He’s in his study on the computer when I arrive home. I wait calmly at the door for him to acknowledge me. When he finally looks up, I smile.
“Ah, I’m glad you’re home. You didn’t leave a note and I worried.”
“Did you call the shop?”
“Yes, and you weren’t there.”
“I’m sorry Ian, but I…”
“Come here,” he interrupts.
“Are you mad?”
“Mad, no. Just worried. Where were you?” He holds his arm out for me and I move to his side. He hugs me around the hips with an embrace so firm I feel every bit of tightness in my ass from the wounds that remain.
“Ian, I need to tell you about me.”
“And what’s that?”
“I’m more than I appear.”
“Oh?” He looks concerned, a natural response seeing how terrified I am. Yet he gazes at me innocently inquisitive, and what I have to tell him spills out all at once—not in the measured careful way I planned.
“There’s a side to me that needs satisfaction. The dark, rough, submissive side. It’s what Heinrich gave me and what I miss since the divorce. Tonight I went to Bernard’s, Heinrich’s attorney and my good friend. He took care of my need.”
“What need?” He’s still puzzled.
“Heinrich and I were heavily into the S&M scene,” I explain from a different perspective.
“I see.”
“Yes, you really should see.” I pull away and tug my skirt above my waist. “This is me too, a very masochistic side of me,” I say as I show off my ass. There are several welts remaining from the cane, and bruises beginning to appear. He touches the skin and shrinks back as though this might reach out and grab him.
“All this time. All the months I’ve known you, you’ve been into this?”
“I have.”
“And Bernard made these marks?”
“Yes, he did.”
“How?”
I turn back, and draw a chair to his side. My bottom feels sore against the hard wooden seat, but ignoring that, I reach out to him and stroke his cheek affectionately as I speak, telling him the story of my evening on the table, of the fierce anal probing and the strap, the cane and Bernard’s insistence that I tell him everything.
Drawing away from me, Ian rises to stroll about the room. I’ve upset him and the silence between us is killing.
“You say you had to go, that perhaps your foul mood of late is because you’re not completely satisfied, is that right?”
I shake my head yes.
“And you’ll do this again?”
I can hardly spit out my faltering, “yes.”
“Why didn’t you come to me about your need?”
“Because it would have been wrong to expect this kind of thing from you.”
“How do you know?”
I shrug. “I can’t explain, except that dominant men have a certain way about them that is not you.”
“I suppose. What you’ve done to yourself doesn’t particularly intrigue me. I find it frightening that you’d put yourself through this kind of abuse. I suppose, I should give Bernard credit for making you tell me. How did you plan to keep me in the dark?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think that far ahead.”
“I guess you don’t.”
He’s pissed, but he doesn’t show his anger in his voice—just in the twitch of his jaw and the feeling of hurt I read in the worry lines of his arrogant face. The silence stretches out before us—a quiet so profound neither one of us knows when it will end.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” I finally conclude and I rise to leave.
“Oh, no,” he objects. His expression alone makes me take my seat again. “You were right to tell me—or rather Bernard was right to insist. I suppose you never would have. Makes me feel like a real idiot. I suppose some afternoon I would have come home unexpectedly and there’d you’d be tied over my dining room table, some prick smacking your ass while you were being fucked with a foot long dildo. Better yet, I might have surprised you at the shop one of the nights you’re there, working late,” the twist in his voice makes me cringe, “I find you pressed against a bookshelf, gagged, bound with ropes, some leather clad stranger running a lash over you…” He stops and stares at me. His anger is quite apparent now. “Yes, I think it’s a good idea you told me so when I feel your skin and find welts there I’ll know why. Looks to me as though we’re headed down the same path you went with Heinrich. Just a different direction. Cuckolding me for this… this… “ He stops speaking, glaring into my scared eyes.
“I’m going to lose you, aren’t I?”
“You might. I’m not sure how fond I am of having a lover who needs what I can’t give. Could be my problem though. Too much ego.”
This sarcasm is so unlike him.
“You’ve given me a lot to think about, Anna. And if you don’t mind, I’d rather sleep alone.”
Chapter Six
“Tell me how you’ve been,” I ask Delia as she sits before me in my office, trembling nervously. It’s been several days since the scene at Tethers. In that time, I’ve caught her glance many times as I walk through the office. I’ve given her scant attention and have seen how she is increasingly more wary of me. I suppose I do this kind of distancing out of habit, though I feel that habit breaking down. To look at her I see such loveliness. I could bask in the glow of her face, lose myself in her eyes, in that expression of adoration. I recognize the scent of her perfume and without looking, know she’s near. More often than I’d like, she’s in my thoughts.
“I thought you’d forgotten me,” she replies. She looks so sad.
“This won’t be like the other relationships you’ve had,” I remind her.
“I know that. I was only hoping that we might…” she shudders and stops speaking. Her dark hair shines, a soft contrast to my stark office with its cold and rigid lines. She’s left her billowy curls loose and I want to run my hand through them, to grasp them tightly as we make love.
“You’re wearing your hair differently,” I comment. She smiles. “I like it.”
“Really?” Her face brightens, some of the tension easing.
“I do.”
“We’re going to dinner tonight and the theater. That’s if you have the evening free?”
“Oh my yes!” her face lights with a luster than makes my heart pound.
This fresh face of innocence pushes me when I had no plans for being pushed into love.
***
We’re spending evenings together in my apartment. I’ve been living in boxes since giving up the house, and find Delia indispensable for getting the place in order. I didn’t have the stomach for it until now. She’s a whiz at decorating and I let her have free reign, thinking I’ll have her move in soon. Her touch keeps traces of Anna from appearing. Her choices are different, her taste less classy, more eclectic and arty. She finds several new paintings that give my home a different perspective, which it needs.
We spend the nights in my bed. Before the first, however, I take her to Cavenor’s for some personal items she needs, most importantly her collar. When we’re alone, she puts it on as soon as we’re in for the night. The leather is rigid, but not uncomfortable—and simple, the black strap highlighted by three silver rings. It buckles behind her neck where a small hasp locks it. I keep the key. We purchased a harness as well, one tailor-made by Cavenor himself, with straps that cross her abundant breasts and push them high, a waistband that holds a dildo strap that bisects her cunt and ass. It works well as a chastity harness if I order her to wear a dildo in her cunt; or it serves to widen her ass with plugs, making her ready for my cock. She cringes when I force anything at that door. Being careful, I ease her into her anal duties slowly. I have her sleep with the harness some nights, a small plug in her ass to remind her even in her dreams that she’s mine to use as I wish. Though she winces at these demands there’s not been one command she’s disobeyed, and she rarely balks. I dr
aw from her a need that was so close to the surface of her consciousness that I wonder how she could have lived so long without seeing it met.
Her obedience has been remarkable, and yet, I have to punish her tonight. The thought arouses me as it will her before we’re through. Though first, she’ll be terrorized. Regardless of how compliant a submissive is there will always be that initial breach in form, that flagrant or unconscious act to test the firmness of a master’s resolve. I think this was more deliberate than accidental or unconscious. This morning, I ordered her to wear her harness to work, under her clothes. She went mad with excitement. Her body was so erotically alive she was primed to seduce any man on the street. But when I ordered her to keep a plug in her ass, and that plug was larger than any she’d used before, her expression turned frantic.
“You can do this, Delia.” I felt her ass and the empty hole, and helped her climb into the harness and secure the plug inside.
“It won’t last the day here,” she assured me.
“Oh, I think it will.”
“And if I can’t stand it?” She looked so desperate.
“Don’t balk, my sweet,” I told her kindly.
Though still disgruntled, she finally yielded and gave up her objections. When we met for lunch, however, the plug had been removed.
“I couldn’t stand the pressure,” she told me pleadingly.
“So you took it out without telling me?”
“Was it necessary to tell you?”
“You know it was.”
She’s devastated by my anger, and it doesn’t stop during the entire lunch. I leave her with a curt, “I’ll expect you tonight,” and let her stew in fear until I get home to deal with her.
She’s waiting for me when I reach the apartment, sitting demurely on the couch reading a book. She looks up at me as tenuously as a guilty child does.
“Is your plug in your ass?” I ask.
“No, it’s not.”
“Then take care of it now.”
She bites her lip and flees to the bedroom. I interrupt her as she’s bending over the side of the bed, wincing as she stuffs the plug back in her ass. Taking over, I give the flat end a good shove, “ouch,” she winces, and I cinch the strap tightly.
“You can stay right there.”
She looks at me puzzled.
“I don’t take kindly to your disobeying me and when you do, you’ll be punished.”
Her eyes grow enormous, and a visible tremor shakes her body.
Retreating to the closet, I pull out a wooden paddle—one that resembles the old-fashioned school variety with a sturdy handle, the business end eighteen inches long and four inches wide. The shellacked surface gleams so brightly you can almost see your face inside the shine.
She’s bent over the bed, palms on the covers, feet together, her legs clenched tightly, her posterior like two sides of a heart with those sides divided by a black leather strap that fits tightly through the crack. Each strike of the paddle will jolt the plug she hates so much. She’ll get used to the sensations if I have to work her ass daily. I swear she will beg me for it before we’re through.
I see tears forming in her drippy, childish eyes. They should move me, but if so, I’m only moved to act on this feeling of betrayal.
“I didn’t think you would,” she tells me.
“You didn’t think I’d punish you?” I almost laugh because the idea amuses me so much. “Well, now you know otherwise.”
I haven’t spanked, strapped, caned, or paddled her since the night at Tethers. And I know she looks forward to another session of extremes, but this won’t be it. If she finds some physical satisfaction from this fine, but it’s not in my plans.
I strike with lightning speed, tearing into her bottom with a firmness I only use on such occasions, letting my righteous indignation rise to fuel the paddling. She’s agonized instantly. This paddle smarts, the sting rough enough to have her near tears, though she sheds none. It’s more a clenching, hollering, teeth-gritting battle between us. Of course, I’m the declared winner from the beginning.
Her ass cheeks burn with a red-hot flame. I’d love to place a hand on that hot skin, but not this time—unless I change the rules with Delia, and turn this punishment into something erotic. The urge I feel inside moves in that direction, but I continue with the paddling. With a few pauses, some stops and starts, I deliver a good ten minutes straight of punishment that should make her ass sore enough to feel tomorrow. The red will fade fast and perhaps leave a few streaks, but it’s not marks I’m after this time. If she defies me again, I will cane her and raise a few welts.
Into the rhythm of my stroke, I watch her writhe. After pausing, I begin again more forcefully. She contains herself for the first few strokes, and then she turns frantic. Her feet dance like the devil, her voice becomes more anguished, and she begins to twist and turn looking as though she’s about to throw herself on the floor out of the way.
Finishing off, I level several to the center of her cheeks, and when I stop, she breaks into tears and falls on the bed.
“Now, how about fixing dinner?” I suggest to her coldly.
She’s hurt and there’s sorrow in her expression, but I resist the impulse to take her in my arms. It’s what she wants, but I don’t believe it’s what she needs.
At dinner, I make certain she sits on her bare behind. She blushes, finding this both wicked and embarrassing. Then she spends the rest of the evening working in the kitchen arranging cabinets as though she’s too chagrinned to be near me. When it’s time for bed, she’s still surrounded by cans and bottles and serving dishes. I can tell she’s been crying.
Approaching her from behind, I reach out and stroke her face and hold her in my arms. She begins to sob. The feeling between us is gentle and nurturing. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt such tenderness for any woman, and I’m amazed by the emotions of love that move through me.
“Some of these things are hard for me, Heinrich.”
“I know that, darling. But you’ll learn. It’s not yours to decide anymore what you’ll do or not do. If you’ve made a choice to be with me, then you’ve given up deciding many things. You need only to submit.”
“And I like that,” she says, “except when …”
“Except when you become afraid?”
“Uh, huh.” She speaks softly as she lays her head back lovingly against my chest. One hand holds her; the other caresses her face, and slowly makes its way to her breast and then her lovely mound. I hold her there, my fingers gliding over that warm place, feeling the strap secured between her legs. Though it prevents me from finding her clit, I can still feel how her body pulses. Her need for sex is as great as mine.
“Keep your harness on until I get to bed. I’ll be there soon.”
I give Delia some time to settle in bed, and when I find her between my striped navy sheets, she undulating in some dream world. Though she’s frustrated by the strap that keeps her pussy hidden, she tries nonetheless to pleasure herself.
“Jumping the gun, aren’t we?” I ask with a smile.
“Oh, Heinrich, I’m so aroused.”
“Are you now?” I climb in bed and turn her on her side away from me. Lying behind her, I hold her tightly to my chest, letting the warmth of her punished ass creep into my groin. My dick begins to stiffen as her ass moves back against it.
“I can’t do much with the strap between my legs,” she says. Of course, what she wants is the plug withdrawn.
“No, I suppose you can’t,” I agree; though I make no move to unlock her harness. I have her breasts in my hands, and shoving the massive volume of black curls aside, my lips press the nape of her neck. She quakes to have me kiss her there. I find the spot exceedingly exquisite. That lovely indentation seems to have its own pulse, a hidden spot of pleasure that sends a shiver darting down her spine.
“Ooo, my darling Heinrich. I love this.”
“You’ll love everything you feel tonight.” My hand moves to the
crack of her ass, fingers pressing on the strap so she’ll feel the penetration just that much more.
“Oh, please no….”
“Shush.” I cover her mouth with my hand, and she takes my fingers in her lips and sucks them. Her body begins to buck as though she’s already climaxing. She’s a woman of paradoxes, what she loves and hates getting all messed up together. Most submissives seem to have this trait. I begin to ease the strap, and with my key undo the tiny lock and buckle. She heaves an enormous sigh as her ass is freed of the impaling plug, though she’s distressed to find my greased fingers playing with the empty space. “Shhhhhush,” my whisper anticipates her apprehensions. She’s been stretched well, far beyond what she realizes. Letting three fingers breach her sphincter, they slip in easily and work the hole with grease, priming her for what’s to follow. “Relax,” I whisper more. Each time I speak, a little more anxiety falls away and I feel her body tension ease. “Relax.” She closes her eyes dreamily. With one hand at her cunt, the other at her anus, we move together in unison as though I’m inside her. As she eases within my grasp, I slowly move my fingers from her backdoor and press the head of my penis into the opening.
She gasps, tensing as though her body is suddenly on alert.
“Relax, Delia this doesn’t hurt.”
“Ah, but it alarms me.”
“Let it pleasure you instead.”
I feel her body take another downward turn, as the presence of my erection in her ass becomes less troublesome. It slides in deeply, effortlessly, filling her full. Her tight inner muscles massage my prick. Though she may be prone to flinch, I’ll finish here regardless. She moves with me now, with the surrender seeming to claim her again. The cavern expands and contracts in its own way, as she feels me move in and out evenly and without pain.
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