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The wind out of their sails they expected to rock on their inner waters for a time before they got dressed for the day. But then the concierge was knocking.
“Monsieur Pennywhistle. Monsieur Pennywhistle, please open!”
“Later man,” Ian called out.
“But you must!” he answered, urgently. “Or I’ll have to use the key.”
“Sir, have you no couth,” Ian sputtered angrily, though he picked himself up from the bed, hopped into a pair of shorts and opened the door.
Jocelyn remembered only a wild scuffle following that moment. Being pulled naked off the bed and forced to put on pants and a shirt. She was that quickly under arrest.
“Ian, what is this about!” she shouted to her lover, but he was already in chains, strong armed by the gendarme that was leading him down the stairs, still barefoot. Another official, spouting French that went too fast for her to comprehend, carried his shoes. And Jocelyn was left with a third policeman standing over her, waiting as she hurriedly finished dressing.
“What is this about!” she tried for some answer.
“Be quick, Madame,” he barked sharply. “Be quick.”
Chapter Fifteen
Alex returned home from work exhausted. Not expecting Will until after nine that night she poured a glass of wine and collapsed in a chair in the living room, turning on the TV to flip though the channels. It had been four days since she returned home from Reggie’s and so far life with Will was reasonably calm—though it was hardly back to normal. She had only to move an inch inside the harness she continued to wear to be reminded of her last episode in infidelity and the consequences she brought down on herself. Will had been kind enough to grant her one evening without the confining straps around her. The night she arrived home, he was ready for her body, and not interested at all in chastising her. She thought she’d fallen into heaven pulling out of the leathers and into his arms. By that time, her battered psyche was as tender as a new flower, her body as impressionable as clay in an artist’s hands. Will was an artist after all.
He demanded a lot from her that night, but it was not without its pleasure for her. It seemed fitting that after moving on her whole body eagerly, with lips that bit and kissed, and hands that mauled her freely, he’d center on her ass. There, his lips rimmed and his tongue entered the aching orifice to prepare her for what would follow. She expected the first sharp jab of his erection to be accomplished fast, though bending as a sapling tree bends with the wind, she moved with ease and swayed with gentle grace. His cock, which could be so rough entering, glided effortlessly into its second home. Her moment of resignation began as she dissolved into Will’s arms which reached around her from behind. While sensing bursts like pin pricks underneath her skin, she went wild with him. He likewise devoured her because she needed to be devoured, taught another lesson in being submissive. Most of all, she needed to keep her thoughts focused on him.
Since the night that Will gave her a reprieve from the harness, she’d been shackled in its tight confinement. He’d even made certain that the ring at her cunt was drawn up by the chain that attached to her waist. Only when he wanted to enter her did he remove the thing, and just long enough to gain access to the orifice of his choice. In her mind it was a small price to pay to be moving into his good graces again. And there was that wicked charm of her attire that served to keep her mindful of sex and desire every minute of her day.
“Alex.” A breathy whisper blew by her ear. “Alex, come with me,” the gentle voice pulled her from her reverie.
With her slender hand in his, Will tugged benevolently on her one limb until he pulled her from the chair liked a wildflower tugged from the earth. He put his nose and teeth to her neck nestling them into her peach-smelling flesh. That aroma her current favorite made him think of drizzling her body with fresh juice and licking the sticky liquid from her skin.
But he was feeling more malevolent than that, not having yet abused her himself for her latest crimes. When the wilting flower was inside the bedroom, he ignored the bed and pushed her into the unlit bathroom, against a tile wall. Tearing away her clothes until she was down to the harness, he forced her warm skin to absorb the chill of cold tile while he massaged her bottom with an oil that stung on her bare skin.
There’d been an eyehook high in the ceiling of the bath for some time, since some other moment of sexual domination when he’d tied her there. Using ropes, not leather straps to bind her wrists, he fixed them to that eyehook high above her. Then he gagged her mouth with a washcloth that he tied in place with a handkerchief. Undoing the
leather harness, he replaced each binding strap with rope bonds, tying her breasts tight enough so the flesh was absurdly squeezed into bizarre shapes. Done, he pressed her again to the tile and continued with her ass. Removing the leather, including the waist band, he left the clit chain dangling between her legs. Tying her crotch with ropes he pulled them tight until she gasped aloud.
Yielding to his mastery over her she felt the cold, the rope, the burn of the ointment and the heavy chain weighing down her clitoris, feeling fear at the source of it all. An ice cube jarred her asshole. She started to shriek, but stopped when Will slapped her ass hard a half dozen times to enlist her silence. Three more shards of ice were pressed inside her. The pain brought tears, though not as many tears as the ones she shed when he began striking her with a cane on her soft bottom.
“You let the water drip out, I’ll lay on an extra twelve,” he whispered.
And so she clench the cheeks tight.
Her body tensed with each blow, with pain that darted like some vehicle out of control inside her ass. The cruel cane accosted her spirit, offering more than just cuts that might bleed before Will was finished. It forced her to face her shame, feel the guilt and Will’s rage and her need to be humbled in his presence.
Once he finished with the planned number of cuts, he stopped and fingered her anus.
“There’s water here,” he said.
She had no way to reply with the gag in her mouth.
“If I play here, you’ll eventually lose it,” he murmured, his whole intent clear.
The more his fingers probed inside the channel to where the melted ice cubes remained, the more her body answered, trying to open. Then, there was a trickle of water down her leg. She’d lost the battle there was no way she could have won.
Will stood back and eyed the dark shape of his wife’s just caned derriere and laid the last promised twelve on top of the others.
As Alex thrashed inside the rope bondage, she felt each caustic cut heap on more pain, until she feared she’d pass out. Counting helped her hold on to some bit of sanity.
At twelve he stopped, just as he said he would, and having finished, there was a puddle of water at her feet, chilling her toes.
