ONE
"Hi hon," Sophie says as she slips into the passenger's seat, brown curls flashing in the late afternoon sun. I watch her settle herself in - God, she was so sexy in her navy pin-stripe business suit.
"Hey girl." I lean over and give her a peck on the cheek and she smiles as she pulls away, eyes dancing, and fastens her seatbelt. As I ease away from her office building and into traffic, she leans forward and pulls the set of handcuffs from the glove compartment.
"Good girl," I murmur automatically when I hear the click and click of each cuff locking in place around her delicate wrists. I scan the traffic - rush hour is always a bitch downtown.
She settles into her seat, cuffed wrists laying in her lap and looks out the window. "Any news on the car?"
The fucking car - another thousand dropped into that thing. Time to get her a new one. "Transmission. They need parts. It'll be at least another day. You'll just have to endure our carpool a little longer." I grin, feeling her gaze on me. I know my wife - without looking at her I know the she's looking at me with contemplative eyes. Her time of actual freedom has been cut by being driven to and from work cuffed.
"Are we still going out tonight," she asks, changing the subject with that little breathy nervousness touching her voice.
"Of course. No way we're missing this. Our first year." I see her reflexive touch to her collar out of the corner of my eye, as if she needs reassurance it's still there. It isn't really much of a collar - the real one is waiting for her at home. But wearing a real collar, heavy steel, with rings - well something like that daily in a courtroom definitely brings complications into a successful career. Her day collar is an elegant choker with a small golden plate in the center, tiny diamonds embedded on the face of one side - the side everyone saw - and engraving on the other side, the side pressed to the soft skin of her neck. "Master's Property" is all it says.
We make small talk all the way home, to the suburbs, talk about her day and mine, normal things that normal vanilla people talk about - good things, the things a husband and wife need to share. And all the while, skyscrapers and bumper to bumper traffic begins to yield to parks and boulevards and residential avenues and finally our street and driveway.
As I pull the car in the garage, things change, the normal, calm air suddenly charging with electricity. I kill the engine and turn to kiss her for the first time since we went our different ways this morning. She opens her mouth to mine, accepting the invasion of my tongue as I claim her. My hand slips under her power suit jacket and cups her breast, protected by silk and bra. I find her nipple already hard and squeeze hard enough for her to groan in my mouth. She presses into my hand, silently begging for more, but I break the kiss. Better to leave her simmering.
Her face is flushed as I pull away and stare deep into her sparkling blue eyes. God, I could fall in and be lost forever in her eyes. I chuckle to myself - better to let me simmer. Time to get the show on the road - many plans for tonight, for my little slave wife. I pull the keys from the ignition and find the handcuff key, releasing her wrists. Without a word, she slips the cuffs back into the glove box, ready for another time.
Carpool days are different than normal days. A little bit of schedule shifting is required when we share a car, but normally, she's home before me and I miss what's about to happen. My lovely, sexy, beautiful wife Sophie gracefully exits the car and goes to her changing area, the portion of our garage hidden from the street by a half wall, containing soft carpet, an antique wardrobe cabinet we'd picked up on one of our "treasure hunting adventures" last fall and a sitting bench with mirror and table, filled with her "last chance" make-up, to touch up her make-up when coming and going.
She starts to go about her routine when I make a "tsk" noise from where I'm standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Eyes on me." She looks up, startled, blush creeping to her cheeks.
"Yes Master, I'm sorry." Then, eyes never leaving mine, she slips out of her heels, slides the waist zipper on her slacks and shimmies them down the swell of her hips, where they pool at her feet. She slips the jacket from her shoulders as I see the swell of her breasts beneath her silk blouse and were she in another profession, one less formal, I'd have her do away with the jacket altogether so the world could admire her breasts along with me. Her look has changed as more and more of her clothing ends up on the floor at her feet, her panties, blouse and finally bra - she's no longer the confident, independent counsellor, even though she was sporting handcuffs on her ride home just a few minutes ago. She's glowing now with the heat of who she really is, finally released from the trappings of a normal and boring world.
"May I collect my things and put them away, Master?" It's only because I've made her look at me that she's asking permission to look away to complete her business and I know it gives her a thrill to be made to ask. She's mostly autonomous, a balance we've learned over the last year - we both realize that micro-management doesn't fuel the burn that we share almost every waking moment we're together. But she knows, through punishment, that when told to do something, she does it, unless given permission otherwise.
"Yes, but finish up quickly. Don't make me wait."
"Thank you, Master." Then she's hanging her suit in the wardrobe, folding her silk blouse for the dry cleaners and putting everything else in the hamper. She slips the choker from around her neck and begans to replace it with her collar before I stop her.
"No girl. We're going out tonight, remember. Wear your day collar."
She smiles, blushing, and returns the day collar to its place snugly locked around her neck. Then she slips to her knees before me in perfect slave posture - back rigid, breasts proud, knees spread, pussy inviting. "May I enter your home, Master?"
I gaze down at her, from the little stoop. Behind me is the kitchen, our home, a place where Sophie is never allowed to wear a stitch of clothing, where the outside world is just an inconvenience we endure momentarily to fuel the inside world we both love. At my back, inside our world, is pleasure and pain, lessons and punishment, discipline and love - above all love. We need what's waiting behind me, crave it, realize we can't live without it and be happy, complete. I think all these things as I gaze down at my lovely, naked wife, kneeling before me, eyes dancing the dance we both know so well.
"No," I say simply, and shut the door on her, leaving her in the garage.
TWO
I open the door some 30-40 minutes later to find her still kneeling. From her startled gasp and quick movement, I know she's slouched a little while waiting for me, alone in the garage, listening to the tick of the car engine cooling, likely wondering what I have planned for her. And that's all right. A little slouching will just get her a few more smacks tonight during her nightly spanking.
I walk past her and lay the things I've collected on her dressing chair, then come to stand behind her, massaging her cool bare shoulders. She leans back, almost purring, rubbing her head against my crisp suit legs. I've dressed in my best suit, dark tie, well-oiled black leather wingtips. An ironic contrast to what my little slave will be wearing tonight.
Pressure on her shoulders commands her to rise and I turn her around, taking her mouth. She presses against me and when her hands gently rest on my chest, I pull them around behind her back and hold her wrists with one hand. She moans into my mouth, again making my heart thunder in my chest, and I cup a breast with my free hand, pinching the hard nipple. My tongue probes deep, pushing her tongue aside and then the teeth finding her lip, nipping. I slip my free hand down and slip inside her puss, finding it slippery wet, her pussy lips thick, engorged. I pull back, breaking the kiss, saving her lips for later, then slide my sopping finger into her mouth so she can taste how hot she is.
"Are you going to be a good girl, tonight," I whisper and know those are power words that rip right through her. 'Good girl,' 'bad girl', a dichotomy of good behavior and bad, of obedience and rebellion, for whatever reason. Pleasure for pleasing me, or pain for disobeying me. It's a war not easily won but fought daily. For her, losing her independence, surrendering for me - that's the easy part. Doing what I say, when I say it, when what I want isn't something she wants - that's the hard part, the part reinforced by punishment, sometimes pain, sometimes other things.
"Yes Master. I will be a good girl," she whispers, a shudder behind the last few words.
I smile down at her, reaching in my pocket to pull out what we've casually called The Silencer. The Silencer is a smallish hard rubber ball, shaped to the contours of her mouth, filling but mostly comfortable. With it in her mouth, she's unable to speak, words becoming incoherent and garbled - we've tested, oh, how we've tested. But it's completely contained in her closed mouth and doesn't change the shape of her lips or jaw very much - no one who glances at her would know her mouth is filled. I slip The Silencer into her mouth, ignoring the soft whimper. She hates that damn thing. I pinch her nipples hard, relishing the hurt "mmmppphhh."
"You will be wearing thigh-high hose, leather boots, laced up nice and tight. And this." I hold out the first of my gifts for her on this very special night. She takes the cape in her hands and holds it up before her, then, looks past it, giving me a breathless smile. She loves it!
Feeling like Christmas morning, I tell all about it. "The embroidery is Gaelic, golden vines reaching up from the earth, entwined, sometimes separate, sometimes twisted together so tightly." She follows my words, understands the meaning. I continue, "The black wool is the inky night sky, very much like that first night, that first date, when you blushed when I told you there were better uses for the tie I was wearing." I touched the tie around my neck and nodded. "Of course, wool is very scratchy when against naked skin. And unfortunately for you, outside of the boots and hose, that's all you'll be wearing. At least for now. Go ahead, slip it on."
The cape comes to just below her knees, with openings for her bare arms to slip through and a little pouch in front for her arms to slip into. She explores the texture, feeling the intricate golden embroidery that seems to cover her in vines. She tests the pouch openings in front and then looks up at me, startled at the pouch that should have been there but wasn't. Like the openings at her shoulders for her arms to come out of, these are openings at her waist for her wrists to go into. Her eyes are suddenly cast in speculation, wondering what I have planned for her. Oh, little slave of mine, you have no idea.
"Now, the boots and hose. Don't keep me waiting." I kiss her again, briefly, feeling the hard rubber behind her lips that keeps her jaw parted just a little, then grab the leather tote of goodies I've prepared for her and watch her get dressed through the car's windshield.
She slips in beside me, my little elfin slave and I buckle her up, spending a little time on her naked breasts underneath the heavy wool. I pull the cuffs out of the glovebox and when she offers me her wrists I instead put the cuffs in her hands. "No girl. Slip your hands into the waist holes and cuff them there." A portend of things to come. That familiar blush rises to her cheeks, like it always does when she's restrained in some way, and then her hands disappear under the fabric and the I hear the final click click that means she's more than my wife now. She's my captive. One more peck on the cheek and I pull the heavy hood over her head, effectively blocking out everything but what's in front of her. I'll miss seeing her glowing face for the ride in, but knowing she's stewing, strapped in next to me will be worth it.
THREE
The ride to the restaurant is spent in silence. I want the tension to build. I want her focused, no distractions, because this night is about her, all about her. A year ago, she gave me the most wonderful gift I could ever be given. Tonight is me trying to show her how special her gift is to me. How special she is to me.
Before the valet can reach us, I slip her the keys to the cuffs through the wrist slits and give her hand a squeeze. I still can't see her face around the hood, so her squeeze back warms me more than she can know. God, I'm such a lucky bastard.
I take her hand and help her out of the car and then pull back her hood. The flush is high on her cheeks, her eyes are sparkling and she's glowing like the elfin princess I foresaw when I picked out her cape. She glances at the leather tote I'm carrying but I bring her chin up and pull her close with one hand and kiss her as the valet pulls away.
Heads turn when we are seated in the center of the room at the intimate little table with the single candle flickering low, lazy orange flame that dances across her face. She's learned how to swallow with The Silencer so I know it's her complete nakedness under her cape that is setting her cheeks on fire. I glance around and nod at a few of the appreciative looks other tables are giving us, but Sophie's eyes are locked on mine, a beginning swimmer clinging to the side of the pool. I smile and lean the few inches in, face over the flickering flame.
"You're a jewel tonight, princess. A splendid, beautiful jewel. And you're all mine." I see her relax, a smile touching the corners of her lips.
"Sir, madam, may I bring you an opening drink?" The waiter hovers and I know the proximity to Sophie is making her nervous again.
"Balvenie for me, neat pour. A chardonnay for the lady."
"Very good sir. Twelve, twenty-one or forty for the Balvenie?"
"Cut it right down the middle. Make it a twenty-one."
"And for the chardonnay - here is the wine list - "
I wave him away. "House's recommendation."
"Very good sir." And then, thank God, he's gone.
I lean into her again, sliding the leather tote on the floor to her side of the table. "Time for your first trip to the Lady's, princess. Follow the directions on the first note. To a T, Sophie. And don't skip ahead, just read the first note. Understood?"
She nods, bare arms flickering in the candlelight, and then she's gone, again a few heads turning in her wake. She's stunningly gorgeous.
I sit back and imagine her, what she's doing, what she's feeling as she reads my note, alone in her stall. Her face as she reaches into the tote and pulls out the waist harness, and following my note to a T, slips the remote controlled dildo into her puss, working her up, bringing herself almost to orgasm, then pulling it back out and slipping the butt plug into her wet warmth, lubricating. Then sliding the plug into her ass, and dildo into her puss and slipping into the waist harness, bucking both phalluses deep inside her. Feeling full, hot and horny, straightening her cape over her utter nakedness, and then walking back out into the normal world. Plugged.
The waiter brings our drinks and, seeing Sophie missing promises to return. And return, she does. Although the ambiance of the restaurant is subdued, romantically dark, the light coming mostly from the table-top candles, I can feel the blaze from my girl as she walks back to me. I know her walk, her gait and I know she's feeling the invasion of her ass and puss. I rise and pull her chair out for her, seeing that saucer look in her eyes, the look that tells me she's very turned on - from the humiliation as well as the bondage I've put her in, compounded by her relative nakedness. I brush her cheek as she sits, then watch her settle in, trying to get comfortable.
I sit and take her in over the flickering candle light. The waiter brings our drinks and asks for our order. I barely glance at my menu.
"I will have the filet mignon, medium rare, asparagus tips in cream and the shrimp scampi risotto."
"Very good, sir. And for the lady?" He looks to Sophie and she demurely stares back at me, mouth effectively gagged by the ball inside.
"Nothing for the lady," I say.
He hesitates, as if he hasn't heard me correctly. "Nothing for the lady?"
I smile. "New diet."
"Of course," the waiter says, closes his tablet, and is gone.
I lean across to her. "You may remove The Silencer, slave," I whisper.
She takes the table napkin and with an elegant flick of her palm across her mouth, she's free of the thing. "Thank you, Master," she whispers, glancing around her to make sure she's not heard.
I lean back and take a sip of my whisky and nod at her wine. "How do you feel?"
She sips at her wine, her beautifully bare arms graceful as she sets her glass down. "Wonderful, Master. The wool is itchy but ok."
"I mean the plug. The dildo." I smile, watching her try so hard not to wiggle around the things.
"They are always present."
I reach into my pants pocket and take out my cell, laying it on the table. She glances down, inquisitively. I flick to the program for the remotely controlled dildo and send a little something her way. She stiffens and it's all she can do to hold back a gasp.
"Focus, slave," I say, turning the dildo to its lowest setting. I take another sip of my whiskey. "One year, girl. One year ago today. Did you think we'd make it a year?
"Oh yes, Master. I never had any doubt." The sparkle is back in her eyes, although I can tell she's dealing with the gentle vibration in her pussy.
"What was that night like, one year ago? For you?"
She takes another sip of wine and I take the opportunity to slide the vibrator up to number two. She gulps and almost chokes and then regains her composer and there's a tremor to her voice that I know so well.
"I was scared, I have to admit."
"Scared about what?"
"Us. Me. What we were doing. What you woke inside me." She looks around the room and then blushes, finding the top of our table a safer place to stare. "I always had fantasies, you know. The damsel in distress, the tie-up captive kind. It wasn't an obsession, but nobody was right for me because of that ... that need. Not until you."
She's still looking at the table and that won't do. "Look at me slave." She looks up immediately, responding to the word automatically. "Go on."
Her eyes melt as she looks into mine, searching me for the understanding and connection we've felt since that very first day. "You made me submit. Surrender. You freed me to just be me. You made me understand what I am. And you made me feel ok with it. Good with it. You gave me a place to belong." She takes a sip of wine. "I needed this. I needed you."
I casually flick the vibrator to three. There were only five settings so I knew she was feeling it now, heavy duty feeling it. "Go on."
She begins to reach for her wine then thinks better of it. Half her glass is gone already. "When I kneel before you now, it's just like a year ago today. I feel ... right. Bared before you, and you accepting all that I am. Caring for me, loving me, expecting so much from me. Serving you, pleasing you, crying for you." She trails off, eyes sharp as cut glass. "It's everything. When I said the words that bound me to you, when I felt your collar slip around my neck, I knew I was home. You were home. This ...", she makes a subtle gesture with her hand to encompass the cape, the waist belt, the dildo and plug. The day collar. "This is home."
I reach across the table and take her hands in mine, and then stand, and over the flickering candlelight, kiss her.
FOUR
The waiter comes with our food, well, as far as he was concerned, my food. The steak is mine, the risotto is hers and any thoughts he has of me being an asshole are unwarranted. He places the food around me and glances apprehensively at Sophie, then asks if we would like more drinks - no to that - and then leaves.
"Time for your last trip to the Lady's, princess. Note 2. And hurry. Dinner is getting cold. Her departure is better this time - she's become used to the dildo and plug and her gait is good, albeit hindered by the vibrations in her pussy.
Again, I imagine her reading my second note, taking out the little spring loaded nipple clamps, working her nipples to hardened buttons before clamping them. And then, maybe re-reading the note again, unsure if I've been clear. Then, maybe hesitating, pulling the handcuffs out, cuffing one wrist, slipping it into the wrist openings in her cape. Maybe re-reading the note then tidying everything up, unlocking the stall door. Slipping her free hand into the cape opening. Maybe hesitating. Then, slipping her free hand into the cuff and clicking it shut. Then locking the cuff chain to the ring on her waist belt. Gracefully bending down to pick up the tote with hands cuffed beneath her cape, leaving the stall and then forced to wait for someone to enter the restroom and let her out. What a predicament for my little slave girl. Chained and helpless in the ladies room, to be freed only by a stranger.
It's not long, actually before she makes her way back to the table, her walk a little awkward as she carries the tote under her cape with her cuffed hands chained to her waist. I rise again, pull back her chair and take the tote, slipping it back under the table.
I settle into my seat and take her in. She's starting to slip away from me - she's pretty turned on. I need to ground her.
"Sophie. Someone finally let you out?" Her eyes drift over to mine, hazy. "Slave!" I hiss.
She clears. "Yes, Master?"
"Stay with me. How do you feel?"
"Good. Master. So, so good."
I smile. "Good girl." I swirl my fork around in the shrimp scampi and hold it out for her - it's her favorite, after all. She leans in, cheeks lighting up again, and eyes never leaving mine, delicately takes it into her mouth and I fight back the urge to clear the table and fuck her, hard, right here and right now.
I cut a bit of my steak and chew, not tasting how delicious it is, staring at the truly delicious creature before me. I stab an asparagus tip and hold it out for her over the flicker candlelight and she leans forward, again taking the bite into her mouth, delicate lips around my fork. She fucking knows how sexy she is right now, bound by cuffs, nearly naked, being fed in public. Totally under my power. Surrendering to me.
I take a sip of my whiskey, the world ceasing to exist, blackness all around us, black as her wool cape with the vines that claim her as much as the cuffs and toys I've made her wear. I hold her wine glass to her lips and she sips, licking her lips with her tongue as I set the glass down.
The cell is under my finger and my hand commands four and her back stiffens and she moans, softly. I trigger the little vibrators on her nipple clamps and she closes her eyes. I know my little Sophie is in a very real battle now, a battle she knows she can't lose, a battle that will take all her focus to fight.
And yet, bastard that I am, I prod her lips with another forkful of the scampi and she dutifully takes it into her mouth, chewing, body trembling under her cape. I don't want her to choke, so I back everything down to two. She relaxes. "Thank you, Master," she whispers.
The waiter returns, seeing me feeding my girl and fights to hold back a smile. I glance around the room and a few of the other tables are watching, most of them smiling. I imagine how silly we look. Or maybe how romantic. I don't care.
"Would the lady like more wine," the waiter asks me, realizing, finally, how our dynamic works.
"No, we're fine. But I would like to take dessert on the patio. Can you reserve a table for us?"
"Of course, sir." He takes one more quick glance at my glowing companion and leaves.
I spear another asparagus tip and slip it between her lips. Then, I cut a slice of steak. "I'll tell you about that night, a year ago," I say around a mouthful of my steak and smile at the irony of having a completely captive audience.
"I met this stunningly beautiful girl at a party one of her lawyer friends, a mutual friend, was throwing. We talked casually over drinks that night - martinis, if I remember, correctly."
She laughs. "Yes! It was martinis. I had an appletini and you had a straight up Tanqueray gin with two olives."
I laugh along with her. "Very good! That's that lawyer's mind going - always attention to detail. And how do you drink those things, those appletinis?"
"Acquired taste," she says, mouthing another fork of the scampi I offer her.
"So, I see something in this girl. The way she looks at me and something - I swear to God I can't put it into words - something tells me this girl is submissive." I slice off another bite of steak.
"Your 'kinkdar' kicked in," she murmured, smiling.
I laugh, reaching for my phone. "Kinkdar, good one. For that we're going to three again." I flick my phone and she gasps. Music to my ears.
"Resuming my story, I ask you out and you get the line about my tie - "
"- there are more things to do with a tie."
"Yes, that's the one. Worst kinky pickup line ever."
She laughs. "It worked, didn't it."
I nudge her vibrator and clamps up to four and she gasps again. "Getting a little flippant, are we?" I laugh as she squirms in her seat and if I look very closely, I can see the nipple clamps moving under her heavy wool cape.
"I'm sorry, Master," she hisses through clenched teeth.
I dial back to three. "You're fine. Just know words have power, but not as much power as remote controlled toys."
"Yes, Master."
The waiter returns. "Sir, your table is ready on the patio. Would you and - " he catches himself before saying the rest, 'your lady'. He clears his throat. "Would you like to resume dinner on the patio or would you prefer to go to dessert?"
I nod. "Yes, patio and dessert. I think we're finished here."
"Very good sir. Right this way."
I pull Sophie's chair back and help her to her feet. To everyone else in the room, she's just a demur woman, hands casually folded into her cape. No clue about cuffs and vibrators and nipple clamps, oh my!
The night is gorgeous and our table remote, which is perfect. We're seated at the edge of the patio, overlooking a darkened garden illuminated only by the nearly full moon and stars. I pull my chair around so I'm sitting next to my captive princess, our backs to the rest of the patio, the rest of the world.
I hold the last of her wine to her lips and she drinks, eyes never leaving mine. I slip my hand through the wrist slot in her cape and feel her handcuffed hands - knowing she's chained for me, helpless for me sends me into another place. I feel around the waist strap and the strap that holds the vibrator in place, and find it wet with her juices, the little strap vibrating with the force of the vibrator sunken deep inside her. I withdraw my hand and have her lick my fingers.
We're done with the waiter as a waitress appears at my side, just as I'm pulling my fingers from Sophie's lips.
"May I offer you and the lady dessert," she asks.
"We'll have the crème brulee. One spoon."
The waitress doesn't bat an eye. "Very good sir."
I wait until we're alone again, only us before the moon and God almighty. "So, where was I?"
She stirs beside me and I feel her warmth against my side through the wool cloak. "Before or after you zapped me with your phone?"
I'm halfway to pulling my cell out of my pocket when she leans over to me and whispers in my ear, sexy, sultry, "I'm so sorry Master. Please, I'm sorry."
I pull the phone out and show her what five feels like. "Topping from the bottom. Bad girl." She presses her head into my neck and I feel her straining to hold back the wave that is threatening to break. But she knows not to come unless I give her permission, something I've expressly forbidden her all evening. "Careful, slave. You're getting close."
"I know, Master," she breathes in my neck. "I'm trying not to. Trying so hard to be a good girl."
I slip it back to three and she sighs relaxing against me. I put my arm around her and pull her close and we gaze up at the stars and the beautiful moon.
"This girl changed my life. You knelt before me and I never wanted to protect anyone from the world more than you. I never wanted to make anyone happier. And yet, I wanted to crush you, destroy you." She tensed against me, not unlike the tension I felt a few moments before. Surrender, submit, destroy, crush. Power words in our dark little world.
"I wanted to wring every tear I could from your eyes, every scream. And then I wanted to hold you, comfort you, wipe away your tears, sooth the marks I'd left on you."
I hug her closer, my hand slipping from her shoulder to find a clamped nipple. She gasps and I feel her cuffed hands strain against the metal holding her helpless.
"You are the most beautiful creature in the world with my collar around your neck. And that first moment, when I slipped it on the very first time, I became perfect. We became perfect."
"Yes, she murmurs, head against my shoulder, accepting my hand flicking her clamped nipple accepting my toys in her and on her, accepting my rules, accepting me.
I turn her, the moonlight catching her face, her beautiful face, and kiss her, softly, gently. My wife and I, my slave and I. We'll face whatever life throws at us. There's pain coming, inevitable, but also happiness. The contentment and peace we will share will never die. We're bound by more than collar and cuffs, rules and games.
"Ready for dessert?"
I pull away from Sophie to glance up at the waitress. "No. Actually, we're good."
EPILOGUE
I wait until she's freshened up in the bathroom and then motion her over to where I'm sitting on edge of the bed and she knows what comes next. Her eyes momentarily flash fear even though this has been a routine every night in the year she's been mine. She comes to me then, slowly, hesitantly, a finger tracing the heavy steel collar around her neck. The marks where the handcuffs held her wrists captive are already faded which surprises me - when I tell my Sophie to cuff herself, she does it tightly, wanting to feel the extra discomfort.
"Bring me your gift, slave," I say when she's almost at my feet. Her eyes go a little wider and she turns and brings me one of the gifts we've exchanged on our first-year anniversary. I take the heavy wooden paddle from her, noting a subtle shake in her hands. 'Slave' is cut into the deeply lacquered wood and we both know that a well-placed stroke will leave that on her creamy ass skin.
My Sophie. I've given her the elfin cape, a pair of diamond earrings and a pair of nipple rings with the promise that she will be pierced before our second anniversary - that brought a shudder from her but no surprise. We've discussed her journey into slavery many times. And my lovely Sophie has given me a jet black silk tie in an homage to our first date, a boxed set of the Beauty series, by Anne Rice - for new ideas, she'd said with a blush creeping up her neck - and this wonderful instrument in which to hurt her. And hurting time has come.
I pull her close, her hard nipples grazing my bare chest and kiss her, long and deep and hard. She moans and I cup her bare mons, slipping a finger inside her wetness. She presses against me and I know that the daily spankings go better for her if she's aroused - unlike punishments, when I want her to cry until she's learned her lesson. Spanking my wife every night before bed keeps us both focused on our roles, our commitment to each other, what we need from each other. I need to hurt her, she needs me to make her hurt.
I break the kiss and turn her around, cuffing her wrists with the soft yet firm leather cuffs. I pull her hands up high on her back, into a reverse prayer and clip the cuffs to the back ring on her collar. She climbs gracefully up onto the bed - my girl has had grace when bound trained into her - and I help her down, laying her across my lap.
Her ass is delicious. I can faintly see the cane marks from a few days ago, that was for mouthing off after a particularly hard day at work - work and the outside world has no place in our home and though I understand it's inevitable when things stay on her mind, the caning refocused her and I'm pretty sure whatever was bothering her was the last thing she thought of the rest of the night.
"Do you know why I'm spanking you, Sophie?" I bring my hand down hard on one ass cheek, relishing her little yelp.
"I'm being spanked because its your pleasure to spank me, Master."
I bring my hand down on the other ass cheek and she gasps. "Is this punishment?"
"No, Master," she says as I smack her again, right over the last smack.
"Have you been a good girl?" I smack the same spot, yet again and she cries out.
"Yes, Master, I've tried to be a good girl." She's breathing hard, her bound wrists working the cuffs to no real effect.
I smack her other ass cheek two more times to make up for the lack of attention. "You've been a very good girl, Sophie. I'm so very proud of you." I rub my hand over the hand prints I've made - my mark on my slave.
"Thank you, Master."
"Tell me about tonight," I say, reaching for the paddle. "How did it feel to be naked under that scratchy wool cape?"
"It was scratchy but it reminded me I was naked - " I bring the paddle down across both ass cheeks and she screams.
"Continue."
She's having a hard time talking so I drum the paddle lightly over the red mark I've just left. "Master, every time my nipples rubbed against the wool - "
I bring the paddle down again, a little lower. "Yes?"
Her breath is hitching, close to a sob. "I ... I could feel the wool under my butt."
I rub her ass, soothing her. "Only a thin layer of wool between naked you and the rest of the restaurant."
"Yes Master. I felt like I was yours, that you would protect me ... from them."
I bring the paddle down over her upper thighs and she screams again, legs beginning to thrash. "How did you feel when you read the first note and then slipped the vibrator and butt plug in, strapping them in with the waist cincher, pussy and ass, nice and filled?"
"I ... I ... oh God this hurts ... I felt like your property. That my body was yours - "
I bring the paddle down swiftly twice, one for each ass cheek and she wails. "'Is' I think is the word you mean. Your body 'is' mine."
"Yes Master, my body is yours." She's crying now so I rub her ass, soothing her heated flesh.
"And then you were cuffed. Helpless in a crowded bar."
"Yes Master ... helpless."
I lay the paddle aside and unclip her wrists, pulling her into a tender hug. Her tears run down my chest and I feel her breath as she pants against my skin. "Trapped alone in the ladies room, handcuffed. Who let you out?"
Her sudden laugh is muffled as she wipes her nose. "Some old crotchedy lady with blue hair. She glared at me and snorted when I tried to get past her before the door closed."
I pull her arms behind her and clip them behind her back, then cradle her, my bound and hurting wife. "Were you afraid you would be trapped in there a while?"
"No," she looks up at me. "I was there because you wanted me there and I would stay as long as I had to."
I kiss her tear streaked lips, my hand caressing a breast. She moans in my mouth until I pull her head back by her hair, breaking the kiss. I look into her eyes for a long moment, then kiss her forehead.
"How did it feel to be fed?"
She smiles, color creeping to her cheeks. "Master, every answer is the same. I felt like I was yours, like I was your property - "
I slap her breast and she squeals. "Tone ..." I warn.
"I'm sorry Master. I felt really aroused. I was completely under your control. You let me eat when you wanted - oh my God the scampi was so delicious!" I slap her breast again.
"Focus."
"I'm sorry Master. You let me drink when you wanted and in the meantime, I waited, yours."
I caressed the breast I'd just slapped. "Yes you did wait. But the arousal wasn't completely from the predicament, was it."
She gave me a playful glare. "That fucking vibrator and those nipple clamps - " She realizes her mistake but I've got her rolled back over my lap and I'm giving her a real spanking, punishment strokes this time. She's crying immediately and my hand is smarting something fierce after the tenth smack.
I gingerly pull her back up and hold her while her sobs calm to gentle hitches. When she can speak she looks up at me through tear streaked eyes. "I'm sorry Master."
I trace my thumb over a cheek, capturing her tears. "For ..."
"For swearing and not appreciating the vibrator and clamps you made me wear."
I hold her tight, her naked body warming me as her heart warms mine. "You're forgiven, slave." I pull her chin up so I can kiss her. "My Sophie. Mine, you're all mine."
She sighs, smiling. "I'm yours. Master."
I kiss her again. "You know I'm not sharing you. Not with anyone. Ever. I'm keeping you all to myself, bound and caged and marked, if needed. All mine."
She snuggles against me. "Yes. All yours."
"Happy first anniversary, my love."
