Authors: Samantha Blair
"Welcome to Maine," David said into my ear.
The pilot opened the door, and we exited. The food was fabulous and so was the view. We had a long and leisurely dinner, splitting a bottle of red wine and enjoying the incredible seafood.
I had all but forgotten about the vibrator attached to my clitoris, when David chose to make me hyper-aware. We had ordered dessert, a massive chocolate mouse cake that we intended to share. The waiter set it down on the table and then asked if we needed anything else. David stated that we were fine, and I felt the butterfly come to life.
I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat. David scooped up a bite of the chocolate cake with his fork and held it out for me. His eyes locked on mine as I leaned forward. I closed my lips around his fork and took the offered treat. I lifted my own fork in order to reciprocate. I watched as David's tongue darted out to meet my fork. He had the most erotic mouth. I was assaulted with mental images of all the ways he had used it to pleasure me. He increased the speed on the vibrator, and I curled my fingers into my napkin.
"Behave yourself, Katlyn," he warned.
"Yes, Master," I breathed. That was easier said then done. My breathing was accelerating of its own free will in response to the growing sensations between my legs. I fought my reactions back. Think of something else. Anything. I thought of the obnoxious parents that I had to deal with today and was able to calm down considerably. After a moment David paused the vibrations. I let out a loud sigh of relief.
David scowled at me across the table. Oops.
"I'm sorry, Master," I apologized.
"You will be," he said sternly. I flushed with heat. I couldn’t wait to get back to the playroom.
The waiter returned with our check, and David paid him. When we were finished, he escorted me back to the plane. The sun was setting, and the runway was filled with a warm red glow. It was absolutely breathtaking.
"Thank you again, Master," I said, "for a very lovely evening."
David slid into the seat beside me. "Your evening is far from over."
"We're here," I said bringing the car to a stop.
"Where is here?" Kat asked.
"My parents' ski chalet. They aren't here, so it will be quiet enough for us to talk."
I got out of the car and opened her door for her. It wasn't raining here, as it had been at school, and there was a lovely breeze flowing through the trees. I opened the front door and flipped on a few lights in the house.
"Would you like something to drink?" I asked, "A glass of wine maybe?"
"Wine would be lovely," she said.
I left her in the kitchen and brought up a bottle of red from the cellar. I removed the cork and let it sit on the counter for a moment to breathe.
"This is a beautiful house."
"I've always liked it."
I knew that I wasn't making very good conversation, but to be honest I couldn't even think straight. She had told me things in the car that I couldn't even comprehend. She had been a submissive? What did that even mean? She said there was more to it then just rough sex, but I was confused and quite frankly intimidated. What did she expect of me now? What if I disappointed her?
No. I couldn't do this to her. It was too much like my father and mother. I could not stand to see her broken, like my mother, empty. I would never do that to her.
I handed her a glass of wine. "It's a nice night, would you like to sit out on the patio?"
She nodded, and I led her out the French doors to the patio, which overlooked a stunning ridge in the White Mountains. It was really beautiful out here. The mountains were so quiet, so peaceful. I sat down on one of the patio chairs and Kat surprised me by sitting on the slate patio at my feet. She rested her head against my knee and looked out at the night.
"What are you doing, Kat?"
"I'm waiting for instructions, Sir."
"Instructions? I am not going to give you instructions. I already told you that you are better than this. You don't belong at my feet like some kind of fucking dog."
"I want to be at your feet, Sir."
"Stop calling me Sir!"
Fuck that was infuriating. What the hell was she doing? There was no way that she wanted what she thought she did. No woman could ever want that kind of treatment. I could see enjoying a spanking in the heat of the moment or something, but the things that she was talking about were a whole different world.
"What should I call you then?" she asked, looking up at me with wide brown eyes.
I got out of the chair and walked across the patio. "How the hell should I know?" Even I heard the brokenness in my voice. Weak. I was fucking weak.
"David?" She stood and walked up behind me. I did not turn. "Do you know the difference between an abusive relationship and a successful Dominant/submissive relationship?"
I didn't answer her. Truthfully, I had no idea. In the world in which I grew up there were no successful relationships. I had only known abuse. I didn't know that there was another way.
"It's only two things, David, and neither of them have anything to do with physical actions."
I still didn't respond. Either she would tell me, or she would walk away. I wasn't sure which I was praying for.
"Consent and control," she said, "I am consenting, and you will not lose control with me."
Is that what she expected of me? She expected me to control myself?
I took a long swig of my wine.
"Give me a safeword, David." It was a command, plain as day.
I couldn't speak. I couldn't do it.
"I think it would be best for us, to use a two word system," she continued more gently. "Yellow if I'm uncomfortable with something and need for you to change tactics..." she paused, like a teacher in a classroom "... or red if I want to get dressed. I can also say green if you just want to check or need reassurance that I'm okay."
I could see her behind me out of the corner of my eye. She stood very still and waited for me to respond, but I didn't know what to say. I was so torn. I wanted what she was offering me so badly, but I couldn't trust myself. What if I didn't have enough self-control? What if I hurt her? I would never be able to forgive myself, and it would ruin me.
After a moment, she pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the patio. I could see the gentle swell of her breasts, the smooth skin of her flat stomach. She was so beautiful.
She unclasped her bra and let it fall with her forgotten shirt.
"Stop, Kat," I choked out. I couldn't watch her do this.
She dropped to her knees on the patio in the isolated night.
"Please, Sir," she whispered desperately.
I tugged at my hair. Could I really handle this? Could I go over there and give her what she was asking me for?
With those two little words she had so much power over me. She knew that I could not deny her. She knew that I would be everything that she wanted me to be, and I hated her for it.
I hated her for trying to fix me, or worse, for making it seem like I wasn't even broken in the first place.
I hated her for being so fucking beautiful and so willing.
I hated her for making me realize that every time I fucked those girls, I was my father.
I hated her for wanting me, when she knew that I was not good for her.
I hated her, most of all, because I knew that she was right.
She was offering me a relationship with her - a real relationship. She wouldn't judge me, and she wouldn't let me hurt her. She was giving me an outlet for every perverse desire in a way that was safe and consensual. How was it even possible for such a woman to exist?
It was everything that I had ever wanted, and it scared the fuck out of me.
I squeezed my hands into fists to stop them from shaking. I swallowed the rest of the wine and sat the empty glass down on the table.
She crawled across the patio to me like a graceful jungle cat. Her beautiful breasts swayed slightly. Her body, illuminated in the moonlight, was the most erotic thing that I had ever seen. I was completely powerless to stop the reaction in my body, and worse my heart.
She knelt at my feet, her hands behind her back, her head bowed, and waited. I put one hand in her beautiful long hair, as I had wanted to do from the very first time I met her, and tugged her head back, forcing her to look up at me.
Her eyes pleaded with me. Want me. Accept me.
I did want her. I wanted her with all of my heart.
I closed my eyes and let the memories play out in my mind: meetings in the coffee shop, playful banter on the way to class, the way she chewed on her bottom lip, the time she almost got hit with the football as we walked across the lawn, her sweet smile, her fierce determination, her blinding intelligence.
I fought back my tears. I willed authority into my voice.
"I want you naked and bent over the couch in the living room in five minutes."
Good God. I could smell her as I helped her back into the plane. Apparently the teasing over dessert had made her very, very wet.
I knew that she was stressed out by the beginning of the school year, and I really wanted to give her an enjoyable evening. So far, it couldn't be going better. The pilot had been instructed to take a longer flight on the way out so we could see the scenery, but now that it was dark, the return flight would take only twenty minutes. By the end of those twenty minutes, I would have her begging.
She had unconsciously crossed her legs when she sat down so I tapped her knee twice with my fingertips indicating that she should spread them for me. She obeyed, but did not spread them wide.
Kat had always been shy about physical pleasure in public places. She typically dressed very modestly, and she played the part of an innocent very well. I, however, knew her better than that. I pushed her limits from time to time because I knew the anxiety heightened the experience for her. Truthfully though, I was a very jealous man, and I would never allow us to be in a position where another man, or woman for that matter, would be able to see any private part of her. She was for my eyes only, and it turned me on immensely to know that she reserved her incredible body for me alone.
It was dark in the plane now that the sun had set and with the high seat separating us, it would be very difficult for the pilot to discern anything that might happen behind him. I rested my hand on the inside of Kat's thigh and waited for takeoff. As the plane sped down the runway, I leaned in and placed a slow open-mouthed kiss right below her jaw line. She tilted her head exposing her graceful neck to my lips.
As we lifted from the ground I shifted our position, putting my left arm around her waist and pulling her closer to me. I hooked the fingers of my right hand under her right knee and lifted her leg over mine. She was half sitting in my lap, the back of her right shoulder now pressing into the front of my left. My mouth was right beside her ear, and her legs were spread with her skirt rising up of its own accord. Perfect.
I inched my hand higher up her thigh, under the hem of her skirt.
"Katlyn?" I said softly. Only she could hear me.
"Yes, Master?" she whispered in return.
"Do you know what I am going to do to you when I get you home?"
She swallowed hard. "No, Sir."
"I am going to punish you for your indiscretion at dinner." I ran my fingertips along the juncture where her thigh met her sex. "I'm going to strap you to the sawhorse in the corner and strike you with the flogger we bought last month." I slipped my fingers gently into her wet sex. Fuck she was practically dripping. "I think about ten strokes should remind you of your place. Don't you?"
"If that is what you feel is acceptable, Sir."
I smirked against her cheek and then sucked at the delicate flesh of her neck once more. She behaved beautifully the rest of the ride home while I finger fucked her just out of sight of the pilot. Her self-control amazed me sometimes. We had built up her tolerance over years together, and now her body was like a fine instrument to me. I could literally keep her on edge for hours, as I had tonight, or command her to come after only a few minutes, and she would obey me either way. She was perfection.
When we reached the parking lot we got into our separate vehicles, and I followed her home. She maintained the speed limit precisely on the way home as she always did. Being the child of a cop had left its mark in at least one way on her life.
Neither of us spoke as I opened the door for her. She walked immediately to our playroom with me on her heels. Once inside, I put my hands on her hips and guided her to the padded sawhorse that we kept in the far corner of the room. I lifted her shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor.
"Bend over," I commanded. She could keep her skirt and lacy bra on, they would not be in the way, and honestly her schoolteacher clothes made me hard as a rock. I loved seeing her the way that the world saw her, pure and sweet, and then listening to her as she screamed and begged for me to defile her.
I pushed her skirt up over her hips as she bent over the bench. Her stomach ran up the length of the sawhorse, the padded center splitting her breasts. Her legs straddled the A-frame keeping her nicely spread for me. I bound her ankles to the base. She was still in her high heels. So fucking beautiful.