“I’m still nervous,” she finally spouted out.
“Not easy for me either.”
She could hear the light in his voice, and see the smile on his face broaden in a way it hadn’t before.
“You do look more relaxed,” she said.
“And you’re not as nervous as you were.”
“True,” she admitted. She cocked her head feeling girlish and coy, batting her lashes flirtatiously, like she might have done when she was seventeen. She felt like a young girl again. Something new and beautiful was growing within her spirit, and she wanted to grab on for dear life and hold it to her so the feeling wouldn’t disappear.
Maybe because of the wine the conversation began to flow a little easier with the first awkward moments behind them. However, after the wine and the cheese and crackers, her body was beginning to swim with lust again. Her crotch began to pulse and she wiggled it against the stool beneath her. Then with hardly a thought in her head about where it would lead, she lifted her leg and pressed the ball of her naked foot against his covered crotch enjoying the feel of that warm soft place against her toes. She teased him with the naughty motion of her massaging foot and her dancing eyes, until he could no longer ignore the come-on.
“You telling me you’re horny again?”
“Humm. I suppose I am.” She was a long way from having enough of him. His body, his hands, his chest and eyes and kissing lips. So far, she’d only had a meager taste – though a terrific one it had been. She needed more. And when it might have been in her nature not to initiate – was it even proper for a slave to initiate? – she couldn’t hold back. Her body made her bold. It spoke when she could not. It hid nothing when it was aroused, and it was aroused now. No fucking way would she accept one orgasm, one blowjob.
He may not have understood that – he’d been a man without sex for far too many years of bitter resignation. But he no longer needed to be that man, and she would show him that if she could show him anything. He offered her his mastery, while she offered him what she knew about intimacy and breaking open to life at the edges. To mystery. And wonder. And the hottest sex on the planet. She knew what she brought to their relationship. At least for one beautiful moment in time, she experienced real power behind her sexual submission. Surrender had shown her what she was made of and she loved how it felt. She could only imagine what lay before her.
“I want to go back to the bedroom,” she said to breach the silence that had fallen between them.
“You would, huh?” He had a cocky kind of half smile half smirk that elicited a girlish giggle from her.
“I would.” She slid from the stool, grabbed for his hand and gave him enough of a tug to bring him to his feet. He allowed her to lead, but only until they crossed the threshold of her bedroom. Once there, she was on her knees again, between his legs, pulling down his shorts and finding the cock she’d so happily brought back to life just an hour before. She sucked, and sucked hard, drinking in his scent, then she took his balls into her mouth and carefully rolled them about with her tongue. Her neck ached from the awkward position but she wouldn’t stop until he said so, and he was too far gone to want anything but more of her warm, wet mouth. She was a freely surrendering female, ready to give him anything he wanted. How could he resist her devoted efforts to please him?
When he tired of standing, he pulled her up with him and onto the bed, pushing her head back to his crotch and forcing her mouth down on his dick.
She’d never been so oral. Never had her mouth offered up so much pleasure. Never had she felt so giving, so openly yielding. Sure, she could have cum again – and again and again – but once she realized that pleasing him was more important to her than her own pleasure, she put all her attention on him. Was this what it meant to be a slave?
In a sudden move she did not anticipate, Jack suddenly pushed her off his cock and turned over to his stomach, offering her his ass. “Suck it, slut!”
This took her by surprise. A flicker of uncertainty passed through her mind as she recalled previous times this had been her Dom’s desire. But she quickly shoved the past aside and responded to his order with as much fierceness as she sucked his cock just moments before. She lay between his spread legs, parted his ass cheeks and dove in anticipating some disgust, but there was none. Free of those first reluctant thoughts, she pleasured him as he desired.
Within a minute or two – she couldn’t be sure; time was very hard to calculate – her body began to writhe involuntarily. Damn, if this weren’t turning her on! Who would have guessed? She pressed her pussy into the quilt, rubbing her throbbing clit against the mattress like she might rub herself against a lover’s thigh. She hadn’t counted on this; something startling and a little miraculous happened as the reality of her dirty little pleasure sunk in. She’d been rewarded for her efforts to please him with a sensuously soft cum rolling through her body in beautiful waves.
Never in a million years – she would have sworn as recently as the day before – would she have found arousal in this sexual act. But this was a new day, a new lover, and the time was right for something new and spectacular – not that she hadn’t already had her mind blown enough to keep her thoughts spinning for days.
Spectacular took off in another new direction and her whole body felt the shift. Her mind was in freefall. All this taking place because she’d given her body with all her bottled up kinky lust to this man. He’d become her master, and she his slave. Was there any doubt in her mind now that what they’d shared was special, far beyond either of their expectations? Was he convinced, too? She had little idea what he was feeling other than hugely satisfied in the sexual pleasure she so willingly offered.
The long shadows of the afternoon gathered around them, holding them in a golden glow. The magic was still in the air, weaving its way between their languishing bodies. They’d exhausted themselves, though neither of them wanted to admit it. They lay for awhile in each other’s arms, dozing briefly, then finally got up to dress. Something special had happened that afternoon, although neither one found their shared intimacy comfortable enough to talk about.
Funny how the awkwardness returned when it came to everyday matters. Comfortable together naked, but not fully dressed? Words failed them – all but those that would disentangle them enough to end their first sexual hours together.
“How about you remove the cuffs?” he said once her sundress neatly covered her again.
She looked down. Except for the occasional sound of the clanking metal, which had become a new background music, she hardly remembered the cuffs were there. She despaired at the idea of taking them off – the afternoon was ending too soon. And yet, still drifting in a subspace high, mindless and in need of someone to direct her, she held her cuffed wrists in front of her expecting Jack to help her with the locks.
“No. You take them off,” he said. “I want to be sure that you can.”
“Sure.” She moved to her dresser and retrieved a key, then spent the next couple minutes focused on the awkward task of removing the wrist cuffs. Her problem was more about nerves than any difficulty. Once she was done, she removed the ankle cuffs as well and quickly retrieved the drawstring bag and Jack’s leather case from the porch. She stuffed the cuffs, the locks and keys into the bag and handed it to him.
“No, you keep them here,” he stopped her. Looking at the collar that still ringed her throat, he smiled. “You can keep that, too. Leave it on as long as you like.”
Jeni reached up and touched the collar with her fingers. She liked how it felt. The smooth leather, the earthy scent, the reminder that she was property, that Jack Hawking had claimed her. Nothing all that formal so far, but like he’d said, she knew where they were heading. “Hmm. I think I’ll leave it on for a while.”
He nodded. “So, how are you feeling now, slut?”
“I don’t know,” she shook her head a bit bewildered. “Overwhelmed…?”
“Very good.”
“Good, sir?”
>
“I couldn’t have hoped for anything better for you than overwhelmed. Unless you have objections, which you’d better tell me about now, I’ll be down to see you next weekend.”
“No, sir, no objections. None.” She shook her head. Strange. Odd. Mysterious. Amazing. The moment was all of that and a whole slew of superlative adjectives, though none of them was a perfect fit. There were no perfect words for this. All the superlative adjectives disappeared, leaving her with nothing but a blank slate on which to write the tales of this day.
But storytelling would wait. Better to let the flurry of thoughts go and simply recall that she’d just spent an afternoon with a man who hungered for the same things she desired with a passion as deep as her own. This was enough for her to think about for now.
“I’ll call soon,” he said after he kissed her at the door.
Chapter Seven
They left each other’s arms reluctantly. Neither one wanted to let go. Jeni might never have said goodbye; thankfully, Jack was strong enough to pull away and leave her to her rambling thoughts. For him, a stoic silence would settle around him and quiet his mind so he could really think, when he was ready to think about her again.
Though Jeni was sad to see him go, they both knew it was time. Their few hours together had been exhausting. A man like Jack, the strong, silent type needs time alone to think, to brood the way men like him brood about matters they find difficult to talk about. Jeni was simply too filled up with amazement to take in another amazing revelation.
Once he was out the door, Jeni roamed the house, going from room to room trying to remember his face and his body and everything about him, as well as everything they did for four long hours – as if she could put the pieces of their afternoon back together and live it again. But all she had were impressions of those glorious moments, nothing concrete. Had it been real? Or was it just another manufactured tale, like something from an afternoon wet dream or a late night romp with her overactive libido?
He had come and gone so quickly it was difficult to remember that he was in her house, his presence invading her space, his atoms still floating in the air. She could smell the scent of his body on her skin and on her clothes, and in her bedroom clinging to the quilt. The earthy, robust combination of pheromones reminded her of the world of men from which he came – and sex. She drank it in to remember him and the way their bodies had come together. They’d share the kind of sex that digs soul deep, touching places that had been denied to them, and thought impossible to realize. With their first furious moments of passion sliding into memory, Jeni felt relieved that the sex had gone so smoothly. She was left with a sense that something wonderful had taken place; the icing on their sexy cake. She knew he felt it, too. It had come on them like a beautiful storm, the fierce explosive energy that marked these hours together, and then the disquieting moments of bewilderment left in the wake of that frenzied passion.
She spent a half hour busying herself around the house, cleaning up dishes, putting away her kinky toys and straightening up her bed. Finally, she sat down at her computer, opened an email to knighthawk925, and began to write, because she didn’t know what else to do.
“Dear Sir,
Just in case this doesn’t get said when I talk to you again…You have exhausted me, and left me feeling very differently about myself, and about Master and slave. I know you now a whole lot better. A very good day for me. Thank you for being here. I feel assured that I pleased you and that’s of the greatest importance to me.
Thoughts keep pouring into my head, which I’m sure will find voice in one way or another when the time is right. The germ of a new piece for you has already been born (I believe during one of the many times my mouth was glued to your cock). Smile.
I’m going to kick back the rest of the evening. Tomorrow it’s back to the garden.
Hugs and kisses, Your slave, jeni”
For the first time she’d called herself slave, his slave in fact, as if it were second nature, and exactly what she wanted to be. She was still astonished by the revelation. But there was no doubt that Jack was leading her in that direction, and she was following dutifully along the path he opened before her. In the past, she’d been one to instigate, suggest, deliver her opinions, feeling little reason to edit herself when it came to her sexual needs, but she held back now, taking on the new role with some confidence. She let Jack take the reins. She instinctively knew how to play the part; not because it was a part like in a play, but because when it came to a relationship with a man who knew what it meant to master her, she was a slave. In this case, Jack Hawking’s slave. This wasn’t a 24/7 thing – they both had their working lives, their friends, pieces of themselves they’d not yet shared. They still had much to learn about each other. But in the matter of their sexual lives and their long-standing desires, they fit, in a pairing so seemingly perfect that neither one would be willing to release their hold on the other until they wrote the rest of the story. At the moment, the rest was just a beautiful unknown. Kink relationships were an uncertain thing. Sometimes they flashed and burned in a matter of days, weeks, a handful of months. Sometimes they were forever.
She knew there were still negotiations to be made, and the time would come for that – but in her mind, she had a strong sense that Master/slave was a done deal. But only time would tell.
In the morning she wrote him again:
“Good morning, Sir Jack,
Got up this morning, feeling a definite soreness in my ass. I inspected myself in the mirror and discovered, to my surprise, that indeed there is a clear and not particularly small red streak across the bottom of my right ass cheek. (2-3 inches) Looks very much like the imprint of your leather belt. How appropriate. Nice.
For a long time I’ve assumed that the slavish desire in me was impossible to realize, and likely to remain a fantasy forever. It seems as if you’re proving that assumption wrong.
I hope you slept well, Sir. I did. Slavishly, Jeni”
Jack’s response to that email came later that day:
“I’m happy to see that you were marked. You’re obviously happy about that, too. I’ll remember that the next time I use the belt on your ass.
I think the possibility of our being Master and slave is very real, though we’ll take this one step at a time. It’s not something to rush since this is new for us both. We’re going into it having not been particularly successful in our previous experience. For now, let’s think of ourselves as Master and slave and see how it feels.
I am in the midst of one hellacious week with student projects crowding into my office along with the students who created them. I could use a secretary but the department is already underfunded, so I don’t expect much help. I may be distracted this week, but there will be a place for you in the back of my mind.”
And what exactly did that mean in ‘guy-speak?’ she wondered. She read the rest of his email:
“You need some regular ‘cufftime’. In the evening when you’re alone, I want you to wear your wrist and ankle cuffs for a couple hours, if that works out with your schedule. Be sure to wear them as you’re up and about the house, not just sitting in your chair, watching TV. Get used to their weight and what they mean. You’ll let me know how they feel.
Enough for now.
The only thing I regret is not having the chance to see that mark on your ass. Slaves need to be marked from time to time. I’ll be doing it again soon. Good night, slave. Master”
Jeni thought about ‘cuff time’ all day – at the office, in the break room, during the drive home – ‘cuff time’ rarely far away. Thinking of the cuffs made it difficult to concentrate on work, though work got done in fits and starts, and moments of wild inspiration. Was there any piece of her life that Jack did not influence?
She went for the cuffs as soon as she arrived home that evening. Like the nipple ties that she tied to the little buds faithfully each morning, putting on the cuffs was an act of service, loyalty and obedience. She certain
ly didn’t need them to remind her of Jack; he was constantly with her.
That night, and every night that week, as she crossed through her front door, she immediately headed for her bedroom and his bag of kinky toys. He liked her naked, so she stripped away her clothes before the cuffs went on; and because she’d stored the dog collar in the same bag, she put that on as well. By that time of day, the nipple ties were loose, so she re-tied them, imaging that she was standing before Jack with his eyes fixed on her chest, the erect nipples, the snug collar and the rattling cuffs.
She obeyed his orders because this was what her master wanted, because it turned her on, because the act paid homage to a deep-seated place in her psyche that had been calling out to her forever. Maybe in another lifetime she’d been a devoted slave. Maybe. But this was present time. Once the symbols of her submission were in place, she looked in the full length mirror on her closet, and stared at the image of submissive female staring back at her. At first glance, she stepped back, shocked by the woman in the mirror. The collar, the cuffs, the nipples ties stood out like blinking neon, attracting the focus of her eyes. She felt as self conscious as she would have been if he’d been in the room watching the transformation. From working woman to slave. Her sexual body quickened instantly. Jack’s idea of slave had become her new identity.
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