by Tara Sue Me
She became more talkative in the hot tub. Especially when I suggested she sleep in our bed for the night.
She twisted in my lap and faced me. “May I ask a question, Master?”
“Yes,” I said, pleased that she felt more comfortable talking with me during a weekend. “Of course. Speak freely.”
“If I wasn’t me,” she said. “If I was one of your other submissives, would you be asking me to share your bed?”
“No. But I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”
“If the bedroom down the hall was good enough for them, why isn’t it good enough for me?”
A strand of hair had slipped from her ponytail and dangled in front of her eyes. I tucked it behind her ear. “You aren’t one of my previous submissives,” I said. “You’re you.”
“I don’t want you to treat me differently.”
“I appreciate that, but everything about you is different. And,” I said, lifting her chin slightly with my hand. “My previous subs were experienced. You are not.”
Her nostrils flared. “And I fail to see what that has to do with anything,” she said, repeating my words to me.
“Are you being petulant again?” I asked, partly teasing, but partly serious.
“No, Master,” she replied quickly. “I just want you to explain it to me.”
I took a deep breath. “Would you agree that our time in the playroom today was longer than ever?” I asked. “And more intense?”
She nodded.
“There can be certain”—I searched for the word I needed—“feelings after such intense and lengthy play,” I said. “It can be hard—coming down.”
She sat, deep in thought for a few minutes. “Is it the same for you?”
“Yes,” I said. “But I’ve gotten used to it. I know what to expect. How I react. And I have ways to deal with it.”
“Would you mind if I don’t sleep in our bedroom tonight?” she asked. “It’s just, I want you to be the exact same with me as you were with your previous submissives.”
“You want to stay in the other bedroom tonight?” I knew I’d never treat her exactly like I did my previous submissives, but I did appreciate the context of her request.
“I’d like to,” she said, running a tentative hand down my chest. I stifled a groan. Sore as she probably was, I didn’t want her to do anything else strenuous.
“Promise me you’ll come to me if you need to talk?” I asked. “Or at the very least, call Christine?”
“I promise.”
“We’ll still talk tomorrow,” I said. “Probably Monday as well. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” she assured me.
“Are you sore?”
“Just slightly.” She shifted in my lap. “Nothing horribly uncomfortable.”
“I want you to take more Motrin before you go to sleep tonight. You’ll probably really feel sore tomorrow.” I’d planned for a very relaxing Sunday, nothing too active or intensely physical. I dropped my lips down to hers and gave her a quick kiss. “You’ll let me know if anything feels too uncomfortable?”
She smiled against my lips. “Yes, Master.”
On Sunday, after I took off her collar, I pulled her to the couch and started rubbing her feet. It had not escaped me that she felt more comfortable talking while we touched, and I wanted her comfortable while we talked. Plus, it helped soothe me.
“Favorite thing we did this weekend?” I asked by way of leading off.
She dropped her head back against the couch and sighed. “When you took me yesterday. It was so surreal. All of yesterday was. I can’t even remember parts of it.” She smiled. “Did you carry me to the bedroom? I don’t remember walking.”
“Yes. You were completely out of it.”
“Is that normal?”
“It obviously is for you,” I said. “I was expecting you to crash, though, based on your previous reactions.”
“I want to feel that way again,” she said, with an evil gleam in her eyes.
“Excellent. I want to make you feel that way again.”
She reached for one of my legs. “Why don’t you swing your legs up here and let me rub your feet?”
“No. Let me do this for you.”
“I’d like to return the favor.”
“Remember when I told you how I had ways to handle my own feelings when I came down?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“This is one of them.” I worked on the upper part of her foot. “It helps me.” She didn’t say anything. “It’s not that I did this with my previous submissives, because I didn’t. I’ve just found it helps with you.” I cocked an eyebrow. “Humor me?”
She thrust her foot into my hand harder. “Sure, as long as you make it good.”
I brought her foot to my lips and kissed the soft underside. “Don’t I always?”
She only shivered in response, so I dropped her foot back down and continued rubbing.
“Least favorite thing we did all weekend?” I asked.
“No question,” she said. “I hate crawling. Hated it. Hated it. Hated it.”
“Really?” I asked. Not that her answer surprised me. I’d noticed her look of displeasure a few times.
“Yes, I don’t want to do it a lot.”
“That’s too bad,” I said. “That you didn’t like it, I mean.”
“You liked it?” She lifted her head up off the arm of the couch. “Tell me you didn’t like it.”
“I liked it,” I said, and she just groaned.
“Why? Why can’t you like me kissing your feet? Why do you have to like the crawling?”
“Because when you kiss my feet, it doesn’t show off your ass.”
“What?”
“I said.” I smiled. “When you kiss my feet, it doesn’t show off your ass.”
“You were watching my ass while I crawled?”
“What did you think I was doing?” I asked. I ran a hand up her bare thigh and tickled the edge of her shorts. “You have an incredible ass.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I’ve never seen it.”
“That’s no problem. I have pictures.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Oh, hell.”
I chuckled. “Want me to get them?”
“No.”
“Later then,” I said, resuming my work on her feet.
“Hmph,” she replied. After a few seconds, she spoke again. “So you’re going to make me crawl again?”
“Is it a hard limit?” I asked, instead of answering.
“No.”
“The fact is, Abby, that I’m the dominant in this picture and I like it when you crawl. But I am glad you’re open and honest about your likes and dislikes. I need that information.”
I knew I would ask her to crawl again, just like I knew I’d have her kiss my feet again, even though it wasn’t something I particularly liked.
I worked on her foot in silence for a few minutes, using my hands to relieve and relax her.
“What was the head thing about?” she asked. “That came from nowhere.”
“It was a mental thing,” I explained. “Something to help keep you in the right frame of mind. I thought it would help you focus.”
“Oh.”
“Did it work?”
“I suppose it did,” she said, and I switched to her other foot.
I ran my hand down her foot and cupped her heel. “I want to discuss Friday night.”
“I should have said yellow when I panicked.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But outside of that, I was a bit too aggressive in my plans, and I’m sorry. I should never have pushed you like that following such a lengthy punishment.”
“I thought you’d be upset with me for not safe wording,” she said.
“That, too, but the safe word wouldn’t have been necessary if I’d made better plans.”
“I don’t want to disappoint you.”
“You safe wording could never be a disappointment,”
I said. “I can only push you if I trust you’ll yellow or red if you need to. And yes, I expect you to yellow even if you’re panicked and think I’m pushing you toward failure.”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“Promise me you’ll use it in the future,” I said, refusing to discuss anything further until she’d agreed.
“I promise,” she said. “I used green this weekend, didn’t I?”
I thought back to the day before, when I’d flogged her while she was bound to the cross. I’d had a submissive green on me before, and while the use of the word still gave me momentary pause, I’d not reacted the way I feared. Abby saying “green” had evoked feelings of pride and pleasure, for the most part.
“Yes,” I said. “You did. I was so pleased you felt comfortable enough to tell me what you needed.”
“I felt right on the edge of that feeling. You know the one?”
“Subspace. Not from personal experience, but yes, I know which one you’re talking about.”
“I just knew if you went faster and harder, I’d get there,” she said, her eyes drifting to a far-off bookshelf as she remembered.
“And you did?” I asked, wanting to confirm what I knew, but she didn’t answer. “Abby?”
“Huh?” Her eyes came back to mine and she smiled. “Yes, I did.” She slipped her foot from my hands and sat up. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, but I wasn’t finished with your foot massage.”
“I want to say ‘thank you’ with a kiss,” she said, shifting closer to me. “Proper-like.”
Her lips were near mine. I couldn’t help but look at them. “I would say, ‘No thanks are needed,’ but I really want that kiss.”
“Oh, yeah?” she asked, moving to sit in my lap.
“Mmm,” I replied as her lips grazed mine.
She initiated the kiss, and I let her lead, enjoying her tongue as it ran along the outside of my mouth. I parted my lips slightly and tasted her. Her thanks were soft and slow and long. I could have stayed with her in my lap for hours, but I knew she was still sore.
Later, I told myself. Maybe later tonight.
When we finally broke apart, she stayed in my lap, my hands stroking her hair as she leaned against my chest.
“The honeymooners return next weekend, right?” I asked.
“Yes, Friday night. Felicia said something about us coming over for lunch on Saturday the last time she called. I told her we’d see. I wasn’t sure how else to answer her.”
“No need to sequester ourselves. We could go over for an hour or two. We’re always going to have to balance our weekend time.” I rubbed her back. “If you want to go, that is.”
“I’ve missed her.”
“I know you have,” I said. “Just because it’s a weekend doesn’t mean we do nothing but stay in the playroom.”
“Though that would be fun,” she teased.
“Agreed, but I don’t want to push you.” I ran a hand down her back. “Still sore?”
“Just a little.” She shrugged. “Nothing I can’t deal with.”
“Let me know—”
“Nathaniel,” she interrupted. “I’m a big girl and I know my body. I already said I’d tell you. I’ll tell you.”
“Sorry. Just making sure.”
“You’ve already made sure.”
“Let’s change the subject,” I said. “I’ve made a grocery list for the housekeeper. It’s in the kitchen. I need you to look it over and see if you want her to pick up anything else.”
“You don’t do your own grocery shopping?”
“No,” I said, trying to remember the last time I went grocery shopping.
“Never?”
“Not anymore,” I said. “I don’t need to. Why?”
“It’s just weird. Having someone do all that.”
“You’ll get used to it,” I told her. “Besides, between my company and weekend time with you, I don’t have time to run up and down grocery aisles looking for bread and milk.”
“You say that like it’s beneath you,” she said. “You know most people do it and don’t think twice about it.”
“Are we going to argue about grocery shopping?” I asked. “Really?”
She stilled in my arms, weighing her words or actions, perhaps. “No,” she finally said. “I don’t want to argue with you.”
“Good. I don’t want to argue with you, either.” I kissed her again. “Want to go for a walk?”
“Yes,” she said, getting up and stretching. “Fresh air would be great.”
She waited for me that night in our bed, with the sheet pulled up to her neck, a sly smile on her face.
“Hiding?” I asked, crawling in beside her.
“No. Just a little surprise.”
Her shoulders were bare, so I decided it probably wasn’t new lingerie. I couldn’t imagine what else it could be. “For me?” I asked.
She nodded. “You need to unwrap it,” she said, thrusting her chest out.
“Oh, really?” I moved close to her and traced the line of her collarbone. “Well, it just so happens, I love unwrapping my surprises.” I dropped my lips to brush along the same path as my finger.
“Mmm,” she hummed. “Lower.”
“I’ll get there,” I said, swirling my tongue in the hollow of her throat. “Eventually.”
I wanted to ask if she was still sore, but knew it would probably make her angry. If she wanted me . . .
Well, I wasn’t going to argue.
I delicately lifted the sheet. “Whatever could be hiding under here?” I asked, taking a little peek underneath. “Holy fuck, Abby,” I said, momentarily stunned.
“You like them?”
Them were nipple rings, or something very similar, decorating each of her nipples. Unlike a normal ring, these were red and circled her nipple. She hadn’t had them on earlier, and she’d been at the house all afternoon and evening.
“Nathaniel?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, tracing one. “I like them. I like them. A. Lot.”
“I thought I’d see how they were.”
“What brought this on?” I asked, my eyes still firmly locked on her chest.
“Christine’s pierced, or at least she used to be. Did you know that?” She sucked in a breath as I lowered my head to gently tongue her exposed nipple.
“No,” I said. She’d had a bra on the last time I’d seen her in the playroom, and the time before that had been years ago.
“She said it was very sexually stimulating, but suggested these first.”
“Smart woman, Christine,” I said, switching over to her other breast. “I knew introducing you was a good move.”
“Plus, I didn’t want to do something permanent like piercing if you were totally against the idea.”
My cock grew uncomfortably hard. “Piercing?”
She nodded. “Just one nipple, maybe? I don’t know.”
Fuck.
“You were thinking about getting a piercing?” I asked.
“Yes. Do you hate the idea?”
I sighed and brought myself back up so I could look in her eyes. “I think you have a beautiful body, Abby. I’ll admit, the idea of piercing is, honestly, quite a turn-on, but I don’t want you to rush into anything.” I traced a nipple again. “Let’s start with these.”
The sly smile came back. “I have dangles, too.”
“Dangles?” I croaked.
“Mmm.” She rolled over so she straddled me. “Maybe I’ll surprise you with those tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty
—NATHANIEL—
Something had been off all week. I couldn’t put my finger on it, and Abby and I never got into an out-and-out fight, but something was off.
In all honesty, it was a busy week. Then again, they all were. I still attended one counseling session a week, Abby and I had dinner with my family on Tuesdays, and the week prior, she had enrolled us for couples’ yoga on Monday and Wednesdays.
Friday m
orning Sara sent me a reservation reminder for my upcoming business trip to China.
Fuck.
I’d forgotten to mention the trip to Abby. I hoped she wouldn’t have any trouble taking off time from the library. Surely a week wouldn’t be a problem. We could leave early on a Saturday and return the next Sunday night. Maybe we could both take the following Monday and Tuesday off to relax. I’d pamper her with a spa day. She still talked about the one she’d had with Elaina and Felicia prior to the wedding.
A few hours later, I met Abby for lunch at our favorite Italian deli. She’d arrived first and sat at an outside table. I gave her a quick kiss before taking my seat.
“How’s your day?” I asked. I thoroughly enjoyed having lunch with Abby, how it broke up stressful days.
She smiled and took a sip of water. “Good,” she said. “Yours?”
“Same.”
After we ordered our lunch, we made small talk, mostly concerning Jackson and Felicia’s return home and our lunch plans with them the next day.
“I keep meaning to tell you,” I said, changing the subject. “I have a trip planned in two weeks and I was hoping you could go with me.”
“Two weeks isn’t good for me.”
“No way I can change your mind?” I wiggled my eyebrows. “I’ve heard I can be very persuasive when I need to be.”
“I have a conference in two weeks,” she said, hiding a laugh and acting completely unaffected by my wiggly eyebrows.
“That sounds horrifically boring and uneventful,” I said. “Come with me to China. Let me persuade you.”
“You’re going to China?”
“Ah, my powers of persuasion are working. Yes. China.”
“Your powers are doing no such thing,” she said. “I have to attend this conference if I hope to be in line for Martha’s job when she retires.”
“Martha’s retiring?”
“In a few years. Besides, I don’t have a passport.”
“You don’t?” I asked. How did she not have a passport? “We’ll have to take care of that. We can get you one expedited.”
“Because I’m going to be doing so much international travel?” she asked, and at once, the light mood of our lunch was replaced by the underlying tension I’d noticed all week.