delightful ways against the ropes, and I wondered, not for the first time, when he’d permit my release.
“Fuck,” he said, so low I barely heard him above the water pounding us both.
I took his word for the encouragement it was and moved faster. My hands slipped along his skin. It was difficult for me to hold him since his body was so wet, but I doubled my efforts and managed. My hands played with his backside, and I ran a tentative finger along the crack of his ass.
He bucked against me in obvious pleasure.
Well, well, well. That would be something interesting to explore.
“Fuck,” he said again, thrusting deeper into my mouth. I dug my fingers into the backs of his thighs and relaxed my throat moments later, as he filled me with his release.
He looked completely sated when he helped me to my feet. “Thank you,” he said.
“My pleasure, Master.”
The gleam in his eyes told me he would more than reward me for my service, and I couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for me.
On Sunday, he took me into the playroom, where he restrained me with more ropes and used several different floggers. He started with the rabbit fur and worked up to leather, drawing out in me the feeling I’d started to crave. The one the other sub-missives I’d spoken to craved as well.
By the time he finished, I was quivering with need and felt certain I’d come in one never-ending wave if he so much as looked at me. I thought he’d take me in the playroom, but instead, when I was somewhat recovered and able to stand, he took my hand and led me to our bedroom.
I stepped inside behind him, noting how the room was dark thanks to the light-limiting shades. Candles flickered from the dresser and nightstands, and soft piano music filled the room.
“On your back, in the middle of the bed,” he said.
The push and pull of the ropes felt familiar now, though my excitement grew as I tried to imagine what he had planned.
After I was settled, he joined me on the bed, straddling my body. He started at my chest, unwinding the rope binding me as slowly as he had put it on. Maybe slower. When one coil of rope fell away, he did as he promised so many weeks before and trailed his finger along the marks left.
“Your skin has deep impressions,” he said. “Do you feel?”
I did. My skin was hypersensitive where it had been covered for the last day. It felt like it did when I removed a Band-Aid, leaving the newly exposed skin new and almost raw. I shivered as his finger traced the indentations I could imagine in my mind.
More of the rope fell away and his lips joined his fingers in the exploration of my skin. I closed my eyes and felt. Warm breaths over my nipples. Sweet, tender kisses to my heightened and on-edge skin. Soft, soothing caresses to my backside, still prickly from the heat of his flogger.
His hands dropped to my waist to undo the ropes there.
“Come when you wish,” he said, his voice husky and coarse.
The rope between my legs fell away, to be replaced by the warmth of his touch. I knew then what he was doing: he was making love to me as my master. One man. Two parts.
Nathaniel, my beloved. My gentle, considerate lover, who worshipped my body and captured my heart.
Master, also my beloved. My dominant, who commanded me with a look, controlled my body, and held my soul lovingly in his powerful hands.
In that moment, for that sliver of time, they combined together into one, and I opened my eyes to see him looking up at me from below my waist.
“Yes,” I said, a soft almost whisper, even to my own ears.
“Yes?” he asked, turning his head to lightly kiss the inside of my thigh.
“Yes,” I repeated. “Both. Now. Like this.”
I knew it probably didn’t make sense to him, but I couldn’t help it. Whether he understood or not, he continued what he was doing, slowly removing the ropes. All the while making me feel as if he unraveled me.
I sighed when the last rope fell away. It was as if I was newly born in my own skin. Every touch, every breath, felt new and untested. My body trembled at the sensations he created in me. I turned my head and got lost in the dance of the candles’ shadow flickering on the wall. Then I closed my eyes and let myself experience the delight of his touch as the soft music carried me away.
He chuckled against my skin. “You aren’t falling asleep on me, are you?”
“No, Master. Just trying to savor it all.”
He made his way up my body, stopping at my chest. His tongue gently circled my breast, and he blew warm breath across my nipple. “I want you to savor it all, too.”
He sucked me into his mouth, swirling his tongue, his teeth scraping ever so softly. Repeated it on the other side.
“Do you feel me?” he asked, shifting his body so I felt his need, his desire.
I dropped my hand between our bodies and took him in my hand. “Yes, Master.”
“Do you want me?” he asked, thrusting slightly.
I tightened my grip. “Yes, Master.”
“Show me,” he whispered.
I positioned my legs on either side of him and lifted my hips, aligning our bodies. I took him inside, feeling my body stretch as he filled me.
“Yes,” I said again.
He slid his arm under my knee and lifted my leg high, slipping deeper inside.
“Oh, God,” I said, as he hit a new spot.
“Like that?” he asked, punctuating his question with a thrust of his hips.
“Yes, Master.” I moaned. “More. Please. Again.”
He answered with another thrust, hitting the same spot. His other hand slid to my backside and pulled me close. I whimpered at the pleasure of his hand,
“Feel it?” he asked, and I felt everything: his ownership, his mastery, his protectiveness, his love. Him.
I couldn’t form the words, so I answered with a moan.
“I love you,” he said, in time with his next thrust. “I love you, Abigail.”
He’d told me only once before on a weekend that he loved me, and that had been in response to my own declaration. After I spoke the words first, on the phone. However, at that moment, he was doing more than making love to Abigail, his submissive. He was showing me with his body, his words, and his actions that he’ d conquered his fear of not being able to be both lover and dom to me.
I ran my hands up his back, not realizing until then that I’d shared some of those exact fears. That I’d feared one day he would discover he didn’t want or need both sides. As he continued to move in me, I knew, in the deep recesses of my soul, that he would always need both sides of himself. Just as I needed both sides of myself. As we needed both sides of the other.
He thrust again, and I lifted my hips in answer.
Our bodies took over, speaking for us in ways words never could. As my climax approached, I wrapped my legs around him.
My release built slowly until he reached between us and gently rubbed my clit. I came with a short yelp and shudder that shook my body. He held still, deep inside, as his own release surged through him. I kept my legs tight around him, wanting to keep our physical connection for as long as possible.
Finally, he rolled us over so I rested on top, and he gathered me into his arms. I lifted my face and kissed along his jaw. He sighed.
“Master?” I said, wanting to make sure I had his attention.
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
His arms tightened around me. “I love you.”
