Ready?”

I mutter in response, “Doesn’t matter if I’m not, Master...we have to do this.”

Matt snorts derisively, but makes no move to disagree. Instead, tracing a fingertip over the print, he sighs and runs his eyes over the words. I lean in close, next to him, reading them, following the exact path his index finger is moving along.

The Guidelines, following from the introduction we have already read, lead on as follows:

1. The slave is property, hence must expect to be treated as such.

a. Care should be taken that the slave is kept in prime condition; it is an asset worthy of resale.

b. No more care should be given a slave as one would any other precious item in one’s household.

c. The slave should behave befitting property and not expect anything more than mere interest in their wellbeing from their Master.

2. The slave must not speak unless spoken to.

a. A slave should be seen but not heard at all times

b. The slave must defer to the Master at all times

3. The slave must do everything it is told, instantly and without question

4. Slaves are expected to service their Master in any conceivable way, including, but not limited to: sexual, food, and comfort needs.

5. A slave is for life, or until one wishes to sell them. The slave must never attempt to escape.

6. If the slave should break any rule, they must be punished accordingly

a. A slave who seeks affection from their Master must be either, ignored or given a verbal reprimand

b. A slave who speaks out of turn should be given either solitary confinement or physical punishment of any form deemed appropriate

c. A slave who refuses to obey is to be given physical punishment of any form deemed appropriate

d. A slave who does not serve her Master well is to receive whichever form of punishment befits the misdemeanour.

7. If a slave attempts to escape, the penalty is death by lethal injection.

Matt slaps the page shut, not bothering to read the final disclaimer, which I already saw, anyway. The one about slaves not having permission to fall in love with their masters. There’s really no need for either of us to go over that again, considering that it’s the biggest contention between us at the moment.

I peek up at Matt, gauging his immediate emotion. His jaw is tight, lips pressing together in a thin line. His expression is sour, and his eyes are dark, rage seething in their depths.

I shift a little, watching him, a little nervous. Wondering what’s going through his mind. Matt pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing deep, obviously calming himself down before he explodes.

“Fucking hell.” He growls, tossing the file away across the bench, watching with anger in his eyes as the pages scatter across the kitchen. I flinch away from him, an automatic reaction to the vicious tone that is evident in his voice.

Matt doesn’t notice, though, as he braces his forearms against the bench top, bending his head down and digging his fingers into his hair. A groan escapes his throat as he tugs at the dark roots. I don’t know how to respond to this, but my mind involuntarily flits to the fourth guideline. And somehow it makes me move closer to him.

Hesitantly, I lay a hand on his back and begin to rub it in slow circles. Like he has done for me in different circumstances. His skin is warm against mine, yet a little sticky from his earlier exertions. I keep rubbing over his taut muscles, easing the tension from them. Inexplicably, he relaxes at my touch, a deep sigh issuing from deep within him. His fingers ease their grip in his hair, both hands lowering to the bench.

And he sighs again.

I pause, leaving my hand resting against his back.

He murmurs his words barely audible. “Don’t stop.”

Complying, I move my hand more over his back, shifting even closer, so I can lean against his shoulder. He twists a little so he can reach my free hand with one of his. I let him hold on to it; anchoring me, and linking the both of us together. He strokes his thumb across the back of my hand like he does almost every time we do this.

I smile a little leaning more into his shoulder. He eases up more, turning his head so he can look at me.

“Val...” his voice is soft, something I’m not quite used to. Blushing a bit, I avert my gaze, my hand going still again. Matt smiles, the corners of his lips twitching. But his eyes are all seriousness. I let my eyelashes flutter. He squeezes my hand.

“Val.” He repeats my name. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You, uh...realise that, don’t you?” The earnestness of his expression is almost cute, it’s kind of endearing. However, his manner is solemn and I know what he’s really getting at is that I can trust him to keep me safe.

Moving my head against his shoulder, I mutter, “Yes, Master...” It doesn’t quite come out as a rote response, due to the small smile that sneaks an appearance on my lips.

Matt shifts on the stool, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me close against his chest. Inhaling, the scent of the cologne he uses drifts into my nostrils, a spicy, yet cool aroma that calms my nerves. I snuggle into him, eyelids sliding shut. He nuzzles into my hair, stroking a hand up and down my back.

“It’s going to be okay,” Matt whispers.

He sounds so sure of himself, and I hold onto that, knowing if I don’t I’ll fall apart. Peering up at him, I search his eyes for any sign that he’s uncertain, but his gaze is steely, filled with determination. That’s a huge relief to me. Closing my eyes again, I breathe out feeling secure in his arms.

No matter what happens now, I know that Matt will do everything in his power to protect me. Even if it ends up being futile, or better yet unnecessary, at least he’s here for me. I smile at that thought, mind drifting...

Matt nuzzles then moves me back a little. I blink, pulling out of my thoughts, looking up at him.

“What is it?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t have him walking in on us like this.”

I cock my head to the side, guessing exactly where this was heading. “So...where do you want me?”

Matt’s lips quirk at my intuition. “Bedroom. Stay there ‘til I call you.”

Hesitating, I rub at my arms, feeling goosebumps rise in anticipation. He narrows his eyes at me.

“You do trust me?” It’s still a question.

I swallow hard, before answering. “Yes. I do.”

Not answering right away, Matt stands, and moves around the bench, retrieving the pages of the guidelines where they landed after he threw them. Putting them back in the file, he sets it back on the bench, placing the side parallel to the edge of the countertop. Then he looks at me.

“Go on, then. He’ll probably be here soon.”

I nod, turning to make my way to our room, only glancing back once to see Matt walking through the door that leads into the living room. Watching his retreating figure causes a part of me to lose heart. I know he hasn’t gone anywhere; he hasn’t left me, but sometimes being in separate rooms gets to me. Separation anxiety, eat your heart out...

Taking a deep breath I turn back around and continue walking down the corridor. And as I steel myself for the coming encounter, I repeat like a mantra in my head, He’ll keep me safe...he will...he will...because I trust him.

I trust him.

I trust him.

Notes