Chapter 3

My house was on a hill with the back yard below street level, and it had a walk-out basement that was set up as a complete mother-in-law suite with a big living room, a full bathroom, and a galley kitchen. The next time I saw Harvey I showed it to him and we agreed it would make a perfect play-space. So he ordered several pieces of dungeon furniture and we began making some changes.

I told Curt what I was doing and that he was welcome to use the space with Laura or anyone else he could get to fuck him but I had first dibs on it whenever I wanted it. He was still my husband and we still had sex, and I enjoyed it even more now than I had a few months ago; meeting Harvey and having the rough play with him had relieved a lot of pressure on my marriage. So Curt and I had sensual and romantic sex, mostly during the week because on the weekends he was usually with Laura and I was with Harvey, and it was becoming very clear to me how it was possible to love more than one person and have a truly open marriage. I’d told Harvey I only wanted a dominant who would give me the rough sex and BDSM pleasure-pain I craved, and I knew I had to share him with his long-term partner, but I really enjoyed being with him whenever we could get together.

A St. Andrew’s cross, a spanking bench, a bondage chair, and a very flexible table structure had arrived and been assembled and placed where Harvey wanted them. All the furniture was made of sturdy wood and had a multitude of eye bolts for restraining me. The table was about six feet long and the top consisted of three six-inch-wide longitudinal sections of padded leather that were normally all at the same level. But the middle section could be elevated several inches and locked in position, so when it was raised and I lay down it was like riding a wide sawhorse with my legs stretched out on either side of the center section.

Harvey was eventually going to put a pegboard up on one of the playroom walls and leave some toys at my house permanently, but for now he was just bringing a duffel when we were going to play. It was a Sunday afternoon and we were working in the playroom. I was wearing a tank top, running shorts over a thong, and stiletto-heeled mules, and Harvey was doing some electrical work, installing spotlights to shine on the furniture and replacing normal wall switches with dimmers. But we hadn’t played yet this weekend, and I was horny and in a bit of a bitchy mood, so I decided to provoke him and see where that might lead.

“You’re doing a great job ... Master,” I said saucily.

He’d been installing a spotlight in the ceiling and he looked down at me from where he was perched on a ladder. “You know I don’t want you calling me that.”

“Yeah, but it just feels right today ... Master.”

He came down the ladder and stood in front of me. “Are you trying to piss me off?”

I smiled at him. “Maybe...”

He looked like he really was getting angry, and he brought his hand up, and I thought, or maybe I hoped, he was going to slap me. But he just rested it on my cheek and said, “You’re asking for trouble.”

“Maybe I am ... go ahead and hit me, you know you want to.”

“Is that what this is about, you want to play?”

“Maybe...”

“Maybe you need to be punished.”

“Oh, that would be fun,” I said with a smile; I really did want him to get rough with me.

“You think maybe I’ll hurt you?” he asked, lightly caressing my cheek with his fingertips.

“A girl can hope,” I said playfully.

He dropped his hand to his side. “I’ve been wondering whether you would try something like this. But you don’t get to choose your own punishment. Take off your clothes.”

“Yes ... Master,” I said, and his angry expression became suddenly stoic. I pulled off my tank, slid my shorts and my thong down my legs and off, and waited, naked, for his next move.

“The shoes too.”

Uh oh, I thought. What have I gotten myself into? He never tells me to take my heels off. I stepped out of them and stood barefoot in front of him. He looked me up and down, then picked up his duffel and took my hand in his. He led me to the slider, opened it, and pulled me through after him.

My back yard had a privacy fence and Harvey brought me to a grassy area. “Lie down on your back,” he ordered. I was starting to be a little concerned; he obviously had something in mind and I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to like it. But I did as he’d ordered, and he roughly grabbed my ankles and pulled my legs apart as far as they would go. “Spread your arms out,” he ordered next, and when I’d complied I was fully spread-eagled. He opened his duffel and took out a hammer, four tent pegs, and four pieces of rope. He hammered two of the pegs into the ground just outside my wrists and then wrapped a piece of rope around each wrist and tied it to a peg. Then he repeated the process with my ankles and I was totally restrained.

We lived in a pretty dry area of the country, so there weren’t usually any mosquitos, bees, or other stinging things around, but whenever we had a cookout or otherwise ate outside we always attracted flies, ants, and an occasional spider, and I hated those things. Then he reached into his duffel and brought out a jar of honey and a small paintbrush, and I shook my head vehemently from side to side.

“Oh, God, no, please no,” I begged, and he looked down at me.

“Do you have something to say?” he said sternly.

“Oh, please, Sir, I’m sorry, I was bad, I won’t ever do it again, please, Sir, please forgive me,” I babbled.

“I will forgive you,” he said, and my hopes rose, but then he crushed them when he continued, “after you’ve been punished.”

I tried pleading again, but now I was sure it would be to no avail. “Please, Sir, I apologize for provoking you, I know I shouldn’t have done it, please don’t do this.”

It was his turn to shake his head negatively. “I have to, Natalie,” he said, and when he used my full name I knew I was doomed to suffer. “You said you wanted a hard-nosed dominant, and you’ve pushed me to prove to you that I am.”

“But you’ve already proven that, Sir, I know how controlling you can be and I love how you are with me. You don’t have anything to prove, Sir, please, Sir, don’t do this.”