by Mrs. Darling
Leo gives this option back in the dimly lit master bedroom, light shining in from the ajar bathroom door. All I can hear is his voice and the sounds of the waves. I’m apprehensive. Will the spanking hurt? Will sex after childbirth hurt? Will my heart hurt later?
He’s sitting on the bed, holding both of my delicate hands in his large but smooth ones while I stand facing him. Damn him, he is incredibly composed and calm while I simply shake. This is it. The moment I have been waiting for. Still swooning from the two drinks and Leo’s unabashed conversation, the first true revelation of personal emotional information I can recall from him ever, I nod my head yes.
“No my wife. I want to hear it. I want to hear you say what it is that you want.” His right hand begins rubbing my smooth thigh, tracing a line from the bottom of my short dress up to about an inch below where my sex begins.
I start to tingle, and building up the courage to start speaking my desires when they have gone unspoken for so long, I tell him what is easiest, what he just told me: “I want you to fuck me.”
Just saying it makes me hot all over.
“Oh, well that’s a start,” he says smiling and stands to kiss my forehead. The act comforts me.
“If that’s true, begin by asking me to do so. I know how badly you need this too. I hear you at night touching yourself and it takes every bit of strength for me to not help you. I want to hear you tell me you’re ready. Beg for it, Chloe.”
Jumbled emotions overwhelm me: the contradiction in my husband and I, shifting between being virtual strangers as we uncover these new desires and the couple who knows each other so well. My emotions are as bare as my crotch. I can practically taste my want.
“Please, Leo,” I whisper into the semi-darkness, “please fuck me.”
Leo moves his hand onto my mound and cups me, thumb up against my clit and the rest of his hand reaching back, middle finger across my crack, my cunt feeling hot in his grasp, and he moves his other hand around my back, pulling my side against him in a tight embrace.
Straight into my ear: “Again.”
My nipples stiffen inside my bra as I plead, “Please fuck me Leo. Fuck me hard.”
His hand under me goes slick and I start to move my hips but am reprimanded.
“Stop moving. I want you to beg.”
I whimper at having to control my body to his will; this is new for us and it’s harder than I expected. I sound whiny in my own head and try not to as I request, “Please fuck me. Please, please please. Fuck me. Destroy me. Take me. Please.”
I am completely released and gasp at the unexpected cold air on my hot body. Leo steps back and tells me to undress and I slip off my clothes feeling like a slide under a microscope. Looking to him, he spins me to face the end of the bed, our brand new bedding the color of sea foam facing me like a great abyss, and he instructs me to bend over. I fold forward at the waist, feeling stark and vulnerable, and plant my hands at the end of the bed.
Mr. Donnovan takes his foot and uses it to kick apart my feet without saying a word. He stretches my legs out further than I feel comfortable. Ass open. Pussy open. I am trying to get in some way comfortable when his hand lands down for the first time ever.
Smack.
I don’t know how to react or what to feel. I’m embarrassed by how much it turns me on, this fantasy come to life. I’m embarrassed to be spread to these limits. I’m embarrassed to be out of control for the first time.
His hands rub all over my bare skin and it restores me some. He silently strokes my middle back and butt cheeks, moving in a rhythm that soothes my hot backside, and I begin to relax in this position as best as I can.
“You OK?” he asks lightly, continuing the gentle caress.
“Yeah, I think so.” I reply.
“Good,” and he asks, “Are you ready for more?”
I manage a weak, “Uh-huh.”
Leo whispers close to me, “I need you to be honest with me in this. Communicate. You told me at dinner I underestimate how much pain you can take. I need to learn that about your body. But I am not a mind reader. So. I am going to spank you again and I need you to respond each time, telling me how it feels. Can you be honest with me?”
I verbally affirm my understanding and consent and our very first kinky experience gets going. Leo’s hand plants down and it is gentle, more of a love pat, less than what he did moments ago.
I tell him, “Harder.”
I feel his hand leave my bottom, swing backwards, and it comes down again.
“Harder” leaves my lips instantly.
His left hand is on my lower back and I can tell this time he puts effort into it. Swat!
The spanking has enough force to sway my body forward, bringing me onto my toes for a second.
“Ahhh!” is my first response and on the heels of that comes, “Harder.”
His hand moves in small circles on my warm butt and he increases the pressure of the hand on my back, holding me more in place.
I can hear the air move as his arm swoops up and back down. Hard. Painfully.
Smaaaackk!
Strange things happen when you are spanked that solidly; it is felt in more of your body than your backside. It registers in my chest first, strangely, and inside near my heart clenches up and the wind is knocked out of me. My breath is caught up in a strange whistling sound and only then I recognize the sting, the absolute smart that is blunt force turning from a prick to a tingle to a burn, spreading through my entire ass cheek.
It takes a moment to recognize the soft circles of his smooth palm again and blinking back tears in the corner of my eyes, I tell him the truth.
“That. Right there.”
He doesn’t disappoint.
He swings back and lands again on the other cheek using the same force as before and I feel it in my throat instantly, swallowing the pain down as he continues.
I feel my control over the situation disappear and as I am drained of the power, I allow the pain in and feel the pleasure that follows.
My body like a rag doll, he devours me for the rest of the evening, late night turning into dawn. By the time he does as I begged and fucks me, my pussy is wetter than it has ever been without orgasming and I am fortunate for that.
He presses his rock solid staff into my folds for the first time since I gave birth and I am tight, so tight. Tighter than when my fingers entered my virgin self when reading The Sex Slave half a lifetime ago. Upon entry I cry out in pain.
“Oh my fucking God Chloe” comes out of his gruff bedroom voice and I know it’s taking him every bit of control to not start pounding away.
Tears well in my eyes again as he gives my body time to adjust to his presence and we spend the evening re-acquainting our bodies to each other.
I am overcome, and in the end tears of relief and pleasure fall, wetting my cheeks the same way my sheets are wet, releasing the pleasure and gratitude of this unexpected gift I have been so willingly given.
How did two seemingly “vanilla” people happen to click in the way that we did?
Once a person starts becoming familiar with the kink community they learn how vast and varied it really is. “BDSM” encompasses so much; too much to consider listing. Adults who enjoy everything from diapering each other to foot fetishes to shibari rope enthusiasts.
What are the odds that Leo and I are so compatible? That when I came to him and professed my secret fantasy it would be so in line with his desires?
We never compromised; never did things we didn’t want to do in order to please the other. That first night I thought I was the luckiest girl in the world to have found that one kinky man whose interests were so in line with mine and not only found him, but found him and married him before even knowing each of our real desires.
In reality, the odds that we happened to pair up so well in the kinkier version of ourselves were high.
Our foundation didn’t begin that night. The start of our dynamic wasn’t at a seafood dinner when I outlined my l
imited knowledge of “BDSM” and it wasn’t with that first land of his bare hand on my bare behind. It began even before we met.
Leo Donnovan was a Dominant well before he knew what to call himself. It is his natural personality; simply the way he was built. He was always referred to as “the little adult” growing up because he was so responsible, serious, independent in his decision making, and hyper aware of his surroundings.
Leo is the man that when you meet him, you instantly want to be his friend and if you’ve met him once, he’d leave the house at midnight to help you stranded on the side of the road. “The mistake” in Atlanta was so out of character for him and in hindsight it was almost a relief to find a chink in his armor.
Then little old me. Sweet, secretly submissive Chloe, who learned somewhere between adolescence and adulthood to hide every bit of my instinctual nature, mistaking my softness for feebleness, my desire to serve my partner as anti-feminism, my wanting to please a man for being spineless and weak willed.
The reality is these natural dominant and submissive personalities are likely what drew us together in the first place. I reeled under his dominant personality in the beginning and he warmed to my docile self once I let my guard down a little bit.
Societal pressures and teachings combined with being raised in homes emphasizing the opposite of these old fashioned ways prevented us from truly being ourselves. We were both in hiding, both denying who we were, who we wanted to be. When we found each other we gripped each other like two people lost at sea.
Fuck you society. Fuck you for raising a girl to be one specific way and a boy to be another specific way. From the moment that first spanking landed, Leo and Chloe Donnovan said no more. Not us. Not ever again.
Chapter Six: On the Road
Leo and I have a history of taking road trips together. We unplug, put everything else aside, and enjoy being in good company. It’s my birthday weekend in the heat of July and we are on our way to Orlando to celebrate with our little family, Grandma Larchmont included.
I watch the miles pass sitting in true Chloe Donnovan road trip style: barefoot, shaven legs crossed underneath me, hand holding Leo’s, blaring hip hop tunes both of current day and days long ago, throwing in some heavy metal and old time rock and roll for variety. All while belting every tune in a terribly off-key voice.
I am the passenger. I am always the passenger since meeting the mister; he prefers to drive no matter the length of the trip. Shocker. The man likes to be in control.
He sings along equally off-key and we couldn’t care less about how foolish we look to the cars passing by. My mom is driving in her own vehicle with Emily tucked in behind her so the two of us are alone in Leo’s car.
I love my birthday. I enter those days of summer mentally preparing to bid adieu to last year’s happenings and welcome with open arms the future.
It’s been four months since discovering my husband’s affair. Three months into the year I’ve demanded to decide to remain married or not. One blissful month living with BDSM as a part of my life.
The emotional indiscretion still rips at my heart and the decision to stay or go weighs heavy on my mind. But the intermingling of marriage counseling, of being distanced in both miles and time from Atlanta and what happened there, the salt water and fresh air of Florida, and the newfound sexual play with Leo all help to heal.
Leo is trying so hard. I can tell with each passing day just how sorry he is for his mistake and each day my fears of it happening again wane a little bit. He does love me. He doesn’t want anybody else.
Every day is an improvement for us; each activity in trust-building assigned by Ms. DeLuca brings us one step closer to coming home to “us” again.
I am living in the very new and exciting time that is the beginning of a Dominant/submissive relationship. I don’t even really know that this is what is taking place but every day, both in and out of the bedroom, Leo is a little bit more in control and I give up a little bit of it. Each time I relinquish being in charge of something a bit of pressure fades. We are both learning at a speedy clip. Outside of work and Emily, this is how we dedicate our time together.
Reading, researching, talking. More than ever before. Fucking. Better than ever before. Repeat. There is still so much more to learn.
BDSM has its own vernacular. For every single word we search out the definition of, three more appear that we need to define. We start using phrases like “power exchange” and “munch.”
Texts go from me to Leo while he is working saying things like:
What have you learned about the difference between a “Top” and a “Dominant?”
One day while at the playground I hear the familiar notification and Leo’s text reads:
I can’t wait to see your tan body tied up in rope. Soon darling.
I look forward to Leo’s arrival each evening. By day we research. By night we play.
Books galore, as fast as we can take them in. It seems like the brown delivery van is at our door daily, dropping off a veritable library of BDSM books. We read fictional series of Dominants and submissives giving each other exactly what they desire, non-fiction about actually living in Power Exchange, and even seemingly non-related books that pop up in the suggested reading bar of the online store. Books about control, about good housekeeping, about owning your assertive side, about etiquette.
We read at nap time, lunch time, break time, on the toilet. Handing books across the dinner table where we eat in mostly silence, nose in the black and white text of a world that is so foreign to us but feels like a mirage somehow, a blurry eyed fulfillment of the needs of two parched individuals.
We note-take in the books, the mister using his black inked fancy pen I gifted him several Christmases ago and I use a plain old blue ballpoint, as cheap as they come, because the likelihood to lose something nicer after tucking it into my bun and forgetting it there is high. We scrawl question marks and exclamation points and underline sentences that describe us; ask each other questions in the margin. I read his notes. He reads mine. We talk some more.
Each night Leo and I tiptoe away from Emily’s room, closing the door and grabbing the monitor, and like horny teenagers sprint to the haven that is our master suite.
Things have begun to change in our sexual dynamic. Instead of our old way of getting naked (him undressing himself and me undressing myself), now Leo comes to me and strips me bare. Sometimes it’s slow. Dreadfully, deliciously slow. He’d stand me in front of the bed, his serious eyes piercing mine that radiate desire and raise my arms above my head while directing me to “Stay.” His fingertips run down my arms sending tingles along with it while his stare takes me in. Unbuttoning my blouse; taking the time to kiss each inch of skin he exposes.
Other times he strips me down fast and rough, as raw as it gets. The second we hit the bedroom he’ll grab a handful of my lengthening hair and shove me against the bed or a nearby wall. He just rips whatever I am wearing off, giving no care to buttons popping or the sound of splitting my panties apart at the seams. This rough manner is typically accompanied by his teeth biting down on my skin as if he wants to eat me whole.
Either way though it’s his choice in how I am baring my body. The first time I move to help him unbutton the top of a blouse while he is at the bottom he immediately swats my hand away. Hard. Following is a look demanding that I stop moving.
I am learning that Dominance and submission is akin to dancing. There’s a leader and a follower. In order to learn submission, you have to learn to follow. Sometimes this is as natural as breathing. Sometimes it takes practice. I am learning to follow Leo Donnovan’s lead and I love every minute of it.
Smiling on the Northbound I-75 drive I look out the window and see my mother’s peppy coupe in the side mirror.
I turn down the radio to call and check in.
“Ma, how’s it going? She sounds quiet.” I ask with concern as soon as I hear her pick up.
Grandma Larchmont assures, “Oh sh
e’s fine honey. I can see her in the little mirror Leo set up. She’s playing, cooing, simply adorable. Hopefully until we get to the park. I am going to get off the phone, let me go drive. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”
I think my mom has suspicions about Leo and me struggling. As the closest female friend I will probably ever have, it’s hard to not go to her and spill everything.
Two things keep our secrets at bay. First, DeLuca’s advice. Our marriage counselor had advised us that as long as we are unsure about whether we are staying together or not to hold off on telling those close to us. That if I did decide to stay together, I may one day forgive my husband but there is no guarantee that anybody else would understand the reasoning. That we live in a society of people tossing things away when they become broken and that my mom or his family may never understand the hard work we are putting in to fix us.
Secondly, my mom and I never talk personally like that. We are just so different. She is logical, independent, put together. I have always been emotional, incapable of a poker face, wearing my heart on my sleeve. I hide myself near her, the over-dramatics in my personality, the need to feel when others simply think.
She’s been offering up her physical help in exchange for her emotional support. Help cooking meals, dropping off groceries, watching Emily (who is quickly replacing me as Victoria’s new best friend) so Leo and I can be alone.
I know she thinks something is going on with us and she’s right. But I won’t bring it up and neither will she, so she grandparents instead of parents. When she offered to take Emily on the drive up to the amusement park full of dinosaurs and wizards and stay with her in the evenings so Leo and I could go out, we jumped at the chance.
The thought of a weekend alone-ish to focus on BDSM and our changing relationship dynamic seemed like the best birthday gift possible. I look out of the car window and wave good-bye to Mom and Emily as Leo steps on the gas and starts gaining distance through the light Florida traffic in the sweltering early morning sun.
