by Mrs. Darling
What about this Atlanta mess? What goodness can I possibly ever pull from living through that hell? Forgiveness? Maybe one day. To never put an imperfect human on a pedestal like I used to do with Leo? Yes. To trust my instincts. To make my voice heard. To stop living a lie.
Then there is this new thing that is really not a new thing at all to me. BDSM. Would I have ever worked up the nerve to approach Leo with these ideas had I not felt like I had nothing to lose? I dunno. Maybe. Maybe not.
I think back to reading The Sex Slave and to the images described in it. The woman being shaved bare entirely from below her eyebrows down, the training of a specific position to kneel in to offer her sex, the whippings. The feeling of a leather flogger being brought down upon her exposed spots.
Now thanks to some gumption and feeling like Leo fucked up so bad he would have no choice but to hear out this secret side of me, we are living it. The more I taste of it, the more I want of it. I want more sex. More pain. More kneeling. More “Yes Sirs.” More control given up. More serving my husband and not being ashamed in it. Leo isn’t just allowing this to happen he is thriving in it too.
This is coursing us. We are changing. We are finding a new normal.
Satisfied that I have entirely spied the mister’s entire past four months of actions and correspondence, I return to the hotel bedroom and listen to Leo lightly snore as I have so many times before. I plug his phone back into the nightstand not making effort to conceal the fact that I have perused it while he was sleeping. He knows that I check in on him and offers access to everything of his without restriction. When working with Ruth, we discussed what things we would need to change in order to start moving forward and this was one of them. Full disclosure. Full access.
I lay down next to my hunk of a husband. It’s clear as day that where we are heading is where we should be. He is a Dominant. There is no denying. I am a submissive. To the ever living core of my soul. I wrap an arm around him and he shifts, turning to face my direction, and he engulfs me in a sleep-filled embrace.
I close my eyes, relieved, telling myself that I can rest now. I’m satiated. I have a brand new, positive outlook on life. But try as I might, my brain ignores my orders and like a neon sign flashing bright repeats:
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice...
Chapter Eight: Punishment in the Air
2 Months Later
I am running at a clip on a treadmill in a small Florida gym several months after the first time I laced up my running shoes and bravely ran to a new beginning. Months of marriage counseling every week. Months of brutal honesty. Months of learning how to undo thirty years of being told to be a certain way in order to be accepted and proper. Blissful, content months of the Donnovans spending every moment that is not dedicated to work or family diving headfirst into the world that is D/s.
Dominance and submission. The sound of the words is like a sigh of relief. This is becoming where I belong. I feel freer than I have ever felt. Since our weekend away in Orlando I’ve begun transforming into Leo’s ideal sexual temptress. I walk a fine line in my playful bedroom demeanor.
There are times when I automatically do as he requests and bathe in the warmth of his positive affirmation like a cat sunning in a sunny mid-afternoon window. When he says to put my mouth around his cock or bend over, I do. I allow him to maneuver my body and we create a means of communication that’s incredibly intuitive. He leads the dance I follow, noting just a split second after he makes a decision to change my direction and follow suit.
I feel important and worthy and tended to. I feel cherished and loved. When you submit to somebody and offer them the world the natural turn of events is that they are so fulfilled, they return the favor in kind and you are given everything you need.
It is called power exchange (PE, or total power exchange, TPE) and more than anything Leo and I have explored it is where we are focusing our learning and practice.
I give him his power by relinquishing mine. Without me, there is nobody to dominate. Without him, I have nobody to submit to. We exchange power in the bedroom and it is now seeping into our daily, non-sexual lives.
I balance my proper submissive attitude with times of appropriate smart-assedness. One of Leo’s biggest concerns so far is that I will change too much, become too docile, become a doormat. The mister likes having a wife who is smart and poignant. Who can debate with the best of them and hold her own. I maintain these qualities. We continue our natural banter and fun.
As a submissive, as Leo’s submissive, I begin to hold myself to higher standards than I ever did as his wife or girlfriend. I want to look my very best for him (and let’s face it, for myself too) so I focus on healthy eating. On exercise. On making sure that at minimum when he arrives home to his wife and daughter after a long day in the real world, I am showered and shaven, wearing a touch of makeup and my hair decently styled. Each night I add a spritz of the perfume he gifted me not long ago between my breasts. Who says you can’t smell sexy while sweeping sand out of the kitchen? Looking good and smelling good sometimes means feeling good and damn, I feel good.
We still learn so much every day and “things” have begun to infiltrate our small beach house master suite.
After a nervous trip to a hardware store, convinced that the elderly man cutting the nylon rope down in 10, 20, and 30 foot lengths had to know what we intended to use it for, we raced home to watch instructional videos on how to tie me up properly. Leo was a quick learner and after several tries can now hogtie me tightly. Or get my arms suspended above me, tied to a plant hook with the azalea basket removed on the lofted back porch of the beach house, leaving my heart hammering at the fear of being exposed. The exhibitionist in me is getting stronger.
While at the hardware store getting rope cut I also picked up duct tape, clothespins, and at the last minute asked for wooden paint stirrers. Once you start looking around with a more analytical eye, many ordinary things can be used for kinky purposes. I have now been spanked with the back of my hairbrush, the leather belt slid from Leo’s suit pants at the end of the work day, even the television remote.
Our nightstand has become overflowing with lubricants and a new vibrator that is more intense than anything I have ever held against my body. We created a “tool box” out of an old suitcase. In it lie these new devices of pleasure and pain. There seems to be two distinguishable types of impact sensation: things that sting and things that feel like a “thud.” I like the sting better. The bite. The sharp pain that causes me to lose my breath for a moment. Shiver.
I wonder about meeting other people in our local BDSM community. What would they be like? Would they judge us? What it would be like to stand in front of them nude in a local lifestyle club that I now know exist and be paddled by my husband?
Here I am at the gym like most days, running off what remains of the baby weight, glad to have an hour to myself every day. I’ve started learning yoga, focusing on relaxing and toning my body up.
Two miles down; one more to go. Knowing my baby is in safe arms at the tot-drop and feeling my running feet take over for my body, I am able to think about my upcoming first wedding anniversary.
Leo came to me about a week ago and brought it up, asking what I would like as a gift or to do as a celebration. I made a shitty joke, something about, “Well, better make it good, it may very well be our first and our last,” and after watching his handsome face drop in sheer disappointment and pain, I made a commitment to him to let go of the remaining animosity from Atlanta.
I’ve become determined to make the anniversary exceptionally special because, though it may have pained him to hear, it may very well be true. I set up reservations at a local fine dining restaurant and have been hard at work putting together the perfect gift for Leo.
We decided to do traditional anniversary gifts, meaning the first year is to be a “paper” gift. I knew precisely what to give and have been secretly working on it since. I am wondering what to wear and daydreaming about what paper
gift Leo may get me when my phone rings from the cup holder on the treadmill.
I see Leo’s face and simultaneously lower the set speed and slide the button on the smart phone screen to answer.
“Hello!” I gulp into my phone, leaning forward with my head down and one hand on my hip, the other holding my phone up while I fight off the stitch in my side from stopping the sprint.
“Chloe.”
I hear my husband’s no-nonsense tone coming through the phone. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.
“What’s wrong Leo?”
I can hear the wind blowing behind him through the phone and I can picture him pacing outside of his office building. He is readying to have a conversation that others cannot overhear.
He demands: “Have you been masturbating without me knowing?”
Even though we have not made things “formal” with a Dominant and submissive arrangement, my insides turn to ice. There is no choice but to answer honestly.
“Yeeeeah?”
He sounds curt as he says, “I thought you told me that you were going to come only at my will, at my hand. Darling, we will address this tonight. Have no doubt.”
Click. I stare at my phone while slamming the big red “stop” button on the treadmill to run to the bathroom and release my bladder. I am a little in shock and maybe my masochistic side is curious, of all horrors. I am going to be punished.
Leo is the latest he has been since working for his new company. Dinner is long over, Emily asleep, and I sit alone turning over the issue in my mind. Leo and I haven’t agreed to make things full-time yet but ever since that drive to Orlando we have worked under the arrangement that I ask for permission to orgasm every time we have a sexual encounter.
But masturbation... have we set that in stone yet? I rack my brain. Leo and I have discussed so much over the past few months it is honestly hard to keep track. What will my mister’s punishing me feel like? Will he spank me? Scold me?
I burn some nervous energy taking a shower. I dry my hair straight (sigh, I still need to put a beauty day on the calendar, the color is so drab and my split ends are outta control) and put on a clean nightgown with nothing underneath. I hear Leo’s car pull into the parking area underneath the house.
I meet him at the front door and watch him walk in. In his hands are his keys and an unfamiliar brown paper bag.
I look to him with a smile and cheerfully say, “Heya, mister! You hungry, Sir?”
I see the corner of his lip go up into a crooked half smile and he shakes his head. His tie is already removed, he’s rolled up the sleeves of his navy blue and white pinstriped business shirt, and the first few buttons are undone from the top.
He sets the items down and begins to remove his wingtips and unbutton his shirt, “Not now Chloe. Meet me in the bedroom.”
I turn and head there and sit on the end of the mattress. He follows shortly after in just his black suit pants. The brown bag holding I-don’t-know-what comes with.
He sits next to me and kisses me on the forehead, whispering closely, “Get on your knees. I wanna talk.”
I give him a dubious look. I’ve knelt to him many times now. I have continued to shower with him whenever possible, cleaning him first and then he gets out chatting while I shower myself. It’s a nice little ritual we have. Of course I’ve knelt to him for sexual reasons too. But not once has he told me to kneel for conversation.
It feels different; I know this is a pivotal moment for us. This is power exchange. He gave me an order. I need to participate, or not and suffer the consequences.
My body moves, sliding my butt off and dropping to my knees. I smell my freshness mixed with his smell of outside world and it melts my heart. I look up to him.
I am entirely intimidated by this man. Not scared of him, God no, not afraid. But looking to him from this position of vulnerability, staring at his manly chest with the right smattering of dark hair there, I am blown away by his masculine energy, by how oversized he feels in front of me. He is tremendous.
Expecting to see anger, I am surprised to find him looking at me with a bemused expression. We do have the conversation I have thought about all day but it begins with another train of thought I’ve also focused on.
“Darling, are you excited for our first anniversary?” Leo asks.
“Uh... yeeees...?” I answer with hesitation.
“Me too,” he says. “I’ve got the perfect paper gift for you. Just wait.”
Before I can respond he plunges forward:
“I thought we said you were gonna ask permission to come. I went to look something up on your phone last night and saw the... ahem... ‘site’ you were on. Did you masturbate yesterday?”
I blush deeply. We’ve never talked much about self-love other than when I first described The Sex Slave to him and admitted to that fantasy while taking care of myself. We have just always assumed the other did it privately and that was that. I guess in our new lives secrets like this are secrets no longer. It will take some getting used to.
“Yes,” I mumble.
“Do you think you should be punished for that?” Leo asks.
“What’s in the bag?” I throw back at him. I mean, a girl needs to know what she’s up against, right? A bright smile crosses his face before he can contain it.
“Never mind that. I asked you a question and I expect an honest answer. Answer me Chlo. Do you think you should be punished?” Leo states firmly, while keeping my chin up to meet his eyes. Locked stare, I feel something build inside me.
I am no spineless woman. I am strong. I enjoy serving him but I refuse to shut my mouth and be seen but not heard.
“No,” I spew with certainty. “No, I don’t feel like I should be punished. I mean, sure I have been asking permission. But it was never discussed about, you know, when I’m alone. I didn’t know. If that is what you had expected you should’ve said that. Specifically speaking.”
I watch his face register this speech I’ve subconsciously come up with over the course of the day. I finish, he pauses, and then bursts out in laughter.
Wait. Do Dominants laugh? Can we be silly and serious at the same time? I join in, tittering nervously.
Once calm he says, “Ok. You’re right. Come here.” His arms motion me into their embrace.
I hop off my knees, stretching out a little bit and curl up in his lap. I tuck my head into the crook of his neck and feel his hot breath in my ear.
“Technicality, my love. Let me say it clearly now. I want you to ask permission to come from now on even when you’re alone. If you want to get off and I’m not here, call me. Text me. I want to know. Understand?”
I nod my head under his, affirming both my understanding and compliance. Again, he whispers in my ear.
“Now lay down over my lap. You better not have any underwear on.”
I look to him. “Wha... what are you going to do?” I ask tensely.
He raises an eyebrow and asks back gently, “Do you really want to know?”
I don’t want to know exactly; not knowing is part of the thrill. I answer by simply sliding across his lap and bending over it, feet above the floor and face in the air, hanging like a rag doll. Blood rushes to my head. Leo uses his strong hands to adjust me, perching me further forward. My ass is directly on his lap.
He lifts up my nightgown and rubs a hand over my bare behind. He reaches down and touches my clean gash. He slowly diddles my clit, moving in light circles. His growth beneath me hardens and the arousal gets me damp. He stops and goes back to rubbing my cheeks again.
I tense, expecting a spanking, and find myself tensed for no reason. Instead he asks me a question that sets my other cheeks on fire.
“So. Chloe. What did you masturbate to yesterday?”
I cannot imagine being more uncomfortable. I am bare-assed and have nowhere to hide. So vulnerable.
I stutter it out and even this is hard for me: “P-porn?”
Smack! The spanking comes down now that I
am not expecting it. It wasn’t too hard though and brings a pleasurable tingle across my bum.
“Ah, smart girl. Taking the easy way out. Try again, specifically speaking this time.” Leo directs with a smile in his voice, rubbing circles on my exposed butt while I squirm.
Oh fuck. Did he see exactly what I watched? Why didn’t I clear my history? Has he done this before? I can feel his anticipation and give what I can manage to mutter: “Anal.”
Hard swat. This time it stings closer to pain.
“Ow!” leaves my lips and tears well in my eyes.
In hearing me say it his manhood twitches with excitement underneath me. A broad hand moves over my entire crack, fingertips down near my clit, palm stretching across my opening, and his thumb presses at my anus. My breath speeds up as Leo is introducing himself to an area that has been for the most part forbidden. Apparently not much longer. His thumb puts pressure down over that hole and makes me hold my breath in wait. Horrifically, in want.
“Tell me specifically, now. What did you type in? What did you get off to? What did you seek out?” Leo demands.
I hate it but tears spill over. How did we ever get to be married with child and still so damn embarrassed at having a conversation about sex? I am though; I’m mortified. I feel like the dirtiest whore in the world as I whisper into the dimly lit bedroom, “Anal slut.”
Sniffle. He reaches with his other hand down to the back of my neck and pins me; I am almost in an exact “V” over his knees.
One hand holds me down and the other works at my exposed pussy, fingering me, warming me up, stretching me out, puffing up my clit. Leo leaves my other hole alone. I lose my shame in my sexuality and am overtaken by him. Using three fingers in and out of me, I begin to moan. He increases the speed and allows me to come.
I do, feeling the heat squirt out of me, creating a puddle between the two of us. The euphoria is calming me when his hand leaves my sex and grabs the brown bag.
I lift up to look at what he is getting and he holds me in place, saying only, “No.”
