The Widows of Sea Trail-Vivienne of Sugar Sands

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  I blinked my eyes at the screen and then simply stared. Geez! When the screen saver came on flashing colorful swirls, I realized I had a decision to make. When my mind reverted to mentally searching the china cabinet for a long, slim taper, I knew I was sunk.

  I found the candle exactly where I expected it to be then went to the bedroom and pulled three scarves from a drawer just as the phone rang.

  I picked it up and nervously stuttered, “Yes, Master?” “Good girl,” the huskiness of his voice was a huge turn on. It spoke of desire, dark desire. “Do you have everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  It took me a moment to figure out what he wanted. “Yes, Master.”

  “That’s my good girl. Are you in your bedroom?”

  “Yes Master.”

  “Good. Now take off all your clothes.”

  “I uh . . .”

  “No hesitations, no questions, just do it. I’ll wait. Put the phone on speaker mode and then take off all your clothes. Come back on the line and tell me that you’re naked.”

  I took a deep breath, pressed the speakerphone button and placed the phone on the dresser and took off my clothes, every stitch. Then I whispered, “I’m naked, Master.” My nipples were hard and I could feel tingly sensations all over my body. This was wicked.

  “Who are you naked for?” he asked.

  “You.” I felt my vagina clench.

  “You?”

  “You, Master.” Moisture flooded me.

  “Very good. But I don’t want to have to keep correcting you on this. So unless you want to be spanked when I see you, address me properly. Now put the phone on the bed so we will be able to hear each other. Then tie two of the scarves to the sides of your bed frame for your ankles, put them close to the middle of the bed, as your knees will need to be slightly bent. Let me know when you’re finished.”

  Spanked? Isn’t that pain? But the idea of him spanking me drove a shiver up my spine and even more wetness flooded me. I tossed the phone close to the pillows, and attached both scarves to the frame under the box spring in the area I thought my ankles would be if my knees were splayed. Just the thought of being on that bed, my legs widely parted, was making me quiver with excitement. I was momentarily lightheaded with the thrilling sensations rushing through my body.

  “I’m back, Master.”

  “Get up on the bed with the candle and the other scarf handy. Lie on your back. Let me know when you’re situated.”

  I did as he asked then told him I was ready.

  “Tie a scarf around each ankle, spreading your legs wide. Make sure you can’t get lose. Then use the other scarf as a blindfold. Put the candle on the bed by your side and make sure the phone is close so you can hear me.”

  It took some time tying the scarves, as I was nervous and not very good with knots. I felt wanton and dirty with my legs so open, and now tied so that they stayed that way.

  A few minutes later I heard him ask if the knots were secure. I said that they were.

  “Blindfold your eyes with the last scarf making sure you can’t see anything, nothing but black. Then put your head on the pillow and just lie there.”

  I did as he asked, doubling the material and tying the blindfold securely. Almost immediately I felt even more naked than before. I wondered how that was possible. I leaned back and put my head on the pillow and stupidly, I closed my eyes, as if that would make any difference. But I did not want to cheat. I wanted to obey him. I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted him to call me a good girl again. And oddly, I wished he were here, in my room, at the foot of my bed looking at me. I could not believe how wet I was getting just imagining him staring at me. I was as turned on as I could remember being.

  He let me lie there in the silent room for several minutes. Finally I called out, “Philip?”

  “Don’t talk unless I tell you to. And what is my name?”

  “Master.”

  “When we’re in a scene it is always Master. I’m afraid I will have to spank you at sometime in the future. You must learn to obey me. But in all other aspects, you’re doing very well. How lovely you must look, your breasts bared, your nipples hard and begging to be touched, licked, sucked, pinched. I love pinching and pulling on women’s nipples. I love to get them so hard they throb, then I suck them, hard. For a long, long time. It’s hard for my lips and tongue to get enough of sucking on nipples. Pinch your nipples for me. Hard. Over and over again. Don’t stop until I tell you to. I want them standing tall, I want them aching.

  I took the thumb and the forefinger of each hand and pulled on my nipples, tugging them hard. Agasp escaped my lips and I heard him chuckle.

  “Feels good, huh? Mmmm, I’ll bet it does. Cup them and squeeze them, I want to feel your fullness. I did as he said and moaned from the sensation it caused.

  “Your genitals, so prominently displayed, uncovered and open to my gaze. I could look between your legs for hours and never be bored. The cool air fanning your sweet rosy lips must be reminding you every second how naked you are. For me, just me. Touch your pussy now, stroke it softly. Feel how wet you are. Spread your labial lips wide and run your fingers up and down your slit, but don’t slide anything inside, do you hear me? Nothing goes into your vagina until I say.”

  “Yes, Master,” I groaned. I was so hot and so turned on I could hardly stand it. I wanted more than anything for him to be in this room right now, covering me with his body, poised to enter me, ready to put his penis inside me and fuck me.

  “Good, you’re being a very good girl.” I could almost see his nod of approval.

  After a few minutes of toying with myself, getting myself edgy and so close to coming, I could hardly stand it, he said, “Now take the candle, the fat end, and insert it into your vagina. Put it in as far as it will go and then leave it there. Bury it deep in your pussy, because that’s where your Master wants it.”

  It felt cold, hard, and smooth when it touched me but it warmed quickly as I shoved it up inside me, pushing it as deep as it would go.

  “Now, lie there for fifteen minutes. Don’t move and don’t talk. And don’t let the candle slip out. Grip it with your vagina to keep it inside you. Imagine what you look like, naked, your legs spread wide, with a candle in your pussy. I can assure you that’s all I can picture. Your beautiful tits heaving, you wet cunt glistening, the candle fucking you for me. I’ll let you know when time is up. Lie there and think about that candle between your legs and picture me standing there looking at you.”

  So there I was in the middle of my bed, naked, my legs splayed wide and tethered to my bed, a blindfold around my eyes and a candle half in and half out of my vagina. And it felt wonderful. And amazingly, wondrously, delightfully wicked too. I was the epitome of a bad girl and it was turning me on. The idea of him actually walking into this room and seeing me like this made me so wet I felt the candle slipping. I clamped the walls of my vagina tight and tried to suck it back in. I did not want to lose this sensation and I did not want to disappoint him by letting the candle slide out of me. But there was no hope for it; I had to push it back in with my hand. I bit my lip to quiet a sob that threatened to reveal what I was doing. I didn’t want to disappoint him. Right now I lived to make him happy. To hear him say how pleased he was with me.

  As I lay there marveling at all I was experiencing as passion bloomed and ebbed with my thoughts, and that damned candle slid slowly out of me forcing my vagina to clench and hold over and over again, it dawned on me that I understood what he had said before, in the email he’d sent. That submitting to him would free me. I know knew that being submissive was not being weak. In fact, it was actually being strong. Strong enough to give the control of your body over to someone you trusted. And then to let loose and feel, really feel. I felt free; free to be the woman I was— unleashed, even though ironically I was tied to my bed. He had walked me through this and shown me how liberating being bound could be. It stopped everything but what was happeni
ng at that very moment. Adding the blindfold intensified everything, bringing all the senses into play. This was a most delicious feeling; the naughtiness of what I was doing was making every single cell in my body tingle. I felt more alive as a woman than I think I ever have felt.

  His disembodied voice, said, “Push the candle back in, I imagine it’s sliding out as you must be very, very wet by now, and tell me, how does it feel inside you?”

  “Not enough. It feels like not enough,” I gasped, the longing beginning to take over.

  He chuckled and let out an anguished sigh. We both wished he were here. “Pinch and release your left nipple over and over again and at the same time, use the knuckle of your thumb to press against your clit while holding the candle between your forefinger and middle finger. Now slide that thing in and out baby, yeah that’s it, work it. Fuck yourself, fuck yourself hard and fast.” His breathing had changed, and now so had mine.

  “Come for me, my good girl, shove that dick in hard and come for me.”

  I furiously slid the candle in and out of my vagina while I pressed against my clit and pinched my nipple. A wave of heat flushed through me as blood surging though my body made my heart throb in my chest, and then I flew apart. Vaguely I heard myself keening into the dark room.

  Minutes passed as I lay trying to catch my breath and pull myself together, panting. I had never . . .

  “Congratulations, you passed the test. Somehow, I knew that you would. And I would like to say, for the record, that as I had you naked on your bed, blindfolded, pinching your nipples, shoving a candle into your vagina, calling me Master, and coming like a banshee that you might want to consider the possibility that you might enjoy being my submissive.”

  All I could manage was incoherent babble.

  “Good night, VaVaViv. Pleasant dreams. I can’t wait to meet you. So now you’ve met Peter, Philip’s dark side, and your master. And while I acknowledge him as part of me, and always with me, I won’t expect you to call me Master in public. You’ll get to know each of us, Philip, the man who could soon be your husband, and Peter, the man who wants to master you. Sometimes you’ll like one more than the other, be in the mood for one or the other, desire one more than another, I can almost guarantee it. You my sweet, have a dark shadowy side, too. And I absolutely love it.”

  I heard the phone click and I looked over and saw that the light was off on the display. If not for tremors still ransacking my body and the candle in my hand, I would have sworn I’d dreamt the whole thing.

  Chapter Nine

  Morning of the big day I got up early the next morning, really early. Before the sun had even made the decision to grace us. I knew it was because I was keyed up about my date with Philip. After having his alter ego bring me to orgasm over the phone last night—Oh-My-God!—I realized that I’d had phone sex! Why hadn’t that occurred to me until just now? What would be next, online dating, skypeing, sexting? I’d always heard that as each new technology was adapted the world of sex adopted it faster than any other, but I never expected I’d be into any of it. Anyway, after succumbing to “Peter’s” whims, I’d damned near passed out. But now I was wide-awake and four o’clock in the morning was too early to go for my walk on the beach. So I decided to drive over to the Pink Palace to use the treadmill and stair stepper. Surely, I wouldn’t have to wait for either at this time of day.

  I got there and everything looked really spooky in the eerie half-light that was cast by the security lights. I was a little nervous standing in the dark shadows fishing my card out of my pocket when I heard the distinct hoot-hoot-hoot of an owl.

  Having had a long-standing fascination for owls, mostly because of mother’s influence I’m sure, I tamped the card down into my pocket and went to investigate. I followed the sound, stopping and listening each time it hooted, walking on tiptoes through the parking lot when it stopped.

  I found myself back by the dumpster before I made out the glimmer of white against the dark green of the pines. I stood twenty feet from the tree and looked up, up, up, until my eyes met his. It was a Great Horned Owl and what a beautiful specimen it was. Head to tail feathers it appeared to be three-feet tall. It looked at me, I looked at it. It blinked, I blinked, and then it swooped. Not four feet from me, it dug its claws into a field mouse and I actually saw blood drip onto my sneaker as it flew by me. From the light of the street lamp high above me I saw it disappear into the trees. I looked down at the toe of my sneaker. Ugh! This could only mean one thing. A relative, a blood relative to be specific, was going to be dropping by in the days to come. And since I only had one or two that I knew about, it meant mother was confirming her reservation. Great! Just great!

  I trudged back to the door that led into the gym and went into the ladies room to run my shoe under the water in hopes I could undo the jinx or curse as one might call it. I watched as the blood pooled and then slid down the drain. The sneaker tip was miraculously white again and I was elated. Maybe I had sidestepped trouble.

  Proud of my efforts, and in a jaunty mood, I dried my wet shoe with paper towels and put it back on. Then I did a half hour on each machine while listening to Carolina in the Morning on the overhead TV.

  Not ready to go back home for my wonderful breakfast of scrambled eggs and cashews yet, I rode over to the beach to feed the seagulls. Now, feeding the seagulls is not something to be done during the season. No one likes it when kids, or adults for that matter, drop popcorn, chips or crackers in the sand while everyone else is relaxing on the beach. Drop one crumb and it draws a whole flock of them. And soon,

  Jacqueline DeGroot well . . . it’s chaos. The cawing, chirping and gawking never ends. But during the winter months, when no one is around, there’s nothing like tossing whole handfuls of cereal high into the sky and watching the scavengers fight over it. My favorite bird cereal is Honey Nut Cheerios. It’s a nice hearty chunk, yet not likely to get stuck on the way down as I don’t believe these birds take the time to chew.

  I fed them half of the box I kept in the trunk for just such occasions. Then when I realized I was tempted to shove a few down my gullet too, I fed them the rest. It was great fun, until I couldn’t convince them that the box was empty and had to run from them.

  Since walking the beach exclusively for exercise purposes, I have missed one of my favorite pastimes and that is beachcombing. Usually walking too fast to do more than notice a pretty shell, today I am indulging myself. The beach is littered with lettered olives, mermaid’s purses, bivalves, and cockleshells—loads of them. The storm activity of the winter usually brings in a large variety of shells, and some days it seems as if there’s a shell for the day. One day you will see mostly sand dollars, and on another day you will see Venus sunrays and angel wings all over the place. Today the inside of a beige knobbled whelk glinted at me just as the sun came over the houses. As I stooped to pick it up one of the seagulls I had just fed decided it was the perfect spot to well . . . ah, you know. And for the second time that day—and mind you the sun is just now coming up—a bird soiled my sneaker, the other one this time. I made my way down to the water’s edge to rinse it off and what did I see? Atiny little turtle caught in a piece of fishing line, struggling to break free. Its flipper was badly cut and one or two more waves crashing on the shore might just sever it completely. I quickly found the end of the fishing line that was buried in the sand, pulled it free and grabbed the turtle before it could be washed away. It was so tiny in my hand that it didn’t fill my palm. I was scared for it. It didn’t look very healthy. But I knew the one person who could make it better if anyone could.

  Chapter Ten

  Afternoon of the big day

  I called Gloria Hillenberg, the turtle lady of Ocean

  Isle Beach, and as luck would have it she was planning on going to the turtle hospital on Topsail Beach later on in the day. So I found a box, just the right size for the tiny baby, who desperately needed Gloria’s first aid skills. I knew it must be in pain, the poor thing, and I had no i
dea how to make it better. So I probably was driving too fast when I got pulled over. Only in a beach community such as ours would they let you off the hook when you showed them a tiny turtle in a box that you were rushing to the “hospital.”

  By all counts, today was going to be quite an interesting day. It was only eight and I was wondering now if I was going to survive it.

  I spent the day doing some much needed housecleaning, catching up on laundry, changing the bed linens, and answering a few emails, including one from Philip asking if I had any food allergies, and asking for a list of books and movies I’d like to see so he could add them to his collection. That kept me busy for a while as it was so revealing. How did you tell a man you preferred Woody Allen movies to Lion in Winter, or that the books you read generally had covers featuring full-busted women being manhandled by tall brawny men—never the type that were leather bound with engraved gold spines? I sent my meager list off, did more household chores, watering plants and such, trying to keep my mind off tonight—to no avail. By four o’clock I was antsy and pacing the family room floor. I stopped in front of a picture of Dale on the mantle and had a long heartto-heart talk with him, telling him I was going to try to move on, reminding him that I had promised to live my life to the fullest as he was always telling me to, and then I ended up apologizing for being so damned excited about this date.

  It was finally time to get ready for my half-blind date with Philip. I say half-blind, because I don’t really look like the picture the girls sent of me, and I’m sure he doesn’t really look like the one I saw of him. But we both knew we weren’t scraping the bottom of the barrel. I am very attractive for my age, and even if Philip had aged tremendously since the picture I saw, grown warts, and lost all his teeth, I knew I could always close my eyes and just listen to him talk. His rumbly husky timbre wakes up my blood and sends tingly frissons of heat throughout my body. I feel the pressure though. It is a first date after all. Despite “Peter” sort of becoming my master last night, it’s still the first date for Philip and me, and so many things can throw off the dynamics of a first date.