by Nancy Madore
Each and every time Marcie submitted to Bill’s dominance, one more barrier that she had built up over her lifetime came crashing down, and their intimacy grew. The things she believed in and wished for remained safe and intact, for she found that Bill did respect her, and he would even submit to her when it was in their best interest for him to do so. Marcie seemed to be growing stronger within herself with each capitulation in her relationship. As her trust in Bill continued to grow, she felt safer giving more of herself to him. The intimacy they shared inside the lifestyle was undeniably distinctive and outstanding.
Yet, even as their bond was strengthened, Marcie found that she would still become, at times, dissatisfied and unhappy. This was not exclusive to her relationship with Bill. It was simply the woman she was; hampered by the fears she had accumulated in her various experiences with men. In most of her past relationships, she would have acted on these feelings by simply pouting or blowing up, crying and ranting; using any recent occurrence that would serve as an excuse but really just needing to get her feelings out. But once the mood passed, she was left feeling empty and distant, with a wider expanse now to bridge in order to achieve intimacy. Her partners would often trudge back into her good graces miserably, never really understanding her or the reasons for their penitence, and the relationships would be marked for death. With Bill, she could rant, rave, cry or scream; knowing all the while that he would keep them safe, and even enjoy the challenge of it all while he did so. He had brought her to a place where she could express her feelings while all the while being accepted, loved, supported and protected. Even through the severest spankings, she knew that Bill was fully aware of her and her needs. He had been perfectly right when he told her that this kind of control had to be genuinely maintained. A man really did have to be exceptionally strong to pull it off. It was ludicrous to think that anyone could do it. If he had been a lesser man, she knew for a certainty the whole dominance thing would have bored her by now.
Instead, she was, overall, amazingly content and deeply involved. Bill was in nearly all her thoughts. And for days—and sometimes even weeks—after each submission, she walked around in a state of more or less constant arousal. Bill’s presence was, for her, desire itself. She sometimes felt that she loved him too much, and desired him too much, too. She wanted him to an extent that frightened her. And when the fear became too much for her she compensated by finding ways to draw out his need to dominate her.
Marcie’s thoughts came back to the present. After just over a year with Bill one would think she would have gotten past those fears. Bill had proved to her time and again that she was the priority in his life. He had made it more than clear that he would be there for her always. And she did not doubt it, not really. But the fear always returned, out of the blue, and often with such ferocity that it alarmed her. On this night she had merely glanced at him from across the crowded room and all at once it was there. His beauty and strength struck her like a terrible blow, and she felt horribly afraid. The other women at the party seemed so much more beautiful than her. She wondered if Bill noticed this, too, and she could imagine the soft, fluttering beauties yielding to his incredible determination and strength.
Marcie knew that she had gone too far this time, completely yielding to her insecurities and fears. She wondered if she had crossed one of the lines that Bill had warned her about that first night that he had dominated her. She kept asking herself why, cringing over the details of her behavior as the memories returned to harass her. She recalled her improprieties of that night in vivid detail. She had gone way beyond merely flirting with another man. She had thrown all concern for Bill’s feelings aside in an effort to temporarily make herself feel more desirable. She had done everything she could think of to prove to herself that she was as attractive as the other women in the room, hardly caring if she hurt Bill in the process. She had publicly and brazenly taunted and humiliated him, leaving everyone who witnessed her performance with the impression that she would betray him. And what had he done to her? What had he done at all, besides simply being the devastatingly wonderful person that he was?
Marcie stole another glance in Bill’s direction. His steadfast calm and inherent goodness shamed her. She didn’t need him to tell her that she had crossed a line this time. She knew that she had. Had he treated her the way she’d treated him, even in retaliation after the fact, with one of the many beautiful women there, she could not have borne it. She would never have the strength to quietly endure such treatment from him.
She realized suddenly that it was Bill’s strength that was most appealing. It drew her to him like a magnet. When something needed to be done, he did it. It didn’t matter if it was unpleasant, difficult, painful or disturbing. He simply did it. He could always be relied upon. It was as if he was made of steel. His strength staggered her. And the tenderness that he was able to show for her, notwithstanding his overwhelming strength, made it all the more remarkable. With his strength he had managed to hold their relationship together without ever once allowing her to draw him into her own personal conflicts. He never lost track of his objective, always standing his ground and maintaining the control once he made the decision to take it.
But Marcie feared this time was different. She wondered how Bill would handle it. She felt that she ought to step up and admit that she was wrong without him having to point it out to her. But what if he rejected her anyway? It suddenly occurred to her that love wasn’t about saving face.
“Bill,” she began uncertainly, “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” he said. He had calmed considerably since they had first gotten into the car. His anger was just about undetectable now. There wasn’t a trace of malice in his voice, only understanding.
“You must be angry,” she said.
“I am,” he agreed. She once again marveled over his control.
Suddenly she was terrified of losing him. “I was jealous of you,” she admitted. “Even if you never speak to me again, I want you to know that that other guy could have been a chair for all it mattered. I wanted to hurt you because I was jealous of you.” There was never a man in her life, before Bill, that she could have admitted this to. She felt that she could tell him anything.
“I figured it was something like that.” His voice was steady and thoughtful, but Marcie could not glean from it what he was feeling or how he felt about her now.
“I know I crossed a line tonight…” She could not go on. She waited for him.
“You certainly did, Marcie.” He pulled the car into their driveway. She was frantic to know where she stood.
“Is it over?” she asked. Tears filled her eyes.
Bill looked at her then. He raised his hand to her face, capturing a tear as it slowly crept down her cheek. “No.”
Marcie shut her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, letting the tears spill freely down her face. She began to weep quietly, overwrought with emotion.
Bill leaned over the seat to comfort her, taking her face in his hands and kissing her tears away. “It’s okay, Marcie,” he reassured her.
“I didn’t mean to,” she wept.
“I know you didn’t.”
“I love you so much.”
“I know you do.” He smiled at her. “Come on,” he said after giving her time to pull herself together. “Let’s go in.”
She couldn’t wait to be alone with him in their bedroom. Once inside she waited for him on the bed with growing anticipation. When he joined her she melted in his arms. But he did no more than hold her close to him.
“Aren’t you going to…punish me?” she wondered.
“Nope.”
She squirmed against him, signaling to him that she wanted to make love.
“Stop that,” he said, still keeping her close.
“You’re still angry with me?”
“Yes. And disappointed, too. Now go to sleep.”
“I can’t sleep,” she told him.
“Then you can read or watch TV a
nd I’ll sleep.” He loosened his hold on her when he said this, but when she didn’t move away he tightened it again.
She paused, frustrated and uncertain. “Bill.”
“Mmm?” His voice reflected his steady temperament and soothed her soul.
“Aren’t you going to do anything?”
He laughed, but immediately afterward turned serious. “Despite what you might think, Marcie, I’m only human. The truth is, I don’t know what to do at the moment. One thing I know for sure that I’m not going to do is to punish you or make love to you, because I know you want me to do those things.”
“That never stopped you before,” she pointed out.
“True, but you never crossed this line before. Everything else I can accept from you, but this I can’t. Maybe next time you think about pulling something like this you’ll remember that it didn’t get you what you wanted and it certainly didn’t bring us closer together. I really hope you do remember it, because I don’t see myself putting up with that again.”
Marcie thought about what he said. “Well, maybe this time I should be the strong one. Maybe this time I should take care of you.”
“You did already, in the car,” he told her, tightening his hold on her.
And suddenly everything was exactly as it should be. For her, there was nothing else that existed outside of her life here with Bill. She could be herself here, and that gave her a tremendous sense of self-worth. All the second-guessing and worry, all the insecurities and fears, were a waste of time. This was her life to live as she wished. She had found a place for herself with Bill.
LITTLE MISS MUFFET
Little Miss Muffet
sat on a tuffet,
eating her curds and whey.
Along came a spider
who sat down beside her,
and frightened Miss Muffet away.
The world was surely a frightening place. Danger seemed to lie in wait for its victims, often where they least expected it. In the humdrum monotony of her life, Jessica pondered this as she read that day’s news.
It had been a while since the last murder, but the papers still reminisced, counting the days and weeks and even months that passed like anniversaries. Six Months Since Last Victim Found in Park read the headline, and the caption below it asked, Could the killer have found a new dumping ground? Jessica shook her head, incredulous, and looked out her window toward the very same park mentioned in the newspaper. The reporters, much like the killer they spoke of, seemed impatient for their next victim.
The park was teaming with people on this warm and clear Saturday morning. It was difficult to imagine anything sinister happening there with the trees filtering warm, bright sunlight through their leafy limbs and people flooding the area with life. In fact, the murders themselves had taken place somewhere else; the park had simply been the victims’ final destination. Why the bodies were brought here remained a mystery, along with the other troubling aspects of the murders, like why the victims were all women, and what, besides that and their deaths, they had shared in common. Most confounding of all were the markings left on the victims’ bodies by the killer. They each bore the formidable image of a spider that had been crudely but carefully carved into their soft, delicate flesh just alongside the curve of their right shoulders.
Even though the murders had not actually taken place in the park, it alarmed Jessica to think that any aspect of the gruesome events had managed to drift so close to her home. It was frightening to think of such evil lurking right outside her door. What did the monster responsible for these horrors look like? How did such a person blend in with the rest of society?
Looking out over the park from her fourth-floor apartment at that moment it was hard to believe anything had happened at all. A shudder ran through her in spite of the cheery view. Suddenly, her own troubles seemed strangely insignificant. It occurred to her that this might be why people were still so interested in reading about the murders, even though there was nothing new to tell. One couldn’t help feeling better about their own situation by comparison.
Jessica was disrupted from her thoughts by the shrill ringing of the telephone. She picked up the receiver, immediately recognizing the number on her caller ID as she answered.
“Your timing is impeccable,” she said. She remained looking out over the park as she greeted her best friend, Linda.
“Is he gone then?” Linda inquired.
“Of course. He’s probably on the third hole by now.” Jessica allowed all her bitterness to come out through her tone of voice. It was a relief to be able to express it freely.
“So…?” her friend prompted.
“So…nothing,” she replied with a tired sigh. “As usual, Steve managed to dodge the issue completely.”
“I told you he would! Pushing him too hard is just going to push him away.” Linda spoke with authority. “Men need to be handled with subtlety. You have to make him think the commitment is his idea.” She was on her third marriage, so Jessica thought perhaps she knew what she was talking about.
“Call me crazy, but I would prefer to settle down with a man who actually wants to settle down with me,” she said bitterly. This was a well-worn conversation spanning many relationships come and gone over years of friendship between the women.
“That’s part of your problem,” Linda told her. “A man never wants to settle down. A man has to be made to think he wants to settle down.”
“I don’t want to hear this.”
“Well, I am really sorry about that, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Your expectations are way too high. Men are little better than animals that need to be trained.”
Jessica laughed in spite of her distaste for what she was hearing. “I’m just not the sort of person to play the manipulative games required to train them,” she said. But a sick feeling twisted in her gut. She couldn’t deny that the women who did play games seemed to get everything they wanted.
“Don’t think of it as games,” said Linda, taking no offense whatsoever from the implication. “Think of it as coaching. We encourage them to want to do the right thing.”
“Go team!” cried Jessica sarcastically.
“Exactly!” exclaimed Linda triumphantly, ignoring the sarcasm.
Jessica sighed. After years of dating in the same unsuccessful way, she doubted she had the stamina to change. She seemed to possess only enough willpower to complain about it. “I’m just so sick of trying,” she whined.
“So stop trying! Back off and let Steve put forth a little effort.”
“I’m not good at backing off,” she admitted.
“It’s not that hard. Just stop giving so much. You give way too much of yourself for a girl who’s just dating. Then you get pissed when the relationship doesn’t move forward. Think about it. You’re actually taking away his incentive to move forward. Why should he? You’re giving him everything you’ve got, right up front. He doesn’t have to do anything at all.”
“I know,” Jessica conceded with another sigh. “I just don’t know how to change things. It’s always the same old story. I give and give while all this resentment builds up and then I explode, and then it’s on to the next guy. I can already feel the anger building.”
“So what did you say to him?”
“Nothing, really. We never got past ‘I want to talk,’ when all of a sudden we were arguing about why we can’t ever talk. Last night his excuse was that he had to go to bed early so that he could get up for an early tee off—again. If he was half as committed to me as he is to avoiding these conversations—or to playing golf even—we would be married by now.”
“You have to back off.”
This frightened Jessica too much to think about. She hated to admit it but she needed someone to love. “I can’t,” she said. She wondered how other women did it.
“You have to. Otherwise it’s going to end like all the other ones did.”
“It’s so hard!” But she was actually thinking about it this time.<
br />
“Find someone else to help you through the tough times.”
Jessica blanched. “I could never…God, if he thought I had anything to do with another man he would never speak to me again.”
“I don’t see a ring on your finger. What do you really owe him?”
“Yes, but we agreed not to see other people.”
“So, break it. It obviously doesn’t mean anything. Your so-called agreement is simply you being loyal to him while he decides what he wants to do. You were stupid to make the agreement before he showed his intentions. Now you have no choice but to shake the sugar tree.” Linda loved quoting euphemisms for prescribing behavior, her reasoning being that years of use and endurance had proved them to be tried and true. She had an endless supply of them at her disposal. This was the first time Jessica heard her use “shake the sugar tree,” and she couldn’t suppress a laugh.
“Did you actually like your husband before he married you?” Jessica asked her.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I did,” Linda said, nonplussed. “But I knew I wouldn’t be able to tolerate just being his booty call. I knew if that happened I would become bitter and push him away in the end anyway, just like you’re doing with Steve. You do have a say in what happens in your own life, you know. You don’t have to give away your freedom to every man who happens to want to borrow it for a while.”
“I just wish I knew what he was thinking. I feel like if he really loved me he would want to make it permanent. His reluctance to do that makes me think he is holding out for something better.”
“You do realize that you go through this with every guy you date, don’t you?”
