No Ordinary Love Story: Sequel to The Diary of a Submissive (17 page)

Except, of course, and this is something that funnily enough no erotica heroine I’d ever heard of had mentioned, that amount of sex can bring about cystitis.

I’d never had it before and when I had my first attack I had no idea what was wrong except it hurt so much I wanted to cry. I felt comfortable sitting nowhere but the loo, although I didn’t want to go even when I was there because it felt like I was weeing fire. After a few days hoping I could fend off whatever afflicted me with painkillers, a permanent hot-water bottle and force of will, I cracked and booked an appointment with the doctor. One slightly awkward conversation about how much sex I was having later and I had some sachets of cranberry-flavoured drink and (of my own volition, because I didn’t fancy going to the doctors again to discuss it) cranberry pills (which I still take every day – it’s just safer that way).

It wasn’t the only thing that was a bit awkward to start with, despite us generally being so open with each other. The ‘how do you feel about sex during my period?’ convo was dealt with pretty easily – Adam was fine about it
(probably more so than me, with my fears of mess), especially when he realised how frisky I got in the run up to it and thus how he’d have more chances to do ever more depraved things. Every cloud had a silver lining.

Of course, the time we worked round it by lying on the bed stroking each other to orgasm would have worked a little better if I hadn’t accidentally wanked him pretty much into his own face. And then, to my shame, I got the giggles and laughed until it hurt and I couldn’t breathe. His face was a picture, and then he started laughing too. By the time I’d pulled myself together enough to pass him a tissue I’d come to the conclusion that he was a keeper. Not only was he not angry but he’d seen the funny side. And sex most definitely should be fun. Although, as I pointed out to him (much) later, it was probably karma making up for the amount of times he’d wiped my juices on my own face.

These smutty and funny honeymoon-period anecdotes aren’t something you can bring up with mutual friends over Sunday lunch. Let’s face it, the only friends I had who might be understanding of such things (and not tempted to, at best, buy me a rubber ring for bath time and, at worst, call the police) were Thomas and Charlotte and, well, that just felt odd.

While we went out for dinner a few times together over the first months Adam and I were living together, and I spoke to and emailed both Charlotte and Thomas separately, it wasn’t something I felt comfortable talking about. Firstly, that was because it was all so new that I didn’t want to share it with anyone else. Secondly, if I’m honest, I still had slight pangs in the back of mind about the fact Adam
and Charlotte had slept together. I know it happened before I met them, and I could hardly take the moral high ground seeing I was the only person sat round the table to have actually slept with all of them (although
that
was a revelation that made me blush when it occurred to me), but the idea of discussing the things that Adam and I had been getting up to while wondering in the back of my mind whether Adam and Charlotte had done similar things just felt strange. I knew it was irrational, and I was working hard to not let it show and get past it, not least because that kind of unreasonableness in relationships annoys me. I decided silence might be the best policy on that front for now.

Besides, from what the pair of them had told me about their relationship, I knew that what we were doing was pretty tame in comparison. It was more than enough for me to be getting on with thank you, but Thomas regaled me with tales of munches and play parties and semi-public fun that went much further than anything I had ever experienced, or would probably feel comfortable with. Thomas and Charlotte were like two adventurous kids in a playground, though, and clearly had fun together. We did, however, have one memorable night that gave a somewhat surreal insight into their shifting dynamic.

Adam and I had finally finished unpacking and invited Tom and Charlotte over for drinks and dinner to say thank you for helping us move. When they arrived Charlotte looked a bit more nervous than usual and hung back as we greeted them and ushered them into the living room. I hugged Tom hello and he and Adam shook hands. I
turned to hug Charlotte, who was clutching an orchid in a pot as a house-warming gift. I took it from her, thanking them both for it (while secretly wondering how easily I could buy a replacement if need be before their next visit – I don’t have the best track record with houseplants unfortunately) and then leaned forward to give her a hug. She stepped back out of my reach.

Suddenly Thomas’s voice was behind me. ‘She’s not to hug you hello today.’

I turned to look at him, a bit confused. ‘Oh. OK.’

I literally had no clue what was going on. Was she ill and worried about giving me the lurgy? Or worried
I
was ill? Did she have a bad back?

I recognised Tom’s smile – previously that look would have left me feeling very nervous indeed. As it was, I was confused and definitely wondering where this was going.

‘She does have something to ask you, though.’

I looked over at Charlotte. I wasn’t convinced. Her lips were pressed tightly together and she didn’t look like she wanted to say anything. She also had two bright points of colour in her cheeks which left me open-mouthed – in all the time I had known her I had never known her to blush. I felt Adam shifting behind me to get a better look at her, clearly equally confused.

Tom looked over at her. ‘Don’t you?’

Her gaze was mutinous. She nodded and closed her eyes, gathering up her courage to speak.

‘Please may I kiss your feet to say hello?’

I couldn’t help it, I blushed in sympathy. Fuck. This was awkward. Also, I realised to my own surprise, oddly hot.
Although maybe that was just me flashing back to some of the humiliating things she’d had me do the one time we’d played together and feeling a sense of justice. What goes around comes around.

I couldn’t resist. ‘Sorry?’

She was glaring at me now. I know I’m terrible to have asked her to repeat it, but, in my defence, what if I’d misheard? That’d have been embarrassing.

Her jaw was clenched, her teeth gritted. ‘Please may I kiss your feet to say hello?’ A pause and a quiet sigh. ‘Both of you.’

Adam turned to look at me and we exchanged a slightly bemused glance. I’ve been intimately acquainted with feet before, but in this context it felt a bit strange. I was also a bit worried how things would escalate after this. Thomas and Charlotte remained my closest friends, but I had no interest in rekindling anything smutty with them, especially now. That said, it was definitely a kind of payback. Turns out I’m a bit of a cowbag where these things are concerned.

‘Of course you can,’ I smiled. In my peripheral vision I saw Adam nodding too.

I took the orchid into the kitchen and returned to find Charlotte crawling across the living-room floor towards Adam. It was a surreal sight. I felt a quickly suppressed pang of curiosity over whether this was how they had looked playing together. The sight of Adam looming over her, seeing her kneeling and pressing her lips to first one shoe and then the other, was striking. I found it oddly hot, not so much for Charlotte (although she was and remains a stunning woman) but for the view of Adam I got – the
look of power, the set of his jaw, the curve of his eyelashes as he looked down at her on the floor. It was a view that – I realised with a jolt – I didn’t usually get to see because I was the one on my knees.

As I looked at them Charlotte broke the tableau and began crawling over to me. I was barefoot and suddenly very grateful I’d had a pedicure a few days before. She bowed her head and I felt her breath on my left foot, then quickly she pressed a kiss to the top. It tickled a little and I smiled, catching Adam’s eyes. He and Thomas were watching intently.

She moved to my other foot and as she leaned down and pressed her mouth to my toes I heard a little sound of embarrassment, so quiet that no one else could hear it. I still had odd moments when some of the things she had done to me flashed into my mind, making me blush. But while part of me was enjoying watching her debased a little (which was mind-boggling in itself – did this count as switching tendencies?) that little whimper made me feel sorry for her. I leaned down and stroked the nape of her neck, where her haircut ended, and for a tiny moment she leaned into my caress, seemingly taking comfort from it.

The room was heavy with an atmosphere of … something. And then just as quickly it dissipated. Charlotte got up, still blushing. I asked everyone what they wanted to drink. We decided on which takeaway to order and picked a DVD.

The rest of the evening was mostly as you’d expect. There were odd quirks. Charlotte didn’t sit on the sofa next to Thomas when we watched the DVD, instead sitting on the floor by his feet. She whispered what I was
pretty sure was a request for permission to go to the loo part way through the film. Generally she seemed a little more discombobulated than usual (Tom admitted later that he’d had her wearing a plug the whole night, which would probably have left me struggling to hold up my end of conversations too) but otherwise it was as laid-back as usual. The odd glance passed between Charlotte and Tom that made me wonder what would happen when they got home, but nothing more was said and there was no other awkwardness. By the time Charlotte kissed us goodbye as they left it felt almost normal. OK, who am I kidding? It really didn’t. But as they wandered down the path hand in hand I couldn’t help but feel happy for Charlotte and Tom. I don’t think I’d have ever done that for my dominant in a million years, but each to their own – it seemed to be working for them.

As we closed the front door and headed back into the kitchen to begin loading the dishwasher, Adam and I simultaneously expelled a breath and then promptly laughed. I couldn’t stifle my curiosity for long.

‘So I have a question.’

Adam looked up from scraping leftovers into the bin. ‘Go on.’

‘Is that the kind of thing you did with Charlotte before? This kind of 24/7 public-ish play stuff?’

I’ll freely admit I was a bit concerned – if this was something Adam was into it was a new one on me and not a path I felt ready to go down, no matter how well I knew the other people in the room with us (in fact, did knowing them make it worse? It might have made it worse).

He smiled. ‘No, didn’t do this kind of public play and I certainly wouldn’t have had her do that in a social situation.’ Phew. Although damn my stupid brain for instantly wanting to ask the obvious follow-up question – So what kind of public play
have
you done? I held back.

He broke me from my pondering. ‘It was a bit of a conversation stopper, wasn’t it?’

I laughed. ‘It really was. I knew they were experimenting with a more intense D/s lifestyle, but I didn’t realise it had got that far. Is it terrible that when Tom told her to do it my first instinct was to giggle in a kind of nervous embarrassment?’

Adam smiled. ‘Me too. And I giggle horribly.’

We stood looking at each other for a moment, the silence heavy. In the end I waited until I’d turned to put a plate of leftovers in the fridge, incapable of looking him in the eye as I said it.

‘Watching her do that, though, it was hot.’

When I turned back he was looking at me intently, and nodding in agreement. ‘It really was hot.’ He smiled. ‘Especially when she kissed your feet.’

I rolled my eyes then. ‘Typical bloke with your lesbian fantasies.’

He leaned over and kissed me on the nose. ‘Partly. It was an interesting kind of humiliation, though.’

I shivered a little remembering it. ‘It really was. Doing that in front of other people would be a hard limit for me, but that kind of level of control, of obedience …’ I tailed off, swallowing hard to brave saying it out loud. ‘I’d be curious to try it for a little while.’

Adam kissed me again. ‘Just a while?’

I grinned. ‘God, yes, just a while. And not too long lest you get unbearable and power-crazed.’

‘It’s true I do have megalomaniacal tendencies. Also, I hate micromanagement, so I probably couldn’t cope for too long either.’

And that’s how our foray into a weekend of full-time D/s started. I blame bloody Charlotte.

From the earliest time I’d known what D/s was, I’d been a bit dubious of the whole 24/7 thing. I’ve read a lot of incredibly hot fiction about it, met a few people (at my first and only ever munch and also later online) for whom I know it works really well, but I just didn’t see it working for me. As ever, it’s the practicalities that give me pause. What happens when he’s knackered and just wants to watch the cricket, and you’re waiting to be told what you can eat, or wear, or do? How does a job fit within that scenario? Friends? Each to their own and everything, but I just didn’t think it would fit into my life that well.

Which isn’t to say I wasn’t curious.

Charlotte and Thomas’s unusual visit had inspired me to try. For most of the time our evening had been completely normal, there was just an intriguing subtext. Would I want to do it all the time? No. Could I give it a go for a finite period? Would I want to? The answer was most definitely yes – particularly after our trip to the kink cottage and our blossoming relationship. I trusted Adam to be kind (ish), certainly to know my limits. And now we had our own place there was all the time and the privacy we needed to give it a go.