by Terri Pray
“You’ve nothing to be sorry for. It’s over. Done with. He won’t be allowed in the house. We both learn from our mistakes.” Naomi tried to interrupt, but he gave a curt wave. “It’s over with. Done. Forgotten. I won’t mention it again and neither will you, is that clear?”
“Yes, very.” Her heart skipped a beat. This was the man she remembered. Her Tyler, her husband, had finally returned.
He leaned close, and wrapped his arms about her. “We move forward from here, Naomi. Remember. I still have one good hand and I know where the paddles are. I will use them if I have to.”
She glanced up, just to be certain that she’d heard a smile in his voice. A smile had claimed his lips and eyes alike, and she sighed. He truly was back.
“Now, relax, take a deep breath and try to recall all the times we enjoyed in this room. Everything else, the world outside, it doesn’t matter. It’s gone. There’s just you and I now.”
Naomi took a long slow breath and tried to shut out the mistake she had almost made. There was only her husband, Tyler, and herself in the house. Nothing else mattered.
“The bed, the candles, the smell of the perfume you’re wearing. Let it all wash over you. Breathe slowly, deeply. Focus on this room, on us. Nothing else matters. Not the weather, news, work, the laundry. That’s all in the past. It’s gone. It doesn’t exist now.”
She nodded, and focused on his words, on the softness of his voice, the hope he offered, and the memories he brought to life.
It didn’t take much for her to close her eyes and remember what it felt like to be held against the cross that now remained in pieces, in the bottom of the closet. He’d made it himself, spent weeks working on the design so it could be taken apart and put together for when he wished to strap her against the wood. He’d designed it so that family, during the rare visits from cousins, nephews and others, would be less likely to stumble onto the wonderful dark secret that had brought so much delight into their lives.
Would they ever use it again?
The paddles. He’d sanded them down himself, smoothing them before boring small holes into one so it would whistle through the air before biting into her skin. That pain and heat that would blossom across her ass, that growl of delight she would hear in response to her soft cry of pain.
Her sex rippled at the memory.
Now the collar remained, untouched, in the locked bottom drawer of her bedside cabinet, the cross was gathering dust and the paddles had been put away in the far corner of the same closet. Just the thought of them no longer being used had been enough to send her into a crying fit, only a few days ago.
A single night had changed all that they had enjoyed. Destroyed? No, not destroyed, but called a halt, to the life they had begun together. Rebuilding meant you had a starting point to work from, a structure, a small thread to start with. Shouldn’t it have been easier than beginning a relationship from scratch?
So why had it been so much harder?
Had they both been that afraid of trying?
Steps, baby steps had been taken, those small building blocks that had been scattered frequently only to be patiently gathered back together and the work begun again. A marriage is a work in progress. That was what she had been taught by her own parents, and that had been one of the driving factors that had prevented her from walking out. Sometimes, even when you loved someone, it wasn’t enough, but you had to have the drive, the need to try and pull through.
Now it was time for another step. Another brick for the foundations they needed. Something that had come from him finding her curled on their bed, sobbing from the depths of her heart, her fingers tight on the large cushion she had sat on in the evening at his feet. Such a simple thing to miss, but that cushion had been the final straw, finding it pushed away under the bed, forgotten, unused, the way she had come to believe her submission to him had been treated.
Now she was grateful for the fight that the cushion had caused.
The love was there. They’d pushed through so much together, that she knew that love and belief had allowed them to continue. Even with the temper fits, the pushing of people away from him, she had continued to love him. He’d needed her, cried for her in the middle of the night, but she was a submissive, his submissive, and she craved the Master she had come to rely on.
“Are you sure about this, love?” she asked, meeting his gaze. No matter how much she wanted to do this, Naomi had to be sure this was something he wanted, that it wouldn’t hurt him. Just the smallest hint of doubt from him would have been all it would take for her to call a halt to the night.
“Very.” The corners of his full lips turned further upwards, into a deep smile that crinkled the lines about his chocolate-colored eyes. “A year ago I wouldn’t have had the courage to ask you to do this, but now I want you to. I want to see you do this. I need to start back down this path with you. I’m not sure it’s going to work out, but I have to try. No, we need to try.”
A year ago they had almost parted, when the anger he had shown had almost become too much for her to cope with. That terrible, unthinking rage had burned without warning. He’d lashed out at everyone during that time, but he had needed to adjust to what had happened. She’d stayed, though, refused to leave him, even when he had thrown things at her, screamed that he wanted to be left alone.
How many times had she been asked why she had chosen to stay with him, why she had put up with the mood swings of that first year, year and a half since the car had skidded on the ice. No, she had to stop that line of thought in its tracks.
She could feel the path of his gaze moving across her body. Every small move he made, she was hyper aware of. If those demons returned to his eyes, she’d stop.
“Naomi, just relax… let me enjoy this the way I used to.” Tyler smiled as he spoke. The man, the dominant figure she remembered had returned for the night. “I want to see your hands play across your body, teasing at your breasts, between your thighs, into that delicious cunt of yours. I want to be able to taste your desire on the air. Play for me, Naomi.”
Nerves slipped away, giving leave for the need to please him to gain life. She pushed easily back to her feet and took a handful of steps backwards. The soft robe slid down from her shoulders, pooling on the floor about her ankles, leaving her standing naked before him. The sound of his breath catching in the back of his throat brought a soft blush to her cheeks. She’d taken to hiding her body from him of late, keeping herself covered from neck nearly to ankle. Baggy clothes, loose robes, dresses, sweats, anything that would prevent him from feeling bad, but who was it she had tried to protect?
Now she could see the passion within his gaze. That delicious stone-wrapped-in-satin look that had her knees feeling weak, her pussy tightening as her thighs pressed tightly together.
A shyness rose within her, a moment where she fought the desire to press her hands about her body, to shield herself from his gaze. Instead, something else took control of the path of her fingers, preventing them from moving to block across her breasts as they cupped those still semi-firm mounds, lifting them upwards, weighing them in the palms of her hands. She wasn’t a young thing any more. Neither of them were, neither had she turned into an old woman, but they both now bordered on middle age and with that came other problems.
Her body showed the subtle signs of wear and tear. Her breasts were no longer the pert things she saw on the models of the day, or the augmented tautness of actresses. That didn’t matter to him. It never had. Oh, he’d teased, in the years prior to the accident, about trading her in for a better model, but that glint in his eyes had always made it clear that it was just that, a joke.
A joke she had joined in on, when the mood had hit her. It hadn’t taken much to repay his teasing in kind, just hinting about a strange, young, mysterious, and handsome dominant, that might one day enter her life to sweep her off her feet, had normally been enough.
It had been something she had not even dared to mention in passing, since that day sh
e had seen him in the hospital bed. No matter how badly she had wanted to find someone to curl up against, to find one person she could lean on, over the stressful months that had followed, she’d stopped herself, if only barely today, by holding onto the hope that the dominant she loved would return to blaze within his gaze.
She’d almost blown it today.
No, she had to stop thinking that way. Tyler still wanted her.
She whimpered as her dark-tipped nipples hardened under the touch of her own fingers. Her tapered nails scraped at sensitive skin and urged them into twin points.
“That’s it…” he urged, his voice taking on a low husky tone. “Slowly, my Naomi, until you can’t bear it any more. Touch, tease your body until you want to scream for release. And then beg me to let you come.”
She was still his Naomi, his wife, and his slave, even if she no longer wore a visible collar. The need to submit to him remained. It didn’t matter any longer that the drive had often hidden within a self-made box, buried deep for two years. Not now at least. That simple sentence released that drive, letting it run free, if only for one night.
That he wanted her to beg again, to plead with him for permission to come, meant more to her than all the diamonds, gold and silver in the world. He’d never know just how many times she’d dreamed about hearing those words again from him.
Naomi edged back against the bed, lay down and parted her thighs wide as he watched, opened the box she had picked up from the bedside cabinet and taking out the slender vibrator. For now, it remained on the bed when her hands returned to trace over her skin, light prickles following the path of her nails. Goose bumps lifted along her body in the wake of those self-inflicted touches.
He didn’t offer any more words, but watched her movements closely. Each soft shift she made was followed by the intense look in his eyes.
Could he see how her thighs tightened? Or the way a slick heat now coated the lips of her sex and glistened from the firm and now-throbbing nub that her clit had become? She hadn’t even begun to brush between her thighs, and already she ached to delve within her body, to feel those tight walls clench on her fingers, to writhe on the dildo he had bought for her.
Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she tried to lift her hips higher, to offer him a better view of her self torment. Her fingers splayed over her stomach and edged across smooth skin towards the soft patch of down between her thighs. The need built with each creeping inch her fingers took towards her tightening pussy.
She glanced back up at him. He still watched her closely. The support and love within his gaze never faltered.
At a slight nod from him, she rested back on the bed and edged backwards just enough that she could rest her heels on the rim of the frame. With her feet firmly planted, Naomi lifted her hips upwards.
Could he see how wet she had become, or how quickly her body had responded to the silent command he had given? Or had he wondered if she had forgotten the signals they had once used?
A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She’d never forget those signals, not if she lived to be a hundred years old.
Her clit throbbed, demanding attention and, for a moment, she almost gave in to temptation.
No, it wasn’t time to touch that low on her body yet. He wanted her to take her time. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she forced her hands to move back over her stomach, cupping her breasts, teasing around her nipples, only to pinch them, watching his reactions between the spread of her waiting thighs.
His gaze was intense and, with her nails caught on her nipples, he let loose a low groan that grew as she tugged those taut nubs upwards, stretching them until pain mixed with pleasure to burn an unseen path into her sex. That groan, that familiar growling sound of pleasure, urged her onwards.
With a soft cry, her back arched, her nail scraping over her clit. Just that small touch had her ready to beg for more. She wanted to dance on her back for him, to scream her need under his watchful gaze. The deep throb in her clit grew, her nail whispering over its glistening surface, her thighs parting wider, only to clench as her fingers slipped down between slip lower lips.
“Delve into that hot little cunt I own.”
Had Tyler really said that, or had her own mind replayed a scene from the past? It didn’t really matter. Her fingers pressed within her pussy, a cry torn from her lips as delight surged through her body. Under his gaze, her hips lifted further from the bed, raised as far as she could, her eyes drifted closed letting her mind flee into the pleasure her fingers played over her body, the pleasure he desired from her.
Small rapid circles danced over her clit, two fingers pressed deep into her sex, her hips rocked, arching upwards, pressing back down onto her hands, the toy un-needed this time around, though it rolled on the bed to slap lightly against her thigh.
“Faster, mine.” His growled words echoed in her ears.
Did he know what that word did to her? The memories it brought back?
His, always his!
Wicked fingers pinched at her clit, twisting only to then circle about it, tapping against the taut skin. Her pussy rippled, heated inner flesh that danced on her fingers in delight. Need burned, grew rapidly to the point of no control, under his gaze. His harsh breath mixed with her gulps for air. Perspiration beaded across her body, leaving small pearls on her dusky skin.
“Please.” The plea escaped her lips in a low gasp.
“Please what, mine?” he growled, his voice so close to her, almost close enough to reach out and touch him.
“I need to – god!” She couldn’t say it. Her body craved more and begged for release. Pressure rippled through her body, her breath burned in the back of her throat, her heart pounded and her blood surged through her veins. Her toes curled, each band of muscle in her legs tightened, until she gasped for air.
“Say it.” That steel she had missed so much had returned to his voice.
“I need to come.” She sobbed the desire out, her cunt clenching with each rapid heart beat.
“Beg.” A single word that carried the weight of her hopes, wrapped in firm control. A deep drive to rock on her fingers, her thumb tapping on her clit, her stomach knotting with each rock, as her thighs grew slicker with each breath.
She couldn’t do that. Not this time. It had been too long. God, he couldn’t truly want that from her!
Pressure wrapped about her hips, controlling her body, her mind and her very soul.
“Say it!”
“Master, please. Your slave begs to come!” Naomi screamed.
“Come!”
Her heart jumped, breath catching in the back of her throat, as she heard his words. Her hips pushed upwards, the tightness in her cunt growing to a point where she thought her body would lock. Heat, passion, fear, it all combined in one violent rush of sensation through her body. The pain, that exquisite moment of pain before release, surged through her, only to crash hard and fast. Time lost meaning. All she knew were the rolling waves within her body, as liquid heat washed over her fingers, leaving her barely even aware that her hips remained lifted from the bed.
Flickering ripples tightened on her fingers, even as she slipped them from her trembling body. It had been such a small thing, so why did she now feel as though she had run a marathon only to find she had come first?
“Mine.” The pride in his voice urged a blush to her cheeks.
Her body didn’t want to move right now. There was a need to curl up for a moment and just relax on the bed, but something else drove her to roll from the soft comfort it offered.
With a low whimper, she moved to the floor, arching her back as she looked up at him from beneath a veil of dark hair. Her fingers curled against the floor, thighs parting as the polished wood left patterns pressed into her bare knees.
“You look so delicious on your hands and knees, my Naomi.” His voice remained husky. “So alive after you’ve come. I’d forgotten how truly beautiful you are.”
She trembled
, as she crawled to him, and pressed her head against his thigh, before she rose slowly onto her knees. His one good hand moved to tangle in her hair, his grip tight, sure and, yes, strong enough to pull her against his chest. The brakes locked tight on the wheelchair, preventing her weight from moving it across the floor. The scars that marked the left-hand side of his face ceased to exist in her eyes, the chair wasn’t there, and it didn’t matter that his left hand lay limp in his own lap. “Yours, Master. I’ve always been yours.”
Tears slipped without shame down his cheeks to spill onto her upturned face. “Yes, you’re mine. I just had to be reminded of that.”
Chapter Five
Calm. She’d never felt so calm in her life. Not even when she had first knelt to Tyler and accepted what was between them. Last night had changed everything between them, but in a good way. They’d walked through the fire together and come out on the other side of it, stronger than she’d ever thought possible.
He still slept. She knew that. She’d checked in on him only a few moments ago. How long he would sleep she didn’t know, but Naomi planned on having everything ready by the time he woke up. His breakfast, just the way she had always served him the morning after a scene. It meant dashing out for some groceries, but she’d covered that aspect by leaving him a brief note to explain she was going shopping. That way, if he woke up before she returned, he’d know where she had vanished to.
Small things. Open lines of communication. The tiny steps they had forgotten about, after the accident. Now they were falling back into place, as if they had never been forgotten.
Naomi pulled on her coat and headed for the door, closing it behind her carefully. She didn’t need the car, as the store was only two blocks away and the walk would do her good. Again, it was a part of the ritual they had established between them after a scene. The fresh air, the walk, the small things she’d need for a good breakfast for him, she’d missed all of this.
