Chapter 1 : Unfinished Business - August

THE GENTLE WHISPERS OF A GATHERING STORM

I'm at home with Jenny, my wife. I'm on the couch, watching the television. A rugby match is winding towards its conclusion. The scores are still close enough to offer both teams the chance of winning. My hand is stroking the nape of Jenny's neck as she sits at my feet.

I run the knuckle of my forefinger up towards the crown of her shaven head. Jenny arches her head back in response. "Mmm," she says, "that's nice."

"Good," I reply, as I cup my palm on her head. Jenny pushes against it. I press her head gently so that she bends forward at the waist. I move my hand and trace the edge of the dragon design tattoo which sprawls across Jenny's back. "Is it finished?" I ask her.

"Not quite," she says. She's had a few sessions with Jonathan, her tattooist. The last was quite recently. "It's still quite tender at the moment but soon it will start to itch as the scab starts to lift. Remember! You have got to make sure I don't scratch it. It's almost a shame - I mean it's good that it's nearly done but I'll miss ... well I'll miss the sensation, the prick of the needles, the buzzing noise, the sort of drifting off feeling that you get when it goes on for a time. And Jonathan is sweet, too."

I let my finger explore further down the length of her spine and suddenly I stop. "I hadn't noticed that before. There's an odd bit of design down here. It looks just like a barcode," I tell her.

"It is a barcode," Jenny says. She sounds hesitant, unsure, as if I have uncovered something she was going to leave quietly unsaid. "It's my slave number. You can look me up on the Slave Register. I'm 836-906-368."

I put my hand under her chin and lift her head to look at me. "Well," I say, "I hope you've got me down as your owner." She returns my smile. All the same, I find it hard to credit what Jenny has just told me. For goodness sake, there can't be 836 million slaves, can there? This one remark speaks volumes for the fissure which seems to have opened up between us. If this "fissure" was something at work, I would walk right up to the edge and peer in, trying to understand what it was and how it had come about. But here at home, with the two of us sitting together, the remark just makes me frightened, for her — for us. Where is this all going to lead?

Jenny just smiles. Then she looks at me and says, "You know, I couldn't have imagined you saying that a few days ago! Thank you for being so patient."

Patient? No, I am just covering up my real feelings. I am hoping that this is a phase that Jenny will go through and then we can be, well, normal, once more. However, I will try to be patient, try to give her space to tell me more about what happened to her and why she went through with it. I know it's supposed to be part of a research project but there seems to be much more to it than that.

I sit up suddenly and look at the TV. "Hey will you look at that! I missed the end of the match. You're a serious distraction Jenny McEwan." I laugh. I want to dispel the tension I can feel between us — or is it just me? "Come on, I'm taking you to bed. But it's going to be for some old fashioned, no nonsense, sex. Understand?"

She's willing. She gets to her feet and almost skips upstairs.

Meanwhile I am trying really hard to get my head around what I have learnt about Jenny — and, come to that, what she has learnt about herself — over the last few months. I still find it hard to understand Jenny's sado-masochistic fantasies; harder still to feel comfortable with her desire for me to put them in to practice with Jenny as the victim. The whole episode at Inward Bound, a sort of holiday adventure playground for slaves — although it didn't sound like a holiday to me — was seriously weird as far I am concerned. It is strange enough when you hear of men paying for that sort of thing for an evening. But for women to want to have those things done to them? For Jenny to want those things done to her? And for months at a time? I shake my head as I turn off the television and the lights in the living room before I follow her upstairs.

Jenny is already in bed when I get to our bedroom. I can tell by the playful look on her face that she's naked under the covers. There's no time wasted in joining her, laying down by her side.

She cuddles up to me, wrapping her arms around my chest, straddling my thigh with hers as she turns towards me. He turns towards her, pressing my thigh into her groin. She pushes back against me; the press of our two bodies, each on the other, driving our pleasure. She is a delight. The feeling of her, sexually aroused beside me is a powerful driver for my own arousal. My cock stiffens and the feel of that accelerates her response to me.