It goes on for a little while—long enough that I start to wonder how much longer we have to watch and then, suddenly, the baby’s head appears. Svetlana reaches her hand into the tub, not to catch, but to gently massage a circle on the baby’s head. There’s no shouting or yelling like in the movies. Svetlana and the birth partner speak in murmurs, the mother moans in a low, guttural tone.
The rest of the baby slips out. Still, Svetlana doesn’t catch him. She lets him gently float a moment while the mother cries her tears of joy.
It’s the mother who scoops the baby up and out of the water to hold against her chest, and only then does Svetlana nudge in to surreptitiously hold a stethoscope to the baby’s back while the parents weep with joy.
I burst into tears. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The birth was so peaceful. The parents’ joy is so palpable. The miracle of it all so intrinsic.
Ravil drapes his arm across the back of my chair and strokes my shoulder. When I hiccup, Jane looks over at me, her eyes and cheeks wet. “Right?” she says.
I sniff and nod. “Yeah. That was beautiful.”
Svetlana beams at me, like I just passed some kind of test. “As you can see, water births are extremely peaceful for the mother and baby.
Tears continue to stream from my eyes. It’s absolutely mortifying and completely unlike me to cry at all, much less in front of a bunch of strangers. All I can do is bob my head and try to choke back my terraced breaths.
Maybe Ravil wasn’t just being a dick when he told me I was having a water birth. I mean, he definitely was a dick because the choice should be mine. But the idea doesn’t seem quite so insane or abhorrent now.
Ravil massages the back of my neck, strokes my hair. I find myself leaning into him, drawing his strength, the comfort he offers. And despite the logic, despite knowing I’m still his prisoner, and he’s keeping me here against my will, I’m grateful to him for bringing me here to this class. I never would’ve seen a video like this without him. Wouldn’t have known about water births and the beauty of them. Wouldn’t have researched home births, or hypnobirth or any of this alternative information.
And while it’s not me, I feel far more capable of having a baby than I did a week ago. I have more trust in my body and nature and the beauty and miracle of birth.
I look over at Ravil.
I have more trust in him.
I’m playing the game to get him to trust me, and yet, I’m the one falling under a spell. Because all I see is kindness. Good intentions. Heart.
I reach out and rest my hand on his thigh. He draws me closer with the arm around my shoulders.
I turn my face into his neck and lay a tentative kiss there.
Ravil goes still.
Carrie slides a glance at us. “You’re lucky,” she says. “I wish I was having this baby with someone I love. But hey, it’ll be me and baby, and we’ll love the hell out of each other.”
My eyes pop with tears again. Not because she’s made the wrong assumption about us. But because a week ago, I was in her shoes. Planning on doing it all, all by myself.
And now I’m suddenly being waited on hand and foot. Cared for. Pampered. Massaged. Having my toes sucked. My body played like a fine instrument.
Do I really think I’d be so much better off alone? My old life suddenly seems so empty.
So sterile.
And that’s what I’d be bringing a baby into. To a sterile, empty apartment with a nanny to feed my baby by bottle while I work my ass off all day trying to make partner at my dad’s firm.
None of that feels right any more.
Watching the videos made the idea of a baby seem so much more real. A tiny, miraculous being that would come into my life. That should be celebrated and honored. And birthed naturally in peace.
Christ, did I really just think that? I must be crazy.
But I am thinking it. I am considering what it would be like for my sweet, sweet baby to come gently into the world in Ravil’s salt water hot tub. With him behind me, massaging my shoulders and weeping with me as I lift our son reverentially from the water.
Chapter 13
Ravil
I go harder than stone the moment Lucy places her hand on my thigh. It’s the first time she’s touched me of her own accord, and my body comes alive as if she’s the one who commands me in bed and not the other way around.
I’ve been fantasizing about having her lips around my cock. About ordering her on her knees and feeding my length into her smart mouth.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My goal is keeping her stress-free and pleasured for the benefit of our baby. Holding her prisoner is plenty stressful. And while she’s been willing to receive my punishment and pleasure, it’s different than forcing her to reciprocate, even though it’s common sex play with submissives.
But now all I can think about is getting inside her. Not for her pleasure but for my own desperate need.
I can barely get her out of there fast enough when class is over. We get in the elevator going up, and I’m ready to fuck her right there, but sadly, we’re not alone.
“Hi, Mr. Baranov.” One of the kids in the building is in the elevator with his mom in full soccer gear, holding a box full of chocolate bars.
“Hello, Nate, coming from a game?”
“No, just practice.” He holds out the box. “Would you like to buy a chocolate bar? It’s for the team.”
“I’ll take the whole box,” I tell him. “Can you do the math on that?” I fish in my wallet for a hundred dollar
