Warning! Adult sexual content. You must be of legal age in your country to read this blog.
Part One: Van Go.
Part Two: Muskoka Love.
Part Three: The Lady in Red
Part Five: Weekend Epilogue
I woke up alone naked in our king cottage bed that dominated the tiny red room. I sat up and pushed my brown curls out of my eyes, sniffing the morning air.
Eggs. Bacon. Homefries. Coffee.
I slipped my legs out of bed and my bare feet on the floor. Rummaging thorough my overnight bag, I found a long tshirt to wear. No undies. Appropriate breakfast attire with your handsome man while staycationing in gorgeous Muskoka.
I padded out of the bedroom and into the bathroom to refresh myself.
“Good morning, Sexy.” Andrew* said as I emerged. I walked wordlessly up to him and laid my head on his bare chest. His arms wrapped around me and he kissed the top of my head. His right hand slid down my lower back to cradle my ass.
“Ow!” I said, as if I backed up into the fire.
Andrew left the kitchen and came back with a sunburn aloe cream and a pair of undies. He rubbed the cream all over my tender cheeks, then held my undies for me to step in, as if I was a child. I placed my hands on his broad shoulders and stepped in. He pulled them up then stood. His spankings from the last two nights had left me marked.
“Let’s have breakfast, Kitten.” he said. I washed and cut strawberries while he piled our plates and filled our cups with coffee. We carried our buffet to the deck. I went back to grab freshly squeezed orange juice.
Another beautiful Muskoka day was awakening after last night’s storm. The sun was rising in a perfectly blue sky. The lake was as smooth as a mirror. Every so often, a fish would jump and break the surface with a splash. Ripples would reach out farther and farther on the glass surface. The last morning mist hugged the edges of the shore, making the deer feel safe enough to come for a drink. A pair of blue jays flitted from branch to branch in the nearby trees, playing a game of tag with eachother. He had seen a fox scurrying along the water’s edge in search of fish earlier this morning.
“More coffee, Babe?” I asked as I came back with the pot.
“Mmmm. Yes, please.” Andrew said as he leaned forward so I could refill his mug.
We relaxed with the breakfast plates around us. There was no rush to do anything more. I put my feet up on the deck sofa, and began to reread The Story of O. The deck sofa was L shaped, so Andrew put his head on my belly, stretched his 6’4″ frame down the longest part of the red cushions and closed his eyes. Soon he was softy snoring while I played with the tiny gray curls around his ears. My nails grazed along his head, behind his ears and down the side of his neck. Absentmindedly – but gently – stroking my lover while I read about his fantasy world.
I was Intrigued. Fascinated. Horrified. Repulsed. Curious. Aroused. My flesh both recoiled against the sadistic play yet I sought out tiny slivers of submission that I could freely give to my man. My mind poked at the boundaries that I had set. What would it feel like if I stepped over my threshold of comfort? Would that be the ultimate act of submission?
I was seeking to find intimacy in an uncomfortable and unknown world. Thank God for mango sherbet … our safe word.
Andrew woke from his nap, stretched and reached up to pull my head forward for a kiss. Deep. Long. Intimate. Our tongues danced to a rhythm we both knew. Give and take. Suck and push. The teeniest of bites. Nibbling lips.
“What do you think of the book?” He asked. We had read most of it together. In bed at night, one would take turns reading to the other. An act more intimate than sex.
“In all honesty … I find it a little scary.” I said. I couldn’t imagine baring all of myself body, mind and soul and having that given away. The cruelty and force … was not what I sought. I realized that the limitations were mine. But I could play the role for him. Andrew and I talked about the intriguing parts of the book. I was seeking to understand what made him tick.
We got up, linked arms, and went into the cottage bathroom. He peed while I started the shower. The back wall of the shower was frosted glass blocks. The wood siding of the cabin wall was cut out and replaced. Invisible to prying eyes … but I wondered if basic shapes would still show on the other side of the opaque glass.
I put my sore rear end up against the cool glass blocks. We lathered and soaped eachother, taking turns with backs, bottoms and feet. Togther we stood under the spray of the water. I looked down at the soap bubbles swirling around his large feet and my tiny, slender toes.
My bravery was buoyed by the love of the moment … You know that feeling? When you are overwhelmed with feeling for your partner – love or lust – and want to give them everything? The moon? The stars? A gift of your soul? A piece of your heart?
I asked him “What would be the ultimate sacrifice I could give you?”
Andrew thought for a minute. His gray eyes locked onto my brown eyes. His thumb grazed along my lips.
“Would you pierce your tongue for me?” he inquired.
Startled … his request wasn’t what I expected. A myriad of thoughts skipped across my brain like a rock being skipped along the water … one … two … three … four … five hops before sinking in. It could have been worse. I did have my hard stops. He might have asked for something else. I thought about it. I toyed with the idea. Shocked … yet enthralled. I was – quite literally – tongue tied.
The risk. Could I get away with it? Could I keep it hidden? What would my dentist say?
“Yes.” I finally acquiesced.
“Good girl.” he approved my consent.
We took the paddle boat out that afternoon. I tried sitting on his lap and we took on water. I had to be content with sitting in my own seat and giving him a hand job. We paddled around in circles far enough (I hope) from shore. Sunscreen filled in as lubrication. I laughed as he stopped paddling … I had to slow down as well otherwise we went in tighter and tighter circles. I had slowly taken him closer then stopped … changing my tempo to something too light and too frustrating. He growled with impatience. His hand circled mine and forced me to make him come. Like the rush of a fountain, it shot into the lake. I leaned over to lick him up.
Tucked into his swim trunks, we headed back, wanting to take the speed boat out for one final ride.
The perfect summer day was spent speeding along the lake … both of wanting to go faster. We docked at the lakeside store to refill on gas and noticed a couple searching among the rocks of crumbled concrete on the landing of the store. She had lost her wedding ring and was hoping it could be found. Andrew and I joined in their serch and voilà! Andrew found it nestled beside a patch of weeds after several minutes of searching.
Thankful, they asked if we would join them for lunch. We declined to eat but ended up having a lovely glass of wine with the couple. Since I wasn’t driving, Monica* and I had two. Fast friends, we exchanged numbers and promises to call once back in the city.
I rode on his lap in the Captain’s chair. My sundress hiding the fact that he was fucking me over the waves. I steered and he drove. Into me. Hard. My butt was searing again. I wanted it over. Thankful for runner’s legs, I used my squats to ride him back – standing reverse – and force him to come quickly.
Andrew and I headed back to the cottage. Our wonderful weekend of summer fun was over. We put away the boat, cleaned up the cottage and made sure everything was in its place. I stood in front of the Lady in Red painting in the bedroom and smiled. She smiled back.
Andrew wasn’t done with me. He and I had one last go on that solid table. He thought I was delectable as a buffet served up in front of the lakefront glass. We moved to the bench. He sat. I sat on top facing him and he gave me a ride as if we were speeding over waves. The thought of the thrill … the wind and the surf … crashing over wave upon wave made me come. Nothing was touching my ass this time. I cried out.
Final wipe of the table … we had minutes to return the keys. We packed up the truck and raced down dirt roads. We met Pete* in the parking lot to thank him for the cottage and the boat keys. Small talk done, we waved goodbyes and headed home.
Only then did I remember that I had left The Story of O on the deck. I wondered if it would be added to the column of classic books on the table. Now I know why the Lady in Red smiled …
I am the lady in red,
*Name(s) changed to protect the guilty and the innocent!
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© Lisa Jobson 2017