Her black stiletto heels crunched, as she crossed the fine pea shingle to the still impressive, yet faded, front door. The closer Evelyn got to him, the more she realized how much she still needed him. She wanted him more now than ever. She moistened at the thought of him using her body. She was so ready; she wondered how he would have her. Would his mood today be rough or smooth?
In her minds eye, she pictured herself tied, naked and helpless. She pictured his strong hands running over her body. She thought of the pinch of clamps on her tender parts, the smack of paddle, the bee sting of riding crop. A year had been a long time since she had felt Master's firm discipline and she longed to succumb to his will.
She wondered if Peter's features had changed over the last year. Would he look different? Any older? She had scrutinized her facial lines while she was preparing herself for this visit. Her bathroom at home had a shelf dedicated to creams and lotions, making claims to rejuvenate the skin, yet the lines crept in. Were it not for her weekly visit to the hairdresser, she knew that grey whips would streak her hair. But she did not do grey.
Would Peter's hair have aged? He would never be vain enough to use a color. Would his nice physique sport a curve of tummy as age took its toll? All the time she daydreamed, thinking of the changes she might see, she hoped that this evening, would be exactly as if it had been when they lived as man and wife. A pang of desire drove her on.
She wanted Peter alone in the privacy of their bedroom. She wanted to submit to her Master in whatever way he wanted her. Deep down, she never wanted this evening to end.
Once in the lobby the man at the reception desk didn't look up from the sports section in his newspaper, as she crossed the threadbare carpet on the way to the elevator. The interior was faded yet still clues to its former splendor were there. The art deco light fittings, antique mirrors, ornate plasterwork ceilings, and once plush couches at the edges of the large foyer all spoke of a more opulent time yet there was a grubby feel now. Unkempt plants sat on scarred wood tables and a stale musty smell filled the air.
Evelyn entered the elevator and selected the fourth floor. She found herself trembling slightly, as she approached the door to their room. Butterflies danced in her stomach. It had been a whole year since she had last seen Peter.
A flood of emotions hit her and she stayed motionless for a moment. In one breath, she knew that Peter meant everything to her, yet the trembled like a sophomore on her first date.
A shiver passed over Evelyn and suddenly she went as cold as the grave. Peter, James, her life, her loves, her heart, like a near death experience, she saw herself from above. Her life flashed before her eyes. The conflicts and emotions whirled around her head and in one instant there was a part of her that just wanted to run, run back to the arms of James. She was torn between the safety and security of home and the call of her Master.
It had been four years since she had served him full time, yet the power of his voice rang loud and clear in her ears. How she wanted the touch of his hand. She needed Peter. All the time there was Peter, always Peter and she knew as surely as night followed day that she would take these last few steps and knock on the door.
It was the same room where they had made love for more years than she could recall. The same room where she had spent her honeymoon, the room where her lover waited silently for her now.
Her eyes lingered on the tarnished brass numbers 422. There on the door below the number was their sign, a rose, now slightly wilted, yet nevertheless a symbol of their love. A fingertip stroked a slightly wilting petal and with a deep breath and a trembling hand Evelyn's knuckle lightly rapped on the door. With a sigh, her full breasts swelled against her starched linen blouse and suddenly she was fully aware of herself again, aware of the very personal way Peter has asked her to dress for his pleasure. She felt the intimacy and closeness of the chain, as she waited for a response. The metal stroked tender flesh. She could sense, just how wet she was in anticipation of this meeting. A nervous hand fiddled with the hem of her skirt.
For what seemed like an age, she waited outside the door, then the solid click of the lock and there stood Peter, crisp white shirt, and his charcoal business suit. Gold cufflinks and tiepin and the shine on his shoes. He was just the same as he ever was, he had not changed, not one wrinkle, not one additional grey hair. Tears welled up in her eyes as the love for her master overwhelmed her She caught her breath and stifled a sob, as she saw the fire red tie with the tiny white dots she had bought him so many years ago. She looked him full in the face. Yes, he was just the same. The broad, open smile and the glint in his eye, took her back to the electronics trade show where they had met, all those years ago.
She had always loved his enthusiasm, no matter what he did, he always did it keenly. How she loved him. Evelyn stepped to her Master and melted into his waiting arms as if she had never been parted from him.
She felt Peter give the door a gentle push, with a solid click, the door closed, and they were alone.
Their embrace lasted an age, and even then only broke reluctantly.
It was Peter who stepped back, to admire his beautiful lady. She had dressed according to his requests and he appreciated her attention to detail. Her full creamy breasts thrust against her crisp white blouse, her black skirt hugged her rounded hips. His gaze traveled down to her gorgeous stockinged legs and stylish Italian high heels and then back up where the whole image was crowned by the broad gold chain that hung high around her neck, resembling a collar. Affixed to the chain was an amulet, a yellow gold disk with his initial P inlaid in rose gold. On the flipside the maker's mark, which as a smaller yet no less impressive Z. The amulet matched the pendent that hung around his own neck, only the inscription on the front was an elaborate E.
Chapter Two
He had met the maker, Zachariah, by chance. He had been browsing an old quarter of the city, for months. Peter had been looking for a collar for Evelyn, yet he had not seen anything he liked enough to buy it. It had been a fruitless search until coming to an old shop, tucked away in a side ally.
The shop was called The Crimson Z. Pondering the name, he was not sure if that was a good omen or not. The window displayed some beautiful craftsmanship and a small faded sign, ‘Guild of Goldsmiths, jewelry made to order.’ Waiting outside the shop Peter watched a child playing on a bicycle. His gaze was captivated, and then suddenly the child slipped.
Peter rushed over to help the small boy. “Are you ok?"
"Yes Sir. I think so Sir."
The boy had sustained nothing more than a scratch and Peter cleaned it up with a Kleenex, which he put back into his pocket.
"There you are,” he'd said after cleaning the scratch. “I would head straight home now if I were you."
The boy smiled, “Thank you Sir.” The boy seemed happy and went on his way.
Peter's attention turned back to the shop. He was still not sure about going into the small shop. It always embarrassed him if he couldn't find what he wanted or if it was too expensive. He took a deep breath and entered. The shop was dimly lit and looked like something out of a Dickens’ novel. Around the room were glass display cases in which were an array of pretty trinkets on miniature stands or on small velvet cushions. There was something very quaint about the displays, very much something from a by-gone age. The rough wooden floorboards creaked beneath his feet. The shop appeared empty, so Peter looked around at the displays. On the front counter, there was a stunning gold necklace not very long, but generous thick links. The work was lovely and he moved closer to admire the workmanship.
He was just about to touch the precious metal when, “Can I be of service, Sir?” came from a strongly accented voice, from somewhere behind him.
Peter was taken aback at the interjection and then the sight of a well-built, bearded man, who had seemed to have come from nowhere. He composed himself and replied, “Yes, I am looking for a special gift."
"For a lady, Sir?"
"Yes."
The o
ld man walked slowly round to the other side of the counter. Although quite an age, he moved confidently and with grace, for his years. Peter looked into the large man's eyes. They still had a spark of youth, though his age showed in his body and more especially in his slightly gnarled hands. He was tall. Peter guessed a little less than six feet and wore a black suit in the Hasidic tradition. No tie but a white shirt with the top button done up. His long beard was grey as was his long hair. There were the odd traces of dark, which made Peter wonder what he would have looked like as a young man. Even now, he was well built in a way that gave the appearance of strength. Peter thought of him as a young man and was struck by his presence.
"I have been working on this piece,” he said, looking frankly at Peter, “it was started a little while ago, though I had no purpose for it at the time, but I can see it has caught your eye. Please have a closer look, feel the weight of the gold."
Peter picked up the chain and said, “Thank you,” as he examined it closely. It was exquisite work indeed. “Perfect,” he whispered under his breath barely audibly.
"Thank you Sir that is most kind.” The large man paused, and then continued, “Please let me introduce myself, my name is Zachariah. You may call me Zach.” The goldsmith offered his hand in friendship and with without reservation Peter shook it.
Peter, wondered how the jeweler heard him. He also pondered that he didn't know why he trusted this man, but knew that he did. The handshake was strong and honest. He was a little dazed but happy, when he replied, “My name is Peter."
"It is good to meet you Peter.” The goldsmith smiled and looking at the work in Peter's hand continued, “You know? I think this piece, when it is finished, and with the addition of a pendent will suit your need."
"It looks perfect.” Peter paused to look again at the chain. “What kind of pendent did you have in mind?"
The old man smiled warmly, “I suspect the gift is to be one that is intended to show your dedication to each other?"
"Yes but...” How could he know? Peter was confused that a stranger could know so much.
"I know a great many things Peter, I can feel things that most other people cannot."
"Now Peter, the pendent, I see it as a disk, with your initial engraved upon it, maybe a little filigree work to decorate it?"
"I like the sound of that. Yes,” replied Peter.
Zachariah put his hand into his jacket pocket and produced a small note pad and a pencil, “While I am drawing can I offer you something to drink?"
It had been a hot day so Peter accepted the offer, “A glass of water would be nice."
Zach went out to the back of the shop and returned with a whiskey tumbler filled with ice water. Peter took it and thanked him.
As Peter watched, the jeweler began to draw the pendent in intricate detail. The drawing was superbly detailed, the amulet, complete as he described with an elaborate P inscribed on the face side.
Peter felt a sting on his lower lip. He cursed under his breath. Zach smiled at the profanity. Peter used the Kleenex to wipe away the small trace of blood.
"I am sorry about the glass, are you alright?"
Peter smiled. “It's nothing really."
"Allow me to take the Kleenex; you may have a clean handkerchief."
Peter thanked him, traded the soiled tissue for the fresh linen handkerchief, and thought no more about the incident. Peter looked admiringly at the picture, “This is wonderful, exactly what I have been looking for it's per..."
Zachariah interrupted his last word, “Perfect. I hoped you would like it.
"There is still a little work to do on the chain and you will want a similar pendant for yourself, to complete the connection. It will take about a week to complete. I will see you one week from today,” the goldsmith said.
"Don't you at least want a deposit,” asked Peter reaching for his wallet.
"No I don't think so; I believe you will be here next week."
In the week that followed, Peter felt like he was waiting for Christmas to come. He had been tempted to pop in and see how work was progressing, but had resisted the urge. A week to the day he returned. True to his word, the goldsmith produced a satin lined box with the two chains and the two elaborate pendants, the first Evelyn's with the P emblazoned on it in rose gold and the second, this one his, with an elaborate E also in rose gold. Zachariah had used his skill well. In the case of both amulets, the portion inlaid in rose gold and stood out from the rest of the design. Peter beamed like a schoolboy who had just been given a toy. “This is wonderful, exactly what I have been looking for. It's per..."
Zachariah interrupted his last word again, “Perfect ... yes, just so...” pride in his voice.
"I just don't understand how you could know ... that this was exactly what I had in mind."
"Believe me when I say, I just have a feel for these things. I can't tell you how I knew you were coming to me and what you would want, I simply knew. You don't have to try to understand, you just have to accept. There is a connection between these two amulets,” he paused to let his words sink in. “There are a few things you should know.” The big man straightened to his full height. “The pendants have strong properties, when you both wear the amulets you are bound together, in a very profound way. And as long as you are true to each other you will be inseparable."
Peter listened to his words, connection? Inseparable? He didn't understand, but he didn't want to ask either. The friendly look in Zachariah's eyes reassured Peter. He could see no malice in the man's eyes, only warmth. He felt comfortable that this man was doing what needed to be done.
The jeweler went on, “While there is love in both your hearts the pendants will stay warm all the time."
Peter didn't realize the significance of his words then, but he accepted it.
The goldsmith smiled, “I will be seeing you again next year I expect. I have a feeling that you will want some more of my work. More than money has been exchanged today."
"Yes it has. I am sure I will be back too,” and with a shake of hands he settled his account with Zachariah and left the shop.
Chapter Three
Peter's gaze never left his lady. He had always been attracted to ladies with a fuller figure. He had always admired the full roundness of her breasts, the swell of her hip. In a skirt, he loved the way it clung to her thighs and in jeans the roundness of the pubic curve. Every element of her gave him joy. Evelyn was every bit as lovely and he wanted her as much as he had that first day he had spied her from across the room. In all these years, she had changed very little, maybe a little more silver in with her long golden hair, there were maybe a few more lines, but he loved those laughter lines. Evelyn had always told him, of her conscious efforts to keep her weight in check, though in truth he had always felt it would be more to hold, more to love. When they had first met, she had been working out on a regular basis. It was true that she was not as firm as she had been, but to Peter it was the last thing on earth that mattered, Evelyn was his and that's all that truly mattered to him.
He knew then that he had to have her. These years of lust and passion had nourished him. His desire had given him a reason to exist. He looked his lady in the eyes, how he loved her with all that he was.
He lived now, for these annual meetings and if he could he would make these times together last forever. His mind took him back to when they had first met. There had been something about her that had lit the room for him. She had looked stunning in her sharp business suit. There had been an immediate connection and he had known he had to get to know her. Their courtship, though conventional to start with, had always shown promise for more. There had always been something that had made him convinced she would submit to him.
He remembered too well, the night she had first submitted to him. She had been so unsure. She had looked like a fawn, frightened and on edge, not sure if she should stand or run. He remembered shaving her and how beautiful she had looked after, the silkiness of her skin, her swee
t scent and her willingness to come to heel. He had known by the look in her eye that she was submissive and he delighted in the fact that she was willing for him to bring that out and to allow him to possess her.
He remembered the joyous months of training, introducing new toys, all kinds of exotic people, various types of bondage and new rituals. He had always liked the rituals; the element he loved above all was giving a structure to Evelyn's day.
By and large he liked to keep to this daily routine all year round regardless of vacations or other things happening. The day would start with Evelyn kissing her Master's phallus, as an alarm call.
It would vary as to whether he wished to climax in her mouth or not. It might progress into lovemaking or not but it would start with the kiss. After she had provided coffee and breakfast, he would choose her clothing. Unless there were visitors or another reason, he liked her to remain naked for his pleasure until he sorted out her clothes. Peter had his preference, he liked her in stockings, but would let her go bare legged in high summer. He would choose clothing that suited her sense of style. He enjoyed the power of choosing her clothes and she enjoyed it too. She had told him she thrilled at the fact even her panties had been touched and selected by him.
Mid morning at 11am sharp every day he had told her to go to a quiet place, usually the ladies’ rest room. There she was to stimulate her clitoris to erection and hold it there for five minutes, contemplating her master, counting her blessings, and contemplating how best to serve him. Yet in all this time, he had not allowed her to climax, unless he had expressly given her permission to do so. He could feel the strain in her voice some days when he phoned after she had completed her homage.
The Crimson Z Page 15
