by Tara Sue Me
“It’s you,” I whispered, glad for the cover of darkness. “You let me be brave and strong and fierce.”
“You’ve only scratched the surface, my lovely.” His lips brushed my cheek. “I can’t wait for you to actually see it.”
“I’m nervous.”
“I know you are,” he said. “And tomorrow, even with your nerves, you will continue to be brave and strong and fierce. Because that’s what you are. It’s what I need from you, and it’s what you will give me.”
All of me. I would give him all of me. Anything he asked for was his.
“Will it help you sleep if I hold you?” he asked.
“It always helps when you hold me, sir.”
He turned me so my back was to his chest once more, and I pressed close to his warmth. His arms came around me, and I fell asleep within minutes.
After Paul cooked a huge breakfast of sausage and pancakes, Christine and I made our way to the den. She held Sam, preparing to feed him.
“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked.
I thought it was nice of her to ask, even considering what she was going to be doing in front of me in a few hours. “No,” I said. “I don’t mind.”
I hadn’t been around many babies before, much less watched a woman breastfeed. She deftly situated Sam and flipped a thin blanket over her shoulder, hiding most of the feeding infant.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “He’s a big eater,” she said after a few minutes. “Gets it from his father.”
I nodded, but seeing no point in waiting, launched into one of the questions I wanted to ask. “How do you and Paul still play with a baby?”
“Not as often as we used to. That’s for sure.”
“You don’t do the weekend thing anymore?”
“No,” she said. “It hasn’t really worked with a baby. For now we use the playroom when we have time—which hasn’t been a lot lately.”
“With good reason, though,” I said, nodding toward Sam.
“Oh, yes. I wouldn’t change anything.” She thought for a moment. “Well, not much. I might change the amount of sleep I get. And the constant leaking.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Do you know how strange it is to wear a bra in the playroom?”
“We only started playing again last weekend,” I said. “But yes, I can see that.”
“Listen,” she said. “I’m a very open and honest person. Do me a favor and tell me to knock it off if I give out too much information.”
“You’re fine.”
“The first time we played after Sam was born, about four weeks ago, I didn’t wear a bra and, well . . . leakage. I’ve very rarely seen Paul look taken aback.” She giggled. “But the expression on his face was priceless.”
I tried to picture the unflappable Paul looking taken aback and failed.
“What did he do?” I asked.
“He cleaned it up,” she said. I pictured washcloths and paper towels. “Afterward, he said it tasted almost sweet.”
I felt myself blush.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “That was too much.”
“No,” I said, wanting to hear more about her and Paul. “Just unexpected, although maybe we should start with something easier. I want to hear about how the two of you work. Tell me how you met.”
“Paul’s very well-known,” she said, and I got the impression she told this story often. “His reputation preceded him. Probably much the same as Nathaniel.”
I nodded.
“I met him for the first time, here actually, at a meeting,” she said. “I’d been a submissive for a good number of years, but I was between relationships at the time. He asked for my help with a demonstration a few weeks later. I know Nathaniel is your first dom, but trust me, when you play with someone experienced”—she shook her head—“it’s amazing.”
I doubted anyone else could make me feel the way Nathaniel did, but I refrained from saying so.
“We played casually for a few months,” she said. “And eventually moved to a weekend arrangement. We started dating, and well, the rest is history.”
“Nathaniel said you had a twenty-four-seven Dom/sub relationship once.”
She nodded. “After we started dating. There were some parts I really enjoyed, but I don’t think Paul liked it very much.”
“I don’t think Nathaniel would either.”
“Would you?”
I thought about that. How would it be to go an entire week as his submissive? To expand our weekend play? Seven days . . . My mind wandered, thinking. So much time. So much we could do.
“Maybe,” I said. “Just for a week or so. To try.”
“Like I said, there were parts I liked. It was a different kind of experience.” She took a minute, switched Sam to the opposite breast and then covered herself again. “I don’t want to see the look on Nathaniel’s face if you decide to tell him you want to try a twenty-four-seven relationship.” She laughed. “Probably not what he had in mind when he said he’d like for us to talk.”
I laughed along with her. “Probably not.”
“The thing you need to remember about Nathaniel,” she said, once more all serious, “is that he’s in love for the first time ever. He’s going slower with you than he has with previous submissives. I know part of that is because of your inexperience, but part of it is he’s afraid of coming on too strongly.”
I definitely believed that. “I know, and I can tell there’ll be times I’ll want him to push harder and further.”
“You need to tell him. It’s your job to tell him when you want things to happen differently.”
“I just can’t get to that point in my head. Not during a weekend.”
“He needs that feedback,” she said. “Although, if it’s more comfortable for you, tell him on a weekday. There’s no rule you can’t talk about your weekend time on a Wednesday night.”
“That’s what I need to remember. It’s feedback. Not telling him what to do.”
“Right. The ultimate decision is still his, but he can make more informed decisions if you’re giving him all the information he needs.”
There were other questions I wanted to ask, but just one I really needed to talk to someone about. Someone who wasn’t Nathaniel.
“Can I ask you something?” I asked.
“I’m an open book,” she said with a smile. “Very little is off-limits for me.”
“Canes,” I said, almost shivering at the word. “Tell me about them.”
“That’s rather random.”
I picked at a fingernail. “I marked them down as a hard limit, because I was scared. But Nathaniel really likes them.”
“And you want a submissive’s view on canes?”
“Yes.”
“I’d be surprised if Paul hadn’t used a cane or two on Nathaniel during his mentorship,” she said. “But I suppose his view is different from mine.”
“So you’ll tell me?” I asked, very interested to hear what she thought about the scary-sounding items.
She nodded. “Now, Paul’s punished me with a cane before, and that’s something completely and totally different. I don’t like that use of the cane at all.”
“You can use canes for reasons other than punishment?”
“I know several people who enjoy it when a cane’s used on them. I’m one of them.”
“Really?”
“It’s all in the technique, and Paul has the most amazing technique. And Nathaniel learned from Paul.”
I didn’t say anything.
“I won’t lie to you. It hurts,” she said. “But so do spankings, right?”
“Right. But I like the spankings.”
“In that case, when and if you ever feel comfortable with canes, you’ll probably like Nathaniel using them,” she said. “If he builds up to it properly, that is.”
“Builds up? Like a warm-up spanking?”
“Yes, like that.”
“Mmmm,” I said, by way of reply. I’d put that aside
to think about later. Canes for pleasure? Who would have thought?
The doorbell sounded right as Christine took Sam out from under the blanket and straightened her shirt.
“That must be Mom,” she said. “What perfect timing.”
After Christine’s mom left with Sam, Nathaniel and I went back to the guest room. He told me he had an outfit laid out for me, but stopped me before I could put it on.
“Before you change,” he said. “Until further notice, library time is over. Understood?”
A twinge of desire, lust, and yearning shot straight through me.
“Yes, Master.”
“Paul has certain rules for his playroom,” he said. “You are to wear your hair up. The only jewelry allowed inside is wedding rings. He made an exception for your collar. I don’t want your head down. I want you watching both Christine and Paul. And as an observer, you are to remain silent.” He smiled. “Unless you become overwhelmed, in a negative way, and need to use your safe word. Understood?”
“Yes, Master.”
He leaned forward and kissed me. “Meet me outside our room in fifteen minutes.”
When we entered the playroom downstairs, Christine was already in position. Nathaniel walked over to the straight-backed chair at the edge of the room, and I followed behind him. After he sat down, I sat on the pillow at his feet and tentatively placed a hand on his knee. Christine didn’t move. As I expected, she wore a bra, but was naked otherwise.
I watched her for a minute, letting myself grow accustomed to the sight.
She’s naked, I told myself. She’s naked and it’s okay.
I took a minute to glance around the room—it was twice as large as Nathaniel’s and held more equipment. Much of the room was the same—a refrigerator, a sink, and a large first-aid kit. One shelf held a baby monitor, though, and the realities of playing with a child hit me. I became even more thankful Christine’s mom had taken Sam for a few hours.
I wasn’t sure how many times Christine and Paul had played since Sam’s birth, but I assumed it hadn’t been many. Between the late-night feedings and colic, who would have time? It occurred to me then that maybe Christine and Paul were just as happy as we were to have someone else watch their son for a few hours.
My head swung to the door as Paul entered. Like Nathaniel, he wore black jeans and a T-shirt. The change in his demeanor struck me. He still looked like himself, of course, just more intense.
He walked to where Christine kneeled.
“It’s good to have you back in my playroom, girl,” he said.
She moved her hands to the floor and slid toward his feet. “I await your pleasure, Master.”
“Show me,” he said, and she slid closer and kissed each of his toes, then the tops of his feet. When she finished, she moved to her knees and slid her hands up his legs. “Not yet,” he said, and backed away.
She immediately stopped and dropped back to her original position.
That was interesting. Nathaniel had never asked me to kiss his feet. I wondered why, wondered if I would act as quickly as Christine if he asked me to do it.
But I didn’t have time to dwell on that thought. From behind his back, Paul brought a black leather collar. “I’ve longed to put this back on you,” he told Christine.
She had told me she no longer wore a collar except when they were in the playroom. Pregnancy and childbirth had changed the dynamics of their relationship, and now they were only dominant and submissive in this room, unlike Nathaniel and me, who were dominant and submissive all weekend.
Her eyes stayed focused on the floor. “I have longed for it as well, Master.”
As he put his collar on her, the significance of the ritual hit me. The staking of his claim on her—showing her with both word and deed that she was his. Likewise, by accepting his collar and his claim, she agreed to his temporary control. She gave herself to him. I understood that part from Nathaniel’s collaring of me, but what caught me off guard was the look in Paul’s eyes as he fastened the collar on her. The intensity of his expression—the pride, the carnal longing—was completely unexpected.
Did Nathaniel look that way when he collared me? Did his expression mirror Paul’s?
With the collar fastened, Paul stepped back, eyes still smoldering. “I want you on your hands and knees on the table.”
Without moving her eyes from the floor, she crawled to the table and climbed on top.
I wondered why she crawled. Was that something Paul expected? Would Nathaniel ever want me to do that? To crawl instead of walk?
Paul walked to stand in front of Christine, slipped a ball gag in her mouth and buckled it around her head.
“I’m going to work you a bit harder than I have lately,” he said, his hands softly stroking her shoulders. “And I want to make sure you don’t scare our guests.” He leaned down to whisper in her ear, although we could still hear. “Plus I love the sounds you make through the gag.”
He slipped something into her hand.
I felt Nathaniel’s breath on my ear. “It’s a bell,” he whispered so low, I knew the couple before us couldn’t hear. “It allows her to use her safe word while she’s gagged. If something happens and she needs to stop or slow the scene down, she’ll drop the bell.”
I moved forward slightly. Nathaniel had never used a gag on me before, and I was quite curious. I remembered Christine’s recommendation to tell Nathaniel to push me harder when I wanted and to bring up things I’d like to do.
While Paul went about collecting things from around the room, I kept my eyes on Christine. I would have thought she’d look vulnerable, and she did, but it wasn’t her vulnerability that drew me. It was the beauty of her trust, the grace of her submission. There was an elegance of sorts in her position I had not anticipated being there.
Paul came up behind her and ran a hand down her backside and again, the look in his eyes captured my attention. “You want this badly. I can tell.” He slid a vibrator into her, her moan muffled by the gag. “So needy already.”
My mind spun as it tried to take in what was happening before me. I tried to work my mind around the fact that the man who had made breakfast for me this morning was using a vibrator on his wife. In front of me. I couldn’t look away.
He started spanking her. The sound was light at first, but slowly grew in intensity. I wondered, briefly, how it would feel to be spanked while filled that way.
After a bit, my mind concentrated, not so much on what Paul was doing, but how the two of them looked. The way he completely focused his attention on her. The utter concentration of his expression. There was nothing in the world that existed in that moment for him except her, and I wondered again if Nathaniel looked the same when I gave myself to him.
His statement from earlier in the week came back to me. About how, for the wedding, he didn’t want to be in the mind frame required when I wore his collar, and I suddenly knew exactly what he meant. How intently he must have to work the entire weekend: to keep his focus and to plan all the necessary details. To make sure, above all, that I was okay and cared for at all times.
I shifted my attention to the couple before me, and while what they did was interesting—Paul had switched to a wooden paddle—it was the way they moved that captivated me. They looked to be dancing an intricate dance: his movement echoed and received by her. Her moans, in return, spurred him to further action. What played out before me was a give-and-take I had not expected, and the entire scene portrayed a delicate beauty I had not believed possible.
I was so engrossed in watching that give-and-take, I barely noticed when Paul picked up a flogger. I wanted to be Christine. Wanted it to be Nathaniel working hard to bring me the pleasure only he could. I wanted to play again, now that the image of how beautiful my submission must be was firmly embedded in my head.
Eventually Paul stopped, granted Christine permission to relax, and she dropped her head to the table. He removed both vibrator and gag, kissed her cheek, and whispered something
to her we couldn’t hear. When she looked up at him, the love and trust in her eyes so touched me, I tightened my grasp on Nathaniel’s knee.
I thought back to our first weekend back in the playroom, when he’d cupped my chin and commanded me to look at him. Had I looked at him the same way Christine looked at Paul? Conversely, could I remember Nathaniel’s expression being as fierce and feral as Paul’s? It bothered me that I couldn’t recall it, and I made a promise to pay closer attention next time.
Paul told her to move to the the center of the room, and she slipped off the table to comply with his wishes. The middle of the room held what looked like a complex pulley-and-rope system. I leaned forward again, recognizing from Internet research the equipment needed for suspension scenes. Nathaniel didn’t have any of this in his playroom.
Paul took his time and slowly buckled Christine into what looked like boots, securing her to the ropes and pulleys hanging from the ceiling. It was obvious in watching them that they were a couple who had been together for years. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation, just control fully given and control fully assumed.
Once Christine was in position on the floor, Paul walked to a switch on a nearby wall. Within seconds, the pulley lifted her legs in the air and she rolled up—a smooth, practiced move she must have done many times. When her head hung a few feet off the ground, the pulley stopped. He walked to her, nodded, and she unbuckled his jeans.
I wanted to look away, but I was unable to do so. Then, right as I was trying to decide if I should close my eyes, just before Paul’s zipper opened, a soft scarf covered my eyes. Nathaniel whispered to me, “Sight isn’t the most important part of this scene.”
No, I wanted to yell as soon as I realized I’d be blindfolded for the foreseeable future. I want to see.
But I recalled the beauty and trust in Christine’s submission and knew I was submitting to my own master by wearing the blindfold. Knew he had his reasons. So I sat a bit straighter and concentrated on my other senses.