Beyond the Black Curtain

by Hayley White

  Before they left the mall, they stopped at the food court where Ever revealed her passion for waffle fries and chicken nuggets. She drank a large coke as well, but even the sugar and caffeine boost was not enough to sustain her energy until dinnertime.

  By the time they returned to the house at sunset, Stroud could see Ever was ready for another nap. Despite her protests, he took off her shoes and settled her down with a blanket on the couch in the small sitting room. She dropped off almost immediately.

  Her fatigue didn’t surprise him. She was wearing a brave front, but she was under considerable emotional strain. Requiring her to stay the whole week-end was an enormous demand but two days of intensive interaction would reveal things that might otherwise take him weeks to discover.

  While Ever slept, Stroud made a few calls. By the time she awoke, dinner was nearly ready. She asked and was granted permission to lay and light a fire.

  A light supper of soup and quarter cut sandwiches was served on the floor by the fireplace. Ever was subdued throughout the meal, disarmed by the fact that she’d been stripped, collared and manacled before they began.

  It was amazingly difficult to eat, arrayed like that. She could not even bring herself to meet Stroud’s eyes. He didn’t press the issue. He merely studied her measured gestures, the way her eyes fixed on the leather bracelets every time she reached toward her plate. It was interesting and beautiful to observe the depth of passivity achieved by this simple exercise in dominance.

  Following their after dinner cigarette, Stroud stacked the dishes on the tray. “I want you to go to the other room,” he said. “Kneel and wait for me. I think you know where...”

  Ever rose on unsteady legs and headed down the short hall. She crossed to the corner, hesitated, then knelt on the plum carpeting, hands on her thighs. The room seemed as cold and imposing as it had the previous night – even more so from her position on the floor. When Stroud came in a few minutes later, Ever instinctively glanced up.

  Stroud’s eyebrow arched slightly. “Do you recall what you were told last night about the positioning of your head?”

  A jolt of fear shot through her and Ever instantly bowed her head, then, remembering, lifted it slightly, keeping her gaze lowered.

  “I don’t expect you to forget that again. Spread your knees,” he said and Ever obeyed. “Further.”

  Ever opened her legs wider.

  “Is that the best you can do?” he asked and Ever forced herself to separate her thighs as far as possible.

  “Better,” Stroud said. “Always perform to the best of your ability and I will never have reason to doubt your efforts.”

  Ever nodded.

  “Cross your wrists behind your back.”

  Ever did so and Stroud bent to adjoin the manacles with the linking chain. Ever shivered. The subtle scent of his cologne made her think of tuxedos and champagne, evening gowns and soft music.

  “Keep still,” he said and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Sounds of cupboard doors, bottle caps, ice cubes against glass. He was making himself a drink. Ever suddenly felt like a rum and coke and another cigarette. The desire for these things was intensified by the realization that it would be inappropriate to ask for either at this moment. She caught herself just in time, repositioning her turning head as Stroud passed through on his way to another room. He soon returned, taking a seat on the far end of the couch. There was a sound of shuffling papers, but not the leaves of a book, she thought.

  Minutes passed. Warm, prickly perspiration collected between Ever’s confined arms and her body. Her heart thudded with a heavy cadence. More papers shuffled. She burned to glance up but dared not, lest he catch her movement.

  What would he do if she moved?

  That is not the issue, she told herself. This was a test for her. It would be wrong to turn it into a test for him. He’d told her to keep still. No matter what he did, he could not enforce the command. Only she could enforce it with her will to obey.

  She’d never imagined something so simple could be so hard. She wondered if he checked on her intermittently as he worked on his papers. Or perhaps he’d forgotten her entirely.

  “If I’m not mistaken, you haven’t had an orgasm yet this week-end.”

  The room was suddenly much warmer.

  “Well?”

  Ever shook her head. “No, but I’m content.”

  “I don’t see how you can be content,” he said softly. “Naked, shackled, displayed as you are... Either you’re made of stone, or you’re a liar. Which is it?”

  I’m a liar, Ever thought. A bald faced liar. Everything she thought, felt, or was, had shifted down to her groin. Slight spasms of desire had already commenced.

  “You claim to be content, but already you want to move, to close up, conceal yourself...”

  Red heat crept into Ever’s cheeks.

  Stroud continued softly, “You ask yourself: What will happen? How long can I possibly resist the sight of you like that? And when I give up my resistance, what will happen to you? Don’t move! Don’t you dare move...”

  Ever hung on, strictly controlling the urge to pull her knees together. Her palms were damp.

  Stroud got up then. He came over and sat on the floor beside her. He’d brought the white towel and set it down between her spread thighs. Leaning in close, he caressed her breast. Ever’s heart picked up pace.

  “Tell me,” he said, stroking. “Did you move at all while I was out of the room?”

  “Yes,” Ever whispered.

  “I see.” He touched the other breast. “Did you do it because you knew I wouldn’t see it?”

  “No. I...”

  “What?”

  “I heard you in the kitchen. I was...thinking of a drink. And a cigarette...”

  Stroud smiled slightly. “You’re accustomed to being able to gratify yourself at will.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “Discipline improves with practice,” he said, his hand dropping to her thigh. “And are you still thinking of a drink?”

  Ever’s lips pursed. “No.”

  “Cigarette?”

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  He continued stroking her thigh while Ever tried to control her breathing, which was coming in shorter tugs. With each pass, his hand worked higher up her leg. Even though it was the only thing strictly within her permitted range of sight, Ever dared not watch its progress. Tension was seeping into every muscle of her body and she was beginning to wonder how long she would be expected to maintain position.

  At last Stroud’s teasing fingers contacted the part between her legs. Ever gasped slightly as he drew forth the tender inner lips and compressed them gently between his fingertips.

  “Tell me, do you masturbate when you’re alone?”

  “Yes,” Ever whispered.

  “And when you do, are you satisfied with just one? Or do you go for multiple orgasms?”

  Ever groaned.

  “How many times do you come when you’re alone? Two? Four? More than four?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Stroud’s fingers spread the delicate lips apart. He picked up the towel and touched it against the area he had primed. Ever gasped again, her eyes closing as her head dropped lower. Slowly, gently, Stroud began to stroke the rounded edge of the folded towel against the sensitized tissue, closely gauging Ever’s reactions. The accumulating tensions were now visibly apparent and he was positioned well enough to monitor the curling of her hands into fists behind her back.

  Ever cringed at the idea of contact with the rough toweling, but Stroud maneuvered it so subtly that, what she had perceived as a potential irritant, turned out to be a breath of sensation that was barely noticeable.

  She was wrong about that. Within a few short seconds, she was near orgasm. But how could it be? She must have been half way there before he even got off the couch!

  Stroud noted Ever had stopped breathing. Every muscle was locked. She was very close.
He paused momentarily, drawing the towel away. A tiny puff of air escaped as her compressed lips parted slightly but that was all. She was perfectly poised on the brink and it would take something more to make her withdraw from the promised release.

  He resumed again with the towel, even more carefully than before, and once again Ever felt herself rushing toward the apex. Her head bowed a fraction lower and Stroud proceeded cautiously, hoping to catch her at least once more before allowing her to tip over into the abyss.

  No such luck. Another small breath pushed out of her and, although he had already taken the towel away, he was sure he had not moved quickly enough.

  It was the quietest, most passive orgasm he’d ever witnessed. There was nothing at all to indicate it was even occurring.

  Ever was utterly still, floating on a sensation that must have been entirely internal. Stroud waited and watched until the last of her pent breath gushed out, taking with it most of the stored physical tension.

  He reached under and swiftly penetrated her, setting up another brief bout of internal contractions. Ever’s eyes snapped open. He worked his hand in a quick, circular motion, gratified by the soft moan his attention solicited.

  “How quiet you are,” he remarked.

  Ever whimpered, unable to respond to anything but the movement inside her. She felt so tight but, as he continued, she began to loosen. Stroud extracted his hand, returning his concentration to external stimulus and Ever’s tensions were instantly renewed.

  He began talking again and Ever’s replies came as abbreviated breaks in line and action, like the dots on ‘i’s’.

  “You’ve never had to do anything like this before, have you?”

  “No—”

  “But you do it now...”

  “Yes—”

  “You do it for me.”

  Ever opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

  “I know,” he said gently. “It’s impossibly hard.”

  Ever’s eyes were closed again.

  “I think at this moment, you might do just about anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

  “I…”

  He smiled slightly. Sentences would be impossible for her.

  “You’ve never really been dominated before, but it’s what you desire.”

  There was a funny tight sound in her throat.

  “And I want to see you submit. I want you to submit again for me now. Will you do that?”

  “Yes--” she whispered.

  “Good girl. I want to know if you are always so quiet when you climax...”

  That strange, restricted sound again.

  “And, this week, I want you to stop masturbating.”

  The tension in her body intensified when she heard this, but she was still unable to open her eyes, so controlling was his caress.

  “I don’t want you to touch yourself like this. Understand?”

  “Yes…”

  “The next one to touch you this way will be me. Correct?”

  Now there was a small, strangled mewling and she began to tremble.

  “You will obey this one small request. Tell me you will.”

  She sucked yet one more breath into lungs that surely had reached capacity.

  “Tell me, Ever.”

  “Yes!” came her shout and she broke through with sobs. She jerked forward but Stroud kept her in position by his grip on the collar.

  This one was anything but quiet. It was vocal and fraught with a struggle resembling the expulsion of a minor demon. Her involuntary roars ricocheted off the walls and she bucked so fiercely, Stroud feared she might be strained.

  At last, she passed through a series of diminishing convulsions and began to relax, but only slightly. Stroud continued caressing her, taking advantage of the flow he’d stimulated. He kept his movement slow and subtle, just enough to keep her riding the golden glow.

  When she ebbed to a point he believed she might regain control of herself, he slipped his hand under and penetrated her again. Ever arched back with a gasp as he worked her with the same aggression as before. Ever was reinvigorated with sensation, catching breath in loud, rhythmic pants.

  “You’ve made me a promise,” he said. “Will you remember it?”

  “What? Oh...yes. Yes!”

  “And will you keep it?”

  “Yes! Yes!” Ever cried, helpless to do anything else.

  Stroud smiled. “Yes, I believe you will. You’ll do it because you think it’s important to impress me.”

  He played on her passion until her energies, once again, abated, then released her slowly, allowing her to slump, still quietly panting.

  He sat with her as she gradually quieted down. The recuperation was slow and it was several minutes before she attempted to straighten up. She kept her eyes downcast, as though embarrassed, doing what she could to communicate without looking at him. He stroked her head.

  “More settled?”

  Ever nodded. “Please...”

  “What?”

  “Water?”

  “Of course.”

  Stroud fetched a glass of water from the kitchen and held it to her lips. She took only a couple of sips and, as she nodded to indicate satisfaction, Stroud caught the merest involuntary glance from her. He recognized it. The look. That one was ‘Please release my arms.’

  He obliged immediately because tonight she didn’t know that the look was more than was permitted, and that requests of this kind were seldom granted promptly.

  She was relieved to be released from the binding but, soon after, he made her stand. She waited in the corner until he was ready to take her upstairs to his bed, where he opened her again for his own pleasure. She moaned beneath him, clinging on as though she’d awaited this moment a hundred years.

  When at last she lay, soiled, depleted and ready for sleep, Stroud reached for the light switch.

  “Remember your promise,” he said, finally allowing her to slip beyond a curtain of darkness.

  ***

  On Sunday evening Ever allowed Stroud to drive her all the way home. She didn’t invite him inside and Stroud didn’t ask. He merely kissed her good-bye, assuring her he would call during the week.

  The arrival home was anticlimactic, but Ever was relieved to reach the sanctity of her apartment. Mingled with relief was a sense of loss and the shadow of loneliness that had haunted her before she met Stroud. She had now stepped into another world and, although she wasn’t really comfortable there yet, the return to this dreary neighborhood was a shock.

  The apartment seemed empty and drab but it was home. Here she could drop all pretense and act precisely as she pleased. She set her alarm and climbed into bed, too weary to consider the possibilities of how much her life was about to change.

  ***

  During those first weeks there was a complete shift in Ever’s reality. It wasn’t the things Stroud did to her when she was with him so much as the effect the relationship was having on other facets of her life. Her encounters with Stroud were so intense that, after only a few brief hours under his detention, she discovered certain aspects of his influence were already taking hold.

  Even when he wasn’t with her he was present, every minute, wherever she was. It was an interfering distraction, like a dull static that constantly hangs on the line. Suddenly, everything else in her life was in second place. When she tried to focus on the task at hand, something would remind her and she would find herself drenched in the warm envelopment of her condition. She might drift like this for minutes at a time, lost to the present. Sometimes people actually had to call her back and she could not answer their inquiring looks.

  But it wasn’t only the head storms. There was physical affliction. She was sore, a soreness that turned up in places she hadn’t foreseen. She had to constantly watch herself, since the simplest movement might be sufficient to make her gasp. She knew the pain was a deliberate measure to keep her in a constant state of awareness, but it was difficult to adjust to. At times she felt angry and si
ncerely wished it away, but the pain was an intrinsic part of the experience and something she had expected from the relationship.

  The stress drained and exhilarated her at once. She had trouble eating and sleeping. Mundane household chores were performed in a state of absentminded agitation. No task was executed with perfection – unless enacted specifically in consideration of her relationship with Stroud. She existed in an emotional paradox between rapture and trepidation and Stroud’s calls were anticipated almost as anxiously as his arrival at the curb outside her apartment on Friday evenings.

  ***

  It was a long drive to Stroud’s place. Ever didn’t know exactly where it was, which sharpened her apprehension. They made the journey usually at night and, when they did, it was never just for dinner. Her small bag on the back seat. A few personal things she was required to bring. Toiletries, a change of underwear, if not a full change of clothes.

  It became routine for Stroud to ask her questions during the drive. Personal questions about her past affairs. Intimacies detailing her likes and dislikes. Some of his questions were difficult to answer but he was persistent and, mostly, she was able to come up with the truth.

  It didn’t take her long to realize she had committed to the relationship. She was tired, uncertain of her ability to keep pace with Stroud’s demands, yet there was nothing in her that would consider postponement.

  Chapter Seven

  As the holidays approached, Ever and Stroud agreed, since they were both virtually alone, they would spend Christmas together, a full week’s break for Ever. Ever was delighted at the prospect, her only concern being the issue of gift exchange inherent in the seasonal observance.

  “Naturally, I want to get you something,” Stroud said.

  “And I you,” Ever agreed, “but I really don’t have a clue what to get, and even if I did, I have to admit—”

  “If I may exercise what I perceive to be an advantage...” Stroud interceded, saving her the humiliation of admitting to financial limitations. “I would like to exert a little blackmail.”

  “Blackmail?” Ever repeated, not sure whether or not to smile.