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“Don’t lie to me, Gail, their life arouses you. You need to find out why.” He had me there, tongue-tied, not a comeback that he wouldn’t write off as nonsensical, backpedaling fear. “When we’re done here, I’ll take you home.”
“And if I want to run right now?” I asked.
He moved away from the dresser drawers where he was unpacking his clothes. Just the way he swaggered toward me with his eyes snatching mine made my skin burn. I felt as though I’d shrivel into nothing. “Then, I’d suggest you figure out what about this place has you so rattled. I’ve brought other women here—even reasonably submissive ones, and they either think Karl and Susan are sweet and arousing, or they find them laughable. Your response speaks for itself.”
“KC, this is not the life I want!” I sputtered.
“Hey, I didn’t say you did. But something has you jumping out of your skin in fear.”
“I’m not jumping out of my skin!”
He laughed. “You know, that’s why I love you, you can be such a nitwit.” He gathered me in his arms, conveniently reaching around to massage my ass while consoling me. “Why don’t you relax and let’s see what happens. No one’s going to eat you here, I promise.”
Several days passed with little to distinguish them, though the spirit of The Refuge seemed to flow inside us both. My interactions with KC became more formalized, especially when we were with Karl and Susan. I began wearing my collar again, and the Renaissance clothes, and two other dresses Susan loaned me for my stay. I walked barefoot getting my toes dirty, worked alongside Susan in the house and garden, and spent the rest of my time while KC was busy with Karl, doing sketches of the woods, the house, the workshop, and my own designs—which seemed to flower in this feral environment. There was something both enchanting and savage about Karl Joyce’s refuge.
Friday, the end of our first week in this deep woods retreat, the darker world behind this bucolic life emerged, suddenly slapping my face with the sting of reality. Lingering memories from the faire, mixed with memories of Rossi, hurdled through my brain as a night I’d never forget unfolded before me.
Karl Joyce and Susan would spend the evening heavily engrossed in the primal aspects of their relationship, joined by friends who shared their vision of the world…
We woke that morning, finding Susan fixing breakfast in the nude, except for her collar and the band at her ankle. Her attitude was less animated and submission seemed to blanket her being. She was at ease with her nudity—serving her husband so slavishly was obviously not new. KC had no problem with the change, but I was nervous, fully expecting that any minute KC would suggest I join her.
“Is this easy for you?” I asked her when we were finally alone doing the breakfast dishes.
“It wasn’t when we first started ten years ago, but it is now.”
“And with friends around? I mean, I can understand if they’re naked too…”
“I accept what Karl asks of me,” was her response.
“What about your family?”
“They understand.”
“They see you like this, too?”
“Not naked, but collared.”
My eyes must have bugged out.
“When we began, we dove deeply into this life. My parents are divorced. Karl’s mother died a few years ago, but his father still lives nearby. Karl talked to each of them separately, with me present, and told them how we intended to live. Respecting them, we keep the more extreme elements of our relationship subdued in their presence, but I wear my collar and follow his demands as I would any other time. Since they all live within fifty miles we have suggested that they call before they come.”
“And they’ve never seen anything …”
She smiled. “Just once. My mother crashed a scene. Actually, she was expected, but Karl wasn’t about to stop in the middle of a punishment. So, she observed a dandy of a spanking seeing my husband with me over his lap, his hand pelting me with a kitchen spoon. My behind turned as red as my blushing face.”
“Dear God,” I gasped breathlessly. “But I can’t imagine you disobeying him.”
Her eyes suddenly sparked as a mischievous expression crossed her lips. “We all have our time of the month,” she quipped.
“So what did your mother say?”
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“Actually, she found it amusing. Sort of giggled at me and made some remark about how she should have done this to me herself when I was a teenager. Of course, Karl agreed. And in private later, she confessed to me that she was oddly aroused. My mom’s a very frank woman. Nothing fazes her. Maybe in another life time who I am would have suited her, too. But never this time around… she’s been too beat on by men.”
“She didn’t find it perverse?”
“She knows that Karl loves me. He shows it all the time.”
