Reclaiming Sophie

by Natasha Knight

  “I’ll walk you out then,” he said.

  She was relieved he didn’t insist on walking her home.

  He led the way down the stairs and collected her coat. Once they were just outside the doors, he turned her to face him and reached inside his pocket to hand her a business card. “If you would like to talk, my cell phone is on the back or you can e-mail me anytime.”

  She looked at it and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, slipping it into her purse.

  “Oh, and one more rule, Sophie, in case you choose to return,” he began.

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “Your clothes.”

  She knew this would come up, didn’t she?

  “Do you remember how the other submissives were dressed?” he asked.

  She nodded. They weren’t.

  He waited.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. I’ll expect the same from you.” He gave her a moment, allowing the words to impress upon her.

  She understood him, even appreciated his not giving her an out. As welcoming as he was, as he promised to be the next time, he wouldn’t let her off the hook. It was exactly what she wanted and needed.

  “Enjoy your weekend, Sophie,” he said.

  “Good night, Kyan… Sir, and… thank you.”

  He simply nodded and watched as she walked down the street and around the corner.

  Chapter Three

  Sophie lay in bed trying to process the events of the evening, trying to make sense of what she’d seen. The images alone—the club, the main room, and then the private rooms. The punishment she’d glimpsed made her shudder, but watching Adam with Rebecca left her wanting, almost jealous. The way they’d been together, their obvious intimacy, his care of her… it awoke feelings inside her. It wasn’t desire and it wasn’t merely arousal. Those would be easier to manage. No, this was much deeper. It was nothing less than a longing that twisted her stomach.

  Her throat tightened and she turned over onto her side. She’d never have this. She’d never experience those things herself; she’d never be able to fill this gaping hole.

  Michael. Oh, Michael.

  Guilt edged its way alongside the longing. Things hadn’t turned out as she’d expected them to. As either of them had expected them to.

  After two years of marriage, they’d tried to get pregnant. The first pregnancy happened quickly and they were thrilled. But she’d lost the baby before the end of the third month. The second pregnancy had lasted a few weeks shorter. After the miscarriages, they’d done some tests. When nothing had come of those, the doctor had suggested more tests, but she hadn’t wanted to go further, afraid to find out she’d never be able to have children of her own. That thought alone had sent her tumbling into depression.

  This thing, this need, this desire, it wasn’t new. It had only resurfaced after those events, and it had done so with a vengeance. It had somehow become a sort of lifeline for her. Something she could hold onto to stay afloat. She’d been able to subdue it for a long time, managed to live with the lack, but since she’d given in to the other, it was as if there wasn’t enough space inside her to carry both losses, both holes in her life. The one she had no choice in and this other she denied herself.

  Now there was Kyan. She hadn’t felt a sexual energy from him, although she wasn’t naïve enough to think he wouldn’t take it if she offered it. He was kind, she knew that in her heart, but he was still a man.

  She imagined Michael having that air of authority, that ability to make her knees go weak with his words. And it would have to be Michael, wouldn’t it? That was the irony of this. She wouldn’t cheat on him. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t imagine it. There was no question she loved him and he already deserved better. She’d gone to a BDSM club alone behind his back. What would he do if he ever found out?

  Well, he wouldn’t find out because she wasn’t going to go again. What if the next time Kyan asked for more? She’d already be expected to be naked—at least partially so—if she went back.

  The thought of being seen like that, of submitting to this rule of the club and essentially submitting to him, titillated on a level so base that it confused as much as it frightened, and Sophie wondered just how well she knew herself after all.

  * * *

  Friday dragged as Michael checked his watch every few minutes. He wanted to get home, get back to his wife. He hadn’t been able to get hold of her for more than a few minutes on Thursday night and when he’d spoken with her today, she’d sounded better. At least she’d tried to sound more cheerful, but he knew it was forced, like she was trying too hard.

  His flight was late leaving due to thunderstorms in Paris and by the time he got home, it was almost eleven o’clock on Friday night. He paid the taxi driver and carried his suitcase up the stairs to the front door. The lights were still on inside, but the curtains on the huge front windows were drawn. He walked in and set his bag down, retrieving the box of macaroons he’d picked up in Paris for her. She loved the colorful little cookies, especially the pistachio-flavored green ones, so he’d made sure to buy extra of those.

  The sound of the TV came from the living room and he went in that direction, surprised she hadn’t come out to greet him as she usually did. But when he walked in to find her curled up in the corner of the couch holding the small throw over her scantily clad body, he had to smile.

  He was powerfully attracted to her, had been ever since the first day he’d seen her. She was pretty, beautiful even, although she hardly seemed to know it herself. Long dark hair, a small, pale face with delicate bones, large caramel eyes, and full luscious lips. She stirred when he pulled the blanket away and glimpsed her bare legs. She opened her eyes and sat up, still a little confused from the look in them. He whistled, his cock stirring to life.

  “Wow,” he said, taking her into his arms and covering her mouth with his. He held her tight to him before his hands wandered to the bare cheeks of her ass. She wore a dark red halter-neck teddy that just covered her small breasts with a thin strip of lace. It was split down the middle and underneath she wore a matching thong. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he said, lifting her off her feet. Although high-heeled slippers lay on the floor by the couch, she was barefoot and at 6′4″, he was a good foot taller than she and weighed almost twice as much next to her petite form. He loved that disproportion between their bodies. He loved that he could pick her up and put her where he wanted her, how he wanted her, and fuck her tight little pussy.

  “I fell asleep,” she mumbled between kisses as he set her back down. She unbuttoned his shirt, her hands finding his bare chest.

  Michael reached to push the button on the remote and switched off the TV while she peeled his shirt from his body. Once that was out of the way, her hand slipped into his pants, gripping his cock. She stood back and looked at him with a determination he didn’t expect, didn’t know. She’d always been more shy in the bedroom, letting him take the lead, which he liked. This was different.

  “Fuck me,” she said. “I need you to fuck me.”

  He almost smiled, devouring her with his eyes, and this time, hauled her off her feet altogether to carry her up the stairs and into their bedroom. Once he had her on her back on their bed, he stripped off the rest of his clothes and settled himself between her legs, taking one lace-clad nipple into his mouth while he pressed his cock against her pussy.

  “I want you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  In the next moment, he pushed her panties aside as she spread her legs wide. Looking down at her, he thrust into her hard, watching her face as he fucked her.

  But she broke eye contact before it was over and even as he came, she turned her face, twisting away a little once he’d spent himself inside her.

  * * *

  “You didn’t come,” he said.

  “You know it’s hard for me to orgasm,” she replied, her back to his front as he held her tight to him in the darkness of their bedroom.

  “It didn’t used to be
hard, Soph,” he kept on.

  A single tear slid out of the corner of her eye. “Michael, just let it go.”

  He exhaled and reached over her to turn on the light. She quickly wiped at her face, not wanting him to see any evidence of tears.

  “We need to talk, Soph. We need to figure out how to fix this. I don’t know where your head is.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked away for a minute. Her eyes once again filled with tears.

  “I’m sorry, Michael,” was all she could say.

  He shifted his body so he looked directly into her eyes. “No. Don’t do that, don’t apologize. You don’t have to say you’re sorry. Just please, please talk to me. If it’s about the babies, honey, we haven’t even begun to think of options. We can go for more testing, get a second opinion. A third. There are so many alternatives. So many things we can try. Hell, we can adopt a baby. We can fill out the paperwork tomorrow, get things going.”

  Sophie was shaking her head, tears streaming down her face now.

  “What? What is it? Please, Christ! Just fucking tell me what the hell I have to do to get my wife back.”

  She wiped her face and sat up, looking at him. He sat there, her beautiful husband. He was fit, muscular. She always had the feeling of being safe near him, protected in his arms. But his eyes, those blue, blue eyes, they were so sad now. They looked at her with a desperation she’d glimpsed now and again over the last months. She had never seen her husband cry. But how would he look at her if he ever found out how depraved she was?

  A part of her screamed for her to trust him. To tell him everything. It swore he wouldn’t accuse her, shame her. But she couldn’t do it. She wasn’t strong enough.

  “I’m tired, Michael. Give me time, I just need more time. It’s the move; everything is so different here and you’re gone so much.”

  His expression changed, guilt twisting his mouth. But what did he have to feel guilty about?

  She put her hand on his arm and slid a little closer, tucking herself into him. “I understand about work. I’m not blaming you. Just give me some time, okay? Let’s have a nice weekend. I love you, don’t ever doubt that. I love you, Michael, I always will. I just need time.”

  Michael hugged her tighter to his body.

  “I love you, baby. Whatever it is, I don’t care. We’ll figure it out, work through it. You know that, right?”

  Oh God, tears again. She nodded, somehow able to form her mouth into a smile even as the crying began anew. He held her for a while, just rocking her, keeping her face buried in his chest, cradling the back of her head. She went limp in his arms and just let him take care of her. She trusted him completely, didn’t she? She could tell him anything. Just not this.

  Chapter Four

  When Michael was out of town again the following week, Sophie returned to the club. She was only going to look, to watch; she just couldn’t keep away.

  Comforting herself with this thought, she made her way up the stairs. John, the same bouncer at the door, acknowledged her with a smile and opened the door. She turned to him before going inside, finding him friendlier than the women in the lobby.

  “Can you call Kyan? Tell him Sophie’s here?”

  “I will,” he said. “You can wait in the lobby.”

  She stepped inside and the door closed behind her. She found she was more excited tonight than frightened.

  The office door opened and Kyan stepped through, a smile on his face. She exhaled immediately, meeting his smile with her own, not realizing she’d been holding her breath. When he reached her, he took her hands and kissed her cheek.

  “I’m glad we didn’t scare you off,” he said. He looked her over from head to toe and she became very aware of the two women around her. “Why don’t we go to my office?”

  “Yes, please,” she said, appreciating that he was so in tune to her feelings.

  “Would you like something to drink?” he asked.

  She shook her head, but remembered well his instructions. “No, thank you,” she dropped her gaze, “Sir.”

  He sat on the edge of his desk and folded his arms across his chest, his expression one of curiosity. “What would you like to do then?” he asked.

  She met his eyes again. “I’m not sure I’d like to… do… anything. No, I am sure I don’t want to do anything. But I’d like to watch again. Just in the main room if that’s allowed, Sir.”

  His smile grew as if he were pleased and he nodded. “I think that would be all right for now. I’ll introduce you to a few of the other members; you can get to know them and they can get to know you. You should remove your coat though. It’s warm inside,” he said, uncrossing his arms and setting his hands along the edge of the desk.

  She looked at him for a moment, her body ready, willing, wanting.

  With great attention, she unbuttoned her coat and slipped it from her shoulders. He held out his hand and took it from her, setting it aside.

  He waited, patient as ever.

  She reached for the hem of her sweater, took a breath, glanced from him to the floor and back to him. She could do this, couldn’t she? She’d thought about it all day. She could do this.

  But she soon dropped her hands. “I can’t. I can’t do it. I’m not ready yet to go in there… naked. I’m sorry.” And she was.

  He studied her for a few moments before reaching out and putting his hands on her arms, rubbing reassuringly. “It’s all right. When you’re ready,” he said.

  She exhaled and smiled. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “Shall we go in?” he asked.

  She nodded and took a deep breath to prepare herself. He opened a side door and gestured for her to go through it. She knew it led to the main playroom by the dark blue light and soft music that came from beyond and, picking up one leaden foot at a time, she crossed the threshold.

  His hand was at her back guiding her through. The club was quieter tonight and they walked directly to where two couples stood. One of the men was dressed in a suit; the other wore a pair of jeans. Sweat glistened on his bare chest and shoulders. The latter held a mean-looking black leather strap in his hand. One of the women knelt naked at her husband’s feet and the other remained bent over a bench, her hands and ankles bound to the legs. As they approached, the men turned in their direction.

  “Gentlemen,” Kyan said. “This is Sophie. I hope you won’t mind if she’ll observe tonight. She’s new and curious.”

  “Welcome, Sophie,” one of the men said. The other repeated the words.

  “Thank you, um… Sir,” she said, glancing at Kyan, who nodded.

  Sophie couldn’t help but look at the markings on the buttocks and thighs of the woman who was bent over the bench.

  “Samantha thought she could take a strapping without sound,” the first man offered. She didn’t recall his name. “So far so good; she’s got a few strokes to go, though,” he said. “Don’t you, hon?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  The other man grinned.

  Then, while everyone watched, he raised his arm and brought the strap down hard on the waiting woman’s buttocks. The flesh quivered, its already reddened surface seeming to radiate heat. The woman didn’t make a sound louder than an exhale of breath, but Sophie saw a tear drop to the floor.

  “Ten,” the woman counted.

  Another strike. “Nine,” came her voice.

  Another. And another. By the time they got to three, she was unable to stop her small squeals.

  Kyan checked his watch. “Come,” he said, turning her.

  Sophie heard the last three strokes of the strap delivered in quick succession.

  Just then, a very pretty, petite blonde approached Kyan. She was wholly nude except for the collar at her neck that matched the irons on her wrists and ankles. Although Sophie blushed, she couldn’t help but look at her. She seemed to demand attention. She was slightly overweight, but walked with such confidence, it was as though she were unaware of her nudity altogether. Sophie felt rath
er than saw the shift in Kyan’s energy as the woman came closer, her heavy breasts bouncing as she walked fast.

  “Master,” she said, offering him her hands.

  Kyan took them and smiled, his eyes filled with a warmth that left Sophie feeling almost out of place with the couple—and they were obviously a couple.

  Kyan kissed the backs and palms of both her hands and she slid easily to her knees at his side, as if she’d been there a hundred times, a thousand times.

  “This is my Julia,” Kyan said, petting the woman’s hair as he introduced her to Sophie.

  This might have been one of the strangest experiences Sophie had ever had.

  “Julia, this is Sophie. She’s new here so I’m just showing her around. Are Martin and Cassandra ready?” he asked Julia.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said.

  “One of the members’ wives broke a very important club rule,” he said to Sophie. “Her husband has asked me to deal with her punishment as he’s not experienced enough with the cane. It will be a lesson for both of them. Would you like to witness her punishment or shall I leave you with Julia?” he asked.

  She swallowed, her pussy already swollen, her clit throbbing at that one word again. “I’d like to watch,” she found herself saying.

  He nodded. After talking with another man who took Julia with him, Kyan led her once again up the stairs to the private rooms. “We’ll need Martin’s permission for you to observe, but I don’t think it will be a problem,” he said.

  “Do you… punish… women often?” she asked as they climbed the stairs.

  “From time to time, but only if I’m requested to by their husbands or partners.”

  “Is Julia your wife?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “My wife and my slave.”

  Slave.

  “She looked very happy,” Sophie said.