Chapter 90: Zachery

The first few weeks were unbearable.
A few days after Monroe's death, Marguerite came and spoke to him about their shared meals and everyone helping her with her work.
"Do not take this from me, Se駉r. It is what I do. I take care of you and Angel. It gives me great joy. Stephens' responsibilities keep his mind off the bad. Por favor, let us care for you and the Se駉rita."
Zach realized he had been doing them a disservice. Parts of Monroe's life left a bad taste in his mouth. Servants, the slave aspect of Monroe's relationship with Angel, and Monroe's total lack of understanding any time Zach tried to speak to him about it made Zach's teeth grind on many occasions.
"It is what they do," was Monroe's less-than-pleasing reply. It infuriated Zach how the man closed himself off with no concept of a normal world. Zach knew Monroe cared, but the man's feelings - whether angry, frustrated, happy, or sad - rarely, if ever, showed.
He wanted to punch Monroe when he gave a slightly different variation of an answer: "It is what she needs." Zach had eventually stopped trying to fight or change Monroe's relationship with Angel.
Marguerite's plea to return to servant status unfurled and shined a light on the unsatisfying answers Monroe gave. With greater insight, Zach felt the first inkling of understanding.
With no funeral or official closure as of yet, they all struggled to accept that Monroe was truly gone.
You didn't plan this entire fucking mess very well did you?
Zach found himself speaking to Monroe's imaginary ghost more and more. The one-sided conversations were usually prompted by the growing anger he felt.
With all of Zach's increasing insecurities-fucking up Marguerite's and Stephens' ability to heal, and Angel becoming more despondent every day-he was at a complete loss. And then... he felt someone watching them. A dark, unseen presence that held evil intent. It brought back his law enforcement days when he'd learned early on to listen to these feelings.
Stephens didn't bat an eye when Zach explained. They went over safety procedures regularly and changed a few things up so it was harder to figure out their schedule.
And now he faced another problem. His fingers ran through his hair as a sigh of frustration escaped. He'd waited to explain the marriage certificate to Angel. She became angry, and after a violent burst of temper, he'd secured her in the playroom where he now stood wondering what his ultimate goal was.
Twice in the middle of the night since Monroe died, she'd rolled on top of him, begging for sex. She didn't want him to make love to her, just a quick mindless fuck. After her orgasm, she fell back to sleep. Several times, she experienced night terrors and, the one on the previous night had taken things to an entirely new level. When he restricted her breathing, it took twice as long for her to come out of it. He worried he'd kill her with too much carbon dioxide from his lungs. When she finally came to, she cried until the light of dawn shown through the windows.
Now, he gazed at her, bound to the spanking bench, taking in huge lungs full of air. Her current burst of anger wasn't going away. Zach wasn't helping her grief. He couldn't face his own feelings, much less hers.
He had no idea why she was so angry over the marriage certificate. Monroe gave Angel legal rights to everything he owned, making sure she was forever cared for. Zach explained Monroe's reasoning, handed her the document, and then watched as it floated to the floor and she walked from the room.
The next thing he knew, the sound of breaking glass came from the direction she'd headed. Several priceless statues, collected by Monroe during his travels, lay in pieces. She lifted a particularly hideous one and before Zach could stop her, she threw it down to join the others.
"Stop." He grabbed her arm and wrestled her in close to his body.
"It's mine now. I can destroy anything I want." She struggled to get away.
"No, Angel."
"What do you care? You hated this stuff anyway," she shrieked.
He kept his voice low and steady. "Thinking it's repulsive is one thing, but at the very least donate this shit to a museum. For some reason Monroe loved it."
Instead of calming her, the words caused a greater explosion. She kicked, tried to bite him, and screamed profanities he'd never heard her use.
Now, she was naked... bound hand and foot with a ball gag in her mouth. Getting her clothes off and securing her was no easy feat, because she fought the entire time he wrestled her into the fastenings.
And... Zach had no idea what the hell to do.
He was frustrated, angry, and at a complete loss. Taking a page from Monroe, he picked up a coil of rope and walked to the farthest corner of the room by a bondage bed. Angel's furious gaze followed as he sat down on the floor, closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing. Sliding his fingers over the soft filament, he let the rope seep into his consciousness while attempting to clear his mind.
Letting go of his anger was the hardest part.
You fucking left us and I'm not good for the people you loved. They need you.
Finally, he gained a semblance of control and blindly worked knots into the rope before slowly unwinding them. Some were intricate, some simple, but each required his absolute focus.
Fifteen minutes later, he rose, replaced the rope, and walked to where Angel waited. Picking up a long scarf, he covered her eyes. She no longer resisted. By soothing himself, he'd calmed her. He unclipped her wrists and ankles, then guided her to a bar hung from the ceiling and secured her wrists over her head. Using a spreader bar, her ankles were next. He didn't offer platitudes as comfort. He'd been giving her those over the past weeks and no words could possibly take away the hole Monroe left in their hearts.
They both needed this release and he'd been an idiot for not forcing the issue. In the beginning, it had taken him months to understand Angel's internal need for total submission. After losing Monroe, he didn't expect her to even want to play. He'd forgotten a key principle with Angel... she carried a load of guilt on her shoulders, and impact play and Shibari gave her peace.
The flogger he chose was medium weight, not as soft as several others he possessed, but neither of them needed soft. He kissed her lips and then ran the fall slowly across her delicate skin. He hadn't pressed his teeth into her flesh since the news of Monroe. She had no bruising from rope, whip, or paddle. He planned to change that.
The leather flowed over each subtle inch of her flesh. He watched as she inhaled deeply and then released more than pent up air. He swung the flogger against her shoulders, ass, thighs, and legs with sure, skillful strokes. He circled around and worked her breasts, belly, front of her thighs, and more sensitive inner thighs.
Her breaths quickened, though he knew she wasn't feeling pain at this point. But for the first time, a small part of her fought submission and Zach had to work for it. Eventually, her head dropped forward, though her legs continued their support. She leaned heavily on her wrist bindings, but Zach had no intention of leaving her there long.
As he intensified the strikes, sweat broke out on his chest and arms, so he removed his shirt. He continued with the same steady pace, watching her face. Even with her eyes covered, her complete lack of facial expression told him all he needed to know.
He added more force to the blows, watching in satisfaction as she flinched and finally tried to shift away. He continued, knowing from the many times they'd played with impact toys that she would never safeword. This didn't worry him, because he knew her pain tolerance implicitly.
The first sobs were soft, but as he increased the force of his strikes the sobs grew. Her legs eventually gave way. He stopped and held her up while he released the snap hooks from her cuffs. He carried her, still attached to the spreader bar, to the spanking bench, and lay her face down. She continued to hold a part of herself back.
Now, with the bench beneath her, he changed to a heavier flogger and his strikes began in earnest. Angry red marks marred her flesh until finally she screamed and her quiet sobs became a torrent of grief. He didn't stop until his arm was too weak to continue.
With shaking limbs, he lay the flogger aside, and then released her restraints, taking the wrist and ankle cuffs completely off. Her crying continued as he carried her to their chair, straddled her over his thighs, and brought her chest to his. He removed the blindfold and used it to wipe her nose.
Then he held her, rubbing his hands over her reddened back and shoulders, whispering words of comfort while holding his own emotions in check. He wanted nothing more than to take away Angel's pain, even if it intensified his own.