Fidèle - Cover

Fidèle

Copyright© 2019 by Barahir

Chapter 37

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 37 - Superstar sommelier Luke Bronson wasn't prepared for the breathtaking Kathryn Lloyd Maddox to walk into, and then out of, his life over the course of one unforgettable night. An old family friend's invitation to reinvent the wine cellar at his tranquil lakeside estate should have been a perfect way to take his mind off a woman he couldn't otherwise forget. But life, like wine, is full of surprises.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Fa   Mult   Consensual   Romantic   Lesbian   Heterosexual   Fiction   Tear Jerker   Cheating   Sharing   BDSM   DomSub   MaleDom   Light Bond   Rough   Spanking   Group Sex   Polygamy/Polyamory   Swinging   Anal Sex   Analingus   Cream Pie   Double Penetration   Exhibitionism   Facial   Food   Massage   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Sex Toys   Squirting   Public Sex  

“You do have something in mind!” she cried as her eyes lit up. “What’s on the kinky agenda today, Evil Sir Master Overlord and Ruler of my Body?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he managed to insist through his helpless guffaws.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Kathryn started ticking her fingers. “Ate. Showered. Bladder emptied. ‘Enema-ed’ isn’t a word, unfortunately, but I did that too.” She paused over her thumb. “I’d need to know what you have in mind to answer about anything else.”

“Those four will do nicely. Are you ready?” She nodded eagerly. “Good. Get naked and kneel in the middle of the room. Head bowed, hands behind your back, and don’t speak unless I give you permission.” Scrambling to follow his orders, she got into position and fell silent. He waited until he heard her breathing start to slow before disappearing downstairs and returning with one of the padded mats he’d used to rescue dropped bottles. He placed it on the floor in front of her and retrieved a number of items from the closet.

He bound her wrists and ankles, attaching the quartet of restraints to each other. She had to keep her legs tightly bent to avoid putting undue strain on her arms, but it was an uncomfortable and highly stressful position nonetheless. He gently lowered her onto her side atop the mat, rearranging her until she was more or less at its center.

“Your safe words are as usual. However,” he added, dangling an oversized ball gag in front of her eyes, “you’ll have to work a bit to use them. Nod if you understand. Good. Today, you need to ask permission to come, though I don’t think it’s going to matter. Still, at times you’re full of surprises.” He attached clover clamps to her nipples and a pair of larger, grippier clamps to her labia, then pushed the ball gag into her mouth and secured it around her head.

“You only have two instructions to follow. If you fail there will, of course, be a punishment. The first is that you are not allowed to speak unless it’s to use your safe words. You may make any noises you feel are necessary, but you are not to form actual words. The second is that you may not leave this mat. It’s not much bigger than you, so if you feel the need to move or turn over you’re going to have to be very careful, especially as you don’t really have control over your hands or your feet. Touching the floor with any part of your body except your hair will also result in a punishment, and the severity will increase with each infraction. Nod if you understand.”

As soon as she did, he proceeded to ignore her completely, eventually disappearing downstairs. A few minutes later, he returned with his laptop and set it on the table, then made himself coffee. When it was finished brewing, he settled into a chair, answering email — now that his departure was on the horizon he felt free to respond to tasting, lunch, and dinner invitations, though he wasn’t yet accepting requests for his professional time — and drawing up future wine orders for his hosts.

Tossing back the last of his coffee, he closed the laptop and brought it down to the cellar, passing some time filing and notating new arrivals. About twenty minutes later, he opened the cellar door to check on her and was immediately greeted by soft but clearly agonized cries. He sprinted up the stairs, worried about what he’d find, and studied her closely.

Kathryn’s entire body was wracked by heart-rending sobs. The quiet misery in her wailing was almost inhuman, and the mat was soaked with her tears. Still, none of the sounds making it past the ball gag were her safe words. He continued to study her for a while — she’d moved a little bit, but was in no danger of touching the floor— until he was convinced that there was nothing wrong save for the extremity of her unhappiness, then stepped over her and headed for the bathroom. Her sobbing was audible, even through the door.

Just to make sure he didn’t miss anything else, he moved to the couch while he continued to work. While she knew he was only a few feet away, Kathryn couldn’t see him, and for a few minutes she struggled to reposition herself so that she could. But due either to inability or fear of leaving the confines of the mat, her attempt was stymied and she slammed her head down in frustration as the volume of her cries increased.

Luke hadn’t known precisely what to expect from this experiment. Nor, frankly, did he have any clear idea what sort of punishment he might inflict if she failed the test; he knew he wasn’t going to strike her again, save perhaps for a few more light, entirely playful spanks. Mostly, he was counting on her not to fail. His intention had been to proceed with the normal flow of his day while acting as if she wasn’t there — a form of isolation more psychological than that he’d enforced via accessories — but he hadn’t counted on this much audible despair. It was extremely difficult to listen to, or watch, and on more than one occasion he was tempted to end the scene prematurely and comfort her. Instead, he steeled himself and waited it out.

A little while later, he made a light lunch and sat down to eat it, then cleaned up and prepared for the final act. She’d been in more or less the same position for two hours, crying uncontrollably for most of it, and he didn’t want to do any lasting damage. But he had one more emotional game to play.

Planting a chair right in her line of sight, he opened his shorts and began masturbating, stroking his cock but pointedly not looking at her while he was doing it. Instead, he kept his eyes closed as if he was fantasizing about someone else, though it was impossible for him to think about anyone but her. It had been a while since he’d done this, and he found it terribly unsatisfying, but eventually he felt the early stirrings of his climax. He stood over her, pumping furiously. He guessed that her sudden retreat to silence meant that she noticed he was aiming right at her inert body, though he kept his eyes resolutely closed. And then, just as he felt semen racing into his shaft, he covered the tip with a wad of tissues he’d concealed in his other hand and captured every drop, soaking it up until he was spent.

He restored his clothing and casually dropped the soaked tissues on the floor, just out of her reach. Kathryn’s tragic wailing returned, accompanied by pitiful, almost tortured howls as she stared at the messy refuse.

It was time to free her.


It had been almost a half hour since he’d removed her clamps and gag, unfastened her restraints, and carried her to the bed to hold her in his arms. She hadn’t stopped softly crying the entire time. I’m going to have to replace the sheets ... and maybe even rotate the mattress ... so we don’t have to sleep in a massive wet spot. He’d told her several times that she was free to speak, but she hadn’t done that either. He couldn’t tell if she’d come out of her submission or not. All he could do was wait.

Finally, her misery quieted and she shifted in his arms. Her face was as much of a mess as the bed. She looked blotchy and red, as if she’d been in a fight.

“Luke?”

“Yes, my love?” he asked nervously.

“That was horrible. Awful. Terrifying. Cruel. I never, ever want to go through that again. Why did you do that to me?”

Shaken by her response, he asked, “Kathryn, are you okay?”

“Answer my question, please.”

She sounds angry. I didn’t expect this. “It was supposed to be another form of denial. We denied you orgasms at Alejandro’s, I denied you freedom of motion and your senses in the boathouse, and this was denying you mobility, pleasure, and pain ... in fact, any kind of contact at all ... including one of the things I know you love most.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“That’s the only reason of which I’m aware. Why? What happened?”

Her answer was disturbingly measured. “At first I thought you were going to leave me there for a little while, then start doing things to me that would force me to leave the mat. I was looking forward to being punished, because I thought that was the point. But when you went downstairs and didn’t come back, I started to feel the same abandonment that I felt at the boathouse. Except that it was different, because there I trusted — even though I couldn’t see or hear you — that all your attention was on me, while today it felt like it wasn’t. And so I started to cry. I was miserable being left alone like that, and it was even harder than it was in the boathouse, but up until that point it wasn’t unmanageable. Then I realized that you were doing things as if I wasn’t even in the room ... as if I didn’t even exist ... and that’s when everything went wrong in my head. I thought ... I thought...” She was starting to well up again. “I thought you were showing me what your life would be like without me, and demonstrating it in the cruelest possible way. And then you masturbated into a tissue and I knew that’s what you were doing.”

Oh no. Oh god, no. Now I see. “Kathryn, my love, please believe me: I’d never do that to you. Maybe some deep, dark corner of my subconscious contributed to my plan for those exact reasons, but I never had a conscious intention even close to that. I’m so sorry. I didn’t have any idea you’d take it that way. If it was that bad, though, why didn’t you use your safe word? I won’t ever judge you for doing so. And if you were having those sorts of thoughts, I must have taken you out of submission somehow. I’m sorry for that, too”

“No, you didn’t. That’s the thing; you’d pushed me so deep that I couldn’t snap out of it even if I wanted to. I was that deep because I trusted you, and if you hadn’t gotten me out when you did, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”

He held her more tightly. “My love, I know you don’t want to use your safe words, but I never meant for you to endure something so horrible.”

“Yes you did. I felt exactly the abandonment and isolation you wanted me to feel. Except that I took it very differently than you meant it, and I’m pretty sure I know why.”

Though he was afraid to ask he had to know. “Why?”

“Even though it’s not what you intended, the experience was authentic, wasn’t it? That wasn’t really me on the floor. That was you. That’s exactly how it’s going to feel for you once you leave. I was forced to see it, I was forced to face it, and I was forced to live it. I told you before that I didn’t think I was strong enough to experience your pain. After today, I’m sure of it.”

Luke was devastated; he’d considered none of this. “My love, can I... ?”

“If you let go of me right now, I’ll knee you in the balls so hard that I’ll never experience my favorite breakfast again. Don’t you dare leave this bed.” Turning in his arms so she was facing the other way and pressing herself against his body, she added, “Once I get some rest, I’ll be fine. You will make it up to me later, though.”

“Will I enjoy making it up to you?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood, even though they were both still on edge.

“I assure you that you will. One more thing before I calm down enough to fall asleep. Do you remember the other day, when you said that me trying to be bratty was ill-timed because of all the negative emotions you were carrying? Well, today our roles were reversed. I was wrong to claim I couldn’t ever go through that again. I could. Parts of it were extremely effective, and if it had been someone like Faith doing it, I would’ve been fine. It was similar to one of her threatened punishments, after all. But not now, and not with you. Not when it’s all too close to the truth.”

“I understand. I’m sorry you didn’t have the experience you wanted. I guess neither of us did.”

“I never even got to call you Sir,” she added with an audible pout.

“You know that’s mostly about making you happy. I’d get just as much out of the experience without it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know, and that’s why I let you do it.” He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Slut.”

“Mmmmm. Much better,” she purred. “After my nap, I’ll prove it to you.”


Kathryn collapsed on top of him after several minutes of uncontrolled writhing, panting. “That was one hell of an orgasm. I was worried I was going to squeeze your beautiful cock to death.”

“Only the one?” he teased, even though he’d been fairly taken aback by the raw force of her most recent climax.

“It was bigger than the others. That’s not the same thing as saying that the others were in any way insufficient, because they weren’t. They never are, with you.”

“Why was it so good?”

“You’re introducing new tricks into regular sex.”

“None of our sex is ‘regular,’ but I assume you mean kinky things.”

“Exactly. You were alternating between slapping my ass, twisting my nipples, pulling really hard on my hair, and pretend-choking me. I wasn’t actually drifting into submission, but I did feel like you were dominating me, even though I was on top. Then you squeezed my neck just a little bit harder right when I was coming, and that did it for me in a massive way.”

“About that...”

“Don’t say it.”

“But...”

“Don’t say it.”

“Kathryn, I...”

“Don’t say it.”

“If you’re going to keep interrupting me, I guess I can’t.”

“You’re going to suggest that we put our exploration of dominance and submission aside. Don’t bother confirming, denying, or evading; you know you were. Do you want that to be our final experience before you leave? No fucking way. I told you that I don’t need an exotic new adventure every time. Go back to something you already know works. It doesn’t have to be a feature-length production, either. It can be short and to the point, like the other day with the deliverymen and the flogger. And here’s a warning: if I suspect that you’re deliberately avoiding it and hoping I won’t notice, instead of waking up every morning with your cock in my mouth, you’re going to wake up with me kneeling next to the bed, wearing clamps and a ball gag and whatever restraints I can manage to attach all by myself, already in a submissive state and waiting for you to do something about it. It doesn’t have to be all the time or as often as we’ve been doing it this week ... in fact, it can be only one more time, if you want ... but we will try again. Promise me, Luke.”

“You’re right, and I promise. It just ... this morning rattled me, and now I’m unsure of my instincts again.”

“Well, then think about this. Submission is dangerous for the submissive, even in the best of situations, because it requires giving up control. That’s why it’s so important to trust who you’re with. You’ve gotten really good, really quickly, at the mechanics, but we don’t have enough experience with each other for you to recognize the difference between good emotional release and bad emotional release. In time you will, but right now you don’t. I went to a bad submissive place. In fact, for a little while, a very bad place. And do you know what it reminded me of?”

“Oh my god, Kathryn, no! Please tell me I didn’t...”

“I won’t. Because it didn’t remind me of anything. Nothing at all. Even though I was confused and hurt and unable to struggle free on my own, not once did I associate any of it with my past. Not while it was happening, and not afterwards, either. So listen, you lovable oaf: while you’re not the only one who’s helped me heal, you’re pretty obviously the final piece of my puzzle. I’ll never be completely free of my past, but you cut the last thread connecting it with my sexual present, and I love you even more because of it. And you know very well how you did it, too, which is one more reason we’re going to do it again. Okay? Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Adorable,” she mocked, kissing his nose. “You so can’t pull that off. You should try it, though. It’ll...”

“ ... make me a better dominant, I know. Or so I’ve been told, at least. I guess someday I’ll have to give it a shot.”

“Why not give your guru a call? What’s her name?”

Michelle?“ He shuddered. “No way in hell. She ... does things. Terrible things.”

“Aw, Luke,” she said, reaching between them to fondle his involuntarily retracting testicles. “Afraid of suffering real blue balls?”

“Among many, many other things.”

“Why not Irina, then? I promise you she’s good, and she’s probably not going to grind a stiletto heel into your nuts. Though she does own some...”

“Would you please stop with that particular bit of imagery? Anyway, I understand intellectually that she’s a domme, and of course I’ve experienced the effects of it during sex, but it’s always hard to picture in practice. She’s so tiny.”

“I know. It’s what makes her terrifying. Still, I finally see through your devious plan. You want your supermodel girlfriend to do it.”

“I don’t want anyone to do it, I’m just speculating. And she’s not my girlfriend.”

“She could be.”

“At best, I’d be just another of her many paramours, I’m afraid.”

“Oh no, Luke. You’d be the only one. Yes, she’d keep having sex — and doing even wilder things — with others, but you’d be her only romantic partner. You’d be the only one she’d love.”

“What about Alejandro?”

“He doesn’t love her. Not really. He wants to, but he can’t, and they both know it. He probably thinks I don’t see it, but I do. In fact, I think I saw it all those years ago, which is one of the reasons why — despite the fact that I was extremely attracted to him, and the sex was, given the limitations of the setting, even steamier than I hoped — we never went on another date, and never even had another sexual encounter. Back then I would’ve fallen for him, and then he would’ve broken my heart. Whereas you’re entirely capable of love, and so, despite her aloofness, is Faith. You two should explore that.”

“You have a very elaborate imagination, but in this case you’re wrong. She told me it wouldn’t happen.”

“She told you she’d never love you? That’s a pretty harsh rejection for two people who aren’t even dating.”

She was still teasing him, and he realized that a stronger argument was required. “Not exactly.” He rolled Kathryn to her back so he could see her reaction to what he was about to say. “She said that while it’s possible we could have a relationship, or maybe even fall in love, she’d always know that I’d never love her as much as I love you. She also said that she might be okay with that. But she’s absolutely right.”

“Awwww,” she responded, starting to tear up again. “So I’m the one ruining your beautiful future with your ravishing, kinky, sex-crazed supermodel girlfriend?” Though her words were light, there was an undercurrent of anguish behind them.

“I don’t understand why you keep calling her my girlfriend, or why you’d even want to push me towards a relationship with her. Neither of which is ever going to happen, by the way.”

“Stop underestimating yourself, Luke. And stop giving up on love.”

“But why her? Why me with her? Why do you keep saying things like this to me when you know who I really want?”

“Because I want you to be happy. Because I love you no matter what happens. And because she’s actually good enough for you.”

“Good enough?” he sputtered. “Faith Anderssen, the internationally famous, fabulously wealthy, stunningly attractive supermodel, who can — and apparently does — have any man or woman she wants, is good enough for me? You’re out of your mind.”

“Very few women deserve you. But you’re going to have to rediscover your confidence and start arranging your own dates. I may not be able to be your pimp forever.” To Luke, it sounded like she was forcing jokes to cover for what was a rather painful conversation for both of them, but he was afforded no opportunity to call her out. “Now, you have two choices. You can lay there and watch me cry, or you can fuck the sadness right out of me.”

“That’s no choice at all,” he remarked, already moving his hips. But he was attempting his own form of cover-up, and they both knew it.


“Jesus, is there any way I can have you pounding my ass all day and all night, every day and night?” she gasped as he ravaged her.

“That’s really up to you,” he groaned as he slapped even harder against her buttocks, plowing his cock into her rectum with as much force as his waning energy could muster. He’d driven her to at least five squealing orgasms, but was quickly reaching the point at which he either had to stop or unload in her colon.

“I ... vote ... yes,” she grunted between his powerful thrusts.

“Then you’d better warn Bill,” he growled as he gave in and flooded her with semen. She was pounding the bed with her fists, legs flailing as he continued hammering her anal canal until he was satiated. This time it was his turn to collapse on top of her. Futilely, she tried to reach back and caress his head, but she soon gave up and sprawled on the bed like an amputated starfish.

“Did you really have to mention my husband while we were were in the middle of an otherwise wonderful shared climax?”

“Did it make it better or worse?” He knew this was potentially dangerous ground, but he was feeling strangely competitive.

“It was a slightly stronger orgasm that made me feel like absolute shit. I’m not sure I’d call that a victory. Especially since the only reason it was stronger was that it made what we were doing feel even more forbidden than usual.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t really know why I said it. It was a reflexive response that came out at the wrong time. I guess maybe I felt like you were trying to tell me you don’t get enough of it with him.”

“Luke, I can’t believe I’m saying this so soon after asking for the exact opposite, but could you pull out for a minute?” Though his energy was at a low ebb, he complied. She rotated to face him. “I need you to understand something that I wouldn’t normally tell you, but given what you just did, you deserve it. Bill is ... well, he’s an ass man. Always has been, always will be. On any list of reasons why we’re together, it’d be high on mine. Before we started dating, I used to catch him staring admiringly at my posterior when he thought I wasn’t looking, and to this day he can’t help but spare a glance if he spots a particularly shapely bottom. I even encourage him in this, because I appreciate one as well. But I’m the first and only woman he’s had anal sex with. It happened on our second date, which was also the first time we had any kind of sex — as you know, I’m not one to hold back when I want something, plus I just kinda sensed it in him and so I forced the issue — and we’ve never looked back, so to speak. It became an essential part of our sex lives, and though you’ve obviously increased the need of late, it’s the reason I buy lube in bulk. So much so that, back in the early days of our relationship, he’d sometimes go an entire week without once touching my pussy with his cock. Oral and anal, exclusively. It would drive me nuts, to the point where I was literally begging for vaginal intercourse. And then he’d switch it up, ignoring my ass until I was begging for that. It excited him to have me desperately pleading for him to take me in one hole or the other. It doesn’t work that way anymore because he’s rarely here long enough, which is part of why I’m so insatiable for it with you, so in a way your supposition was correct. Except that, until a few minutes ago, I’ve never once thought about Bill while you’re in my ass, though to my immense discredit I haven’t always accorded him the same courtesy. And yes, before you ask, that’s because you’re better at it in every possible way.”

Her visage grew sterner as she continued. “But I called a timeout because that was the first time you’ve gotten anywhere near demeaning my husband. It’s beneath you, and please don’t. I’m doing more than enough of that all by myself, just by my actions.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. Truly. Now I feel really shitty about it. But actually, since I’ve ruined the mood by bringing up your husband...”

“Unless you mean your mood, you haven’t. As soon as we’re done with your little digression, you’ll be sodomizing me until I’m satisfied.”

“You’re never satisfied.”

“Then you’re going to be at it for a while, aren’t you?”

“I accept such a truly unimaginable punishment with good grace. What I was going to ask has nothing to do with the current subject, actually. We often spend entire days and nights together. Every single minute, save for bathroom breaks. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed you ducking out to call Bill. Why is that?”

“Well, there’ve been a few times you just haven’t noticed. For obvious reasons, I’ve tried not to make a big deal about it when I’m with you. Still, you’re generally right, and it was a decision I made back in the earliest days of his excessive traveling. It was too hard for me to avoid sounding lonely, hurt, or angry on the phone, and no longer having to try to force myself to sound happy or supportive actually helped me deal with it. He’s under a tremendous amount of stress; talking to me was just adding to it without anything good coming out of it. We exchange occasional texts or emails, but that’s all. And, at least at first, it ... elevated the intensity of our reunions, if you know what...”

“I understand what you mean,” Luke interrupted, trying not to sound sour.

“Unfortunately, exhaustion has replaced intensity of late.”

For the second time in a few short minutes, Luke couldn’t help himself, blurting out, “I don’t understand how he can do this to you, and I’m not just saying that because I want you for myself. Because if I didn’t, I’d already have told him exactly that.”

“I don’t know either. I could explain it to you using his words, though they’ve never been much comfort to me, but if you want to hear them you’ll have to ask him yourself. In any case, I’m not the primary victim here, I’m just collateral damage. What he’s doing to himself is far worse.”


Once again, Luke eventually reached a point at which he simply couldn’t keep up with her ravenous sexual appetite without an interstitial respite. She’d been riding him cowgirl style, and as soon as his (by now slightly painful) orgasm ended she lifted herself free of his rapidly shrinking organ and sat on his chest. Several loads of semen trickled from her dilated anus and pooled on his stomach. He knew that, before long, her tongue would be swirling its way through the mess, but for now she was grinning at him, patently amused at his condition.

“And here I thought I’d built your stamina up to an acceptable level.”

Acceptable? Kathryn, you’re fucking me to death. Almost literally.”

“Well, you did promise that your last act as a living being would be tending to my sexual pleasure, so...”

“Fine. Use me as you see fit. You’ll have to explain the condition of the body to the coroner, though.”

“You forget that I’m a lawyer. I know how to hide bodies.”

“Are you suggesting that some overachieving forensic archaeologist will find a pile of decayed bones underneath your basement? The final resting place of your erotically executed lovers?”

“No, my love. No pile. Just your lonely bones ... one of them considerably more overworked than the others.” Suddenly, she turned serious. “I could never cheat like this again, you know. I won’t cheat again. No matter what the future holds, you are my first, my last, and my only. I’m no longer a good person, and doing this has broken my faith in myself. One way or another, I have to reassemble the pieces into someone I can at least respect.”

“Are you sure?”

“As much as I can be, given what we’re doing. Which is why I need to keep you alive for at least a little while longer.” Dismounting, she slurped on his completely deflated cock a few times, then ... just as he’d predicted ... set about lapping up the cream that was making a sticky mess of his stomach.

Well, that’s one possibility off the list, at least. Irina warned me that I was replaceable, but it seems Kathryn disagrees. I’m still the one and only replacement. Though I remain in danger of losing my position.


“What is it?”

“What do you think it is?”

“Is it even rosé? There’s barely any color at all. It tastes like it’s a rosé, but it’s fizzy and I don’t ... is it some sort of pink Lambrusco?”

“Not a bad guess, but no. It’s the Ameztoi Rubentis, a rosado txakoli from near Getaria. It’s a coastal appellation in the Basque region of Spain. It’s the 2017, which isn’t the latest vintage but...”

“I’ve been there!” she excitedly interrupted. “I ate the best cooked fish of my life and drank unwise quantities of txakoli, but I didn’t know it came in pink.”

“It comes in red, too. And you had the grilled turbot, right?”

“Yes. Sucking all the delicious fat, oil, marrow, or whatever it was from those bones ... it’s as close as I’ve ever come to having sex with food except, y’know, actually having sex with food.”

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