by Shara Lanel
Christine touched the glass as if fascinated. “It was nothing like this when we drove in or the time I visited before.”
Jake wove through the serpentine traffic, wishing he could talk to Saron about the mate thing. He didn’t know how it affected the human exactly, but that had to be what it was. “I think you connected with the wolf and a little has remained with you.”
She didn’t seem to hear him. “Do you smell it?”
He smelled exhaust, but he saw the flower stand on the corner.
“They have honeysuckle and roses.”
“Did you hear what I said?”
“I’m ignoring you. There’s too much beauty out there. It’s as if I can taste the air.”
“You probably can with all the exhaust.”
“It’s more subtle than that. Like the hotdogs boiling at that stand and fresh-baked bagels and even the faint smell of the sewers.”
Yeah, that was one Jake had learned to block out real fast. That’s why he loved going to the compound so much. He felt as if there he could finally breathe, smell the grass, the dirt, the air, the life all around him. It smelled like freedom to him, but he stayed in the city for Dean. He kept dreaming of buying a piece of property upstate or in Vermont, acres to explore away from prying eyes.
Whenever Christine glanced his way, her expression was dreamy and full of wonder, childlike. Jake decided to keep quiet and not press his point that it was the wolf. She’d connected with the wolf during his change, whether she wanted to admit it or not.
At the airport, he offered to park and carry her suitcase inside for her.
“No, I don’t want you to have to pay to park for such a short time. I’m going to go straight through security.”
So her sense of wonder did not extend to him, Jake thought wryly. He pulled into a drop-off space and helped get the suitcase out of the cab and then watched her go. She’d just walked through the glass doors when a couple flagged him down for a fare. He wasn’t technically working, but at least a fare would distract him from the sadness he felt as Christine walked out of his life again.
* * * * *
It was gone.
The colors, sounds, scents, everything muted as soon as she walked into the airport lobby. She looked back to see that Jake’s cab had already pulled away. She could smell whatever was cooking at the lobby restaurant, but she couldn’t separate the smells and tell whether it was beef or chicken or onions and peppers like she could just a few minutes ago. In fact, the smell stuck in her nostrils was exhaust, especially whenever someone came through the automatic doors. She forced herself to walk to security, feeling bereft. From here on out, she would concentrate on the necessities of plane travel. Ticket. Driver’s license. Take her shoes off. Was she wearing anything metal? Gate number? What to do with the couple of hours she had until her flight. Bland food at the chain restaurant.
You just need to be in the present moment, like meditation.
But she’d taken meditation classes several times and had never felt as alive as she had those few minutes in Jake’s cab. She thought about the subspace she’d tripped into when at the club. That had been close. That thought obsessed her as she flew home. She needed to go to that club again. She wasn’t sure how it worked if you arrived without a partner, but she needed that feeling again. She needed to lose herself as someone paddled or caned her. If she told someone who’d never tried it before, she was sure she’d sound crazy. They might think she was brainwashed by an abuser. She’d never be able to describe the emptiness of pain to any of her coworkers, that freefall, the high.
She wanted to go to the club as soon as she returned home, but she had to get caught up on normal life. She didn’t answer either of her phones, since it was invariably Jake leaving her message after message. She stayed off Facebook and turned off IMs. Finally, she turned the sound off her phone so she wouldn’t hear the notification sound for texts. She felt persecuted but knew he’d let up eventually. Hopefully not to turn up on her doorstep again.
Back to work, back to routine. Why did it feel like a lifetime since she’d been there when it was just last week? Just forty-eight hours.
She refused to think about Jake during the day but she dreamed about him every night. Bondage and sex blended with sleeping against soft fur and agonizing pain. Again she saw through eyes that were not her own. She found herself in that closet staring at that wolf again and again. And the dreams did not fade in the morning. She remembered every moment as if captured on film and shown to her with her eyelids held open with prongs, like in A Clockwork Orange.
Finally, Friday arrived. By then she had her fetish outfit laid out on a chair, directions to the club in her phone and cash and ID stuffed into a little clutch with a thin shoulder strap. By nightfall, she was in the car, heels on the seat next to her, driving barefoot. She didn’t want to kill herself by being unable to press the brake in those shoes. It was too early for the club, but she was going crazy at her house. She decided to get some food at a drive-through, then sit and watch the fountains in the park while she ate. Colored lights lit the spraying water at night. Luckily, she had her gym shoes in the back so she could walk to a shadowy bench near the water. She was suddenly very self-conscious of what she was wearing. What if they arrested her for being a hooker?
Enough time passed for the store and club to be open. She went in through the store again, taking the time to look at the shoes and outfits before asking for the door to the club. She didn’t know why she felt the need to ask since she knew where it was. Maybe it was her way of asking permission. She was more nervous and far less excited than when she’d been here with Jake, but she knew it was the only way she’d recapture that feeling that she craved like a drug. Inside she found the Mistress so she could find out what to do since she didn’t have a partner.
“I have a dominatrix named Felicity who is free at the moment.”
“A woman?”
“Yes, but she’s very sensitive to newbies.”
“Um, okay.” It was against the rules to have sex here, so why should it matter if she had a female master for the night? Then again, she’d kissed that lady in the airport. Maybe she should open herself up to the other side of things.
“Come with me.”
A woman in black leather was nursing a drink in the lounge.
“Felicity, I’d like you to meet Christine. This is only her second time here and she could use a thoughtful hand.”
The woman, with her wavy black hair swept back in a tight ponytail, gave her a warm smile. “I’ll take good care of her.” The idea of binding and spanking seemed at odds with “taking good care”, but Christine understood.
Felicity stood nimbly, her lithe form and movements very catlike. She just needed a hood with ears and she’d be perfect in the role of Catwoman. “Follow me,” she said, swaying her hips as if she were swishing her tail. Christine smiled at these random thoughts in her head and finally relaxed.
Their destination was a semi-private cubicle just off the main floor. There was no curtain, so anyone could stand by and watch. “This is where I keep my tools,” Felicity said. “And where I teach my subs obedience. From this moment forward you will call me Mistress.”
Christine nodded and said, “Yes, Mistress.” A flutter of arousal wended its way through her body, tickling her stomach, tingling in her clit.
Felicity reached for Christine’s waist and pulled her closer. “Have you ever been taught by a woman before?”
“No.”
“How about kissed?”
Now she felt nervous. Did she want to be kissed by a woman again? “Just once.”
Felicity firmly held the back of Christine’s head to keep her still as she claimed her mouth. She pried her teeth open with her tongue and explored the texture of Christine’s tongue until she gave in and responded. She was full-on aroused doing something that she felt was taboo. It was certainly novel for her. She moved closer so that her breasts pressed against Felicity’s, though she
was slightly taller. The dominatrix’s leather outfit creaked and the smell reminded Christine of the saddles of the horses she rode as a kid.
Though Felicity never broke the kiss, she was guiding Christine backward. “Open your eyes,” she demanded.
“Yes, Mistress.”
Felicity sat on a short stool, knees out. She hefted a paddleboard from a hook on the wall. “Now, if you do everything I say exactly as I say it, your punishment won’t be too harsh. Now lie across my knees with your skirt pulled up to your waist.”
Bottom bare since she only wore a thong, cool air wafted along Christine’s skin. She was moist between her legs, but the more she anticipated that paddle hitting her butt, the wetter she became. Felicity shocked her by slapping her hand across her ass instead of the board. She did that a couple more times as if warming up. Christine’s breath caught each time. She noticed feet, so she glanced up to see that several people stood there watching the tableau, watching her get spanked. The next stroke, this time with the paddle, took away such idle thoughts as who was watching her. She gasped from the pain but wiggled her butt, wanting more.
“Eager, are we?” Felicity said in a throaty voice, following her words with three harsh whacks in a row.
* * * * *
Jake woke with a start. He’d worked an evening shift and had just barely fallen asleep when he started dreaming about Christine kissing a leather-clad woman. It was as if he could feel the strange woman’s lips on his, her tongue exploring his mouth, her breasts pressed against him. The scene progressed until Christine was bent across the woman’s knees with her bare ass in the air. He could sense her anticipation, and her arousal was turning him on.
It was the first solid slam of the paddle against Christine’s butt that woke Jake completely. His cock stiffened, his heart sped up. The woman was speaking, but he didn’t hear her words as the paddle lowered several times in succession. He heard whimpers as if they were coming from himself. He saw the feet of bystanders. The sounds and smells seemed familiar.
She’s at that club again.
Christine didn’t know that her domme had switched from a paddle to a riding crop until she felt the first stinging stroke across her thighs. The woman swept her fingers along Christine’s sweaty brow and asked how she was doing. The reply was “Green”. Christine wanted more.
Jake stared at the ceiling, but was really seeing this inner vision. He felt each stripe laid across her thighs and the wetness that dripped down her thighs. He gripped his cock and squeezed the tip. God, could she not feel the connection between them, not know what she was doing to him? He knew there was no intercourse allowed at the club, but what if she tried to take someone home with her?
This is so good. I don’t need Jake.
He caught this random thought that had obviously flitted through Christine’s head and growled. He sat straight up, turned on the bedside light and shouted, “No!” Then he remembered Dean in the next room. In a firm voice, lower in volume, he said, “You’re mine, Christine.” He wasn’t sure he was getting through to her. “Say ‘red’, Christine. Red. Now!”
* * * * *
“Red!” The word burst out of her mouth, but she wasn’t sure why she was saying it.
Felicity immediately stopped. “Honey, are you okay? Too much for you?” She gently lowered her skirt and helped her upright.
Christine, shaking her head, fought back tears. “I’m all right, I’m fine.” Then why had she yelled the safe word?
Because Jake had commanded her to. His voice had been like a cannon blast in her head, overriding what her body was telling her. Her body had been enjoying itself immensely, the stinging pain like intense foreplay. She’d had a sense of being watched but there were people standing around them, so she didn’t equate the feeling with Jake.
Felicity helped her stand, then hugged her while she fought nausea and light-headedness from her head being down for so long. “How are you doing, honey? Do you want me to rub some lotion on you?”
No! She heard Jake’s voice loud and clear this time.
“Um, no, I’m fine.”
“Well, remember that aftercare is important. You should have a good soak tonight. Do you have any bath salts?”
“I do.”
Gradually Felicity loosened her hold and Christine was able to stand without wobbling. The nausea was fading away. She wasn’t hearing Jake’s voice in her head, but she felt his eyes on her as she left the club, got in the car, and drove home. She knew he was awake and waiting for her to get inside safely.
The silence of the car was too much to take. “You know you can’t protect me this far away, so you might as well go back to sleep.” She felt funny talking to herself.
I’ll always protect you.
“Damn you to hell!” She peeled into her driveway and slammed on the brakes harder than necessary. When she went to get out of the car, she realized the endorphins had worn off and the ache and soreness had set in. As she hobbled to the door, her phone vibrated in her purse. She ignored it until she’d unlocked the door, gone inside, relocked the door and turned on the lights. By then it had gone to voice mail, but she didn’t expect Jake to give up so easily. She took a couple of Tylenol with water, then debated whether she could maneuver enough to arrange the bath and get in and out. She made it to the bedroom, then fell facedown onto her bed, wondering if she’d ever be able to stand again.
Naturally that’s when her phone buzzed again. She’d carried it with her since she knew there was no escaping the inevitable.
“I hate you,” she said by way of greeting.
“You can’t do this shit alone. What if something had gone wrong? How are you going to care for yourself now?” Jake was keeping his voice semi-level, which was surprising. Dean must be asleep in the other room.
“If you would’ve just stayed out of my head, I would’ve been fine.”
“She was pushing you too far.”
“I wasn’t feeling it yet.”
“What?”
“That nirvana, like when we were there before.” Her butt and thighs were really hurting now. She wanted lotion rubbed on them but wasn’t sure she could do it herself. She’d have to settle for a bath.
“You’re hurting,” Jake said.
“A bit.”
“God, I wish I was there. I’d care for you.” His voice purred into her ear, comforting her.
“I wish you were here too,” she admitted. She felt lonely with only his voice on the phone.
“When can you visit me again?”
“Jake, neither of us can afford to fly back and forth every couple of weeks. Long-distance relationships don’t work.” She rubbed her palm across her gritty eyes and yawned. “I’m about to pass out and I really want to take a bath.”
“Maybe you should wait ’til morning. Don’t want to fall asleep in there.”
“Maybe.” She was fading fast.
“I love you, Christine.” The gentle voice in her ear barely registered as she fell asleep without clicking End on the phone.
Chapter Ten
Christine was getting used to chatting with Jake via Facebook. It added that extra buffer of normalcy. She chatted with other people. She chatted with Jake. No biggie. Except for the flirting that led into sex talk, which usually resulted in Christine hurriedly getting off the computer. There was no question of seeing him again. She didn’t have the time, for one thing, finding herself working twelve-hour days to make up for a coworker’s maternity leave during the busy tax season. That was also the reason she hadn’t gone clubbing again since that night, even at a vanilla place with her friends. Besides, she looked forward to talking to Jake a little bit before bed, nice and casual. She certainly wouldn’t admit how comforting the routine was beginning to feel.
The dreams, on the other hand, were beginning to really bother her. She would dream she was awake but in Jake’s bedroom or dozing off in his cab. The sex dreams, normal enough, except they were in Jake’s point of view. Her hands touch
ing her body, but they weren’t her hands, they were his. His lips sucking her breasts, but she was inside him, tasting what he tasted. When he went down on her, she smelled the musky scent of her arousal and tasted her own juices. Sometimes she would stare at his ceiling and know that he was touching himself, just because it relaxed him.
Her vibrator was getting a workout since she inevitably woke up craving sex, craving Jake. But her own fantasies were about Jake tying her up, spanking her, fucking her from behind. Often she heard his voice telling her what to do, demanding she call him Master, telling her where to put the vibrator. In her mouth, in her cunt, in her ass. She’d only done that twice and hadn’t gotten more than the tip past the entrance, but it felt good with the vibrations. She’d thought of buying some more creative toys but found herself too embarrassed to go back to the store below the club.
Tonight she couldn’t sleep. They were having an early heat wave in Florida and her air conditioner had stopped working that afternoon. She didn’t know when exactly, but as soon as she walked in the front door, she knew what an oven felt like. A cold bath helped but only temporarily.
She lay in bed, naked, legs spread wide for maximum air flow, ceiling fan on high. She’d pointed the fan on her nightstand directly at herself so the air whispered across her breasts, making her horny as hell. But even the vibrator with its little engine promised to create heat. She didn’t need heat. She needed her AC fixed.
Her phone rang. Since she wasn’t sleeping anyway, she grabbed it and saw it was Jake. Fine. He wanted to talk in the middle of the night, hopefully it would take her mind off the oppressive humidity.
“What happened to your AC?” he asked immediately.
“How do you know about that?”
“The same way I know about your vibrator and what I tell you to do with it.”
“You tell me?”
“My voice in your head. I love it when you do exactly what I say.”
“If I hear your voice in my head, why are we on the phone?”
