Harmony's Golden Chain

by Frances Lucette

  Harris put another spoonful of oatmeal in his stepsister’s mouth, wiped the excess off her chin and indicated that she was to drink more water.

  “I’m not sure,” Leonard said. “But one thing I know. I love being in this wonderfully strange and erotic household.”

  Harmony looked at them both with fondness. “Harris has grown into such a beautiful man. I know Leonard appreciates who Harris has become,” she thought.

  Their parents had tried to conceive for a long time and finally decided to adopt. Within a month of adopting Harris, his mother discovered she was pregnant. The physician told her that it happened quite often, and that there were several reasons why. At any rate, Harris adored his younger stepsister and had always felt like he was almost her twin.

  As soon as Harmony finished her oatmeal and bottle of water, Harris lifted her out of the high chair and put her on the floor. Harmony crawled over to Abelard’s chair and wrapped her arms around him. He lifted her up and held her on his lap, snuggled with her as he looked at the increased “family” gathered around them.

  “We are so lucky, aren’t we, Harmony?” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “Not only do you give me such great pleasure in all of the ages you play, but you have a Nanny who can give you pleasures, also.”

  Chapter Eight

  For the next few months, as Harmony grew with their child, she spent more time thinking about the relationship she had with Abelard. From time to time, she and Char played together on the floor while Abelard watched from his large desk in his home office. Sometimes she knew he only pretended to work, but that he enjoyed seeing us together.

  In her meditation times, whether doing corner time or taking a nap to rest her body, she thought about how she had always considered herself to be an analytical, supposedly non-romantic professional woman who scorned anything that faintly smelled like “romance.” With Abelard, however, she realized that it was romance she had craved at the same time that she had turned her back on it. She decided that “romance” meant loving the other person deeply, always enjoying time spent with that person.

  “That’s why I wanted to stay home to begin with,” she thought. “I wanted to be with him more than I wanted to be a CEO in charge of people and commercial activity. That job just no longer held the allure it had at one time. Abelard is a loving, kind, generous, sensitive, self-fulfilled, warm, sexy, non-possessive human being who encourages the same attributes in me.”

  She giggled at her thoughts. “Well, he is a bit possessive, and I love feeling like I belong to him. He is very protective, especially now that I carry his child – our child.”

  The little gold chain around her neck began to take on more significance the longer they were married. It had begun as a lark for them both, or perhaps more for her than for him. When she finally understood that he was serious about their relationship, she sensed that he wanted more from her than she had been willing to give.

  One day, when he came to relieve her of the allotted time in the corner, he pulled her into their bed and cradled her against his shoulder.

  “Have you ever wondered why I wanted to have you in my life?” he said.

  “Of course,” Harmony said. “But it was enough to have you accept me as I was. Have I been all you wanted?”

  “Yes, and more. I grew up around a lot of money. I had servants, and was given anything I wanted, and yet I never had parents who showed me how to love. I was the poor little rich boy with no friends, only my vivid imagination. When you came into my world, you brought something I’d never known – you brought love.”

  “I brought you sex, Abelard. Was that not enough?”

  “They belong together, but they are not synonymous. Our sex life together is fun, even while it is serious. I love being your Daddy at times, but I also love being your husband. And I love being the father of the child in your belly. But I have sensed for a while that you needed more, even if you didn’t know it.”

  “That may be true,” she said after thinking about his words for several minutes. “I have resisted this kind of intimacy between us because of my own upbringing. I was giving you all I thought you wanted, and I never thought you would want something like this with me.”

  Abelard gently rubbed her shoulder and down her arm, saying nothing, sensing she was not finished with her story.

  “As I watched my parents,” she continued, “I always had the notion that relationships were simply sexual, and that love or romance didn’t have anything to do with it, so I distanced myself from it. Now I see that it put a distance between you and me, as well.”

  “It is not a distance that cannot be healed,” he said. “Let me lead you to a path where you can begin to recognize the value of a love relationship that has nothing to do with sex, and yet knowing that sex can be part of our growth – your growth as well as mine.”

  “This is real, isn’t it? We are legitimately married, I am actually pregnant, and we are building a future together, aren’t we?”

  “Yes, it is all real,” he said. “We both have demons in our past that have led us to this point, and we will eventually get rid of them. Loving another person is not the same as becoming dependent on that person; rather, it is a way of becoming more independent because it is freeing you to love with all that you are.”

  “I need time to think all this through, Abelard. It was enough to spend time playing different roles with you, but suddenly the role I am to play has shifted.”

  “Did you think I manipulated you into marriage?”

  “I wasn’t sure,” she said.

  “All I wanted was a legal bond to our relationship, Harmony, and not just an occasional sexual playtime. Take your time in thinking about it, and perhaps I can convince you somehow of my love for you - a love that goes deeper than kinky sex play.”

  “Does that mean we have to give that up?” she asked. “I like that too much to put it on the shelf while we try to act like adults all the time.”

  “Is that what you think I said? If so, then you need a hard spanking, little girl.”

  With that, he pulled her over his lap and started spanking her. At first, they both laughed, but then his spanking became more serious and she knew he was no longer playing.

  Later, when he held her against his shoulder once again, she said, “Thank you, Abelard. I was afraid of losing myself, of becoming entangled in a web of someone else’s making, of handing over the person I believed myself to be. All of that was anathema to me, yet I think I craved the very thing I resisted most. Being a mother may help me drop that barrier.”

  * * *

  Life in the D’Amato household continued as before, even though there was a subtle shift in the relationship between Abelard and Harmony. She still had fantasies of being Abelard’s sexual submissive, of being sexually used by him on a daily basis, of being disciplined when she needed it, but the truth was that she didn’t want that exclusively, either. He still loved watching her have sex with Char, and yet he wanted more of Harmony for himself. He knew it would take showing her how much he loved her and needed her.

  Their “pillow talk” discussions continued as Harmony worked through her feelings about being in a loving relationship.

  “I go back behind that wall of safety,” she said. “I pile another layer of bricks around me, fearful of venturing out and exposing my softness yet another time. I don’t want to keep doing that. Where does that come from? How can I stop? I want to offer my whole self to you, not just a little bit of me.”

  “Do you want to get back to the corporate world?” he asked. “Perhaps being here with me full time has pushed you toward denying that part of you that needs to be in charge.”

  “I don’t think I do,“ she said, “but maybe I need something. I’m very confused. At times I do want that feeling of independence, but then I wanted to be right here with you. Now I find myself wanting to have some significance beyond this house, this role I have with you.”

  “Are you afraid that might take aw
ay the love we have?”

  “I think so,” she said. “And yet, when I allow myself to feel, to really know what it is to love another human being, to open up and be honest, I am frightened! It seems I lose all self-control. Can I really do this the rest of my life?”

  “I have a suggestion for us,” he said. “Let’s take a vacation – somewhere that will give us both a different perspective, something unusual to look at daily, new foods, new activities. We need to do that anyway before you get much further along in your pregnancy, or end up needing to stay home with a newborn.”

  “Where would we go?”

  “I have a few places in mind, so I won’t say anything until I have them firmed up,” he said. “And for now, I think it’s time for you to go back to being my little girl. Go get your nightie and bring it here.”

  Harmony loved escaping into the fantasy of being Abelard’s little girl. Nothing was expected of her except for her to play the role with him, a role that kept her from having to carry so much responsibility. She could turn everything over to him, relax, and make no more decisions. This time, she had something exciting to dream about – a trip with her Daddy Abelard.

  Chapter Nine

  “Wake up, little dumpling!” Harmony woke up to see her Daddy Abelard leaning over her with a big smile on his face. “It’s time for your morning maintenance spanking, then we need to get you into your adult clothes, have a little breakfast, and get ready to leave.”

  “Where are we going?” Harmony wasn’t quite awake, but anxious to see what he had in mind for their trip. “Is Char going with us?”

  “Not this time,” he said. “She will stay here and take care of the house while we are away. And I’ll tell you where we are going once we are actually on the way.”

  “How long will we be gone? How much should I pack?”

  “We’re taking a long train ride,” Abelard told her. “All our bags are packed, all the plans have been made and I’ve bought the tickets.”

  “What about needing to make a decision about going back to work?”

  “That decision will be decided by the time we return,” he said. “Now get up and get over my lap! Quickly now and stop talking.”

  As long as she had been receiving a morning maintenance spanking, she wasn’t sure it was something she would ever learn to love. She enjoyed being over Abelard’s lap, having his hand stroke her bottom after he pushed down her panties, feeling his fingers slide deep into her dampness, but the sudden swat on her bare skin was always a surprise. When he stopped, her bottom was on fire as he led her into the bathroom.

  “Let me help you with your shower before we decide what you are to wear,” he said.

  Usually he took his time soaping her up all over, playing with her slippery body. Today, however, shower time wasn’t as long as usual. He told her he was anxious to get to the train station and be on their way for a vacation.

  He bundled her in a large towel and led her into the large closet to decide which clothes she was to wear on the train. Harmony noticed that many of her favorite outfits were missing, so she assumed he had packed them for the trip. He chose a short and black red plaid skirt for her with a bright red jersey top to match. Red tights with loafers finished the outfit. After she was dressed, he pulled her hair into a ponytail. He lifted a black tam off the closet shelf and plopped it on her head, adjusting it to a perky slant.

  “There,” he said, “you look like a little French school girl. Here is a little purse to hang on your shoulder for a hankie.”

  As Harmony waited for Abelard to bring the car around, Char gave her a hug and said, “Have a great time on your trip, Honey. I’ll miss you when you’re gone, but I’ll have two handsome guys to keep me company.” She smiled at Leonard and Harris.

  * * *

  Abelard had booked the thirteen-day trans-Canada train adventure for their vacation. His plan was to drive ten or so hours to Toronto where they would board the train that would carry them to Vancouver. They would take their time watching the scenery fly by as they made their way across Canada, and make day trips whenever they stopped somewhere interesting. Once they arrived in Vancouver they would drive back to their home in New York.

  The initial leg of their trip to Toronto was uneventful, with only a minor delay at the border going into Canada. Most of Harmony’s life had been in the major financial district of New York City, with very little time to enjoy the rest of the state. Her concerns about missing the corporate life were diminishing with each mile.

  They spent the night in a Toronto hotel, and since they arrived a few days before the tour was to begin, there was plenty of time to ride the trolley, see a theatre production, and eat in many ethnic restaurants. Abelard stayed at her side, holding onto her hand, watching her growing excitement, and giving her a chance to be an adult in his world.

  They wandered into a little shop full of vintage clothing on Queen Street, owned by a Greek woman named Mira (pronounced Myra), which she said meant abundance. Mira was busy preparing for her family coming from Greece to celebrate her birthday.

  The most colorful aspect of Mira was her shop, full of fanciful costumes designed to excite the imagination of adults still wanting to play “dress up.” Harmony saw a gorgeous purple felt fedora on a table and immediately tried it on, visualizing herself as a sophisticated, seductive woman from the early twentieth century. She was transformed immediately, her thoughts creating a silhouette of the typical stylish woman.

  Wearing the purple hat, Harmony twirled around several times, a fantasy taking her back in time to another era. Abelard saw a glaze fall over her eyes and knew she was living in her fantasy world. Gently, he touched her arm to bring her back.

  “Oh, Abelard,” she said, “may I buy this hat?”

  “Of course, my darling. It is stunning on you.”

  That night, after their normal evening bedtime ritual, Harmony curled up against Abelard. The excitement of the trip had taken a toll on her and it took no time for her to fall asleep. Her dream continued from where her fantasy had taken her in Mira’s vintage shop.

  I’m wearing a long slim lavender silk dress that shows off my figure and complements the purple hat. In one hand, I hold a champagne glass and I’m looking over my shoulder at someone. Who is there?

  Ah, I see the person now. He is a Humphrey Bogart type, wearing a black fedora that matches my purple one, and a black pin striped suit. He takes my free hand and leads me onto the dance floor. As we glide and twirl slowly, I continue to hold my glass, taking small sips from it periodically. Suddenly, he takes the glass from my hand and flings it over the wall of the garden, dips me back to kiss my throat, and back up into a spin.

  We hear the orchestra playing inside, we see the fingernail moon rising over a palm tree, we smell the fragrant frangi pani blooms, we taste the champagne that lingers on my tongue, and we touch each other in ways that suggest further exploration. I don’t know his name, and it doesn’t matter. We quicken each other’s senses, we know where this frisson of pleasure will lead us and we don’t fight it. Our eyes hold, no matter the steps that guide us around the flagstone patio, anticipating the final, and inevitable, consummation of our evening together.

  The orchestra segues into a slow waltz, but my mystery dream man pulls me closer, ignoring the “one two three” of the music. His hands slowly run down my back until they cup my bottom. As he lifts me into him, I feel his desire push against the flimsy fabric, teasing my own flaming delta. Our need grows until our feet no longer move.

  Without a word, he drops his hands, takes one of mine into his and leads me into the yard beyond the patio. We wind our way along a flagstone path until we come to a cabana near the lake’s edge. He pushes aside the canvas door and pulls me inside, then ties the sides together so no one will disturb us. His fingers deftly undo the bow on the shoulders of my gown, and he pushes it down over my breasts and hips until it pools at my feet.

  In the latest fashion quirk, I’ve worn no undergarments to
impede his process, and there I stand, sedate and nude, wearing only my purple felt hat. He steps back to admire and begins to mime the posture he wishes me to take. After he is satisfied with my position, my arms are raised and my hands clasped above my head, I am bent forward and my legs are splayed two feet apart. Now I know what his need is and I am willing to offer myself to him in this way.

  His hands touch my back again, modeling my body as if it were clay, smoothing my skin with his elegant fingers. I quiver with excitement, hoping he will find the spot that needs his touch. But he plans to satisfy my urgency on his own time line. I wait, impatient as I may be, until he has finished examining my body. Only after it seems I will suit his purpose does he begin to explore and examine the orifices of my body that burn for his touch.

  I hear his chuckle at my groans and slight movements that beg him to push deeper. His fingers probe everywhere, the moisture inside inviting him to take me, to lead me over the edge. I catch a glimpse of him as he moves beside me. I notice that he still wears the pinstriped suit. I want to rip it off of him, but I wait for my own intense craving to increase.

  He moves behind me, spreads my cheeks and kisses me there in that secret place. Once again, his finger probes, first one, then two, and on the third, I gasp. He laughs as I back into his touch. He moves his fingers in and out, burning. A spasm ripples throughout my body. I cannot control the sound that comes from my throat as I scream out.

  I wait for his body to enter mine and bring me to another culmination, but it doesn’t happen. I am breathing deeply, still gasping at the beauty of the moment, but when I turn to plead with him, he is not there. The room is empty.

  Feeling satiated but slightly embarrassed, I reach down and pick up my dress. There is moisture running down the inside of my thigh, too thick to be my own. I dip into it with my finger and taste it. Semen! Had he truly entered me? Had he not taken out his manhood to use in me? As I slowly dress to return to the ballroom, I know he will come to see me someday and become a reality rather than a fantasy, and all because of my purple felt hat.