No Ordinary Love Story: Sequel to The Diary of a Submissive

by Morgan, Sophie

  While we went out for dinner a few times together over the first months Adam and I were living together, and I spoke to and emailed both Charlotte and Thomas separately, it wasn’t something I felt comfortable talking about. Firstly, that was because it was all so new that I didn’t want to share it with anyone else. Secondly, if I’m honest, I still had slight pangs in the back of mind about the fact Adam and Charlotte had slept together. I know it happened before I met them, and I could hardly take the moral high ground seeing I was the only person sat round the table to have actually slept with all of them (although that was a revelation that made me blush when it occurred to me), but the idea of discussing the things that Adam and I had been getting up to while wondering in the back of my mind whether Adam and Charlotte had done similar things just felt strange. I knew it was irrational, and I was working hard to not let it show and get past it, not least because that kind of unreasonableness in relationships annoys me. I decided silence might be the best policy on that front for now.

  Besides, from what the pair of them had told me about their relationship, I knew that what we were doing was pretty tame in comparison. It was more than enough for me to be getting on with thank you, but Thomas regaled me with tales of munches and play parties and semi-public fun that went much further than anything I had ever experienced, or would probably feel comfortable with. Thomas and Charlotte were like two adventurous kids in a playground, though, and clearly had fun together. We did, however, have one memorable night that gave a somewhat surreal insight into their shifting dynamic.

  Adam and I had finally finished unpacking and invited Tom and Charlotte over for drinks and dinner to say thank you for helping us move. When they arrived Charlotte looked a bit more nervous than usual and hung back as we greeted them and ushered them into the living room. I hugged Tom hello and he and Adam shook hands. I turned to hug Charlotte, who was clutching an orchid in a pot as a house-warming gift. I took it from her, thanking them both for it (while secretly wondering how easily I could buy a replacement if need be before their next visit – I don’t have the best track record with houseplants unfortunately) and then leaned forward to give her a hug. She stepped back out of my reach.

  Suddenly Thomas’s voice was behind me. ‘She’s not to hug you hello today.’

  I turned to look at him, a bit confused. ‘Oh. OK.’

  I literally had no clue what was going on. Was she ill and worried about giving me the lurgy? Or worried I was ill? Did she have a bad back?

  I recognised Tom’s smile – previously that look would have left me feeling very nervous indeed. As it was, I was confused and definitely wondering where this was going.

  ‘She does have something to ask you, though.’

  I looked over at Charlotte. I wasn’t convinced. Her lips were pressed tightly together and she didn’t look like she wanted to say anything. She also had two bright points of colour in her cheeks which left me open-mouthed – in all the time I had known her I had never known her to blush. I felt Adam shifting behind me to get a better look at her, clearly equally confused.

  Tom looked over at her. ‘Don’t you?’

  Her gaze was mutinous. She nodded and closed her eyes, gathering up her courage to speak.

  ‘Please may I kiss your feet to say hello?’

  I couldn’t help it, I blushed in sympathy. Fuck. This was awkward. Also, I realised to my own surprise, oddly hot. Although maybe that was just me flashing back to some of the humiliating things she’d had me do the one time we’d played together and feeling a sense of justice. What goes around comes around.

  I couldn’t resist. ‘Sorry?’

  She was glaring at me now. I know I’m terrible to have asked her to repeat it, but, in my defence, what if I’d misheard? That’d have been embarrassing.

  Her jaw was clenched, her teeth gritted. ‘Please may I kiss your feet to say hello?’ A pause and a quiet sigh. ‘Both of you.’

  Adam turned to look at me and we exchanged a slightly bemused glance. I’ve been intimately acquainted with feet before, but in this context it felt a bit strange. I was also a bit worried how things would escalate after this. Thomas and Charlotte remained my closest friends, but I had no interest in rekindling anything smutty with them, especially now. That said, it was definitely a kind of payback. Turns out I’m a bit of a cowbag where these things are concerned.

  ‘Of course you can,’ I smiled. In my peripheral vision I saw Adam nodding too.

  I took the orchid into the kitchen and returned to find Charlotte crawling across the living-room floor towards Adam. It was a surreal sight. I felt a quickly suppressed pang of curiosity over whether this was how they had looked playing together. The sight of Adam looming over her, seeing her kneeling and pressing her lips to first one shoe and then the other, was striking. I found it oddly hot, not so much for Charlotte (although she was and remains a stunning woman) but for the view of Adam I got – the look of power, the set of his jaw, the curve of his eyelashes as he looked down at her on the floor. It was a view that – I realised with a jolt – I didn’t usually get to see because I was the one on my knees.

  As I looked at them Charlotte broke the tableau and began crawling over to me. I was barefoot and suddenly very grateful I’d had a pedicure a few days before. She bowed her head and I felt her breath on my left foot, then quickly she pressed a kiss to the top. It tickled a little and I smiled, catching Adam’s eyes. He and Thomas were watching intently.

  She moved to my other foot and as she leaned down and pressed her mouth to my toes I heard a little sound of embarrassment, so quiet that no one else could hear it. I still had odd moments when some of the things she had done to me flashed into my mind, making me blush. But while part of me was enjoying watching her debased a little (which was mind-boggling in itself – did this count as switching tendencies?) that little whimper made me feel sorry for her. I leaned down and stroked the nape of her neck, where her haircut ended, and for a tiny moment she leaned into my caress, seemingly taking comfort from it.

  The room was heavy with an atmosphere of … something. And then just as quickly it dissipated. Charlotte got up, still blushing. I asked everyone what they wanted to drink. We decided on which takeaway to order and picked a DVD.

  The rest of the evening was mostly as you’d expect. There were odd quirks. Charlotte didn’t sit on the sofa next to Thomas when we watched the DVD, instead sitting on the floor by his feet. She whispered what I was pretty sure was a request for permission to go to the loo part way through the film. Generally she seemed a little more discombobulated than usual (Tom admitted later that he’d had her wearing a plug the whole night, which would probably have left me struggling to hold up my end of conversations too) but otherwise it was as laid-back as usual. The odd glance passed between Charlotte and Tom that made me wonder what would happen when they got home, but nothing more was said and there was no other awkwardness. By the time Charlotte kissed us goodbye as they left it felt almost normal. OK, who am I kidding? It really didn’t. But as they wandered down the path hand in hand I couldn’t help but feel happy for Charlotte and Tom. I don’t think I’d have ever done that for my dominant in a million years, but each to their own – it seemed to be working for them.

  As we closed the front door and headed back into the kitchen to begin loading the dishwasher, Adam and I simultaneously expelled a breath and then promptly laughed. I couldn’t stifle my curiosity for long.

  ‘So I have a question.’

  Adam looked up from scraping leftovers into the bin. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Is that the kind of thing you did with Charlotte before? This kind of 24/7 public-ish play stuff?’

  I’ll freely admit I was a bit concerned – if this was something Adam was into it was a new one on me and not a path I felt ready to go down, no matter how well I knew the other people in the room with us (in fact, did knowing them make it worse? It might have made it worse).

  He smiled. ‘No, didn’t do this kind of public play and
I certainly wouldn’t have had her do that in a social situation.’ Phew. Although damn my stupid brain for instantly wanting to ask the obvious follow-up question – So what kind of public play have you done? I held back.

  He broke me from my pondering. ‘It was a bit of a conversation stopper, wasn’t it?’

  I laughed. ‘It really was. I knew they were experimenting with a more intense D/s lifestyle, but I didn’t realise it had got that far. Is it terrible that when Tom told her to do it my first instinct was to giggle in a kind of nervous embarrassment?’

  Adam smiled. ‘Me too. And I giggle horribly.’

  We stood looking at each other for a moment, the silence heavy. In the end I waited until I’d turned to put a plate of leftovers in the fridge, incapable of looking him in the eye as I said it.

  ‘Watching her do that, though, it was hot.’

  When I turned back he was looking at me intently, and nodding in agreement. ‘It really was hot.’ He smiled. ‘Especially when she kissed your feet.’

  I rolled my eyes then. ‘Typical bloke with your lesbian fantasies.’

  He leaned over and kissed me on the nose. ‘Partly. It was an interesting kind of humiliation, though.’

  I shivered a little remembering it. ‘It really was. Doing that in front of other people would be a hard limit for me, but that kind of level of control, of obedience …’ I tailed off, swallowing hard to brave saying it out loud. ‘I’d be curious to try it for a little while.’

  Adam kissed me again. ‘Just a while?’

  I grinned. ‘God, yes, just a while. And not too long lest you get unbearable and power-crazed.’

  ‘It’s true I do have megalomaniacal tendencies. Also, I hate micromanagement, so I probably couldn’t cope for too long either.’

  And that’s how our foray into a weekend of full-time D/s started. I blame bloody Charlotte.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  From the earliest time I’d known what D/s was, I’d been a bit dubious of the whole 24/7 thing. I’ve read a lot of incredibly hot fiction about it, met a few people (at my first and only ever munch and also later online) for whom I know it works really well, but I just didn’t see it working for me. As ever, it’s the practicalities that give me pause. What happens when he’s knackered and just wants to watch the cricket, and you’re waiting to be told what you can eat, or wear, or do? How does a job fit within that scenario? Friends? Each to their own and everything, but I just didn’t think it would fit into my life that well.

  Which isn’t to say I wasn’t curious.

  Charlotte and Thomas’s unusual visit had inspired me to try. For most of the time our evening had been completely normal, there was just an intriguing subtext. Would I want to do it all the time? No. Could I give it a go for a finite period? Would I want to? The answer was most definitely yes – particularly after our trip to the kink cottage and our blossoming relationship. I trusted Adam to be kind (ish), certainly to know my limits. And now we had our own place there was all the time and the privacy we needed to give it a go.

  So we did.

  The morning of the day we had decided he would have total control of me dawned like any other. It was a Saturday. We’d had a quiet night on Friday – both of us were keen fans of the ‘come home and flop on the sofa after the work week’ style of Friday nights, saving more social fun for the weekend proper. In the half-doze that you have when you first wake up I had a strange feeling that the day was going to bring something important, but I couldn’t immediately remember what it was. I just felt the anticipation – kind of like when you wake up and are going on holiday, or it’s your birthday or something.

  I rolled over to find Adam already awake and looking at me. He smiled at me and kissed me and pulled me into a nice long hug. It was lovely, loving and – in the few months we’d been living together – it was fast becoming one of my favourite ways to start the day. It was, therefore, an incongruous position from which to remind me of the rules of engagement for the day one last time.

  It was pretty simple. I belonged to him completely and utterly. I had to do whatever he said, when he said it, and if I didn’t there would be punishments. Every choice would be his. What I wore, what I ate, when I ate, what I did. No orgasms without his express permission either, from the moment we got up to the moment I fell asleep. Thankfully I wouldn’t have to call him ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’ – we’d agreed we both felt that was a bit theatrical and would thus pull us out of the moment – but that was, essentially, what he would be.

  I’d expected a bit of time before things started. Notoriously not a morning person, I was hoping I could nip to the loo and brush my teeth at least, have a moment to get my thoughts in order before we started something potentially very intense. It was a bit nerve-wracking, but the unspoken challenge of it was already calling to me – I wanted to get through the day, see where he took us. The adrenaline was already starting.

  He asked if I understood what he was saying. I nodded, not trusting my voice to betray my nerves if I spoke, and worried that if he saw my fear he might somehow go easier on me, that I wouldn’t get the full experience.

  Ha. Chance would be a fine thing.

  Tenderly he held my face, stroking my hair and looking at me intently.

  ‘You remember what your safe word is?’

  I nodded again.

  He smiled. ‘Good. Remember, there’s no shame in using it, especially not today. I know it’s going to be a big challenge for you, but I know you’re going to do your best to please me.’

  I looked at the man I had grown to love – smiling at me, his hair a bit rumpled from bed – and smiled back at him, knowing that he was right. Of course, it was part competitiveness as well as love that was underlying my need to do well, but I didn’t think I should mention that at this point.

  In hindsight I have a sneaking suspicion he already knew.

  And so it began. He sent me to have a shower, while he stayed in bed reading the morning news on his phone. A product of my aforementioned morning grumpiness was that our routine had quickly formed: he went to the bathroom first, giving me an extra ten minutes in bed before I had to get up, with the handy side effect that by the time I was dressed there was usually a mug of tea and sometimes even some toast waiting for me too. So even this most innocent of initial orders felt a bit strange. Of course, things were only going to get more challenging.

  Once clean and dry, I walked back into the bedroom, naked as instructed. By this point he had seen me naked hundreds of times, but as he put his phone back on the bedside table and turned to give me his full attention I felt self-conscious and embarrassed. I tried not to blush, clenching my hands into fists with the effort of not crossing my arms across my chest. I was pretty sure that would count as a no-no.

  He told me to turn round, put my hands on the wall beside the bed and spread my legs apart. I did as I was told and he emerged from under the duvet to stand behind me.

  His hand was at my arse, rubbing a finger cold with lube around me before sliding inside so easily I blushed a little, suddenly grateful he couldn’t see my face. Then his finger was being replaced with the tip of a (very cold) butt plug that he slowly pushed all the way inside me.

  His hand went between my legs and, while the touch was businesslike and almost impersonal, I couldn’t stop myself from shivering, my body already signalling its pleasure at the beginning of this game, even while my brain was trying to work out whether I actually liked it.

  That’s not completely true. I was already – in spite of myself – railing a little under the constant orders.

  He told me to turn back round. I did, silently rolling my eyes at the continuous micromanagement. Was it going to be like this all day? Because that was going to get old incredibly quickly.

  I didn’t school my expression quickly enough for him not to see it as I turned. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen that look on my face – and it certainly wouldn’t be the last – but his reaction left me literally dumbstru
ck for a moment.

  He grabbed a handful of my hair, holding me in place as he pushed his face next to mine. His expression was stern and his voice quiet and threatening as he warned me of how I should behave myself today.

  Before I even figured out if I was supposed to acknowledge what he said with some kind of reply or whether it was safest to keep quiet he had sat down on the bed, thrown me over his lap and begun giving me a hard spanking.

  As he turned my arse red I clenched against the unyielding plug. I was frustrated and turned on all at the same time, desperate to hold my own. But despite the conflicting emotions flashing through my brain (OK, I mainly felt fury), there was one incontrovertible proof of how I was really feeling about this indignity. My face was flushed and I knew I was getting wet. Damn him.

  Today my arousal most definitely wasn’t the point, though.

  When he was finally finished I got up from his lap gingerly, my legs wobbly and my arse hot. I didn’t look at him. I felt smaller. Chastened.

  He got up and went to the wardrobe, leaving me standing awkwardly. He began laying clothes on the bed. Skirt. Blouse. Tie. My long stripey socks (often worn to work under my trousers, although I’d seen him eyeing them up before when I slid them on). Hair band. It would seem sexy schoolgirl was the order of the day. This should have felt comforting. I’d worn variants of this outfit for him before, even mocked him gently for the cliché. This was the Adam I knew. Loved. But still I watched him warily, knowing today the rules had changed.

  Before he had me dress he wrapped a piece of rope round my waist, pulling it between my legs to hold the plug in place. He then watched as I got dressed for him. It was slow and slightly awkward going, not least because the plug and rope combination made bending to put the socks on very distracting indeed.

  I know I blush a lot, but even on that basis I’m not sure I’d ever felt my face so hot without having a temperature. Finally, when I was fully dressed he had me get on my knees in front of him as he sat on the bed. Even though I was dressed and he wasn’t, I still felt like the naked one.