When he came in, he just brushed his lips against my cheek. “Happy birthday, Sara,” he muttered. And since then, he’s kept slightly apart. I appreciate what he’s doing. His consideration is seriously thoughtful. He’s letting me decide how much I want to announce to my friends, whether I want to claim him as the guy I’m dating, or if I want to keep it under wraps.
Amanda eyes Doug with open interest. She’s the only one who knows I’ve been sleeping with him. When I walk over to the bar to get a drink, she follows me. “Sara, what a hottie,” she drawls. “And, he seems like a really nice guy to boot. Why don’t you bring him out more often?”
How do I explain? I mumble something vague. Thankfully, at this point, my former coworkers Toni and Adam arrive at this point, and I go to greet them, perform introductions.
Toni recognises Doug, gawks at him, then swivels around, looks at me. No hiding the surprise there, her eyes are narrow as she takes us in. I sigh. I’ll be getting a phone call from Toni tomorrow, no doubt.
All of a sudden, I find out I don’t care. Doug sent me flowers this morning. He’s being super-thoughtful right now, keeping his distance, and I find I don’t want him to. I want to claim him. I walk over and sit next to him.
“Having fun?” I ask. I hold his hand, a clear sign that he’s mine. My gesture is noticed, and a few eyebrows are raised, especially by Toni and Adam. But I’m more interested in Doug’s reaction.
He recognises what I’ve done. He smiles at me easily, his eyes are warm, laughing, and attractive. His fingers squeeze mine gently, and he winks at me.
***
Back at his house, in the living room, he hands me a small wrapped box. I raise my eyebrows at him. “You already sent me flowers, you didn’t have to get me anything,” I mumble.
“I wanted to,” he says simply. “Open it,” he encourages.
I had once mentioned, almost in passing, that I spent a fair bit of my Saturdays, prior to Doug, exploring antique stores and flea markets, searching for little interesting bits of inexpensive jewelry. He’s listened, but the earrings and pendant I find in the box don’t look inexpensive at all. The pendant and earrings consist of delicate emeralds set in a gold filigree; a large uncut emerald dangles underneath. My fingers reach out, trace the pendant. It is stunningly beautiful and I am transfixed.
I look at him. “Doug,” I start, protest in my voice. “I can’t accept this, this looks really expensive.”
He ignores me. “Try it on,” he says. He takes the pendant in his hands, puts it on my neck and turns me around so he’s at my back. I move my hair out of the way as he does up the clasp of the necklace.
I can feel his fingers at my neck, and I arch my head back. I want to feel his mouth on my neck. He bends forward and obliges. His kisses turn to nibbles. My knees go weak. “Doug,” I protest faintly, trying desperately to keep my mind on the jewelry.
“Wear the earrings too,” he says. I remove the simple gold hoops I’m wearing and put this pair on. His hands are leading me to the mirror in the bathroom. He flicks the light on, I gaze at the woman in the mirror and gulp. The pendant accentuates my cleavage beautifully. The dangling emerald dips in the swell between my breasts. The earrings provide a brilliant contrast to my dark hair. I look lush. Desirable.
“Doug,” I groan helplessly. “The jewelry is lovely, but I really can’t keep it.” I’m lying. I love the way this looks on me, love the blazing heat that has risen in Doug’s eyes as he looks at me. His finger traces the side of the emerald, making contact with the swell of my breasts.
I swallow. A simple motion but so very erotic.
“Let’s go downstairs,” he mutters.
***
“One final birthday present,” Doug says, sounding amused. “Although, this time, I think it’s as much a present for me. I want to take you in your ass.”
I nod. He has been preparing me for this the last few months and I’ve been surprised he’s waited this long.
I’m standing in the centre of the dungeon. Doug’s lounging on the armchair a drink in his hand. My drink sits on the side table next to him, temporarily forgotten.
This is part of the power dynamic in this room. Doug lounges. I stand, obedient and compliant. I mould myself to his needs, and in return for my absolute submission, he gives me his absolute control. A gift on both sides. In this room, I crave his control more than I can explain.
“Take your dress off,” he says to me. His voice is relaxed, but I can see the heat in his eyes.
I obey, reaching around and unzipping the dress, sliding it off my shoulders, exposing my breasts in my lacy bra, and then wiggling out of the dress, letting it pool around my ankles.
Doug’s sharp indrawn breath as my lingerie comes into view is music to my ears. “Baby, you are so sexy,” he says, his voice hoarse with need. “So very tempting, I just want to throw you on the bed, and push into that sweet little asshole; claim what’s mine.”
I shiver at his words and at the image they conjure. A spike of arousal shudders through my body as I picture myself, bound face down on the bed, as Doug takes me. My eyes are on his, and I can see the heat in his eyes and there is an answering blaze in mine.
“Tempting as that is,” Doug says softly, “that’s not quite what I had in mind for tonight.”
I pout a little at him and he laughs at me. “Do you want to be taken, hard, Sara?” he asks, with a twitch of his lips. I nod. “Claim me,” I beg.
His eyes darken and lust rises in them. I can see him shudder. But then his control reasserts itself. He takes a deep breath and steadies himself.
He smiles at me. “I want your first time to be amazing, baby,” he says gently.
“It will be.” My voice is unwavering. Doug is always generous in ensuring my pleasure.
Doug moves away, and returns with the sawhorse. I’m bent over it, my arms secured to the legs of the sawhorse. A spreader bar spreads my feet, wide, wider still, and just like that, I can’t move, and I’m in Doug’s control.
“First things first, a birthday spanking,” he says, his voice dripping with anticipation. I grin. His voice promises pleasure. “Count them for me, Sara,” he orders.
“Yes, Doug,” I say, my voice compliant. How quickly he has me in that space, that space where the only thing that matters is that I do as he instructs. Where his pleasure is my pleasure, and I ache to serve him.
Whap. His firm hand descends on my tender ass and I jump a little in my bindings. “One,” I count, while his hands run all over my behind, stroking it, parting the cheeks so my twinkling asshole is exposed.
His hand descends again, and pleasure courses through me. “Two,” I moan, a sound of longing and arousal. Now his finger is in my ass, and he wiggles it around, widening the passage. I will myself to relax my muscles. In this, in the dungeon, I trust Doug absolutely. He knows what I need, and how much to push me.
His palm meets my ass again and I count. The spanks slowly increase in intensity, and they straddle the line of pleasure-pain. But his hands always stroke me, his fingers tease my tightly clenched asshole, soothing me into relaxation, and by the time we are done, two of his fingers are deep in my ass, and I am pushing against his hand, craving for more.
I feel lube trickle down. His fingers rub it in and I groan. I’ve come to love the feeling of fullness when Doug places a plug in my ass and I can’t wait to feel Doug in me.
I can feel him undress and then, I feel the head of his cock at my anal opening. “Sara,” Doug says, and I hear the forced calm in his voice. “I want you to push back against me.”
I am happy to obey. I want this. I want him in me. I want to give this to him, to yield completely for him. I push back, ignoring the slight pain, willing myself to relax my muscles.
Doug groans, a primal, animalistic sound. “Baby, you are so tight,” he mutters. I feel him push, and I feel my asshole surrender to his invasion, and his head is in. More steady pushing, and he is buried in me, deep in my body, and he pauses,
I can feel my pussy drip, rejoicing in my surrender. I’ve never been wetter in my life. Never been more aroused. I feel utterly submissive, yet totally powerful as Doug claims my ass and marks him mine.
I move my hips, pleading with him to move, to take me the way he wants. He chuckles, a quiet sound in the dungeon. “Sara,” he mutters, “you never hesitate to astonish me.” He begins moving in me, his strokes initially restrained, but then, as I thrust back at him, meeting every stroke of his with a movement of my hips, he thrusts harder, faster, until he finally erupts in me with a choked-off shout.
His hands are at my clitoris, urging me to my own orgasm, and I shatter while he is still buried in my ass, and I scream out his name as I come hard.
He has claimed me, and I have yielded to him, and there is happiness and contentment in me.
Chapter 14
I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop; a sign that this isn’t as perfect as I think it is.
The other shoe drops the Friday before Christmas.
I’m on my way to Doug’s. I have his Christmas present in my hand. He flies out tomorrow evening to his folks for Christmas, I leave tomorrow for Tobermory as well. I’m humming under my breath, a Christmas carol that’s stuck in my head.
This week has felt different; more intimate. We went out for dinner on Wednesday night, the first time we’ve been out to dinner together. After, Doug dropped me off at my apartment, and I invited him up, also for the first time. He came in, we had a drink, made out on my bed. I shiver in longing as I remember him pulling me down on his lap, kissing me, claiming me as his.
For the first time in a long time, I dare to be hopeful about this. He seems to enjoy being with me. Perhaps I should just take that at face value.
As I’m walking the brief distance from the subway stop to Doug’s house, I get a phone call. I look at the number – it’s Toni. I make a face. Our last conversation wasn’t exactly pleasant. She had been slightly snide about Doug and there were more than a couple of hints that I was dating Doug for his money. Sigh. Not exactly what you want to hear from someone you consider a good friend.
I almost let the call go to voicemail, but then, I tell myself to grow up, and pick up the call. “Hey, Toni,” I greet.
Her voice is filled with venom, and her words make my heart stop. “Your fucking asshole boyfriend just laid us all off. The entire team. Right before Christmas. Tell him thanks, won’t you, Sara?”
***
My shock is visible on my face when Doug opens his door. “You laid off my team? All my friends?” My voice rises in accusation.
Doug sighs, steps aside so I can come in. I obey automatically, but I’m shaking in shock. He pulls me in to his body, trying to warm me up, but I break free. I glare at him.
“Hello Sara,” he says mildly. But his mildness is fuel to my flame, and I hear my voice rise.
“You laid them off the week before Christmas?” I sound shrill.
Doug sighs again. “Can we discuss this calmly?” he asks me, leading the way to his kitchen island, handing me a drink.
I ignore it. Anger is bubbling inside of me. I feel cheated, lied to. It is as if the warm, caring man I’ve been hanging out with was a fake; what is real is the cool, controlled, ruthless executive. The one who lays off an entire department the week before Christmas.
I shudder as I imagine their reactions.
Jason, soft-spoken, the easiest boss I’ve ever worked for. He’d be shell-shocked but reasonable. He always is. Paul has two kids enrolled in every kind of recreational sport; Adam was saving to head off to Vietnam for a year. Toni, like me, was saving for a down payment on a condo. All their hopes and dreams, derailed by Doug.
Doug hasn’t said anything. He’s watching me carefully, waiting for me to finish raging, to calm down. But I can’t calm down, I can’t stop shaking.
Suddenly a thought strikes me.
“Would you have told me? If I was still there? Would you have warned me I was going to get laid off?”
Doug closes his eyes for a second. “Sara,” he says, and there’s a muted plea in his voice.
“Tell me.” My voice is flat.
“Fine.” Doug’s voice is even. “No, I wouldn’t have warned you. I have a job to do; responsibilities. And with that, sometimes, I have to make hard decisions for the greater good of the company. Things that I don’t enjoy doing, but things that are necessary.”
My eyes are blurred with tears. Shock? Pain? I can’t tell. I’m still shaking. I can feel Doug take a half-step towards me, but I push him away. I feel the bile rise in my throat. I can’t bring myself to look at him. I am so angry right now, I’m going to explode.
I whirl around, leave, slamming the front door shut. I can hear him open it behind me, I can feel him stand in the doorway, though I don’t look back. The tears are falling freely now, coursing down my cheeks.
I hear his voice as I walk away. “Sara,” he says softly. “Come back, please.”
But I keep walking.
***
I read his email when I get home, the email he has sent me while I was on the subway.
Sara,
I’m sorry about the shock the news gave you, but I confess I don’t really understand your reaction. Your friends will be fine – they’ve all received a generous severance package; most of them will come well-recommended by us. The job market is strong – they should all land well.
I’m not going to apologise about the necessity of the action– because it was necessary. We don’t make these decisions lightly, Sara, you should know that.
I’m also not going to apologise about your hypothetical question – would I have told you? No. I am an officer of the company; I’m privy to sensitive information that I can’t disclose.
What you should have known without me needing to state it, that I would be there for you, if you got laid off. I’d review your resume. I’d set up meetings for you. I’d provide any and all support you’d need.
I confess I’m disappointed that you ran at the first sign of trouble. Life’s not always easy or fair, Sara, but I’d hoped, especially after last week, that you were in for the long-haul. Because that’s what I’m looking for; that’s what I’d hoped we were moving towards.
I know you leave tomorrow for Tobermory. Have a safe journey, and a pleasant holiday.
Doug.
I curl up in a ball on my bed, and cry myself to sleep.
***
Needless to say, I don’t have the best Christmas. I cry the entire way to Tobermory, probably risking my own life and everyone else’s on the road. My mother eyes my red, blotchy eyes, but thankfully, she doesn’t comment. She feeds me instead. Food is the White family solution to any problem.
It doesn’t work this time. Doug’s email said he had hoped we were in it for the long haul, but he didn’t say anything about wanting to see me again. I don’t know where that leaves us. I’m too afraid to call him or write to him and ask.
I check my email every five minutes, desperately hoping for another email from Doug. It doesn’t come.
It’s ironic. For the longest time I kept my distance from Doug, because I didn’t want my heart broken. And yet, somehow, my heart got broken anyway. The way of the world.
I dissolve into fresh tears.
***
The nightmare is back. Every night, I’ve fallen into bed, and slipped into the same nightmare.
I’m always at the House of Pain. I’m always terrified, in a way I’ve never been in real life.
Doug moves towards me. His eyes are steely. His mouth a cold, hard line. I gulp, try to take a step back, but I can’t move. I shiver in fear.
He’s holding a cane in his hands. He swings it, laughing at the terror in my eyes as I hear the swish of the cane in the air.
And then, the cane comes down on my breasts. A line of fire lights my skin. Again, and another line appears on my skin, criss-crossing the original. There’s no tenderness in this. This is punishment.
He’s moved behind me, and the cane is moving faster now, raising brutal welts on my sore buttocks. I scream, I can feel each stroke leave a burning trail on my skin, and I am in agony. I struggle in my bindings, try to escape.
“Red, red, red,” I sob, but we are in a place where safewords don’t work; a place where there’s no tenderness or love, only pain.
The cane comes away red now; each stroke is drawing blood. I look into Doug’s eyes, search for any sign of warmth. My eyes are filled with tears, it hurts to breathe; it hurts to exist.
“Doug, please,” I beg. “Please…”
He laughs at me, no emotion in his eyes.
I wake up, desolation in my heart.
***
I’m on the phone with Amanda a couple of days after Christmas. We are talking through details of an event we are organizing the day after New Year, a fancy fundraiser for a cat shelter we both volunteer for. It’s a glitzy scotch tasting event, tickets are expensive, formal attire only, blah, blah, blah. Still, rich people come and give us a lot of money, and it funds a lot of our rescue activities. Both Amanda and I have been scotch aficionados for most of our adult lives, and this is a good way for us to showcase some really good Scotch while raising money for a cause we are both passionate about.
Once we’ve worked out the logistics, Amanda clears her throat.
“Sara,” she says, “you sound really depressed. Is everything ok?”
I sigh. My eyes fill with tears, yet again. For over eight days, all I’ve done is cry. And eat my mom’s cookies. But mostly cry.
I tell her everything, right from the start. The House of Pain, Doug, our fight, my nightmares. The whole story. It feels good to let it all pour out. She listens without interruption.
“Sara, do you want to know what I think?”
Amanda doesn’t offer a lot of opinions on my dating life in general. “Okay,” I say. I’m prepared to hear criticism of my submission, of my willingness to let Doug whip and dominate me. But Amanda surprises me.
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