Normally, I enjoyed that time with him. But sometimes our cooling down led to making out and cuddle fucks. I didn't want the risk of any of that right now.
I swatted his hands away as he tried to help me stand. "Don't touch me."
"Daphne..." His tone was laced with warning, but I didn't care.
I curled into a tighter ball and wrapped my arms around my legs. Warm tears trickled down my cheeks. I didn't want to move. To be comforted. I wanted to linger in my pain.
To my surprise, he didn't persist. But he did attach and lock a chain leash from my collar to a hook in the wall. The lights went out completely. I heard him get dressed and clean up the contents that had been on the table. The water in the small sink he'd installed turned on briefly. And then the door closed.
In the darkness, I came down from my high on my own. It was much slower than I had anticipated. After such a forceful session, I would have expected a quick drop.
As my senses came back to me, so did Becca's words. She hadn't provided explicit details, but she had said enough for me to imagine what she had gone through with Brian. How he'd repeatedly used her...and left her in a pile like a discarded animal.
Much like I felt right now. Curled up on the hearth in the chill of the basement. Chained to the wall.
Becca had not deserved it. She had done nothing wrong. She had not wanted any part of how Brian had treated her.
Yet here I was, willingly putting myself in that exact position...practically begging for it every single, fucking day. I had gotten so I felt I couldn't exist without being controlled by Drake. Was there a line where it went too far? And what happened if we went over it?
I shuddered as I turned and headed back to Becca's house, watching the sun rising higher on the edge of the ocean, still reflecting on that day of our return from Chicago. I'd spent most of it dozing on and off in the basement on the brick platform, completely naked. More than once I told myself I should have listened to Drake. I could be upstairs sleeping in comfort. I'd made a decision, though, and I had to live with it.
But I had woken at one point to hear someone snoring nearby. I'd rolled toward the noise, my body sinking into softness. It had taken me a few moments to realize that I was in my own bed with Drake. I'd wondered when my husband had returned to carry me upstairs. Why he hadn't just moved me to the aftercare bed.
I'd pushed away my thoughts and snuggled up against his warm back to drift back to sleep after that. We didn't speak of our trip, Becca, or Malcolm again. As if it hadn't happened. As if they didn't exist. But that didn't mean I didn't think of it...of them.
Now, I shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts. My fingers wrapped around cold metal. I pulled the object out and dropped it at my feet, as if it were on fire. In my haste to get away, I must have shoved it into my pocket.
My shoulders shook as I stared at the silver locket—split in two—and the thick chain of the choker. Even in the growing sunlight, they looked lackluster, like my life. I tasted the salt of my tears as I thought about yesterday morning. What I felt I'd had no choice in doing.
As I sank to my knees on the sand, two thoughts kept circling in my brain.
First, there was the fact that once, Drake and I had discussed everything together. Even if it was something banal, we talked. I loved the sound of his voice. But the longer we were married, the less vocal we had both become. I had thought it was because we knew each other so well. Maybe, though, it was because we were slowly shutting down, closing ourselves off from each other.
Second, I missed having a normal marriage. I loved being kinky. But sometimes, I also wanted to be...well, vanilla. To not have sex be all about the give and take of power. To not be so regimented in our schedule. I wanted to sleep in on a Saturday, or wake up to have morning sex and then lay in bed all day with my husband. To have a little romance mixed in with our ropes and chains. To not be so concerned if I didn't feel like being at his beck and call that day.
I was a little surprised at how soon Drake had contacted Malcolm. What had made him think his old buddy and now brother-in-law could help? Especially on the opposite coast?
The chill from the sand beneath my knees seemed to seep into my bones as I thought about what my husband had been thinking...doing...since he'd woken up. I'd intentionally left my cell phone at home. Had he called it? What had he thought when it rang in the house?
How long had he waited for me to walk back through the door? What had clued him in that I wasn't just out running errands? That I wasn't coming back right away? Had he realized that I'd drugged him? Did he factor his own actions
