by Vivien Sparx
“Please, God…”
The answer struck Stefan like a fist – like a physical blow that drove the wind from him so he staggered. He slumped to the sofa, suddenly bloodless and cold.
He wasn’t old fashioned. He was living in the past.
He had imposed the morals and beliefs of his marriage with Tiffany onto his relationship with Renee. He saw it then, with sickening clarity. He had wanted to treat Renee in the same way he had treated his first wife – even though that marriage had been borne out of youthful innocence and inexperience, and not the fires of passion and BDSM that had first kindled his romance with Renee.
Stefan lowered his head to his hands, the enormity of his mistake stark and terrifying.
“I have been wrong,” Stefan said softly, almost shamefully. “I have been so very wrong.”
On a sudden impulse he went down the darkened hallway and stood outside the closed bedroom door. His hand reached out for the knob, and then he suddenly hesitated. Would Renee be asleep?
Should he wake her and tell her he had been mistaken? Should he ask her to forgive him? Could he explain it all yet – everything he suddenly understood – when he had only just made sense of it all himself?
Stefan let go of the knob and dropped his hand to his side. He stood in the darkness for a very long time, and then trudged back to the sofa.
Fifteen.
When Stefan woke again he was laying, curled and cramped, on the sofa. The house was light, and there was a patch of bright sunlight on the carpet. He sat up and rubbed away the last traces of sleep, feeling the rasping stubble of new beard under his fingers. Then he looked at his watch and was appalled when he realized it was after 10am.
He swung his legs off the sofa and went urgently to the hallway. The bedroom door was open, but the house seemed strangely silent. He stepped to the door. The bed was made, the curtains opened, and warm sunlight streamed into the room.
Stefan turned on his heel frowning, but in the kitchen was a note. Renee had left it resting on top of the damaged photograph that had fallen from the wall.
Gone shopping for the day.
I think we both need time apart.
Stefan read the note once more, and then went quickly to the bathroom. He spent two minutes washing his face and combing his hair, and decided any more time was too precious to waste on shaving. He glanced at his watch again, realizing now that every minute would matter.
He snatched his keys from the kitchen counter and ran for the car.
Sixteen.
The overnight storm had made the road slippery, and the morning sun had yet to rise high enough above the dense trees to dry the tarmac. Stefan drove with concentrated purpose. He drove quickly, but not beyond the limitations of the road – and the miles sped by.
Two miles outside of Drakesburg, Stefan slowed the car when he saw the familiar shape of the mailbox set back from the shoulder of the road; an old metal drum that had been painted red, nailed to a post. Stefan braked to a crawl until the turnoff appeared and then nosed the car off the highway and down a long bumpy road that was muddied and rutted by the rains.
Peter’s farm was like a scene from a picture postcard. The rolling fields around the homestead were lush and green, and the sun beyond the distant mountain ranges had cast the grounds in glorious golden light.
Stefan parked behind Peter’s car and climbed out from behind the wheel stiffly. It had been an hour’s drive on slippery roads. He stood by the car for a moment and inhaled the fresh country air while the engine pinged and ticked and cooled.
There was a thin grey tendril of smoke rising from the chimney into the still air, but apart from that the farmstead seemed abandoned. Stefan walked to the back door and rapped hard.
For several minutes he heard nothing. Then, when he knocked a second time, he finally heard the commotion of shuffling feet. He stood back from the door and waited. He heard a chain being unlatched and then Peter stood in the opening.
“You look like I got you out of bed,” Stefan said. Peter’s hair was tousled and he was bare-chested. His jaw was shadowed with stubble.
“Got me out of bed? Yes. But you didn’t wake me,” he said simply. And then he frowned. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Stefan shrugged. “Why don’t you invite me in and I’ll tell you.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, pushed the screen door open wide and stepped back.
The kitchen was warm. Peter pulled a chair away from the table and dropped onto it. Stefan sat across from him and dropped his car-keys onto the table.
“Coffee? You look like you need it.”
Stefan nodded.
Peter was about to put the kettle on when Tink’s head appeared in the doorway. She was smiling – a sleepy, contented smile – but her eyes widened with alarm when she saw Stefan.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“I hope so,” Stefan said. “I’ve just come to talk with Peter for a while.”
Tink frowned. She wasn’t fully awake, but she was alert enough to understand the implications of Stefan’s answer. She nodded thoughtfully and crossed to the kitchen bench to make coffee. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt that hung down to her thighs, and nothing else. The pointed firm peaks of her breasts jutted out through the thin fabric, and when she reached up to fetch cups from the overhead cupboard, the tail of the shirt rose so high up the back so her legs that Stefan could see the firm rounded shape of her bottom. He glanced away.
Peter was staring at him, studying the smudges of fatigue under his eyes and his unshaven face. He noticed the frayed lines of concern at the corners of his eyes, and the creases in his shirt.
“You don’t look so good,” Peter said in mild understatement.
Stefan nodded. “I don’t feel so good either.”
He was about to continue when he heard the sound of the shower. He paused, and glanced sideways at Peter. The man smiled. “We brought the girl from the club home with us last night,” Peter explained matter-of-factly. “I’ve got to drive her into Bishop’s Bridge at lunchtime.”
Stefan nodded.
Tink was fussing about with the coffee cups, deliberately turning the making of coffee into an art form in the hope of lingering long enough to gain a sense of Stefan’s purpose. She scooped sugar and coffee, measuring each part with the precision of a chemist, until Peter finally turned to her with a pointed expression on his face. “Thanks, Tink,” he said. “We can take it from here. Why don’t you go and check on Mandy.”
Tink paused for just a reluctant second – and then she lowered her eyes and nodded obediently. “Yes, Master,” she said softly.
Stefan waited until he was sure Tink had gone to the bathroom. He heard the sound of the shower become louder and then fade again as the bathroom door was closed once more.
Peter poured the water into the cups and brought them across to the table and the two men sat in awkward silence for long moments until finally Peter leaned close across to Stefan and looked at him expectantly.
“Say something,” he urged. “What can I do to help? What do you need?”
Stefan leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. He cast his eyes to the ceiling and then looked to Peter, his gaze rock steady, and his expression grim but determined.
“Can I borrow some of my BDSM equipment back?”
Seventeen.
When Tink came from the bathroom, she was leading Mandy by a short leather leash that had been fastened to a collar about the dark-haired girl’s neck. Tink’s hair was wet, and there were damp patches showing through her t-shirt. The two young women were smiling coyly.
Peter was in the hallway waiting for them. “What have you got on your mind, young lady?” he asked Tink.
In reply, Tink turned and pressed the tip of her finger onto the young girl’s bottom lip. The skin was soft and puffy and Tink paused deliberately to draw out the pleasure. The young girl’s eyes became large and her breath hitched suddenly in her throat. Then,
slowly, Tink slid her finger into the girl’s mouth. The girl sucked Tink’s finger instinctively in a brazen imitation of the way she would take a man between her lips to pleasure him.
The girl’s mouth was wet and warm around Tink’s finger. The two women stared at each other for a long moment that was fraught with overt sexual tension. Then Tink began to move her finger in and out of the girl’s mouth, probing and sliding and teasing.
“I have one thing on my mind, Master,” Tink said simply. “We have another hour before we have to drive Mandy back to Bishop’s Bridge, and I don’t want to waste a minute.”
Tink’s breathing was a husky rasp and Peter saw she was trembling with the delicious anticipation of arousal. She slowly drew her finger from between the girl’s lips, and then as Peter watched on, Tink stepped close to the girl and kissed her full on the mouth. The girl’s lips parted in welcome invitation and the two women stood in the hallway with their bodies pressed hard against each other for long moments. When Tink finally broke the kiss, her breathing was ragged and her heart racing. The young girl in her arms gasped and shuddered.
Peter reached between the women, sliding his hand up under the bottom of Tink’s long t-shirt and pressing his palm against the wet warm folds of her sex. Tink threw back her head and groaned. Her nipples were hard little buds through the fabric of her shirt. She reached out for the young woman and pulled her down so that she sucked one of her breasts to her mouth.
Peter moved until he was standing close behind Tink, still with the flat of his hand sliding between her legs. One of his fingers slid within her and Tink’s breath locked and her whole body tensed.
“Now that I have your attention,” Peter lowered his mouth to her ear, “I thought you should know that Stefan just borrowed the riding crop, the blindfold and two pairs of handcuffs.”
Tink smiled dreamily. There was a bright excited flush of color on her cheeks. Peter knew the look well.
“It seems as though Renee is going to get her wish after all,” Peter smiled. Then he swatted Tink’s firm bottom and led the two women back towards the bedroom.
Eighteen.
When Renee came home late in the afternoon, Stefan was waiting for her in the bedroom. He was standing in the middle of the floor, and he had a leather riding crop in his hand.
Renee stood in the doorway and frowned. She cast a quick uncertain glance around the room.
Across the dressing table mirror, Stefan had used one of her lipsticks to write the words ‘My World’ in large letters.
She looked at him, stony-faced.
“What’s going on?” she asked. She nodded her head at the riding crop in his hand. “Is this some kind of a joke?”
“No,” Stefan said. “This is my kind of apology. Now, get on your knees.”
Renee was wearing a grey skirt and a white open-necked blouse. She had a shopping bag in her hand. She slowly lowered the bag to the floor, but did not move to kneel. She turned her attention back to the writing across the mirror.
“And what is that?”
Stefan smiled thinly. “That is a sign of things to come.”
Renee raised an eyebrow, curious but cautious. She folded her arms across her chest and shifted her weight so that one of her hips was thrust forward. She looked tired, weary, and her eyes were hard.
“Stefan, I don’t understand.”
“I am giving you what you want. I was wrong,” he said, flexing the length of the riding crop between his hands and he spoke. “Renee – I was wrong. I realize now that BDSM is an important part of our relationship, and I have come up with a solution.”
Still Renee was uncertain. The past weeks had been such a strain, she was reluctant to believe that Stefan had changed his entire attitude overnight.
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can deal with any more heartache, Stefan. Please don’t go any further if you’re not talking about a long-term solution to our relationship issues. I don’t want a moment of pleasure followed by more months of disappointment. If you’re not talking about something we can both commit to and maintain… then please go no further. Just let me change my clothes and start making dinner. I’m too tired, too exhausted from fighting with you. Please don’t start something that will only lead to more upset. I just don’t think I could take any more.”
“I’m committed,” Stefan said. “I am committed to our marriage, to our future, and to enjoying a BDSM lifestyle again with you.”
Renee wanted to believe… but the memories of the night before would not go away. She sighed, unconvinced. “How?”
“A compromise,” Stefan said. “From this moment forward, whenever you cross that threshold into the bedroom, you enter My World. In this bedroom I am your Master… and your body, mind and soul will be mine to use for my pleasure – no complaints, no safewords. Outside of this room, we are husband and wife – a happily married, loving couple.”
Renee hesitated. It sounded…. It sounded reasonable. But was Stefan sincere, or would this be yet another failed attempt to bring the fire and passion back into their relationship?
She kept her arms folded and leaned her hip against the doorway. “Do you mean it, Stefan? Do you really mean it?”
Stefan smiled, it was a slow, wide wicked smile that was laced with menace and intent. “Why don’t you step across that threshold and surrender to me? It’s the easiest way to find out.” The explicit way his eyes lingered on her body surprised her. Even though she tried to suppress it, there was nothing she could do to control the sudden hot surge of color to her cheeks and sparks of heat that prickled down her spine.
‘Surrender’ – Renee’s mind filled suddenly with an image of Stefan bending her over the edge of the bed and forcing himself deep between her parted thighs. Her eyes flashed – she was aroused by the fantasy, and made defiant with enough disbelief to recognize the challenge.
Slowly, she unfolded her arms and pushed herself away from the door. Then she took two steps into the bedroom.
Stefan dropped the riding crop and lunged for her, his hand lashing out and encircling Renee’s wrist with his fingers. Renee yelped in shock and pain and surprise. Stefan ignored her. He jerked her forward so that she fell against him. Her head snapped back, so that she was looking up into his face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes blazed with sudden desire.
“Don’t ever doubt me, or defy me again,” he hissed. “You crossed the line into my world. Now you are my property.”
He pushed her back against the wall, holding her there with the weight and strength of his body while his hands fisted into the long blonde waves of her hair, tilting up her face while his other hand tore at the buttons of her blouse – reaching forcefully for the sweet perfection of her heaving breasts.
Renee was wild and scared and more aroused than she could remember. When she looked up into Stefan’s hard eyes there was no sign of his usual control, and no hint of his typical restraint. He looked like he was a totally different man; a man that was maddened by hunger and desire. Pleasure was lighting her up from the inside – a bright burning blaze of pleasure that she had absolutely no control over. A strangled cry was ripped from Renee’s throat, and she had a single moment to gasp aloud before his mouth came down and kissed her fiercely.
Renee’s body hung limp against the wall, held in place and unable to do anything but respond to the Stefan’s demands. She felt his hands on her breasts, clawing roughly at the lace fabric of her bra. She felt the fabric tear, and then she felt the intense shock of Stefan’s fingers as they pinched one of her nipples.
Stefan’s kiss was like nothing she could remember. It was like fire on her lips, forcing her mouth open to meet his urgent demand. She felt his tongue thrust deeply, invading and probing; seeming to possess her completely. Renee’s whole body suddenly burst into the flames of her aching passion.
Stefan’s hand slid up from her breasts, and locked firmly around Renee’s throat, pinning her against the wall. ‘Don’t move,” Stefan hissed. “Don
’t move a muscle until I order you.”
Renee’s eyes were wide, her senses overloaded. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.
With her bra torn open, her breasts hung firm and pointed between the gaping tatters of her blouse. Stefan lowered his mouth to one aching nipple and sucked hard. He felt Renee flinch, but he ignored her. Then he took the other breast into his mouth and as he did so, his free hand forced its way possessively up underneath her skirt.
“Spread your legs.”
Renee did not hesitate. The skirt was bunched high up around her thighs and Stefan’s hand was insistent. She felt his fingers pulling the delicate fabric of her panties aside, and then he began to stroke her slowly with his long fingers. Renee sobbed sounds that had no form. Then, teasing her, he circled his fingers around the slippery damp folded flesh of her sex until Renee was almost mad with hunger and need. She rocked her hips but Stefan cleverly moved his touch so that the teasing frustration went on and on.
Finally, when Renee was taut and trembling in his arms, he tugged hard at the silky sheer fabric, and heard the fabric tear away.
The rush of her heated arousal was an intense shock. Renee felt her legs begin to tremble and then buckle. She could feel the dampness of her desire against her inner thighs, and if Stefan had not been holding her to the wall, she would have collapsed. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t move. All she could do was surrender herself to his every desire. She felt herself begin to sob; a combination of her excited ragged breathing, and a welling joy that was bursting from within. Then Stefan’s fingers were sliding urgently inside her, and the deep thrusting sensations brought her instantly to the brink of orgasm.
The tone of her sobs became more urgent, more desperate. She screwed her eyes shut and concentrated on the glorious pleasure of being dominated. Her mind filled with flashing erotic images and the aching need for release became maddening. She thrust her hips wantonly, trying to impale herself on Stefan’s fingers and grind her body so that he filled her completely. Her left leg finally buckled underneath her and she felt herself beginning to slide down the wall. Stefan put his arm around her waist to hold her upright, and quickened the thrusting pace of his fingers between her legs.