Page 79 of Objection
“It is my job to comfort you,” I continued. My hands moved over her body slowly, reverently. I paid attention to every inch of her skin, paying homage to it and reveling in the feel of her under my hands. This wasn’t sexual, it wasn’t even sensual in some respects. This was my own form of worship to the woman who had freely given herself into my care.
“It is my job to give you care.” My touch turned from soft touches to firm strokes as my thumbs dug into the sore, tender muscles of her neck, helping to relieve any additional tension. I took my time, waiting until she was as pliant as could be, before helping her from the now cooling water.
I wrapped her up in a fluffy towel, carefully drying each and every drop of water from her form. I placed soft kisses as I moved. Kisses that said thank you, and I cherish you. Kisses not meant to entice or arouse, but kisses meant to tell a story of gratitude and of things better left unnamed.
Lifting her into my arms, I carried her upstairs slowly. I had half a mind to take her to my bed again, but it was too much. Instead, I took her to her own room, helping her relax against the sheets before joining her. I wouldn’t stay all night; I couldn’t stay all night. It was too much. But I could stay awhile and let her sleep in peace tonight.
When I laid beside her, nestled in the soft linens, she curled into me like she was pulled by some imaginary force. Once she stilled and her breathing began to slow, I whispered once more.
“It is my job to be your safe haven. It is my job to be yours, as much as you are mine.”
24
Posey
I don’t knowwhat happened that night a week ago when Soren I had scened after Sandra had left. After the scene had ended, we talked. When I say we talked, I mean we talked for hours. All night. We talked about how good the scene had been. How badly it had started. I mean, at the end of the day, we had both agreednotto scene as planned that night. But when Sandra left, and I was standing there, caught up in the frustration, the sexual tension that sizzled in the room, I knew exactly what I wanted. So did he. Neither of us regretted what had transpired.
We had come together in a way that… well, for lack of a better word, broke me apart. He was there, tearing down the walls that I was scared to release. But then I just let go. I let go and trusted him to care for me, to guide me through the chaos, and he did. He was there every step and when it was over, he put me back together with care the likes of which I had never experienced before.
We discussed small changes we wanted to make in our contract. That was wonderful, but what had really changed was what wasn’t put down with paper and pen. In the days that followed, he was different. I was different. Yes, we maintained a level of professionalism that was necessary with our work. Both of us needed that. But I felt his eyes on me all the time, and when my eyes found his, he didn’t look away. Not at work, not at home.
He smiled more. So, did I.
I was sure I had gained a solid ten pounds in the last week alone, not missing a single meal together. He cooked the most delicious foods. Omelets and quiches for breakfast, sandwiches and salads for lunch, and the most exquisite dinners that had me moaning more at the dinner table than I think I did in the playroom. He teased me for it, whether true or not.
We laughed together, all the time. This more relaxed version of Soren was like discovering a man I didn’t know at all, yet knew to my very core in the same right. There was a companionship we were building that had nothing to do with our dynamic. I couldn’t say it was necessarily romantic, but it definitely wasn’t unromantic either.
He discovered my love for reading at any possible chance I could find. I discovered his love of cooking and his love for dancing to the standards like Frank Sinatra when he thought no one was looking. Oh, I was definitely looking.
We were sharing activities more, as well. He would cook, I would do the dishes while he leaned back against the countertops, sipping his drink and watching me with an intensity that I could feel to the center of my being.
We had scened on Tuesday night, per our contract and it had been incredible. We focused on rope. We had practiced safety first, with him explaining the importance of single-column ties and showing me good knots versus bad knots. He taught me about nerve damage and signs to watch for. It was just as important for me to be aware and to communicate the needs and concerns of my own body as it was for him to continually check in as my Dominant.
I felt like I had blinked, and an entire week had passed. It was already Saturday, and our scene tonight was fast approaching. As it was, he had been teasing me all day and, if you asked me, enjoying himself far too much in the process. We had discussed extending our play into the full day for Saturday. No, not full scenes or anything, but little commands given throughout the day to get us both into better headspaces to allow for deeper, more intense scenes on Saturday night. I had to admit, it was working very well.
Already today he had commanded me to stop what I was doing and lay over whatever surface was available so he could inspect me. His inspection was really just an excuse for him to embarrass me by pulling my panties and pants down, feeling me with his fingers, and occasionally his tongue. Regardless, it had me on fire and wanting to kneel at his feet. He had commanded me to refill his drink a few times, and had even had me sit on the kitchen table with a vibrator pressed against my clit while he sat there and watched. He hadn’t let me cum. Of course not, that would have been far too kind.
By the time the sun was fading in the sky, I felt like a vibrating puddle of submissive goo ready to obey his every command. And he knew it.
“Posey,” he called from the dining room, after I had finished cleaning up our mess from dinner. I popped my head into the dining room to see what he wanted.
“It’s time.”
Those two little words had me full of excited butterflies, anxious nerves, and anticipation.
“Yes, Sir,” I responded, fully stepping into the room and lowering my eyes, my hands clasped behind the small of my back.
“Beautiful posture, beautiful woman. Please head to your room and put on the outfit I have left for you. No more, no less, and most importantly, no arguing. Do you understand?” He spoke firmly, making me quiver with excitement.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Tonight, we will be doing something quite fun. It’s new for you, so please communicate with me and remember your safewords as we proceed,” he explained.
“What will we be doing, Sir?” I questioned, my eyes raising to his.
“Tonight, we will be going through a few things. I will have you tied up to the St. Andrew’s Cross and we will go through some of our favorite impact toys. The crop, flogger, canes, and paddles. I will move you to the floor where we will go through commands. Lots and lots of commands,” he continued with a delightfully evil grin. “From there, I will lay you out on that padded table you love so much, restrained, beautifully stretched, and drip, drizzle, and pour beautifully intricate designs of hot wax all over your creamy skin until you are begging me to take you.”
I forgot how to breathe for a moment and instead, simply nodded my head.
