“Olly olly oxen free,” he said in a singsong, standing in the open doorway and leaning in, just his fingers on the doorjamb keeping him from falling. When I clambered over the tub’s side and walked to join him, he grinned at my multiple reflections in the several angled mirrors around the room. “Hey, it’s a room full of Katies. You really are gorgeous, you know. Come and eat, pet.”
He levered himself back out of the doorway with an athletic springiness and I was left with the room full of myself, momentarily stopping to see the effect I hadn’t noticed before. I didn’t see anything gorgeous, only my usual self. Cute, maybe, at the most. Not quite as rounded as I would like on top, a bit more rounded than I’d prefer on the bottom, although at least I was at my low weight right now which meant my waist was pretty slim. I considered it my best feature. But Jack, judging by the look in his eyes, evidently saw something else entirely when he looked at me. Shrugging, I padded into the bedroom to see him at the sofa in front of the wide window, removing covers from plates and arranging utensils.
“Tonight we’re having local cuisine, which means there will be meat and more meat. Come and sit.” He pointed his finger at the couch next to him and I sat with my legs curled under me, feeling a bit odd about eating dinner in the nude. Especially as Jack was still fully clothed, although obviously that was the point. “We have picandinho de porco, which is minced pork and chourico. That’s the same as chorizo in Mexican food. It’s pretty hot, so we also have a bisteca here, just a pork chop, if you’d prefer. You seemed to like the one you ordered last night and I didn’t know how you felt about spicy.”
“Spicy is wonderful, Sir.”
“Try this too.” He broke off a piece of a little brown, crumbling fried dumpling. “Bolinhos de arroz, just little fried rice balls. Wouldn’t normally have them with this particular dish, but I ordered some of everything for you to try.” He held the piece out and, when I started to reach for it, pulled it back with a tsk. “Open up, little one.”
I think I only opened my mouth to say something bratty, but once he popped the morsel between my lips I realized how hungry I was and no longer cared about anything but the incredible taste. It was heavenly, some savory concoction of onions and scallions and other things I couldn’t pinpoint, and calling it “just little fried rice balls” was slander.
“Now this,” Jack said, and offered me a piece of what appeared to be pork. Again I tried to grab it, but he scowled and withheld it until I opened my mouth obediently for him to feed it to me. And again, once I’d tasted it, I forgot to be annoyed, because it was just as delicious as the last thing.
It was all delicious, although I lost track of what everything was called and knew I’d have to do some research when I got back home if I ever hoped to remember what I’d eaten. After the third or fourth bite I just gave up and let Jack feed me by hand, as he seemed to enjoy doing, watching my face intently to see my reaction to each new piece of his adopted cuisine. He let me have just a few sips of the fairly decent red wine he’d ordered—a Portuguese red from Extremadura, not one I was familiar with but that complemented the spicy pork perfectly—but all the water I wanted. A bit less to eat overall than I would have taken on my own, especially less of the flan-like dessert that was just the right amount of bland to soothe my overspiced taste buds.
“I don’t want you too full, pet,” he said sternly when I begged for more. He was already covering the dishes back up and carrying them into the bar, where they fit neatly in the small refrigerator. “You wouldn’t thank me for it. Now, I need a shower. And I don’t know that I trust you to refrain from gorging yourself while I’m in there, so come and sit where I can see you.” He walked confidently toward the bathroom, obviously certain that I would follow, which I did.
“I have to do this with Rufus sometimes, if I don’t want to put him in the garage and I don’t have time to clean the kitchen. I just remembered…you’ve met Rufus, haven’t you?”
“Yes Sir. He’s wonderful.” Indeed I had met him, and hoped to meet him again. Rufus was the giant, goofy Golden Retriever I’d played with at Jack’s Christmas party. I’d found him in the garage, where I went in search of a place to hide and regroup after humiliating myself with the Wine and Cork Floor Incident. He was an all-American sort of dog, barely more than an overgrown pup, all waggy tail and doggy smiles. After taking care to pin me to the wall with his enormous paws, sniff me thoroughly and slobber all over the parts he liked best, he had brought me a quite disgusting squeaky plush toy. Jack’s three-car garage had only one car in it, so we had plenty of room for a fun ten minutes of fetch before Jack himself had come in to get something from the garage refrigerator and found us out.
“He liked you quite a lot, little one. Of course, he likes just about everyone, it’s true. That dog’s a total slut. But most people freak out when he stands up and licks them in the face. And he doesn’t bring just everyone the bun-bun to play with.”
Bun-bun?
“Now…” Jack was positioning a thick bathmat in the center of the bathroom with a great deal of earnest care, which I found amusing and endearing. With a mock expression of great somberness, he squared the mat to the tiles precisely and then pointed me toward it, angling me gently by the shoulders. “Now sit and stay. Find a position you can live with for a while, because I don’t want you moving around while I’m busy.”
He punctuated his last few words with a gentle tap on the top of my head and then proceeded to undress, spend a few minutes doing what seemed to be a half-assed cleaning job on his electric shaver and finally duck into the shower, largely ignoring me the entire time. He petted my head a few times in passing and I couldn’t resist arching a little bit into his hand, but each time he just chuckled and moved on.
The odd thing about a time like that is, it’s not as boring as one might suppose. A subby friend once told me that the mindset of a submissive was a form of meditation, and that the act of giving oneself over was just part of the routine required to drop into the meditative state. No different, really, than folding one’s legs and repeating a mantra over and over, except that the presence of a Dominant person was required to complete the process. The Dominant was just a sort of facilitator or catalyst. I wasn’t sure how far I believed much of this philosophical justification for it all—for me, after all, the main thing was that I enjoyed it, and didn’t always want to analyze it too much—but the thing about meditation made sense to me.
There could be times of great tension, of course. When you were in the wrong kind of pain, when the Dom didn’t make his expectations clear, when you felt the “discipline” this sort of relationship necessarily involved was being handled ineptly or unjustly, but you felt unable to express that in the given situation. Or when the Dom was simply not very good or not very suited to you, which had fortunately only happened to me in a big way once. Once was enough. I had decided to become even more scrupulously picky after that, and it had actually been over a year now since that last encounter. Well over a year, I realized. More like two years. I wondered how long it had been for Jack. Kendra had mentioned him not being “seriously involved” for years, but what, exactly, did that mean?
We would have to have that talk, of course, at some point. Really, we should have already had it, tiresome though it always was. But we already knew each other so well. It was throwing me off and, I suspected, throwing Jack off as well. Because we knew each other, we felt almost shy about asking for information we would have long since demanded from anyone else before getting this far. On the other hand, we knew just enough of one another’s histories to know that nothing wildly unsavory lay in the past.
For now, however, I could hear Jack splashing in the shower, could feel the slight sheen of moisture forming on my body from the humidity and felt the surreal calm that came with knowing my only job at the moment was to wait for Jack to come out and tell me what to do next. That was all. So simple. Like heaven, really.
I’d heard that one common subtype of submissiv
e was comprised of people who were intelligent but thought too much, who relied too much on their brains in their day-to-day lives, who over-thought everything. They needed a way to escape from all that thinking. To reduce things to the point of manageable simplicity. And that I knew to be the absolute truth, at least for me.
Jack came out of the shower whistling cheerfully and I smiled beatifically as I watched him dry himself off, the heavy cream color of the hotel towel making a nice contrast against his steam-flushed skin.
“Would you like me to do that for you, Sir?” I asked, although I frankly wished I could be that towel, more so than just using it. He looked scrumptious.
Jack favored me with a lopsided smile and held the towel out for me. I was surprised that my knees didn’t protest more when I stood up to take it and started running it carefully, methodically over his body, trying very hard to resist the temptation to linger overlong when I dried off the more interesting portions of him. He wasn’t quite erect, about half hard from the warmth of the shower and, no doubt, the stimulation being provided by a naked towel girl.
“That’s enough, little one,” he said, before I felt I’d done a truly thorough job. He tucked my hair behind my ear on one side and then slipped his hand down to pluck at my nipple until it hardened. Then the other one—few men cared for the asymmetry of lopsided nipple arousal—before touching my hair again with a sad little smile.
“We need to get some things out of the way, pet. I did warn you about consequences earlier.”
“Yes Sir. I remember.” Damn. I thought I might be about to find out just what else he could accomplish with that bare hand of his.
“Put your hair up. Make it tight, you don’t want pieces hanging loose. Then go in the bedroom, I’ll be there in a minute.”
And again��damn.
Chapter Ten
It hadn’t been that bad, not really, I rationalized to myself as I sat there, waiting, trying not to let myself get worked up. But it was more the idea, the look of disappointment on Jack’s face that was sending creeping fingers of anxiety along my spine, over my stomach, making me glad, indeed, I hadn’t eaten more.
Hoping it was the right gesture, I knelt by the foot of the bed to wait, one hand clasped in the other behind my back, eyes down, a classic posture of submission. I saw only Jack’s feet when he walked in, walking past me to the closet where our suitcases were stored, pulling out not his case but what sounding like a paper bag, from the crumpling noises. He had turned a few lights out along the way, enough so that the darkening view was visible. Still more light in the room than I would have preferred though, not that my preferences mattered at this point.
He came back and stood directly in front of me, feet at my knees, and dropped something soft on my thighs. Black, heavy silk lining buttery-smooth leather…a mask. At least I would feel like the room was dark.
“Put it on,” he said abruptly. “And I shouldn’t have to tell you to spread your knees. I didn’t require you to sit in that pose, but if you’re going to do it, do it right.”
His voice sounded different when I couldn’t see him—darker, sterner. A tiny hint of fear flavored my tension, although somehow it was less than I expected. Because I still trusted him implicitly, I found. Even blindfolded, kneeling at his feet and waiting for whatever came next. I knew that within the context of this strange game we felt compelled to play, whatever came next would be fair, only what was necessary, and that afterward we would both feel better.
“Now. About your luggage. What toys did you bring? I know there must be something. Tell me.”
“Sir? Oh…there’s a little cordless vibrator with a bunny thing on it. And a silver bullet. And then just a regular vibe, a smooth metal one. That’s all.”
“That’s all? One wasn’t going to be enough or you just couldn’t make up your mind?” I held the note of amusement in his voice to me like a cuddly animal, it was such a relief to hear it still there. I could also hear a long zipper being undone and the soft, scratchy sounds of things being moved around in a suitcase.
My suitcase.
“Well, you know. They do different things, Sir. And not all of them are waterproof, Sir.” Please don’t confiscate my toys…
“I’ll just be keeping these for a while. Wow, you really were well stocked, weren’t you? And these are all very nice, good stuff. No wonder you freaked about the bag getting lost. There must be a good two hundred bucks’ worth of vibrating fun in here. That anodized metal number is a piece of art.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Huh. Well, they’re mine for now. The bed’s directly behind you, little one. Climb up on it and lie facedown.”
“Yes Sir.” It was probably an awkward scramble to watch. The mask was a good one, I really couldn’t see a thing. Once I was lying where he wanted me, remembering only at the last to spread my legs, I heard him zipping and unzipping some more things, rustling the paper bag again…
“Unlike you,” Jack went on as he worked, “I came here woefully unprepared for anything like this. But fortunately,” rustle, rustle, rustle, “that place down the road really does carry a lot more than just lingerie. So when I went there, I didn’t buy any lingerie.”
I started at the noisy rip of hook-and-loop being opened, and knew what was coming a split second before I felt the cuff go around my wrist. He tightened it just to the point of snugness, not to discomfort, which told me I might be wearing it awhile. And then the other wrist. I wondered where he planned to anchor things, as it was a padded headboard, but all became clear when more cuffs followed. Ankles, thighs—and then the cuffs on each side were snugly clipped together, trussing me in a position that left my rear end both exposed and neatly framed by straps. As if he needed any help in aiming.
“I’m usually more of an improviser when it comes to bondage,” Jack commented as he tied me up. “Because I already have a lot of rock-climbing equipment and I’m good with knots. But these just seemed very practical. Lightweight, versatile, good for traveling. Sometimes it’s nice to have just the right tool for the job, you know?”
“Yes Sir,” I agreed a little despondently. The longer the delay, the more I was dreading the punishment itself, which was probably his goal. His cheerfulness was not helping.
“There. All tied up. You could probably get loose if you really needed to, but you’re not going to try to do that, are you, little one?”
“No Sir. It’s for my own good, to help me stay still.” Besides, I wasn’t sure if I actually could get loose. I tugged at one wrist restraint lightly and then a bit harder, suddenly feeling the need to try.
“Shhh…settle down, little one.” Jack ran a hand down my spine, his other holding the back of one of my thighs firmly, squeezing just a little. “Time to get this done. Tell me why I have to discipline you.”
My least favorite thing in the world. “I…acted like I didn’t believe you, when you wrote that note earlier. I was just a smartass about it instead of doing what you told me to do, Sir.”
“That’s right, Katie girl. Just so you know, most of the time it’s fine that you’re a smartass. I don’t expect you to change who you are, but I do expect you to follow directions when I’m being that specific. I decide when the mood changes. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”
And the odd thing was, suddenly I was sorry, painfully so.
Usually at this stage of things, I felt I was playing a game in order to get into the right mindset for a paddling. But right now I was only sorry that I’d disappointed Jack. I never wanted to do it again. I wanted him to teach me this lesson. It amazed me, the way my value system had done this dramatic change at the bedroom door. Or, as in the current case, at the figurative bedroom door.
“What else, pet?”
“I was supposed to be waiting for you just like you said, to thank you for this afternoon, but I fell asleep, Sir. Covered up. I’m sorry, Sir, I was grateful, it was so sweet of you to arrange all that. It was such a wo
nderful afternoon, please…” I was babbling, had no idea what I was asking for, was pulling on the cuffs again, already almost in tears. He didn’t seem all that angry, more disappointed. And I hadn’t done anything all that bad. But I felt so frantic. What was wrong with me?
“Katie…pet, shhh. That part bothered me much less than you not taking my orders seriously. All right? You weren’t waiting like I wanted you to be and I’d been looking forward to it but,” he chuckled dryly, stroking my thigh, “you had an hour-long massage. You fell asleep. It happens. The other thing is more…I said I meant it, and you ignored that. You have to learn when to be a smartass and when to take me seriously about all this. Or we won’t get very far, will we?” He sounded sad again, and I would have done anything to put the light, teasing tone back in his voice.
“No Sir. I didn’t mean to be bratty.” He had taken his hands away and I could hear the bag rustling again. The dark felt heavy, oppressive. I wanted to see his face more than anything, to know what he was thinking. “Sir?”
“Yes, little one?”
“I want you to teach me…”
“I know.” His hand was back on my leg, fingers reaching higher, tracing all the way up to the little mark he’d left there earlier. It was still sore and he stroked it with a tenderness that tugged at my heart. “I know, little Katie. We both know. Now count for me. I need you to pay attention. Five for falling asleep, ten for being a brat earlier when you should have run straight up to the room, does that sound fair?”
“Fif-fifteen? Yes Sir. More than fair.”
It sounded too much more than fair, in fact. Until I heard the slight whistle through the air and felt the stinging crack—not of Jack’s hand but of a leather paddle, smacking my buttock just below Jack’s love bite.
I was so startled I forgot to count until Jack growled a reminder to do so and I yelped out “One!” just before the second stroke hit. At least I didn’t also have to thank him for each one.
When in Rio Page 9
