An Ame (pronounced 'Amy', short for Amelia) one-shot
My new husband and father-in-law are waiting downstairs for me to change clothes. Shortly, my new husband and I will head out on a weeklong honeymoon to begin our lives together.
My new husband.
I never thought I would say those words. My new husband. Part of me feels like a sell-out; as if I've given up on a fundamental battle of my individual rights and freedoms. The larger part of me keeps saying it - My New Husband.
How did I find him? I wonder yet again. What fate or chance brought us together?
I glance at the clock; I only have another few minutes to change or we risk being late. Alex's father is probably waiting patiently. Alex is no doubt chafing at the bit. No patience. No patience, precious little self-control, and a mouth that can only truly be stopped with a gag.
And yet, I love him. I hate admitting it because it leaves me so exposed but I do. He's a willing slave to my whims, loyal and loving, and - when I release him - an animal. When he takes me, it's overwhelming. It's as if my entire being is nothing to the storm of his passion. I can let go completely - in fact, any resistance is futile. And when he is sated and spent, I replace the collar and my mad dog becomes an obedient pup again.
I wonder for just a moment, what it would be like to live the other way. With that passion free all the time, without my will controlling it.
And then like lightening, the idea takes me. Alex has no idea where we are spending our honeymoon - no idea that my suitcase contains many things but no clothes.
I could give him this week, as a wedding gift. One week of submission. Even if I wanted it, he doesn't have it in him to be cruel. He will not push my limits as I push his. Most likely, as he would say, most likely he will simply want to have sex a lot. And perhaps make me do some publicly embarrassing things. I planned to have him chained the whole week. Maybe I should test myself and spend a week with him unleashed.
I smile to myself. Alex unleashed.
The idea has at least resolved my question about what to wear to travel in. I have a light cotton dress in pastel blue - a gift from a cousin who doesn't know me well. I kept it largely because I felt a twinge of guilt throwing it away but I have never worn it. I pull it out and am relieved to discover it fits. I find a simple pair of sandals and leave my hair up. Perhaps it is pointless symbolism, but only he gets to see my hair unbound.
Alex stands as I enter the living room. I can see his face as he searches for something appropriate to say.
"You look amazing." He finally comes out with.
"Really? Is that better or worse than 'unbelievable'?" 'Unbelievable' was how he described me in my wedding dress.
"Don't answer that one, son." his father cut in, "less you wanna fight 'bout it the next twenty years."
"Right, yeah." he reaches out, stops himself and pulls himself to a more formal pose. "You looked lovely earlier and you look lovely now."
I almost can't hide the smile. Every so often, he says something irresistible.
It doesn't take us long to go from there to the car and out to the highway. The trip to the airport is far too long so I pretend to sleep so that Alex and his father can have one last man-to-man conversation before we go.
"You sure about this, son?" His father asks suddenly in the midst of discussing the family business.
"What, crew shifts? Oh, Ame. Yeah." He laughs, "I'm totally sure."
"It ain't too late. You can get this annulled."
"Dad. I'm sure. I love her. An' she really does love me."
"I gotta ask, how in the hell can you tell?"
"I just know."
"Yor Granddady never approved uh her."
"Yeah, despite the fact that she'll go out her way ta take care uh him. An' Grandma woulda loved her."
"Well. Momma woulda admired her strength, that's sure." He hesitates. "She at least, y'know, keeping you happy, right?" I can hear the quotes around 'happy'.
Alex nearly chokes laughing. "You have no idea. Every night. Twice on Saturday."
"Oh, hell, yeah. Grandma woulda loved her strength but she ain't be to cool 'bout what we done on her furniture."
"Ok, ok, let's not share too much information, right?"
"I mean, I just wanna make sure, when she paintin' yo' toenails that you gettin' rewarded fo' it." he paused, "You are gettin' rewarded fo' it. Right?"
"Dad! Yeah. Ame's not uh prude she's just quiet. Still water, right? She goes deep. Real deep."
There silence for a few minutes.
"Hey, does Mom still... ?"
"You god damned right she does."
There's a beat before they both have a fit of laughter. Then Alex remembers that I'm sleeping and they quiet down. "She's had a long day."
"Why? She ain't do much. Walk down the aisle, castrate you, had one drink, one dance an' gets ta sleep to the airport."
" ... Dad..."
"'Obey', boy? You promised ta love honor cherish an' obey? That's the woman's part - I don't know if you was payin' attention at any other wedding on God's green earth."
" ... She an' I agreed..."
"An' what the hell kinda uh vow was that from her? 'Do you Amelia accept this promise from Alex?' 'I do.' What the hell was that?"
" ... Dad..."
"She ain't promise you uh damn thing boy, not uh damn thing."
"No, Dad, she didn't. She won't. That's the deal." He chuckles, "I told her she could say anything she wanted so long it ended with 'I do'."
"That's where it start and end." He huffs. "She ain't even wear uh damn ring."
"Dad, look, I know she loves me 'cause I know why she ain't wanna get married in the first place. The fact that she showed up at all is proof enough fo' me. I know she ain't the woman you'd uh picked..."
" ... damn straight..."
" ... but she's the woman I love. Let me run my own god damn life. I ain't marry ma high school sweetheart..."
" ... Watch yo'self boy. Don't make 'er uh widah on her weddin' day."
" ... Dad, damn it just listen! I meant Lisa, ok, not you an' Mom. Jees! Get uh grip! I ain't never met anybody who made me feel right - just right - in my own skin. She treats me the way I want her ta treat me."
"I ain't raise you ta..."
"You an' Mom raised me fine. I'm real glad you my folks. I can't thank you enough. But, look, remember you told me once that the right answer and the answer everybody want ain't always the same answer?" My Father-in-law grunts. "Well, she's the right answer. I know she ain't what everybody want, but she's trying ta fit in, Dad. give her uh break, Ok? She's my wife."
There's more silence. I had no idea his Father felt that way about me. Other family members had been more vocal; George had always been very cordial, almost vacuously so.
We eventually arrive at the airport and Alex wakes me. I tell him which airline and send him off with the luggage. George moves to go with him but I touch his arm.
"He'll manage. May I speak with you?"
He watches Alex for a moment. "Of course, Honey. What's on yo' mind?"
"I just wanted to thank you."
"Fo' drivin' out here? Oh, that ain't nothin'. Glad ta see ya'll off. I just wish..."
"No, not for the ride, although, thank you for that as well. No. For," The words catch and again, I find myself irritated by the fact that I can't do these things easily. I can pitch million-dollar design proposals to complete strangers but I can't tell someone I love them. And thanks to Alex, I discovering that more and more often. I'm not sure if he should receive a good beating for that or not. "I mean for him." I say eventually.
"Him? Alex? My son, Alex? That him?"
"'Him' got uh name. We got uh lotta 'him's in the family. Givin' 'em all names kinda sort it all out."
"Yes, Alex, your son. Thank you for Alex."
"Just ... just ... just, thank you."
He mulls that over for a moment. "Yor welcome. When you done with him, give him back in one piece."
I consider it a moment longer, then take a breath. "George, do you know why I married him - Alex?"
"Honestly, I can't say that I do."
"My Father's death was very sudden."
"I recall that. I'm sorry he couldn't be here."
"So am I, deeply so. Dad liked Alex. He asked me frequently when I was going to break down, give in and marry him. In one of our last conversations, he told me he was going to stop asking me that because he had decided that it was a forgone conclusion. He started to call me and leave voice mails for 'Ms. McElroy' just to tease me. One day, I realized that Dad was right. That night, by sheer chance, Alex asked me again. I couldn't refuse."
We both look away from each other. George seems to realize how difficult it can be to share. "Well, I uh, guess that uh better reason than why I married Ms. Stacy." I wait a moment and he answers the unspoken question. "Knocked her up."
"Not unheard of. And given what, thirty years and you're still together, perhaps an act of fate."
"Act uh God, Ms. Ame. You gonna have ta get ta church more often, young lady, if-n you gonna be uh proper member uh this family."
"So he's told me. Often."
"Well, now you best start listenin' to yo' husband."
Which is exactly the attitude the pushed me away from marriage in the first place. Luckily, before anything can escalate, Alex returns with our boarding passes.
"'Ey mon, what you hold up me bride fo'?" He shouts exuberantly with the most appallingly bad Jamaican accent ever heard.
"If you ever do that again, I will glue your tongue to the roof of your mouth." I snap.
"Yeah, boy, you ain't from no island." George shakes his head.
"Ima drink rum 'til it run out mah ears." he hands me back the paperwork. "Dad, thanks for everything, dude." He hugs him. It amazes me how Alex can so freely and openly connect with virtually every human being he meets. And with his family, his holds nothing back. Alex promises to take plenty of photos and bring home lots of junk and to have a great time.
When they're done, George takes my hand, "Now, Ms. Ame, you gonna have ta keep him in line more-n usual. You think you up to it?"
"I shall bear the challenge." I hold his hand and kiss his cheek. "Goodbye, Dad. We'll see you when we get back."
It's the first time I've called him that. I don't give any of us a moment to respond to that. I let him go and walk into the airport. Alex has to hustle to catch up. He knows me well enough to not ask what just happened. We wait in silence at the boarding gate. Alex is fidgety but handles it reasonably well by trying to meditate.
Alex meditating is actually laughable but the fact that he took a class - twice - was a testament to his earnestness in finding a way to calm his over-active nature. He doesn't see what I see.
A paragon of masculine beauty virtually sculpted of muscle - he is required to workout once a day to stay in the same shape as when we meet. I do as well but I haven't told him I live with the same restriction. But the barrel-chested, energetic man wrapped, coiled like a spring. Strength, power, speed, and, at my will, direction. Hurting him is sex; controlling him is foreplay.
"Perhaps drugs would help." I comment, largely just to needle him. I see his jaw working to hold back what he wants to say and I can barely resist a smile.
Eventually our flight boards. Once we are settled into our first-class seats and served our glass of champagne, I call the flight attendant. "Would you tell me when we have left the US. I don't need the exact moment, just when we're over the ocean in fine." Alex is bursting to ask me why but know he will suffer if he misbehaves in public.
After take off, I finally ask him. "Was that what you wanted?"
"What, the service?" He smiles broadly, "Yeah that was it. Was it ok for you? I mean, goin' through it?"
It was surreal. My Wedding. "Actually, it was quite pleasant." I don't complement him often, but he deserves one. "You and Peter looked quite handsome." He and Peter looked like Olympians.
"Yeah?" he's always surprised when I admit any kind of physical attraction for him. "'Cause you were utterly amazing."
"Really? And what exactly amazed you?"
"I was amazed by this intelligent, talented, stunningly beautiful woman walking down the aisle and agreeing to spend the rest of her life with me."
"Oh no, you are the one who made promises."
"Yeah, an' you accepted them." He smiles smugly. "I ain't totally stupid an' I know you. I pledged for better or worse an' all that and you said 'I do'. You just as stuck with me as I am with you."
He's right of course. In theory, by accepting his promise, I am obligated to allow him to love honor cherish and obey. I wasn't sure if he'd been aware of that this morning. Once again, I find myself please that I found a good-looking, passionate, intelligent slave.
Without warning him, I kiss him. His mouth tastes like chocolate and champagne. I'm beginning to look forward to a week as his love toy. I pull away from him, sit back and pull out a book. He's always a bit stunned when I do that, always has been even when we were in college. The flight is only four hours long but I'm hoping to finish some technical reading before we land.
I can't read. Every time an attendant walks past us, I'm waiting to hear that we've crossed the line and his gift starts. I could always simply not do it. He wouldn't know one way or another.
But I would. And I know that this is as much a gift for myself as for him. Finally, as they are passing out the headphones for whatever bad movie we are stuck watching, the woman says, "I just got word from the captain. We are officially in international waters." I thank her kindly and when she moves on, I look at him.
My New Husband. Alex. "I have a gift for you. Of a sort."
"Yeah? Actually, I got one for you too. It's in my suitcase."
"Mine is this week."
"Why? Where are we goin'?"
"A small resort on the southern end of the island. I'm sure you've never heard of it. But it had two qualities that I thought made it ideal. First, it caters to the life style."
"Oh, baby. I love you. I's afraid I'd have ta take the chains off this week."
"They are, in fact, the only things you'll be allowed to wear outside of meals - it's a nudist resort."
"Now that's uh gift. One week uh you, naked."
"Actually, no, that's not the gift." I stop I don't know how I want to say it. "I will always be your Mistress..."
" ... Of course!"
" ... but for this week, I will consent to be your submissive." He looks confused as he mulls that over. I take my hair down and let it fall unkempt past my shoulders.
"My submissive." he says.
"Yes, Alex." his eyes flicker when I call his name. He's so Pavlov-ian, I'll bet he also just got an erection. "For this week, you may use my body when ever and how ever you chose to."
"Just this week?" He looks doubtful.
"I am hardly sacrificing all future control simply because we got married."
"And I don't want you to. We got a good thing; I like things the way they are. You lead, I follow."
"I will still lead. But for this week, when you want me, take me."
He's on me almost before I finish the sentence, pushing me against the window. "Like this, Ame? You don't mind if I take you here like this?"
"Not the most comfortable position." I point out. Really, I'm holding my breath. He pulls back and sits down properly. "Yeah, ok. We'll see."
I can't read at all. I keep going over the same paragraph. Alex removes one earplug to ask me what's wrong.
"Frankly, I keep waiting for you to attack me."
"You can stop worrin'," He says with a laugh, "I'm not gonna attack you."
"Have I lost my appeal already?"
"No. it's just too cramp ta do anything fun on uh plane." He goes back to the movie. I put my reading away and wonder for the rest of the flight if I hadn't made a huge mistake.
We get through the airport and onto the resort shuttle fairly quickly. There is only one other couple riding with us. Alex tentatively puts his arm around me - normally he's only allowed to touch me with explicit permission. I scoot a bit closer to him.
"You really mean this, don't you?"
"Letting you have your fun this week? Yes, Alex, I do."
"Quit callin' me that. It makes me hot. Like Gomez Addams and French."
"You must spend a great deal of time 'hot' if calling your name does it."
"Not every body. Just you."
"You get hot only when I call you 'Alex', Alex?"
"Now you just doin' it on purpose." he grins, kisses my forehead and looks out the window.
I find myself at a loss. I had expected the whirlwind he usually unleashes if I allow him even limited access to my person. This disinterest is unnerving. He's not guileful. If he's not acting, it's because he's not interested.
The drive to the resort is almost two hours through lush tropical mountain forests on streets as wide as the average doorway in traffic that looks like L.A. The couple in front of us spends the time nearly conceiving their first child. Alex never does anything more outré than stroke my arm.
I absolutely do not understand. Alex ordinarily has the libido of rabbit. I even gave him underside penile piercing because it was the more common view. It's not possible that he's not aroused. If he's breathing and conscious he's either building or recovering. The man never stops. I find myself glancing repeatedly to see if I can tell if he is erect but the loose-fitting shorts give me no clue. There is no subtle way I can reach down and check.
Then I remember the chains. Through a series of hoops, they connect his collar to his nipples to his wrist cuffs and down through three groin piercings, to his ankle cuffs. He took off the ankle and wrist chains when he changed clothes but he's still wearing the rest. When they are on, they form a sort of continuous feed loop for him. If he looses his erection, his flaccid penis pulls on the chains causing pain in several of the piercings. Pain re-establishes the erection.
"Is something wrong?" I finally ask.
"Wrong? With what?"
"I give you carte blanche to behave like an animal and you don't take the opportunity. It strikes me as unusual."
"Oh." he continues to look out the window. "You ain't submissive."
"I will be. For this week."
"You ain't submissive." He repeats. "I ain't marry uh submissive woman. I ain't want uh submissive woman. Submissive men? Oh hell yeah, I love that." He smiles in memory. "Remind me ta tell you about Brandon." He frowns, "But I have never liked submissive women; they piss me off. You want me, you don't want me, I don't care but tell me. Clearly. I don't care if you rip my shirt off or if you tear out my eyes, I don't want you to ever just lie there and submit to me."
I look at his face. He's so earnest; so straightforward and open. Behind those dark brown eyes, there is nothing but love. It's frightening. No one but my Father loved me so unquestionably. I don't want to love him and yet five years of abuse could not quench it.
He shrugs and looks out the window again. "You gonna submit, I don't wanna play."
"You do not want to simply take me at will wherever, whenever and however you wish?" I would be stunned if the answer were 'no'.
"Oh of course I do. I want it so much, it's hard ta think of anything else." Which I found oddly reassuring. "But if you just gonna lie there and not join me or fight me or somethin', what's the point. I've never been interested in corpses."
"I see. Perhaps I misspoke; that was never my intention." He looks at me. "I had planed to be an active participant rather than passive article. And of course, this only applies to your sexual appetite. I have no intention of allowing your behavior to run amuck this week."
"So," He looks thoughtful, "I gotta behave as normal unless I wanna bang you. Then I can just take you an' I won't get punished?"
"An' you may or may not let me?"
"Ultimately, I will let you this week. I may or may not make you work hard for it."
He tilts his head, considering the idea. Then he drops his full weight against me, forcing me down on the seat and crushing his lips against mine. I twist to get free of him but he has me completely pinned.
And there is his mouth to contend with. Forcing mine open, tangling with my tongue. Exploring and pushing and inhaling parts of me as I did the same to him. He is so heavy I had little choice but to try and push him off me but I crave his mouth at least as much as he craves mine. More - he has denied me for hours. He owes me the pleasure. And just like magic, there it is - that tingle that runs through me from the very first time he touched me in Marketing 101. Every time I let him touch me, let him kiss me, let him caress me, it's like some badly written love story and my heart acts like that of a lovesick ten-year-old.
Our mouths shift and I gasp for air. He shifts his position to allow me to breath but not move. I put my hands on his chest to push him away. I can't; I can't budge him and the harder I try, the more aggressive his kiss becomes. I don't want to give in. Not here, in the van, before anyone knows that I own him. He doesn't own me. I'm not a slave to his passion. I'm not, I tell myself. I'm not.
His chest could be sculpted of marble. My fingers run down it swiftly losing this battle to him and my baser self. Then, I feel the barbells and salvation. I twist them both hard.
"Ah! Shit!" He nearly leaps off me. "Oh, man."
"'Ey, you alright back ther' mon?" The driver looks back at us, ignoring the death-defying traffic for a moment. The other couple, as well, stops cooing long enough to see what made him shout.
"Yeah," Alex pants, "All cool." When they all turn away, he leans in to me again, "Oh God, did I tell you how much I love it when you do that?" He pushes me back toward the window, not kissing, really, more nipping and licking.
I pinch one nipple through his shirt, "This gives you pleasure?" I twist it slowly. He whimpers. "What about both?" He moans.
"Please. Stop. I don't wanna cum in my shorts. You make me so crazy, Ame, You don't know." He pushes his hand between my legs, pushing up my skirt.
"What do you think you're doing?" I hiss. I think I already know the answer, sadly.
"Makin' you as crazy as you make me."
He forces my legs apart and I twist him nipples harder. He grimaces as his eyes fall shut. His fingers pull aside my panties and push into me.
I'm lost. I gasp. I'm so weak. My body won't respond when I tell it to resist. His mouth smothers mine again and I try to stop him. But it's no use; I've already lost control of motor functions, I'm already shaking and moaning and wishing for that release he pushes on me. He makes me feel so good. I can't bear it. He makes me helpless. He makes me useless. He makes me scream over and over. I have no control, no power, no will.
And then he stops.
Before the release, he lets me go, leaving me confused and breathless. He grins at me as he sits up straight again and licks his fingers.
I'll kill him, I think. As soon as I can sit up. I have to clinch my jaw shut in order to keep from whimpering but I sit up.
Before I can put my fingers around his neck, however, the driver stands up. "Welcome to Paradise. Thank you fo' ridin' with us. You porter here will take you bags. Have a wonderful stay."
He helps us all exit the van and I see Alex slip him a $20 despite the no tipping policy. They chat and laugh for moment or two then Alex offers me his arm and escorts me into the cool lobby of the resort.
From the front desk, none of the resort is visible. We are checked in carefully before the porter takes us and our bags to the Bridal Suite. The couple that rode with us turns green with envy but neither Alex nor I is poor and I intend to enjoy my honeymoon.
The porter, Barrington - who is also our 24/7 butler gives us a brief overview of the layout as he takes us to our room.
"Thank you Jesus." Alex mutters. I look past him to see a naked all-girl volley ball game. He has probably waited his whole life to see just that.
Our suite comes with a king-sized bedroom, living room, duel-shower bath with private hot tub, private wading pool, enclosed balcony and all-access pass. We are additionally close to both the main pool/bar and the main beach.
When Barrington finally leaves, I glare at Alex. "On your knees." He sinks, trying to repress a smile. I pick up my suitcase - the blue one, the one he was only too glad to see came with us - and sort through the toys I packed until I find the short whip. 15 lashes outside his clothing is more of a tease than anything but it's exactly what he deserves at the moment. "Now," I say putting the whip away, "strip and put your chains back on."
"Yes, ma'am." he says softly, so excited he's practically shaking. He's oozing pre-ejaculate. I take off my dress, hang it and am reaching to take off my bra when he steps out of the bathroom fully chained. "Good Lord!" He exclaims. I start to ask what the issue is until I realize that he's staring at me.
Then he crosses to me and picks me up. Kisses me. Carries me to the bed. He eats me, this time finishing the job and forcing me to scream incessantly. When he's done, he lies beside me kissing me softly. I don't want him, I don't need him. I didn't ache for him every moment he was in Arizona; I didn't watch every game pleading silently for him to come home to me.
He rolls over, on top of me, poised to enter me but not yet. "Say it." He urges. He always makes me say it before we make love, always has to hear it at this moment. I think he knows it's the only time I can say it easily.
"I love you, Alex." He enters me slowly. We both sigh as our bodies merge. His kisses are more loving now, less fire and more smolder. He keeps his movements slow, deliberate. He has learned some control, and has put it to good use.
But mine erodes, evaporates into nothing as I rise closer and closer to the orgasm he is leading me toward.
This week, I think, this week I have got to learn how to resist this. He touches me, I quiver. He kisses me, I melt. He's the slave, I'm the mistress and yet, here I am, falling under his power. He touches me - neck, breasts, clitoris - as if he reads my mind and knows just what I need to push me over the edge. Orgasm is a series of chemical reactions, I try to tell myself but I can't think beyond how good I feel when he does that to me.
When He does it. No one else. Never has anyone made me so mad with desire - cliché as it is. He was first. He was my first, although I suspect he does not realize it.
I lie there, with his arms around me until my body stops tingling. I have to shower after we have sex - I'm always a sweat-soaked mess. When I come out, he has all his chains properly attached and is fixing his hair. How did I find a man who looks like that? I wonder as I appraise both his rear and reflected front views. He is worth appraising.
He catches me staring at him and grins. It's that silly, arrogant grin of his when he's trying to be seductive. He has no idea that he's much more effective when he's serious. "You sit a lot during the day, don't you?" I ask mildly as I pick up the room key. He tries to look at his butt in the mirror and it's so cute watching him frown that I actually have to turn away or laugh. "You look fine. Let's go."
I open the door but he doesn't move. I turn back and find him staring at me. "What?"
"We goin' have uh whole lotta trouble if you gonna walk around like that for uh week." He shakes his head. "I wanna jump you again already."
"You may, if you like. But I want to at least see the property once before we leave and I suspect if we don't go now, I won't see it at all." I leave the room and head down the path to the main bar.
After a moment, he follows. I can hear his chains rattling softly. I makes me shiver. Perhaps, when we return to the room, I'll pull out his mask...
The patrons at the bar and around the property are a mix of nude and semi-nude figures of all shapes and sizes. I am thrilled to find an outdoor torture chamber in a plaza between the pool and the tennis courts. A number of people stop us to admire his piercings - which is when I realize that I forgot his leash.
"You forgot your leash." I say as we pass a rack that's not in use.
"Damn!" He says, snapping his fingers. "It's on the dresser next to your gift."
"No, here. Seeing you come out that shower distracted me." He looks at me again, calculating. I shiver. "You said anywhere."
"You left your leash." I say sternly and his attitude changes - although his dick gets harder, I notice. I clip his wrists to the rack. "Stay put. Try not to sunburn."
I go back to our room, giggling. On the dresser, are his leash and a box. Inside the box is one of the gaudiest pieces of jewelry I have ever seen.
I've seen it before - it was his great grandmother's. A two-inch faceted crystal cut in a ball shape hanging from a thick silver chain. The last time I saw it, it was in his sister's custody. I can't imagine why he would have thought I would want it. I pull it out of the box and find it tangled with a silver armband. Not tangled, I realize, welded. It has been converted. The chain split almost in half; on one end hangs the ball, on the other, the clasp of the original necklace. There is a note at the bottom of the box.
"An old ball and chain for my new ball and chain."
It's so sweet I could almost cry. I pull myself together and start to put the band back then my eyes see the clasp and the leash in the same glance and I get it.
The clasp is the same size as the last decorative link on his leash. I fit them together; if I'm wearing the arm band, he can not be more that five feet away. I do shed a tear or two. I give my eyes a few minutes to clear up before I put on the armband and take the leash back to where I left him.
He has a small crowd.
"Is there a problem?" I ask.
"You know, it's really not safe to leave him in the sun like that." One woman observes. "He could get heat stroke, sunburn, anything. And those chains..."
"Those chains are his design," I point out, "and none of your concern."
"Well, it's really bad for you to..."
I turn away from her and look at him. "Are you suffering?"
He shrugs - as best he can given his position - and considers the question briefly. "Only because she won't shut up. I wouldn't mind uh hat you wanna do this again." He brightens up. "Hey you found it! You like it?"
"I think it's horribly tacky. But it is an admirable attempt to modernize a family heirloom." I look at it again. "I can't imagine how you convinced Gracie to part with it."
"I got the piece she really wanted; it was an easy trade. Once I thought of it, at least."
"I'm impressed." He beams.
"Take him down!" the woman stamps her foot impatiently and the couple watching laugh.
I glance from her to them and back. "How exactly is this any of your concern?"
"You can't abuse people." She says staunchly.
I laugh outright and am pleased to hear him chuckle.
"Is she kidding?" he asks.
"Surely, you understand where you are?" I ask her.
"No." the gentleman watching says. "We didn't warn her."
"Well, that was cruel." I would never do that.
"She wanted to come with us." the other woman offers. "She said she could be just as kinky as we could."
"And yet you take exception to my treatment of my slave?"
"Oh no; I stopped to admire his hoops. I want Rod to get a Prince Albert but he won't."
"I'm telling you, Jenna, I'll pierce if you pierce." Rod says laughing.
I attach Alex's leash and release his cuffs. He stretches briefly and I have to hold my breath not to drool.
"Can I borrow him?" Jenna asks.
"Is he ok?" The other one frets. "Do you want some water?"
He glares at her and then looks at her friends, "I got an extra ball gag, you need one." I give his chest chain a yank and he flinches. "Sorry. No talking out of turn. Yes, Ma'am."
"We do, however, have an extra ball gag if you would like to borrow it." I say.
"Nah." Rod smiles, "I got a better way to gag her."
We part ways and Alex and I continue to explore the property. The beach is beautiful - the water postcard blue, the sand nearly white. They have a variety of boating activities and I let him chat with the boathouse staff for a while as I review the schedule. By the time we leave there, he has made a dozen new friends. We pass through the main plaza with the gift shop, the nightclub, half a dozen restaurants, a piano bar, and several other buildings I simply ran out of energy to view.
"I think I'm ready for a glass of wine and salad. What about you?"
"I think I'm ready for uh Red Stripe an' uh steak."
We're not dressed for the main plaza - the formal dining all requiring some attire - but several of the casual bars around the property serve food. We find one where he can order half a cow and relax watching the sunset over the ocean.
"Hey?" I realize that I was beginning to drift to sleep and look up at his voice. He leans over and kisses me. Deeply. Passionately.
"Alex." I whisper.
He picks me up and carries me back to our room.
He releases the lower half of the chains and kneels over me. "Please." He whispers.
What is wrong with me? I wonder as I take him into my mouth. He's sweaty. I hate this in the best of times. And yet I want him to cum. Not in my mouth. I have never adjusted to the taste of semen. I will swallow if forced but if it's my choice...
It's my choice tonight. Moments before he release, he starts moaning, "Oh Mistress, I'm gonna - I'm gonna -"
I let go with my lips and stroke him manually, aiming for my breasts. When he cums, he coats them liberally. Then without being asked, proceeds to clean them with his tongue. His tongue, one of his best assets when he's not talking, proceeds to inch down me. He's very attentive at times like these, very thorough. He likes the taste of sweat and enjoys licking my armpit and my feet as much as my vulva and my anus. I try not to cry out, I resist it as long as I can. But I can't, in the end, do anything but grab his hair and howl like a banshee as he refuses to stop eating me.
I wake in the morning to sunlight, blue skies and the sound of waves against the ocean. He's no where to be seen. This is good. I stretch and use the restroom. When I come out, he's waiting in front of the door.
"Mornin' Mistress." He says, kissing me hard and shoving me against the wall in the process. I dig my nails into his sides. He growls into the kiss and pushes harder, forcing my legs open with his knee.
I hate first thing in the morning. I'm barely awake and trying to prepare for my day, I don't have time to indulge in carnal pursuits - especially our kind which need time to be appreciated. Morning quickie electrocution may sound fun to him but it annoys me to no end.
I finally twist my mouth away from his. "Get off me. Not now."
"You said anytime." He nibbles my neck, which would have made me crazy if I wasn't so angry, "Now is anytime. Ima take you once an hour t'day."
"I'm not in the mood." I snap.
"Well get in the mood." He snarls. "I wanna enjoy this." His hand strokes my arm, shooting involuntary shivers through me.
He likes force. He always has. More to the point, he enjoys rape fantasies. He has a twisted image confusing pain and pleasure for both parties. He's admitted that his biggest fear is of not knowing when to stop. My biggest fear is of not knowing when to stop him; of letting him victimize me, of giving in to him, of letting him win. He wants to rape me and I want to let him.
He still has me pinned to the wall and he wedges his thigh against my crotch. "You wet, Amelia." He murmurs in the ear he's biting. I can't deny it; I came the moment he shoved me against the wall. "You want it."
"I do not." I scratch down and he cries out. If I did that properly, he's bleeding. But I could feel his erection jump; I can feel the pre-ejaculate rubbing across my stomach.
"Jesus Christ! Oh God I love it when you do that."
I try to twist away from him but I can't even budge. "Let me go," I keep my voice level. Fear will only excite him.
"I am not kidding. Let me go."
"Not 'til I'm done, woman." With one hand, he pulls a few locks of my hair forward. The other hand begins stroking my thigh. "I love your hair. You oughta wear it out more." The hand on my thigh creeps between our legs and slips inside me. I shutter; I want to hate this but I can't. "Oh, yeah, you want me, don't you?"
"No." I can resist this, I tell myself. His fingers are enough to make me whimper. "Stop."
"You like this, don't you. Pussy so wet like ta swim it."
My eyes fall shut. In a moment, I'll have no choice but to give in.
"You so tight I swear you uh virgin 'cept I fuck you already." He rubs his thumb gently across my clitoris and I cry out uncontrollably. "Say that again?" he does it again and I'm even louder. "I just can't make that out. You want me ta what, now?" He brushes it continuously until I orgasm, twisting and thrashing against the wall.
It the mist of it, he pulls his fingers out and pushes in his penis. After a few strokes, I am insensitive with bliss, "Oh God you feel good. Ima get 'nother piercing - one on the tip - for you." He kisses me hard and he hammers me harder against the wall. "Do you love me, Mistress? Oh, please say you love me, Mistress."
I can't say anything at the moment. "I-I-I..." is all I can get out.
"Say it. Say it! Say it!" His thrusts get harder with every demand, pulling my nerves like a bowstring.
He so distraught he sounds like he's crying but I can't form the words. Finally, something snaps for both of us. He pounds me like a jackhammer and in seconds, my floodgates open and I come screaming.
I pant for breath, "I love you. I love you." I drop my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life. "I love you. I love you." I chant between kisses.
"Oh God." He breathes softly. He picks me up and carries me, without separating us, to the bed.