Chapter Fifteen

Six months after their night at The Tivoli …

Restless and unable to sleep, Jeni lay in bed at home and let her mind wander where it would. For six months her sex life existed in the far reaches of her fantasy life. With reality so painful, the only safe places for her play were in Medieval dungeons, kinky sex clubs, in island kingdoms in the middle of nowhere. All of them terrorist dreams and walking nightmares where depravity reigned and she could do anything and everything naughty, perverted and outrageous locked in the safe and private world of her own mind. Whatever worked to get her off, allow a few sweet moments of body joy, and release the pressure cooker of unspent sexual need that her body became at the end of troubling and emotional days was what she did in desperate times like this.

But after six months with her nightly ritual, the easy trigger for sexual release that her fantasies provided failed her more often than not; it took longer each night to release the demons so she could sleep. The wall between fantasy and reality was breaking down, and she could no longer hold back what her heart and body honestly desired.

Getting off against Jack’s fingers in the out-of-doors, strung up against the stone post, her back whipped raw, Malcolm’s eyes on her streaked ass, a slave dinner at The Tivoli with a vibrating bullet in her cunt. The images flashed through her mind, coming out of the wild blue yonder of memory. She wanted to rip them away, force them back into hiding; they were just too painful to look at now. She wanted her old life back – the one with Jack at the center. But after six months with so little stimulation, and so little communication between them, how could they possibly pick up where they left off?

The reality of Master/slave persisted. Jack bled through like a wound that would never heal, although it wasn’t Jack who was wounded. On some daring nights, when she could no longer edit the man from her life like she would a character in a story, she allowed herself to lie in bed and picture him, breathe in the essence of Jack and feel him through her body, through her fingers and her horny crotch. His hands, his lips, his cock and his demands – everything that was tender and terrifyingly thrilling about their sex together – became the fuel that got her off. But the second her masturbation was over, even before the final pleasurable spasm disappeared through her fingers and toes, she shoved aside thoughts of Jack and all he meant to her.

Life was uneasy because of this, unbalanced and a little bit frightening. She didn’t know where she belonged anymore. A ship without a rudder; a slave without a master.

One evening, after she’d been back home for nearly a week, she lay down for her ritual masturbation as she had so many times. Once she finished in her accustomed manner, she rose from bed to wash her hands, shaking off thoughts of Jack as she always did. This time, however, he wouldn’t retreat.

She was rattled, uncertain, restless, about to pace the floor to calm herself. Then, quite suddenly, motivated by an entirely serendipitous urging, she picked up the phone and called him. She hadn’t a clue what she would say. It had been days since she’d heard from him and that had been just a single, meager email. She felt so bereft, so dispossessed and deprived – not to mention the fact that she was incredibly horny. She couldn’t stop herself.

He answered with a cheery, “Hello there,” and as soon as she heard that deep baritone, she realized how much she missed the sound of his voice. The calm, the comfort, and the power behind it.

“I’m home again,” she paused, hoping he’d say something, then added when he didn’t, “home to stay.”

“You are, now. Sam okay?” he asked.

“Okay for now, huh. Plus, she and her mom pretty much kicked me out. Decided that I’d done enough.”

“You suppose you have?” He remained guarded, nothing she didn’t expect, though his careful tone had her concerned. Maybe he’d found another sub.

“I can’t even answer that, but I need my life back,” she charged in. For months, she’d been drowning in a nightmare; now she was struggling to resurface, feeling as if she were swimming up from some place dark and deep to where there was light and sun again. She was hopeful but scared. Would he have her back? Butterflies of anxiety fluttered in her gut and wouldn’t quit. She was ready to beg.

“This is good,” he replied, though he refused to elaborate what he meant by that – nothing changed there.

“You free this weekend?” she finally spit out the question that was most on her mind.

Seems like a day passed before he finally answered, though it couldn’t have been but a handful of suspenseful seconds. “I might be. What’s up?”

“I need you.”

“Oh?”

“I mean I need you, Jack. I need to be your property. I need to be whipped and fucked and used as hard as you would use me. I need my master back.”

“For a night?”

“No! Every day of the week back! Maybe not every day, but what it was like before.” This wasn’t coming out the way she hoped it would. “You and me, Master/slave.” When he didn’t immediately reply, she kept on going. “I don’t suppose we can pick up where we left off, but we can start again.” She paused again, afraid because he was so silent. “That is, if you still want me.” She anxiously waited for him to say something, feeling in that quiet pause as if her entire life hinged on the next couple minutes.

“How about we start with a night first?” he said in his even, measured tone. “I’ll be down tomorrow. That too soon?”

She was about to jump for joy. “I was actually hoping for tonight,” she said, as relief washed through her.

She could almost see a flicker of a smile on his lips and hear a chuckle behind his reply. “I have a meeting tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeni. It’s Saturday. I’ll have all day.”

***

When Jack arrived at her door, she was ready. Shaved, collared, cuffed, nipple ties in place. And anxious. Those damn butterflies had morphed into ravaging beasts by the time he knocked. Her head was spinning, her heart beating way too fast, just as it had the first time he’d been at her house.

When he walked through the door, Jeni stepped back and went down on her knees. When he moved in closer, she unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down, her fingers quickly fishing through his underwear to find his cock. She drew it out, and without hesitation covered it with her mouth in an act of worship that fed her lust until she was squirming against her feet, which were wedged below her ass. Jack burst through her senses, the taste, the smell, the look, the feel of his flesh, the sound of her kiss as she touched the wet tip of his cock with her lips. His hand through her hair was commanding and tender. She felt safe, the best feeling she’d had in weeks, and the beastly butterflies that had her so agitated minutes before seemed to retreat. At least for now.

The long denied submissive in her soul came back to life from its dormant slumber, little by little arising up to greet her like a welcomed friend.

When he finally backed off, she looked up submissively, checking out his eyes and the grim expression on his face. He lightly slapped her cheek a couple times, drilling her with the cool authority in his masterful expression. With that first slap, the simmering fire in her body burst into flames, pussy throbbing, pent-up and needy, thighs almost too weak to hold her steady. With the second slap she nearly orgasmed.

“On your feet, slave,” he ordered, and he pulled her up, immediately pushing her into the living room, where he sat down on the footstool and drew her yielding body over his lap, her pink ass high. He squeezed her ass cheeks, first one then the other, back and forth repeatedly. She could feel the fire in his body expanding into her, raising her lust, though it was a miserable wait for that first sharp spank to land. She would have begged for it, but she hesitated to annoy him in any way, now that he’d taken control again.

By the time that first smack landed, she nearly vaulted off his lap in shock. “Oh, fuck yes!” she seethed as the pleasure in that instant of pain awakened places within her that had been sleeping for weeks. He kept on going, the spanking firm and sure, light to start, then slowly increasing in strength until she was squirming crazily against his muscled thighs. She wanted his prick inside her.

“Oh, how I’ve missed this!” she cried. The feeling of relief was as exquisite as the pain.

“Missed it, huh?”

“You know I did.”

“Then you need to beg me for more, my missing slave,” he said. What was that she heard in his voice? Indignation? A bit of scorn? “We’ll call this punishment for forgetting who you are. How about that? So beg.” Though he gave each cheek a nasty whack to emphasize his point, it was his words and that tone of voice that made her sexual body roar back to life.

She was not too proud to beg. “Please, Master, spank me more!”

He gave her ass a few nasty whacks then stopped again.

“More please, Sir! I begging!” She poured every heartfelt emotion into that plea.

“That’s what I like to hear, slut.”

Begging for punishment? Is that what she was doing in asking him here? Maybe he was right. Maybe this was justice, the punishing reprimand, the stiff rebuke she needed. Certainly the unfolding scenario was a reminder of that dictatorial voice inside her head that never let her forget who she was and what her life needed. And now, even when the smacks began to burn and her ass got fucking painful, she couldn’t disguise the desire for more. Her body implored him with the way she raised her ass and wiggled it provocatively before his eyes. He got the message without her saying a word. “You’ll be begging me to stop before this is over.”

“But don’t stop yet, Sir,” she blurted out. “I need it hard!”

“Good,” he bit off tersely, his indignation rising again. “Don’t worry. Hard is what you’ll get. You earned this one, and I need it as much as you do.”

The calm and gentle Jack was nowhere to be found.

He kept on spanking as he spoke, with the intensity increasing until her bottom was flaming hot, and she was jerking and twisting, and seizing up with spasms firing off in her belly. He’d never spanked her with such force and for so long.

She was hurt and she was crying. She was tormented by the pain and, yes, wishing he would stop. At least until he paused for a moment; then she wanted more. And she got it. His big palm slapped her upturned behind in a screwy sort of justice that made no sense in the real world, and was perfectly logical in the world they occupied. The over-the-knee drama went on like this until they were both exhausted, and his hand and her ass were hurting too much to continue.

When he finally ended it, she slumped down between his thighs. Her ass was throbbing and her heart beating like a maniac on the loose. Seconds later, his jeans and jockeys were around his ankles and his erection was bobbing before her face. She was all about sucking him off, seemed like the natural thing to do in thanks for the punishment. Isn’t that what good slaves do in their alternative world? Thank their masters with a slavish and adoring blowjob?

As freely as she gave to him, she was well aware that she had no choice in the matter of sucking his cock. Jack’s hand was on the back of her head, authoritatively pushing her mouth down to his tumescent organ – again a sobering thought behind that determined shove. She felt his anger and this was something new to her. She never wanted to make him angry – ever. But she had. “You have a lot of time to make up for, wench,” he said, as her mouth covered his organ. “Now get busy.”

She worked her mouth all over his cock, tongue lapping, teeth gently grazing over the hard muscle, lips sucking almost frantically. Making up for all the lost blowjobs of the last six months. She drew his cock deeply into her mouth until she gagged, and she gagged often as she usually did. She wondered if he liked her gagging, especially since he kept that palm against her head and gave her very little opportunity to pull away before he was pushing her back down again. Been a long time since he’d exercised his rights as her master, and he was due every lick, suck, nibble and gagging response. When the first taste of sweet came, she smiled inwardly, loving the fact that he was so aroused and so hard. Then, almost without her notice, her mouth filled with cum; so much of it that it overflowed her mouth and ran down her chin. She lapped it greedily and swallowed what she could. Oh, how she’d missed this humble servitude! When she looked down to see just one small drop at the top of the cockhead, she licked it away.

“Did you cum at all while I was away?” she looked up grinning. Her face was wet and her lips shining. The pungent aroma was like sweet perfume.

He still wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t exactly frowning either.

She tried again. “Installment payment on what I owe you?”

He nodded, solemnly, “Just one of many.”

She cocked her head to the side, inspecting his pursed lips and the dark mood of his eyes. “You were angry, weren’t you?”.

“Weren’t you? Sexually, for me, the last six months sucked – and not in a good way!”

“I wish I could have prevented that.”

“And you couldn’t. I understand that. You did what you needed to do. But it still sucked and I can still be pissed now.” Only then did he smile though it was a wicked one.

“What are you thinking, Sir?” she asked.

“That I’m not done with you yet.” His smile got broader.

The wicked look on his face rushed through her like a hot wind in summer. Unsettling.

Of course, he wasn’t done with her; she wouldn’t have wanted him to be.

***

They took a break to grab a bite to eat then headed to the bedroom, Jack pushing her along as he liked to do when he was anxious and ready and not wanting to wait.

With her draped over the end of the bed, he whipped her back and her ass – adding insult to an already injured butt. Then he turned her over and continued the flogging, whipping her breasts and paddling her cunt – a tough punishment to take. Erratic. Unpredictable. And especially harsh on tender skin. When she jumped around too much to please him, twisting and turning as if she were trying to get away, he got testy and grumbled. Soon, he had enough of her wild gyrations, so he bound her cuffed wrists to the headboard with rope and tied them off. Finally, just to prove that he was serious about whipping her, he shoved a pillow beneath her ass to raise her pussy high and put his target right before his eyes. His evil scheme was pure torture one minute, pure pleasure the next. His floggers and whips came down again in both places, and when he was done with those, he picked up the cane.

Her eyes went wide in terror when she saw it. The cane? Really? “Please…” she couldn’t keep herself from pleading.

If her plea had any effect, she didn’t know. He didn’t miss a beat. The cane came down – not real hard, but hard enough to hurt like hell on the sensitive skin of her thighs, and have her crying out in despair.

When he got tired of her crying, he lashed out, “How about you hold down the noise, slut?”

“But it hurts too much!” she appealed to him with a sorry look.

“That’s good for you; you like the pain.”

She wanted to scream otherwise, but this was a war of words she’d never win. And never would she have wanted to.

Whether her pleading moved him to stop, or he was just ready to end it there, she’d never know. The session was over. He tossed the cane to the side of the room where it clattered against the wall. Then he released her wrists and flipped her over. Raising her ass up high, and with his hands clutching her rosy cheeks, he buried his cock in her ass, deep.

The exhilaration of that first thrust had her coming instantly. “Aw, ffffuuuucck!” she screamed. Although she buried her cry in the mattress, while her fists clung to the comforter beside her. Damn he was deep! Like suddenly his cock had grown inches since they started. This was what she wanted, what six months of nighttime masturbation could never give her. Her sex-starved body rocked with every rugged thrust.

He banged her hard with the stoic in him retreating to the sidelines for a time, allowing a low rumbling roar to rise up within his horny body as the vigorous fuck came to a climax. Her normally subdued master grunted, pouring more righteous anger into the hard anal sex as his cock spewed again.

Beneath him, Jeni settled into a sensuous subspace while the lingering spasms retreated. It was just the feel of his hands on her body now. One minute gentle and caring, the next, a reminder of the great power he possessed within those hands. For a few moments between one passion and the next, between the hard come and the tenderness that followed, she was reminded of the paradox of Jack Hawking. The tender lover, the sexual beast, and how she loved them both.

The moment passed and she slumped to bed, curling up in her master’s arms.

Maybe an hour went by before either of them spoke; Jack first this time.

“Where’s your ID tag, the silver charm?” he asked.

She flinched for a second, then stumbled into the explanation. “I-I took it off.”

“I can see. Doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s safe in the toy bag. A few month in – I couldn’t wear it without being reminded of you and what I’d lost. It hurt to see it and know that you were so far away.”

“And now?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t sure you wanted to be Master and slave anymore. I thought it’s something we should discuss.”

“Go get it, Jeni.”

The order had her scrambling off the bed and to the toy bag, which she rummaged though until she found what he wanted, and brought the silver disc with its inscription back to him.

Jack looked it over then handed it to her. “I want it on your dresser, on top of your jewelry box, where you’ll see it every day. When it’s time we’ll have that discussion.” This was not what she wanted. She missed it dangling from her clit so much that she wished she’d thought to put it back on that morning. Or had made up some excuse when he asked where it was. But then that wouldn’t be honest, would it? And the thought of deceiving him was more repugnant than going without it now. She supposed she’d have to earn the right to wear it again.

Again they lay in each other’s arms. This time kissing, kissing so much that her neck hurt from the awkward position, but she wouldn’t have stopped. The sun-washed room was warm and sensuous this time of day. Jeni felt as if they were halfway back to normal. Panic abated. Questions put to rest, while others still waited for an answer – like what to do with the tag that rested on her dresser and drew her eye every time she gazed in that direction. He knew it would haunt her, conniving bastard that he was.

But she let that thought go. What she had with him lying in his arms was good for now. Kissing, sweetly, tenderly, hard and ruggedly. Kissing any way he liked was fine with her.

Again he was the first to break the silence when the kissing ended.

“Next Sunday I’m leaving for the cottage for a week, maybe a few days longer. Part vacation. Part work. There will a few students in midweek but only for two, maybe three days. I’d like you there with me if you can work that out with your job.”

She sat up once she realized what he’d said. She needed to see his face.

“Really?”

“You need the vacation. You can work if you want when I’m working. That’s up to you. But you’re going to rest. You need that most.”

Soon as he said that, she could feel the truth of it nestle in her weary bones. Something inevitable and right about his offer. The elation over the invite was subdued compared to the jumping enthusiasm of his first invitation to the cottage. But that was right, too.

She settled back down to his side. “Sure, I’ll be there. And thank you.”