Page 98 of Objection
Speaking of Sam, she and Daniel and gotten married the year before us in an interesting and enchanting evening in the woods. Who knew that sassy and smart-assy Samantha was a witchy fairy woman underneath it all? They had dressed in the most beautiful outfits and professed their love for one another in a joint wedding and collaring ceremony, cementing their commitment to one another for as long as their love should last. It was honestly one of the most beautiful ceremonies I had ever been to, and it was a memory I would hold dearly for the rest of my life.
The four of us, Daniel, Sam, Soren and I, had become incredible friends over the years. Sam had set the whole thing up about six months after Soren and I had officially become romantically involved.
Surprisingly, Daniel and I had hit it off almost instantly. Sam teased us for being almost identical in the type of people we were. Which was funny because Soren and Sam were just as similar. Game night between the four of us had become a thing of legends. The fact that they had become like family to me, and incredible mentors in kink was just icing on the cake. Soren never took on other submissives, just as we had originally agreed on. It worked best for us, and I was grateful. We weren’t poly, but that didn’t mean we didn’t play. We had many trips to the local dungeon and had played with others a time or two. It had been an eye-opening experience to be able to try new things and experience other types of Doms, all while Soren was there. It sounded so strange to me at first, but it wasn’t sexual. There were Doms there at the dungeon who had toys and implements that we didn’t. It was a fun and safe way to experience them before we invested in the cost.
Soren had even surprised me that second year we were together by having a “birthday spanking line” at the dungeon. I had one hell of a sore ass and a giant smile on my face by the end of the night. Let’s just say it had become an annual event to look forward to.
Speaking of things to look forward, I was currently watching the clock tick by, so freaking slowly, counting down the minutes until the end of the day. It was currently a Tuesday and we had stuck to our original schedule. Tuesdays and Saturdays were our scene nights with a floating night that we could add in as needed and agreed upon prior.
It had been an incredible journey; one I was beyond excited to continue tonight. I couldn’t help glancing into his office where he sat, working diligently at his desk. As though he could feel my gaze on him, he looked up. The smirk on his face, the way his eyes moved down my body, undressing me, already touching me with his mind, set me on fire. He bit his lip and I swear I could feel those teeth marking my skin.
A glance at the clock told me it was only half an hour to go until we could leave the office, head home, and begin our play.
Who was I kidding? Our play began long before the scene would start. Our play began with these tantalizing glances. Our play began with small commands given on the way home. Our play began in the unspoken moments between the end of the workday and the moment I kneeled on the floor of our playroom.
When the clock finally hit five, Soren stood from his desk, giving me a hand signal that said to follow him. We packed up our work things and let everyone go for the evening, locking up and settling in the car to head home.
As soon as I had sat in my seat on the passenger side, his fingers snapped, pulling my attention and focus straight to him.
“Seatbelt, princess,” he ordered, holding his hand out. I handed him the seatbelt strap and kept my eyes on him as he fastened it for me. It may seem silly, but these small things he enjoyed doing, small gestures of his protection and care. They meant the world and they solidified our dynamic.
Halfway through the drive, Soren brought my hand to his lips. But instead of kissing the back, he flipped my hand over, running his teeth over the sensitive skin inside my wrist.
“Panties,” he stated firmly, and I knew exactly what he meant. With a little finagling, I slipped the lace panties over my hips and down my legs, leaving me bare beneath my pencil skirt, save the stockings I wore to drive him wild.
“Legs open, love.” His voice was like a good bourbon. Smooth and sultry, but igniting fire as it slid over your tongue. I shifted in the car, tugging my skirt up a touch and spreading my legs open.
He didn’t do anything past that, just kept me open and available to him during the car ride home. It was embarrassing in the best sense of the word. I felt on edge. I felt sensual and seductive. I felt wanted. And he knew it.
By the time we returned home, I was on edge for him, wanting his hands on my body, his lips against my skin. He was a master at this, at playing my body and playing my mind into this intricate game that he designed. It was intoxicating and I was beyond addicted.
We walked into our home, and he slammed the door shut behind me, pushing me against it.
“Mrs. Wellington, I do not have the patience to wait until this evening to begin our session. I need you under my control now. Do you object?” His voice blew like silk over the sensitive skin of my neck as I shook my head.
“No objection, Sir,” I said coyly.
“Good girl. Now strip those fucking clothes off before I tear them off of you. And these,” he teased, running his fingers over the collar of my blouse, “are far too pretty to ruin.”
I trembled and stripped my clothes off. I should have taken extra time, been more sensual about the striptease, but that was not what I was focused on in that moment. I was focused on obeying him and getting naked as fast as possible. The faster I got naked, the sooner he would touch me. Hopefully.
Once my clothes were in a pile at my feet, he pulled me forward. With his fingers pointing down, he signaled me to kneel for him, right there in the entryway.
“You’re so beautiful, Posey,” he whispered, moving my hair to one side and unclasping the dainty platinum necklace that served as my day collar. Having a piece of jewelry that marked me as his to wear all the time felt incredible. Sure, I had my wedding ring as well, but this was something just as personal and just as sacred.
No sooner had he placed the necklace on the entry table than I felt the cool leather of my official collar wrap around my neck. He had collared me during our engagement party. Well, just after most of the guests had left, that is. We had waited until most of our friends and family had departed for the night, leaving only our mutual kink friends present. They had all been asked to stay after the party to witness our collaring ceremony. It had been an incredible night, and I had cried as I spoke my vows aloud to him. That ceremony had been just as important, just as revered as our wedding day.
The collar slid into place, fastened neatly at the back of my neck.
“Come.”
I stood carefully and followed him into the kitchen. He turned and lifted me onto the counter suddenly. Without a word, he spread my legs wide there on the countertop. His hands ran up my hips, over my waist and continued on, lifting my arms above my head.
“Clasp your hands behind your head, princess.” I obeyed instantly, feeling beautifully exposed for him. He pulled out a cutting board and items from the fridge for our dinner. A delicious charcuterie spread; it would seem.
Here and there, he interrupted his preparations to touch my body. A finger ran up my thigh, a kiss to the tattoo on my collarbone, a bite on the swell of my breast. Each touch and taste setting me on edge and ready for him.
With dinner prepared, Soren lifted me off of the countertop, wrapping me up in his arms and carrying me to the table, though, instead of sitting me at the chair beside him where I normally sat, he deposited me directly on top of the dining table.
