Familiar

by Roseau, Robin

  Arianna gave me a minute to try to calm myself down, but I only got worse. She moved closer to me on the sofa and said quietly, "I am going to use a little magic to help you calm down, unless you scream 'no'."

  Still panting, I looked at her and nodded. Immediately, she began to infuse me with her magic, settling it over me. I had grown so used to it that it wasn't startling anymore. The magic was calming, and then she spook soothingly. "It helps if you concentrate on slow, deep breaths."

  It took a couple of minutes, but with her help, I pulled myself back under control, although my behavior only added to my humiliation.

  I turned away from her, offering her my back and a cold shoulder.

  She didn't press me.

  "I would like to point out a few things," Arianna said. "I had the impression you were an exuberant, willing, joyful partner in our bed. I did not know you resented sharing the joy of lovemaking with me."

  "I didn't say that, Arianna," I retorted. "Do not place words in my mouth." I turned around to face her. "I didn't say that at all."

  "You are the one who called yourself a 'playmate for my bed', and made it sound like it was onerous. If I do not understand, it is not for lack of trying on my part."

  "I wasn't trying to suggest I was unhappy with the sex, Arianna," I told her. "But the partner is something you won, and that was my point. But maybe you miss the variety of a fresh, and perhaps much younger, body in your bed every night. Or several fresh, young bodies."

  "I didn't, up until I realized you don't want to be there."

  "Please don't say anything else for a minute," I said. "Please."

  "All right," she agreed.

  I turned away, thinking about what I wanted to say. I was at a loss. I was still so angry and humiliated, but I knew if she thought the wrong things, our relationship was going to make a dramatic turn for the worse. And as I couldn't leave, and I didn't think she would let me go, that would not do. I turned back to her.

  "The sex is, by far, the best I have ever had, or dreamed I would have. I have been exactly what you thought I was: an exuberant, willing, joyful partner. I would like to remain an exuberant, willing, joyful partner. I have gotten the impression you have felt the same way I have. Well, except you're far better at lovemaking than I am, so maybe you're disappointed." One thing about the way I was bound to her: I couldn't lie, and she knew it. I didn't have to convince her I was telling the truth.

  She smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it was a smile.

  "All right," she said. "May I point a few things out and ask some simple questions?"

  "Yes."

  "As you just said, the sex is fabulous." She brushed her fingernails on her blouse in a cocky gesture. "Is it safe for me to believe that you believe you wouldn't get better sex anywhere else?"

  "Yes, that is safe for you to believe. I know I could never have remotely as good a sex life with anyone else."

  "And, would you say you are making more money than you ever thought you would?"

  "I don't consider most of it mine. I consider it yours."

  "For heaven's sake, why? You're earning it."

  "No. I could never make the money partnered with anyone else."

  She smiled.

  "I just made your point, didn't I?"

  She nodded. "Do you like the work?"

  "Yes," I agreed. "Most of the time. We get bitchy clients sometimes."

  "Yes, and you tell me, and I protect you and then find a way to make it up to you."

  "See previous comments about sex life?"

  She laughed. "Yes."

  "Okay, I admit, the job is a lot better than the old one. But you don't let me enjoy the money."

  She frowned. "We're saving. Do you think I am stingy?"

  I thought about it. In the past year, she'd bought a new car for herself, but it wasn't a flashy car. We ate well, and she gave me small presents. I was still driving my old car, but it did the job. I wasn't a clothes horse, but I had more new clothes than I'd ever had.

  "Or," she added. "Is it just that the money is burning a hole in your pocket. It's there, so you feel you should spend it?"

  I sighed. "The latter. I withdraw my complaint."

  "All right. Is this house better than your old apartment?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you enjoy spending time with me?"

  "Outside of the bedroom?"

  "Yes, outside of the bedroom."

  "Yes, Arianna."

  "So, the sex is great. The job is great. The money is great. You enjoy my company. The house is good, although not great. Do you understand why I thought you perhaps enjoyed the situation?"

  I looked down. "I guess."

  "Life is full of compromises. The one you are in is an extreme example. Yes, I forced you into this life. No, I won't let you commit suicide. No, I won't let you leave. And yes, you are bound to obey me, and I periodically force you to do so. I do not believe I will apologize for not letting you kill yourself. Because you admit being happy with nearly every aspect of your life with me, I have a hard time feeling badly that I won't let you leave. I feel sick that you still want to, however."

  I turned to face her.

  "As for being forced to obey me: I didn't think I was being abusive. I thought you had almost as much freedom as you desired."

  I looked at the floor.

  "You were right," she said. "I was pushing my weight around. It was wrong, but perhaps you will try to understand why."

  "All right."

  "I spent my formative years as the victim, Moira."

  "So now you need to make someone else the victim?"

  "No, although I have certainly done my share of that, and I am not proud of it. No. It's a weakness, but I need to be reminded from time to time that I am not a victim anymore. And by reminding myself what I could be, then I don't have to be that person. I've been that person, but I don't want to be anymore."

  "It's not just you that you're reminding."

  "No."

  Something just dawned on me. "Oh god. Arianna, were you pointing out what type of person you could be?"

  "Probably. It wasn't that thought out. Probably."

  "But because you don't do it very often you aren't that person. At least not with me."

  "I am trying very hard not to be."

  "But until you met me, you were that person."

  "Yes."

  "Two hundred and sixty year old smoking habit."

  "Good analogy. Yes."

  "And... You want someone to be proud of you for quitting smoking."

  "Maybe with the occasional cigarette I bum from you. Moira, please, let me bum a cigarette now and then, and I won't ever go back to smoking. I promise. But I still need to bum that cigarette sometimes."

  We studied each other.

  "Arianna, did I overreact?"

  "Probably a little, but not excessively. I didn't understand what I was doing, not to you and not even to myself."

  "Have you figured out what W stands for?"

  She smiled. "The date would be the Sunday morning you offered yourself to me if I promised fidelity. I believe you said, 'everything I wanted'."

  I smiled. "Yes. What does W mean?"

  "Wedding. It means Wedding, doesn't it, Moira?"

  "Yes, Arianna."

  She closed the distance and pulled me into her arms, hugging me fiercely. "Does it still mean Wedding?"

  "Yes."

  "It does to me, too. The hint to see it through your eyes actually threw me off."

  "Really?"

  "Yes." She pulled my chin up and kissed me, and it was a kiss filled with fire.

  "Honey?"

  "Yes, Arianna?"

  "May I borrow a cigarette?"

  "Yes, Arianna."

  She smiled. "Stand up. Take off every stitch of clothing. Slowly."

  I pulled myself out of her arms. I wasn't wearing much. I pulled the robe from the belt and dropped it in her lap. I shrugged out of the robe and let it slide down my bod
y. Then I took my time unbuttoning the pajama top. It followed the robe. The bottoms went next, and then the undies. I faced her, one hand on my hip, my head cocked.

  "Walk into the bedroom," she ordered. "Climb onto the bed. Lie down on your back in the middle of the bed. You may use a pillow if you desire. Then spread your arms and legs and do not move."

  I immediately turned away from her and walked into the bedroom. She followed behind me but didn't even watch me as she headed to the bathroom.

  She took her time while I lay on the bed, pinned there and unable to move.

  I wondered what she was going to do to me. I imagined I was going to enjoy it a great deal. My heart began to pound in anticipation.

  She finished in the bathroom, and when she stepped out, she was as naked as I was. I watched her approach.

  She was so amazing.

  "You may move enough to speak," she said. "And you may squirm. Your hands and feet stay where they are, or where I put them if I move them. You are allowed any other movements, as long as your hands and feet stay where they belong."

  I grinned at her.

  "Am I making you angry?" she asked, standing at the foot of the bed and looking down at me.

  "No, Arianna."

  She looked pointedly at my crotch, which was exposed, wide open to her. "How about now?"

  "See anything you want?" I asked in reply.

  "Oh yeah." She paused. "Honey, there is a part of me that feels the need to punish you for the last two days."

  I closed my eyes.

  "I won't," she added. "If it's going to damage our relationship."

  I opened my eyes. "How bad would the punishment be?"

  "If you can only take a token punishment, then I'll tickle your feet. It would be symbolic."

  "How important is this to you?"

  "Fairly important, but nowhere near as important as your happiness."

  "Is this part of the cigarette?"

  "Maybe a couple of cigarettes."

  "You may punish me," I told her. "I'll tell you if I'm getting angry or hurt, will you stop?"

  "Yes. Moira, reach above your head and clasp the head of the bed."

  Our bed had a brass headboard. I reached up and grasped two of the metal pipes that formed the headboard.

  "Lift your feet six inches, Moira," she ordered.

  I immediately complied with her order, lifting my feet from the bed. I watched her face. She glanced down at my feet and smiled.

  "Stay just like that, Moira," she said. "The punishment ends when you beg my forgiveness."

  Then she stepped out of the bedroom, turning off the light and closing the door.

  "This is my punishment?" I thought at her.

  "Yes. No talking now unless you are ready to beg, or if you are getting angry."

  "I won't get angry, Arianna."

  "Then no talking until you are ready to beg. That's an order."

  I'm not sure how long I lay there until my legs began to tremble from the exertion. It wasn't that long, several minutes, maybe a little longer.

  I chose to accept her punishment for as long as I could. The lactic acid buildup in my muscles let me know it wouldn't be that long.

  My muscles gave out before my stubborn will did. My legs crashed to the bed. I was immediately filled with shame.

  "I failed you," I told her.

  "How?"

  "Muscle failure."

  "Get your legs back up!" she ordered, and I raised my legs again, but they were trembling.

  "Arianna," I said. "I am more stubborn than my muscles."

  I heard her at the door. She came in and turned on a lamp on the nightstand. My legs were trembling, and with a groan, they crashed back to the bed.

  "Get them up!" she said fiercely. I struggled to hold my feet in the air. And then again, they gave out, trembling badly first.

  "Get your feet off the bed!" she yelled.

  I lifted them, but I could only hold them there for a few seconds.

  "I'm sorry!" I said when they fell back to bed. "Arianna, I'm sorry!"

  "Limp," she ordered. "All muscles limp!"

  And like that, my entire body went limp. She climbed onto the bed, lying on her side next to me, her head cradled in her hand. She reached out and turned my chin to face her.

  "Thank you, Moira," she said.

  "I'm sorry," I told her. "Your punishment was nothing, but I couldn't do it."

  "You apologized, and it was heartfelt," she replied.

  "I apologized for failing your punishment."

  She smiled. "You apologized, and I was able to finish that cigarette. Thank you."

  "You're not disappointed?"

  "No. You did the best you could. That's what I needed."

  "May I hold you?" I asked.

  "No. You will remain limp. I am not done with you." Then she cuddled against me, laying her head on my shoulder. "Unless I'm making you angry."

  "No," I said. "You're not."

  "You can't move at all, can you?" she asked.

  "I can talk. And breathe." I opened and closed my eyes. "And I seem to have control over my eyes."

  "Can you turn your head?"

  I tried. "No."

  She caressed my face, then her caress moved down to my breast. She cupped me. She sighed.

  "Was that a bad sigh?"

  "Happy sigh. I am going to make love to you like this."

  "What about your needs?"

  "I think right now, these are my needs." And then her hand began to move.

  She didn't use any magic, and she wasn't in a hurry. She stroked me with her hand, then with her entire body, teasing me. She licked; she bit; she sucked. She marked my skin with her mouth. She completely claimed me.

  I loved every second.

  When finally I came, her tongue was teasing my clit, and she had two fingers moving inside me.

  When she was done, or more exactly when I was done in, before she released me, she took my mouth with hers, and I could taste myself on her. While she was kissing me, in my head, she told me, you may now move.

  I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly, so tightly.

  * * * *

  For our one-year wedding anniversary, we spent the day together. We made love in the morning. Then Arianna had arranged for us to be driven to and from a spa, where we spent hours being pampered together. We arrived at home and I made a special dinner. Afterwards, we exchanged gifts.

  I bought Arianna three presents. I bought myself an elegant little black dress but wrapped it and gave it to her. When she opened it, she looked at the size and was puzzled. I grinned at her. "It's my size," I told her. "I will wear it whenever you ask."

  She started laughing. She had been trying to get me to wear more feminine clothes, but hadn't gotten to outright ordering me. I bought the dress because I thought she would enjoy seeing me in it.

  I also bought her a pair of earrings. Her eyes lit up when she saw them. She had left Atlanta with none of her jewelry, and she was being frugal, so she was adding pieces very slowly.

  "They're lovely," she said.

  Her third gift was a little figurine of a witch. She opened it and laughed.

  "It's for your desk at work," I told her.

  "I will display it proudly," she said, grinning at me.

  When I opened my present, I discovered matching wedding rings.

  I cried.

  That night, we lay together in bed, cuddling and drifting towards sleep. "Moira?" she asked me. "You told me something during our fight."

  "Yes?"

  "You told me you would kill yourself if I let you. Do you hate being with me that much?"

  "Not tonight," I replied. "And it's not that I hate being with you. I hate the disparity in the relationship. But I admit, the past year has been better than I expected it would be."

  * * * *

  I managed to talk my father and his wife to visit us in the autumn. Dad had never been very supportive of my sexual orientation, but he had nev
er been abusive about it, either. He treated Arianna with courtesy. She later told me she'd only used a tiny bit of magic to ensure it.

  I wasn't sure if she was kidding.

  They stayed for a long weekend. It was the last time I ever saw my father.

  * * * *

  We bought a house together at the end of our second year in Madison. Arianna found a significant piece of land a twenty-minute drive west of town. It was eighty acres and an updated farmhouse. Arianna showed me the house before we made an offer for it, but that was only a formality; she had already made up her mind.

  When I asked why she was buying what was essentially a small, retired farm, she only told me, "Because I like elbow room."

  It was the biggest place I had ever lived. It was several years before I understood why she wanted it.

  * * * *

  I struggled with my new place in life for those first few years. There were bad days, some of them very bad days, where I contemplated finding ways to bypass Arianna's spells and orders, finding a way to either kill her or myself. Nothing came of those thoughts, at least not the first few years. Some of the bad days were really bad weeks.

  Arianna punished me for transgressions. She would allow me to disagree with her, but if I were impolite, I was punished. I wasn't previously one to cry often before meeting her, but she knew how to push my buttons and could have me sobbing with her punishments.

  Oddly, she never gave durable orders governing free speech. She often would silence me, sometimes to end a conversation, sometimes because she wanted to think about her response or just to listen to a song. But she never issued orders forcing me to remain polite or control my tone, except on a case-by-case basis.

  She also required that I maintain the cleanliness of the house. That wasn't bad when we lived in the small rental house, but when we bought the large house, keeping it clean was much more difficult. Arianna helped with food preparation, and she was a very good cook, much better than I was. She also wasn't a personal slob. However, she didn't do any of the other household chores, including so much as picking up her own clothes.

  It only took a few punishments before I made sure to keep the house to her standards.

  Arianna's punishments, after all, were not simply punishments; they were deterrents. When it came to keeping the house clean, they worked.