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We are animal, beastly, and we are one.
For two hours maybe three, we collide this way.
Then he cums inside me. I feel the great pulse of it, and a swoosh of energy as though I’m nothing any more. Nothing.
We lie together with no energy for more, and then sleep like any normal man and woman after sex—contentedly.
Chapter Seventeen
I’m surprised to find I await Delia’s return anxiously. I’ve missed her. Her hair, her smile her exuberant body, her willing submissiveness, and even the way she fawned all over me. I miss her adoring eyes when they swim with lust for me.
Her time with Calvin was much longer than any of us expected it would be. I heard from Bernard that she balked miserably for nearly two weeks, until Calvin was able to break her fear and the intense sorrow she felt being abandoned by me.
After that, after accepting that this was truly what I wanted for her, she gave in to him, and consented to be trained in a new way. In spite of his rather unusual lifestyle, Calvin is still a rather traditional master—almost in an old world manner. His rules are strict, and punishment for infractions is severe. He would give her fewer choices than I would, and control her more thoroughly than I found necessary.
To have her back after nearly two months away, I can’t wait to see her. I wonder how she’s changed—if she’s changed. And if so, will her heart still beat as strongly for me as it did before? All this makes me wonder why I sent her away, and I’m unused to such feelings.
We meet at the train station in the midst of a rush hour crowd. She climbs quickly into my arms and I whisk her away. She wears her bright red coat because it’s cold and I wonder what’s underneath—though I don’t find out until I get her home. I like the feel of having to wait. As soon as she unbuttons it for me, I see her in leather—a white corset, stockings, and tiny pale pink panties with lace rosettes on either side.
“You’re gorgeous.”
“Oh, I missed you!” she exclaims. As we fall into bed and make love, I notice right off that her style is more reckless, a little more brisk, and bolder. “Have you missed me?” she asks.
“How can a master miss an errant slave?” I retort in a haughty though playful mood.
There’s little time to talk. I revel in her breasts, thinking that I hardly remember this bounty here. The two seem to melt against my face and then become wet from my lips kissing the silken surface. As her nipples stiffen, so does my erection. She’s on my cock impetuously, swallowing more easily than before, taking the whole of it down her throat. Then, when I ask for her ass, she sighs, but there’s no sign of misery on her face, and she turns around so I can have her rear.
With little foreplay, I enter to the sound of her delightful purring. I take her as rudely as I would two months before, but she doesn’t cringe, and the oohs and aahs are musical.
***
“Tell me about the master, Calvin.” I ask her as we lie in bed staring toward the dark shadows above us.”
She turns on her side and I see just a trace of starlight reflected in her eyes. “What should I tell you?”
“Everything.”
“Didn’t he report to you, Master made me think he would?”
“He did. But I want to hear about it from your own lips.”
“Ah, where should I start!” I can see she’s excited to speak.
“The beginning.”
“Oh, can I say everything I was feeling, even if you might not like it?” Her eyes twinkle almost merrily, though she’s still wary of how I’ll respond to what she tells me.
“I want to know everything, Delia. Leave out nothing.”
“Well, then.” She clears her throat. “I was horribly angry when you first put me on the train to him. I even contemplated getting off at the wrong stop and leaving the whole scene forever. I thought I’d just come back to you, surprise you and beg you not to insist on this. I was pissed. Furious. All I could do was cry for two days. And Master wasn’t kind at all. He was pissed too, and I took a number of punishments for whining so. He laid into me hard with a terrible wooden paddle. My skin was scorched and it hurt for days. He made me parade around his house nude—showing off my wounds to everyone who was there. He wanted the humiliation to get inside me so I’d become a more willing slave.”
She winces in remembrance, then sighs, her eyes squinting up thoughtfully, as though she’s trying to remember back and is finding it difficult.
“After a few days my routine was set, and I was adamantly against it. We fought—not in words, but determination. I refused to give in to him with my heart. Though he forced my body to comply, I was willful, cold, and sometimes petulant—but that only earned me extreme measures, which I hated…”
“What was extreme?” I interrupt.
She looks chagrinned, but excited to tell me. “He bound me, put me in a closet and left me for long periods of time. He has these tiny tweezers he’d apply to my nipples, and they bit into my skin so painfully that I screamed. But it was mostly the extreme bondage and the way he’d leave me that finally made me surrender.” She’s almost in tears. “I hate that. I can stand all sorts of pain, but not being abandoned.”
