Chapter Ten

“So your call yesterday morning set the tone for the day. I stayed home to work on a project, but all I could think of was what you’d do to me when I saw you next. How you’d take me, use me, what you’d make me confess next. And all these nasty things are running through my brain – well, this is what happens in the evening after a long day thinking of you and this kink we share. I don’t know if I can handle another day at home doing little but make up naughty stories for my blog – I need to get back to the office and do something productive. The thing is…I’m such a slave (a slutty one as well). I wrote the attached piece for you – just something fun and frivolous. By the way, I wore your collar all day. You suppose that has anything to do with the fine madness I’m feeling now?”

Broken Open

Broken open in the evening, something raw and evil,

wicked and outrageous exploded from me

as I lay down to masturbate.

This was no ordinary masturbation…

more like someone kicked me into high gear

on the heels of writing explosive porn all afternoon –

with your collar around my neck

I want you to get rough with me

stern with me

push me to my knees to put your cock in me

I wanna get fucked, slapped, pinched

kissed hard and penetrated everywhere.

I wanna be mastered

dominated

made to slavishly grovel before you like a penitent.

So this, Master Hawking, is what I get for being

too tired to masturbate the night before,

then letting my body gather steam over

another porn-filled day.

I break open all over the place

cumming on my hand, juices dripping across my fingers

all the while wishing, praying, imagining it’s your hand

your lips, your cock breaking my body open tonight.

An endless parade of porn is going on inside my head

And it doesn’t seem to want to stop

Talking dirty to you on the on phone,

now that would get me off, Would it get you off, too?

How about sex in the shower, dripping wet

me on my knees at your feet, feeling the warm golden rain

from you falling down my face and shoulders

or kissing you till our mouths hurt

or giving your body a massage with nothing but my tongue?

I’d like a long, blistering spanking that would go on all day

with breaks, of course, I’m not that much of a masochist

and a dozen climaxes any which way

and me buried in your crotch any way you want me

for an hour or more, or however long it takes to quench the fire in you

Broken wide open last night…

I wonder what’s gonna happen next time we meet? END

***

“Check your schedule. I’m going north next weekend and want you with me. Friday to Sunday evening.”

Her stunned response – the gasp, the pounding heart and the mind-spin immediately kicking into high gear – finally gave way to a little calm. She’d learned to ease off on the emotional theatrics that seemed to arise anytime Jack made a sudden and unexpected announcement. She hadn’t expected this; for ten weeks, his cottage was a carrot dangling before her, a promise, but not a reality. Sometimes it seemed like a phantom reality and she wondered if it even existed. He’d been at the cottage three times since they’d met, but on each occasion, he was taking students with him and her presence wasn’t what…? Appropriate? Welcome? Advisable? She’d never quite understood why she couldn’t just be there, hanging out in the background, busy with her own work until late in the day after his work was done, when he could close the bedroom door behind them and use her as the slave she was. To her, the idea was romantic. Their kink world existing as a parallel universe, side by side with their working reality, a naughty escape to fantasyland – not a lot different from the way their affair had always been: spontaneous combustion in the midst of the daily grind, the normal comings and goings of two busy professionals – playful, wicked, mischievous and fun. Their affair was all that, along with being a grand experiment in dominance and submission that just kept getting better. When you got right down to the basic truth of it, they were just two debauched hedonists on a fucking joyride, following the desires that made them come alive.

The fact that the cottage hadn’t yet figured in their weekend plans was a huge frustration for Jeni, although she’d kept her frustration to herself.

But now she smiled – even though the flip side of her present elation had a darker aspect; maybe her hopes for the coming weekend were grossly misplaced. Was there a message in this? A signal suggesting a possible shift in their relationship to something bigger? Sometimes she worried that Master Jack Hawking and slave Jeni were just a happy dream that would one day prove as ephemeral as a cloud and dematerialize in the wind as if it had never happened at all. She reread his email for maybe the tenth time, trying to sort this out, then had to push it from her mind, and forget trying to figure out Jack’s every motive.

“My schedule is free, Sir. Let me know what I need to bring, when and where we’ll meet. Excited. Beaming. Can’t wait to see the cottage and spend time on the lake.”

Her email was short and sweet. Better than effusively gushing with all the thoughts bombarding her brain at that moment. Even so, the trip set the tone for her day and would for the next several, until she finally climbed into the Jeep beside him.

They spoke that night on the phone, making plans, talking clothes and food and anything else that popped into her head that applied to the trip. The conversation finally lagged, and Jack jumped in this time, “You do understand what going to the cottage is going to mean for you.”

“Mean? That sounds a little ominous.”

“Shouldn’t be. It’s what you want.”

“So what, exactly, are you implying?” She was getting nervous.

“There’s a lot that will happen at the cottage that won’t happen in your house or mine.”

“Of course.”

“It’ll be time to stretch your limits —” she heard him laugh. “Literally and figuratively.”

“Ah! That would be me dangling from the rafters in chains,” she joked.

“Might be.”

The butterflies in her stomach were suddenly in a riot. “Thanks, Master. Now you have my palms all sweaty.”

“Good.”

“Anything in particular I should prepare myself for?”

“Let’s see,” he considered the question earnestly. “How about you prepare to surrender, submit, and do what you’re told. Those are the only instructions you’ll ever need.”

She wanted to laugh. “Yes, of course, Master. I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I don’t want to mess it up.”

“You won’t.” He was always so sure of her and her obedience, when in her mind she wasn’t sure at all.

There was nothing to calm her beating heart and settle those damn butterflies. This mild uproar of terror and thrill converging was what she’d live with until they were finally there. She had no reason to complain. She was standing on the edge of a precipice before a great abyss. Raw excitement. Tension in her gut. A deep throbbing pulse between her legs that was as orgasmic as it was painful to live with. Her kink was all about teetering on the edge of mystery, toying with the thought of the dark side, then with a little nudge, abandoning that edge and diving in. Jack was that nudge. She didn’t want to step back off that precipice, even if it meant that the terrifying anxiety would ease.

***

She read through their old emails.

June…

“The collar demonstrates an acceptance of your slavery to me. It represents an iron clad bond. There may be times I require you wear it in the company of my friends – those who would understand what it means.”

July…

“Did you really tell me that I’d strip in front of whoever you wanted me to?”

“Yes I did. How would that be different from when you’ve stripped at your kink club with your friends?”

Early August…

“So, how would you show me off?”

“The only thing I can say for sure is that it would be a private showing. Would I allow you to be touched? Probably. How would any man look at you strung up before them and not want to touch? But there will be no fingers in your mouth, that is for my private and personal use only. You’d be wearing collar, cuffs, nipple ties and cunt tag – and clothes to start. I would order you to strip off each piece of clothing. After that, I’m not sure. I might allow him to touch your pussy, your tits, maybe. There are a lot of possibilities. I have always wanted to try double penetration. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ll be told what to do and when to do it. Turn around. Bend over. Spread your cheeks. Stand with your legs spread wide, maybe on the coffee table so we could get a good look at the clit ring and ID tag. As long as it pleases me, you’ll do it.”

That ‘tag’ was still just a fantasy in both their minds; though it kept Jeni wondering when…

Later in August…

“What excites me – seeing you collared before my friends, removing your clothing one piece at a time to demonstrate your obedience to me. I thought about allowing a friend to leave marks on your ass, but at the moment, I’d prefer to mark you myself. I might demonstrate how to whip you and let them admire the results. Master”

Every time she read through their old emails, the same things jumped out at her, all coming down to one imperative in the life of a slave. She recalled their last phone conversation – Prepare to surrender, submit, and do what you’re told. Those are the only instructions you’ll ever need, slave. That was all he needed to say. She sometimes wondered what in those old emails was horny talking? And what was real? What were just nighttime fantasies playing out in his mind while he stroked his cock, thinking of her – his slave?

What would Jack actually do?

***

Early morning the end of August…

Like every other time they’d been together, Jeni felt a little magic glittering behind the reality. Maybe even more magical this time as they headed into the spooky unknown of the cottage. She was happy that he hadn’t started with a lot of ‘dom speak’, rules and orders, that sort of thing – she might have peed her pants from nerves. Even so, by the time she finally climbed into the green Wrangler, her body was vibrating to a degree that she’d not experienced since the day they met. At least then, she’d settled down once the first few minutes were over. But there was no settling down now as Jack drove to the bottom of his driveway and headed toward the Interstate. It was still dark as night. She’d driven up the evening before so they could head out early in the morning, but she’d hardly slept a wink.

“Relax, girl, your nerves are going to be all worn out before we even get there.”

“You noticed?”

His eyes narrowing on her and he shook his head, indulgently. Amused. “I’m not always observant, but you’re pretty obvious this time, wench. Practice your deep breathing or whatever you do.”

“Sure, I’ll do that,” she smiled. For awhile she focused on her breathing, trying to relax as she stared out the window, watching the city lights diminish the further they drove north. Then for a time she dozed, resting her head against a pillow that she propped against the window. She woke from the heavy stupor of her nap, and feeling a little flustered, she took Jack’s hand and felt his soothing energy dispel her rattled nerves.

Daylight was beginning to creep around the edges of the night, brightening the sky. However, the meandering road they traveled was bordered by tall pines and stately maples, and was still a little spooky at that hour, making Jeni think of Hansel and Gretel on their way into the mysterious woods. She and Jack chatted for a time, then settled into a comfortable quiet as day dawned, and the morning sky opened further, deep and blue as the ocean. It was easy to daydream, to lose her mind in thoughts of what might happen while she was at Jack’s cottage. Stretching her limits, what did that mean? The question haunted her, and wouldn’t quit her thoughts. Accompanying it was a feeling of excitement, along with a hefty dose of fear.

When the Jeep made a hairpin turn on the rough gravel road, the sudden shift in direction threw Jeni back to the present moment. Her anxiety fired up again seeing where they were. They emerged from the woods at the edge of the lake, the cottage in sight, just a few hundred yards in the distance. While the cottage had been the focus of her obsessive fantasies, with one glance at the serene silvery lake in that early morning hour, everything else vanished. She was so mesmerized by the sight of all that sky and water, and the pristine beauty of the far shore, that even when Jack pulled up into the yard and stopped the Jeep, the cottage was not where she headed. She hopped out and made her way down to the sandy beach to the pier and strolled to the end of the dock. If the sun had been high in the sky, as it would be hours later, she would have been tempted to shed her clothes and dive in. But the water looked cold and forbidding now. Instead, she let her eyes feast on the serenity, the kind that only occurs by magic, by some combination of factors in the right place at the right time. It was definitely the right time of day to be awed by what nature creates with so little effort – morning after morning, every new dawn just slightly altered from the day before, each incarnation unique. The sight before her it made up for having to leave before the sun rose.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jack stood behind her with an arm going around her waist. The moment of connection was a first for them; that arm around her waist a spontaneous stab at affection uncommon for Jack. She breathed him in, as much as she did the sight of water and sky, relishing the warmth of his body in contrast to the sharp cool air. He said he changed when he was at the cottage, and Jeni could already feel the difference in his spirit, as if mind, body and soul had made a slight shift and something opened up inside him that she hadn’t seen before.

For a moment, even Jeni’s butterflies were content to take a break, and she experienced the scene for its magic without worry. “I think I needed this,” she said, as she settled into the feel of Jack’s rooted strength. The tree-line rimming the far shore of the lake was still dark as midnight, the sky brightening above, the water turning more silvery, shimmering with a ghostly glow as the sun continued to rise.

“You didn’t lie,” she said.

Jack didn’t need to say about what? He knew. This was his lake, his cottage, his terrain. She was merely borrowing a space in this sacred territory, and the moment that thought hit her, she understood why he’d waited to bring her here. Demons and rapture, either one, could be flushed out in circumstances like this one. People got stripped naked, metaphorically speaking, in settings this pristine, when the distractions of the real world disappeared and you were left to the bare bones of living – virtually unplugged no less. TV yes, but no Wi-Fi, no Internet, and cell phone service – when it worked. There was more to coming here than romantic sex – this was living together without the distractions of life to clutter the mind. Their kink life could flower here, or fall apart.

Would the relationship survive their days together in this untainted wilderness?

Jeni was scared. Glaring deficits they’d not seen before could arise, so could moments that might bind their relationship together. So much about Jeni and Jack had to do with Master/slave, which was beginning to feel almost comfortable. However, everything that wasn’t about sex and kink was a huge unknown. She had her hopes for a happy outcome, but she wasn’t betting on anything. Nothing about this relationship was fixed, nor was it easy, and she didn’t expect this first stay at his cottage to be easy either. But she was ready for it, she had to be. She was there with him and couldn’t turn back now. Jack must have thought she was ready; he wouldn’t have invited her otherwise.

Looking into that beautiful horizon, she realized what had eluded her before: Jack wasn’t thinking his way through their relationship as she once assumed. He might have been ‘relationship deprived’ in many ways but his gut feelings about matters of sex and kink, and how quickly they should move forward were remarkably spot on. He didn’t over think as she was prone to do. He didn’t obsess. It was mysterious to her that anyone could make life so simple. But in this regard, Jack was probably much better at seizing the moment than she was.

When they finally turned back toward the shore, Jeni stepped back startled. Her first lingering look at the cottage was not what she expected. It was not the cottage in the photograph he’d sent her, but a rambling house much bigger than the one in her imagination. A fieldstone porch ringed the front and the entire west side; along the east side was a screened-in porch extending the length of the house, with what appeared to be a massive stone chimney rising above the second story. Above the stone foundation was a cobbled edifice; an ancient log cabin to the east; a newer brown shingle add-on to the west. Blooming flowers circled the perimeter. Though it seemed to have been thrown together, the elements not quite a perfect fit, the resulting combination was pleasing. Beautiful even. Quaint. Picturesque. Appropriate adjectives were endless.

Jeni wanted to love it and embrace it as hers. But not yet. This was Jack’s; the imprint of his vision would be the glue that held it together, and it would be for him to decide if she belonged there.

“What do you think?” his question penetrated through her bewildered daze, but as far as a response, she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t know?”

She flashed him a grin. “I know, easy question…just not what I expected. The picture you sent was of the log cabin side; the rest of the cottage isn’t even in the photograph. It’s completely different from what I imagined.”

They stood together silently appraising the sight.

“But I love it,” she finally spit out.

“You do?”

“Of course. It’s kinda funky and fun and weird. Though this shouldn’t surprise me, Jack Hawking, everything about you surprises me.” She looked up at him smiling and would have nuzzled into his side ready for a long passionate kiss. But there was no kiss, not then.

“I surprise you? Really?” He pulled away and gave her ass a sharp crack. “Let’s get going. We have food to unpack and a there’s a post, maybe a beam or two, waiting for a naked slave to christen it.”

“Yes, sir!” she laughed, then headed back down the pier with Jack following closely behind. The tingle of that smack on her ass reminded her how sexually pent-up she’d become over the last couple days.

They walked up the steps to the cottage’s broad front porch, and through the double doors Jack opened wide. Before Jeni had a chance to look around, she heard him speak, his voice filled with the kind of authority that made her want to immediately drop to her knees:

“Clothes off, slave.”

She turned around and gazed into his grim expression – the spark of lust in his eye as he viewed her was the only thing to soften the moment. But for that spark, she might have thought she’d been a bad girl and was about to get punished. Her heart started to race. She was breathless and a little dizzy.

Jack was about to repeat the order when she abruptly dropped her purse, and started removing tee shirt, shorts, sandals, bra and panties, until she stood naked before him, instantly chilled. Even standing in the sunlight, she shivered before him, just like she did the first time he made her strip.

“Where’s your collar?” he asked – as if she should have been wearing it all along.

She shook her head and thought hard – her mind was a complete blank. Finally, she blurted out, “In the Jeep, yes, it’s in the Jeep.”

“Go get it.”

She stared at him for several seconds as if she expected something more, but there was nothing but his solemn expression to send her scrambling out the door, down the steps, across the yard – which was a little rugged on her bare feet – and to the Jeep, where she pulled out her suitcase and dragged it to the porch; well aware that she was naked right out in the open. Yes, Jack’s little corner of the world was secluded from the road. There were no nearby neighbors, but that didn’t stop her from feeling exposed to a hundred eyes peering at her from the surrounding woods – rabbits, deer, woodchucks, some old nosy neighbor who just happened to be walking through. Deciding not to take the time to pull the suitcase up the steps, she opened the zipper compartment and retrieved the collar, then it was up the stairs and into the house – she couldn’t have been gone two minutes. Once inside, she smiled, breathlessly, hoping for something other than the sight of her master’s grim face.

She cocked her head and with a sweet and bashful grin held out the collar. They both stared at it for several seconds, then he nodded, “Go ahead, put it on.”

She took a breath, gulping down her anxious nerves. Then she opened the lock, handed Jack the key and with trembling fingers and flustered movements, fit it around her throat, feeling for the clasp and making several failed attempts to match the two ends in the proper notch. When she finally got it right, she noted the sound of it snapping shut with a shudder of pleasure. Jack stood back watching every move with careful scrutiny and his stoic expression unchanged.

He eyed her so critically that she wondered if she’s done something wrong. Her belly ached with lust, and her legs grew weaker the longer she stood before him in that dreadful silence. Finally, he reached out, grabbed the ring at the front of the collar and yanked. Not hard, but enough to make plain his authority over her.

“Perfect,” he said. “Now I have work to do. And don’t you dare go running out of here again in bare feet.”

“Yes, Sir.” He rarely scolded her – rarely did she do anything to be scolded for – but this sounded like a rebuke, and she took that with a shiver of concern.

With the collar in place, Jack turned his attention to practical matters – bringing her suitcase and his duffle bag inside, stocking the fridge from his cooler and opening windows around the cottage, none of which required her help, even when she offered. She needed his direction since she was too dazed to know what to do, but he gave her none.

“Have a look around,” he finally suggested, which would have been just fine, a basically pleasant and very doable idea, if he hadn’t been staring at her naked body with a perverse grin – breasts, belly, smoothly shaved cunt, thighs and legs, then finally back to the collar ringing her throat, “Collared and naked,” he nodded pleased. “Exactly how I like you best.”

She was swimming in the sexy sensation of ‘turned on slut’ – and though he was just pointing out the obvious, just hearing him say the word naked made her instantly recoil. She was awkward, anxious and embarrassed. A blush rose on her cheeks, as if she’d forgotten that she hadn’t a stitch on, save for the collar. How could she possibly forget? For the first time since he’d ordered her clothes off, and she’d made the mad dash to the Jeep to get the collar, did the reality of naked really sink in. She experienced the same resistant shuddering she felt at her house and his. She’d seemed to conquer her embarrassment in those closed-in settings, but there was something entirely different about naked here. She didn’t like naked, a little too raw, too exposed. She’d never – ever – been entirely comfortable with her clothes off. All her physical flaws so obvious. No way to dress-up naked. Nothing held back, nothing private. She hadn’t enough arms and hands to cover up naked…besides, what do you do with your hands when you’re bare-assed naked?

You’d better get used to it, Jeni, her inner voice whispered. Get used to it. Naked was how Jack wanted her and she didn’t dare complain.

When he passed by her next, he said, “You just going to stand there in a daze?”

The comment woke her up. “No. I’m good. I’m fine,” she quickly rattled off. She began to roam about the cottage, peeking into each room. From the mud room and laundry in the back of the cottage, to a store room stocked with Coke, a few canned goods, and a small freezer. When she found the bathroom, she stopped to pee. Should she close the doors or not? she wondered as she sat down. In some kinky slave worlds, slaves weren’t given the privacy of closed doors. She decided to leave the door open.

Returning to the kitchen she made note of the items in the pantry – peanut butter, honey, olive oil, pasta, crackers, a few more canned goods, the kind that she would never eat, and a shelf of spices that were obviously years old. The refrigerator was even more sparse, a typical row of condiments, and now the fresh items that they’d brought from home. Like the rest of the cottage, the kitchen had ‘bachelor’ written all over it. Pots, pans and utensils he regularly used sat in plain sight. Other things, cake pans, mixing bowls, even a blender, were dusty and stuffed in the back of the lower cabinets. Dishes and glassware were neatly stacked in an open cabinet above the dishwasher – real dinnerware, not the paper plates and plastic she expected.

In the main room were comfy couches and a couple of tables arranged in front of a fieldstone fireplace, which was massive in size, functional and quite beautiful. She noted a hook just inside the four foot high opening where an iron pot hung. Something he actually used? There were quilts for winter stacked in a corner, a large mirror on one wall, and a series of botanical prints arranged artfully in a group hanging in what served as his dining room. She studied each print for a moment, admiring the way the drawings were executed with such precise detail. Then she gazed down at the handmade table beneath them. In an early email Jack had attached a picture of the table with several whips laid across its length. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, had been the theme of the week, about the time she left for France, when they were exchanging pictures of their kink toys. His whips were nowhere to be seen now, though the memory of them flashed through her mind, as she recalled how he’d described using that table to inspect and torture his previous slave.

Beneath her bare feet was the feel of hard wood, cherry perhaps given the color. It was old and stained and uneven in places, worn smooth and polished from years of use and care. Like standing on years of history.

Her eyes were then drawn toward the high ceiling and the open beams above her head. She almost expected to see the heavy chains that had been part of previous discussions dangling down. At the moment, however, the hefty log beams were gleaming in the sunshine that came streaming through the high windows, looking lustrous and without a hint of anything ominous.

The cottage was homey, functional, as simple and straightforward as the man who owned it. It was basically clean, as much as you would expect from a remote cottage. A little clutter here and there. Could have used a woman’s touch, but then it wouldn’t be entirely his if it looked like some picture-perfect example of cottage appearing in Cabin Life Magazine. It was evident to her that it would be a while before he’d share ownership of his sacred space with anyone, if he ever did. Perhaps the best she could hope for was to care for it with the same reverence that she did her own home.

Without his saying anything at all, the cottage confirmed what she already knew about her master: he was the king of every domain in which he lived – his city house, university office, and here, too, especially here. He owned every bit of it and the environment surrounding it all, every floorboard, shingle and beam above, every leaf on the trees outside, the out-buildings, pier, boat and sandy beach. She felt dwarfed by the way his spirit permeated the air and the ground and the sky above – even the water in the lake belonged to him. He kept his eyes on it all. All in a flash of intuition, the essence of the man hit her in the gut again. Dominant. Authoritative. Commanding. His essence inspired her inner submissive. It’s what brought them together. In the midst of his things, inside his domain, she was his slave, another piece of the property he owned. She loved, dearly loved the way he made her feel.

If anything spoke in favor of their belonging together, it would be this. Whether Jack sensed it too, Jeni didn’t know. Though they had been living out Master/slave for weeks now, the reality of it seemed more obvious in this cottage than it did elsewhere. She was here at last, a captive in his world. Alone with him. In the middle of nowhere, with no way out. Until he was ready to drive her back to civilization, she’d be his happy prisoner.

A cold chill shook her body as she stood at the double doors that opened to the porch. She savored the meaning of captive and smiled.

“I need to check on things in the lab,” he interrupted her contemplative trance.

She turned his way. “Your lab?” she looked at him, wondering if he’d be taking her.

“I’ll show you later,” he said. “Won’t be long. Get settled in. Put your suitcase in the bedroom. There’s plenty of room. There are empty drawers in the dresser you can use.”

Nearly an hour passed before Jack returned from the lab. During that time, Jeni arranged her clothes in the bedroom – smiling now about how she’d warred over what to bring when it looked as if she’d be wearing nothing. All that fretting had been entirely unnecessary. After her things were neatly placed inside the dresser, she returned to the living room and fished through a pile of magazines, though they did little to spark her interest. She read the book titles in a stack next to what had to be Jack’s reading chair. All academic tomes and journals, plus a copy of Thoreau’s Walden, buried between a book of poems and a tattered copy of Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of the Universe. Jack Hawking. Stephen Hawking. Related, perhaps? On top of the stack was a dog-eared copy of a Tom Clancy novel.

Time wore on, minutes ticked by. Jen’s body ached for him, all naked with nothing to do. After nearly an hour and no Jack, her anxiety began to rise again and she was tempted to take the thirty foot path to the building behind the cottage where Jack was tending to whatever experiments that needed his attention. She wanted to see him, she wanted his hands on her and the kink to begin. Restless, useless, wasted minutes ticked by so slowly. She repeatedly resisted the urge to take off out the back door to find him. She hadn’t been invited. And she was naked.

Naked out of doors would happen soon enough. They had too many kinky outdoor fantasies to assume that she’d stay in the house the entire stay. But for now, she felt safer sticking close to the cottage until that inevitable moment when Jack ordered otherwise.

Returning to the bedroom to retrieve the novel she’d brought with her, she stopped short at the bedroom door and took a long look at the room, the rough paneled walls, the patchwork quilt, the bed, the pillows. All she could think of was slipping between those sheets, their bodies entwined, his firm hand on her ass, his prick in her cunt. A long, slow then vigorous fuck.

Shaking off the image, she looked out the window to the long low building that housed Jack’s lab, and was reminded of cabins she stayed in when she was at summer camp as a child. The memory made her smile, though there was something melancholy and a little sad about that, too. She imagined that at one time the lab had open air windows, no glass, with large wooden shutters that opened horizontal to the ground and were propped up with posts – just like the cabins of her youth. The shutters were still there to cover the windows in the winter. But they were glassed-in so the lab could be properly heated, free of bugs and used year round. He’d told her that half of the building was used as a dormitory for visiting students, and there was a second student dorm in the loft above the living room, though it was rarely used. As far as this weekend was concerned, they had the place to themselves.

Jeni returned to the living room with her novel just as Jack returned to the cottage through the kitchen door, a scowl on his face as he entered.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, disgruntled, though when he met her gaze, he smiled. “Nothing that I can bother with now. A few grad students are going to get their butts kicked for not doing what I asked, but,” and he looked at her more intently – noting naked with a pleased expression that had her blushing again, “they aren’t here now, you are.”

After his long absence, she was suddenly the sole focus of his attention, and to have his eyes acutely trained on her made her as self-conscious as she’d been that very first time she stripped for him.

She waited. Nervous. Expectant. Afraid to say a word – being slave required a whole lot of silence at times, something she was growing used to any time she was in Jack’s presence – although the cottage seemed to demand even more of her slavish attention. The silence between them was rife with promise, gears grinding to a start in Jack’s brain; she could almost hear them break the quiet.

I am your slave, she repeated to herself. She’d shed the rest of her various selves the moment she stepped onto his property. She wasn’t a copy writer, a blogger, a 21st century woman in this place. Nothing but Jack’s surrendered slave.

“So what do you think?” He stared around – checking to see that all was in order in the room, what he’d not done in his rush to the lab.

“It’s you – everywhere,” she smiled, trying to break the heavy weight of the moment. “I mean everywhere…hanging from the rafters, along the walls…and this floor, wow. Beautiful.” She gazed down at her bare feet, feeling years of history rise up through those rugged boards.

“I planned on putting in new, thought the old was too damaged to salvage, but once you walk across this in bare feet…just couldn’t make the change.”

“I know what you mean,” she smiled. “Almost feels soft on the feet.”

He nodded. “It does feel soft.”

Their eyes met and locked on. Ten seconds. A minute. Maybe two. Time gets lost in the depths of another’s eyes. And in that ten seconds, minute, maybe two, the fire in their bellies grew, so did the throbbing between thighs, in his cock and her pussy – which seemed to have been burning up since the day their affair began. All was quiet between them as they silently communicated the lust that had been expanding since they left his house early that morning. It suddenly reached a feverish peak.

“Over the table, slut,” Jack finally broke the silence. Jeni looked toward the table. At one end was another stack of books, but at the end near the kitchen, there was an open spot where she could bend over and rest her tits while he had his way with her. Doing as ordered, she moved there quickly and bent over, resting her chest on the smooth surface and pushing her naked ass in his direction, waiting for the first blow to land.

To Jeni’s surprise there were no blows, just fingers fishing their way into her crotch to find the warm, wet hole. As he stuffed his hand inside, a gasp of pleasure escaped her lips, “Oh my gawd, yes,” she quietly seethed. He pulled his hand out and stuffed his hard erection where his fingers had been. Strength. Muscle. Rock hard. Ramming. Thrusting into her until it hurt inside, and hurt at the crease of her thighs where bare skin banged the edge of the hard wood every time he shoved with a little more force.

The discomfort didn’t matter. This was being taken, being used. Nothing mattered now but the fire and the fuel for that exhilarating blaze.

She was gone – Spontaneous combustion all over again…

As the hard ramming action slowed, he moved more deliberately, pulling out slowly, only to shove back in again, and again, and again in a reckless and erratic rhythm. The thrill ride could have gone on from there all day long as far as she was concerned. He picked up speed again, and abruptly lunged for the final time, depositing enough cum to have what her cunt could not absorb dripping down her thighs. When he pulled out, he gave her ass a firm smack, and announced, “I’m starving. Rustle up some grub, will ya?” His mood had definitely shifted.

“May I clean up first, Sir?” she asked.

“No, you may not!”

She looked at him stunned.

“Cum running down your leg?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Let it dry there.”

Her gaze lingered on his passive face. What was he thinking when he stared at her like that? She’d probably never know.

Jeni laughed then spent the next twenty minutes making bacon, eggs and toast that they both hungrily devoured. The cum was sticky before it dried, and itchy when it did. She felt like such a slut.