After lunch…after recounting what I could of my evening with Jake, enough juicy details to make Leslie happy…I went home, did domestic things, tried to read but my mind was distracted. I wondered what Jake was doing, was he working on the room above portico? I tried to imagine him in that huge house all alone. Did he have a housekeeper, a cook? Staff?
Finally I just gave up. This is how you get in trouble with men…you obsess over them. Jake was not someone I wanted to obsess over, not someone I wanted to let occupy my thoughts when I wasn’t with him.
The phone rang late that afternoon. It was Jake.
“Hello, Abby. How are you?”
My heart did that little flip-flop thing; there was no denying his voice did things to me. I brushed it aside and took a deep breath.
“I’m good, Jake. How are you? How’s the room…or is it called something else?”
There was a soft laugh. “Sometimes it’s called a dungeon, but I’m not really comfortable with that word. Plus it’s on the second floor. It’s more of a tower than anything.”
The castle image flashed in my mind again. “I think the tower is better than a dungeon. It sounds a little less damp and dreary, more like princesses and knights in shining armor.”
I heard Jake exhale on the other end of the line. “I want you to come tomorrow for a session.” His voice had changed, had that edge to it; Jake the dominant had taken over the conversation.
“You’ll need to wear clothes that are easy to remove. Nothing fancy. Please be showered, your hair tied back. Eat something before the session. I don’t want you to get hungry if this runs long and I don’t want you to feel faint or weak.”
I closed my eyes. Feel faint? What the heck?
“I know this seems like a set of rules, but I want you to be comfortable and safe. I have no idea where this is going to go. This may sound like over-kill, but I’d rather this be well thought out ahead of time.”
I nodded my head. “I understand. It’s just…well, so clinical.”
There was a beat of silence. “Abby, I need things to be like this…we need things to be like this. Trust me.”
Now it was my turn to be silent. “You’re right. It’s fine. It’s new for me, for both of us.”
“Yes, it is.” His voice softened. “It’s all new, Abby. But you’re the one I want to explore this with, and I want to be the one to help you explore your limits. I still think we’re going to be good for each other. We just need to go slow, keep talking and relax.”
I smiled. “I know. It’s all good.”
We ended the call. I sat down on the couch, going over our conversation, images of last night rising up in my mind; Jake’s hands on my body, the first glimpse of his c*ck as he’d unbuttoned his jeans, displaying himself for me.
I was getting all hot and bothered, remembering every detail. This is no good.
I settled back, looking out the windows on the skyline of Houston. Something poked me in the thigh. Reaching down, I fished a book out of the couch; 50 Shades.
“I really need to put you on a bookshelf, you know?” The book didn’t reply, but my cat did, jumping up, seeking attention. I scratched his head, thinking about castles and princesses in distress and knights in shining armor coming to the rescue.
But in this case, I had the nagging sense I wasn’t the one needing rescue.
***
“We’ll need a safe word. You know what a safe word is?”
We were in the tower room, now transformed into Jake’s version of a session room. There was a large bed at one end of the room, set away from one wall, a lovely Jacobean monstrosity, carved and ancient looking, currently sporting a fitted black sheet, but no pillows. There was a large cabinet, which matched the bed, set between two windows, which matched the bed. The heavy deep garnet-colored curtains were pulled shut. The room was lit by fixtures set between the windows, along with some indirect lighting in the ceiling. The overall effect really was of a tower room in a castle. And it’s the only room so far that’s actually square.
True to his word, this whole event was removed from his “other” life. I’d been instructed to park beneath the portico again, but today Jake had greeted me from the other side of the drive, through a large door set beneath the tower room. He’d taken me up a narrow stair to a separate entrance from the big door we’d used on Friday. He pointed out a small bathroom I could use, complete with a robe I could wear.
I nodded my head. “Yes. If I feel uncomfortable or…unsafe, I say that word. I don’t say ‘no’ or ‘stop’ or anything else. I say whatever word we’ve decided on.” My mind kept getting hung up on the word unsafe.
He smiled. “Yes. The word is usually something totally unrelated to anything we’re doing, so there’s no confusion. Your safe word is ‘pineapple’.
Despite the seriousness of his tone, I giggled. Jake lifted an eyebrow at me.
“It’s a good safe word. I’m allergic to pineapple.”
He smiled. “Okay. Just remember it.” The smile faded and he grew serious.
“Are you ready to start, Abby? From this point on, you don’t ask questions. We…I don’t stop, unless you use the safe word.” His eyes locked with mine. “Do you understand?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
With a detached sense of calm, I began following Jake’s directions. I’d arrived in jeans and a t-shirt, for a time feeling woefully underdress for a date. But this isn’t a date, remember that.
In the bathroom, I removed my shirt and bra, sliding my jeans off, hanging them on hooks in the bathroom. I’d left my panties at home, after a long debate, finally deciding they’d just be something I’d probably lose. I slipped into the robe, feeling an odd sort of comfort in the familiar garment.
Jake was dressed in just a pair of loose gray cotton sweats, again hanging low on his narrow hips, clearly outlining the taut curves of his ass. Those sweats left little to the imagination and I wondered how I was supposed to go through a session of any kind, knowing what he possessed, having it covered by only a thin layer of cotton.
Jake had his back to me when I came back to the tower room.
“You can hang the robe on the back of the door,” he said over his shoulder. I slid the robe off my body, hanging it on a hook.
He was standing at the cabinet, the doors now open, the only sounds the soft clink of something metal, the whisper of his bare feet over the rugs. I stood silently, waiting for his next direction.
He turned, saw me, and drew in a sharp breath. His eyes flicked over my body, then traveled up to meet mine. For an instant, that look I’d come to recognize as lust was there, unguarded and intense. It made my heart thump and my skin flush, set off a low jolt deep inside me.
And there was something else, that unreadable look I’d seen before, fleeting, something he fought hard now to get under control. In that brief instant, I got a glimpse somewhere deep inside Jake, an instant of nak*d, vulnerable emotion; a scary emotion. It was something almost like love. You’re projecting, girl. Back it up here.
But then he was walking toward me, a pair of silver handcuffs in his hands, long silver chains brushing against his long legs, his eyes hooded, the look gone.
He stopped in front of me. I could smell his scent; clean skin and beneath that, something rich and masculine.
“Come with me.” He walked to the bed, snapping the cuffs to the posts at the foot of the bed, the chains coiled like silver snakes.
“On your back, please.”
I climbed up on the bed. The mattress was on the hard side, but not uncomfortable, the sheet stretched taut, soft and silky on my skin. Must be high thread count. I mentally shook my head at the errant thought.
Jake held up one cuff, the metal catching the light. “One cuff is attached to each corner of the bed. The other end will be attached to your ankles. Your wrists will be held together above your head by a single set of cuffs.” He pulled one cuff toward my foot, the silver chain spiraling out across the sheet, whispers of sound as the links clicked together.
“You will have enough chain to bend your knees a little, but that’s all.”
The cold metal snapped around my left ankle. I flinched. Jake raised his eyes to mine, an unspoken question there. I nodded my head.
“I’m fine.” My heart was fluttering in an unexpected, but not totally unwelcomed, way. I licked my lips. “Go ahead.”
Jake attached the other cuff to my right ankle, had me lay flat on my back and gently raise my arms over my head, fastening the cold metal around each wrist. Somewhere behind me I heard the sound of chain sliding against metal and then my arms were pulled above my head.
I gave an experimental tug against the restraints at my head; I was held fast. My ankle restraints gave me enough freedom to pull my knees up slightly. There was a moment of breathless panic, complete and total; I was alone, nak*d and chained to a bed in a stranger’s house.
Jake came back into my field of vision, and the panic faded. He stood by the side of the bed, looking down in a rather detached way, I thought. I turned my head; my eyes sliding down his smooth nak*d chest, past his taut navel, lower still. I saw that not all of him was viewing this in such a dispassionate manner.
There was an unmistakable, and quite arousing, bulge at the apex of his thighs, his growing erection pushing easily against the thin material of his sweats, lifting the fabric out in front of his body. I wondered how I was going to handle whatever he was going to do to me while watching his physical reactions. Just seeing his cloth-covered erection had started a tingle in my body; tingle wasn’t the right word. It was an all-out throbbing between my legs.
Jake looked down at me, a hint of smile playing about the corners of his mouth, almost cruel looking. As if reading my mind, he pulled a piece of black silk out of his pocket.
“Lift your head.”
I raised my head from the mattress and with infinite care Jake blindfolded me. I felt his fingers brush my temples as my world went dark. I sensed his body over mine, his heat and scent very close for a moment. There was a brief tug and the blindfold was snugged over my eyes.
“Is that too tight?” His voice was low, not as close as I wanted it to be.
There was a dry clicking in my throat when I tried to talk, so I shook my head.
“Again, safe word?”
“Pineapple.” I managed to croak out the word.
“Good. I’m ready to start.
Time seemed to spin out forever as I lay there, briefly interested in the lights behind my eyes. But my ears quickly became attuned to every sound in the room. It was very quiet, almost too quiet. The panic tried to push its way back; logic said I had not heard the door open or close, so Jake was still in the room. Was he watching me? Was he getting ready to do something?
My breath was coming in short gasps, my heart beating fast. I was on the verge of calling his name when I felt movement and a soft rush of cool air against my skin, sliding down my right side. I turned my head, breathing deeply, sniffing the air, trying to catch Jake’s scent.
There was a brief noise at the foot of the bed and then a subtle pressure on the mattress. The pressure increased; Jake must have climbed on the bed between my feet. My legs tensed; I tried to pull away and move toward him at the same time. I wanted something to happen but I was afraid of what that something might be.