In Loving Memory Pt. 04

James looked across the car. She had been staring out that window for the past two hours. Silently. That was shocking enough. The woman never shut up. It was one of the things that he loved about her, how completely open, honest and transparent she was.

And one that annoyed the crap out of him. Normally he liked quiet. That was why he had bought this place when he sold his first video game...for more fucking money than he thought he would make in a lifetime. Isolated on the Welsh coast, he could go days without seeing a single person if he wanted.

But the quiet now disturbed him. She had not said a word since her simple, "Yes Sir," in the café. For two whole fucking hours she just sat and looked at the dreary scenery passing outside the window. It was what she had been doing for months, probably for years. Keeping safely quiet while life passed her by. But no more.

He turned onto the single lane road that led to his bungalow. It was hidden in an alcove of trees less than a hundred metres from the raging sea. He loved to just sit and listen to the waves pounding against the rocks. Its eternal rhythm gave him peace that little else could. Except for her.

When she was not pissing him off, like she was now, that is. He meant it. He was not allowing her to throw her life away the way that stupid asshole had his. The way the man tossed her and her love about as carelessly as he did everything and everyone else. Like the whole fucking world owed him. He had used his illness to elicit sympathy from everyone, especially her. Used it like a mask to hide his arrogance and selfishness.

James gripped the wheel tighter as he took the sharp right turn that would bring his bungalow into view. He smiled at the gasp its harsh stone beauty elicited from her. It was the same response he had when the estate agent first showed him the property.

"It's beautiful," her voice was breathy and cracked a bit on each syllable like she had not used it much lately. Which was probably pretty damned close to the truth.

"Thank you," was his only response to all the questions that shone in her bright eyes. There would be time for those later. He opened his door and walked around the car to open hers. She hesitated for a long moment when he held out his hand to her. He frowned and prepared for another battle. But in the end, she simply placed her fingers in his and allowed him to help her from the car.

It was only a dozen or so step to the small wooden porch that wrapped about the whole ground level of stone edifice. He helped her up the couple of steps while he dug the keys out of his pocket. He so rarely bothered to lock the place, isolated and hidden as it were. But he had been cautious knowing he would be away overnight.

Looking at her now, he wondered. Had he known all along? That he would bring her back with him. Had that been the secret plan he hid even from his own consciousness? Had he gone with the intention of spiriting her away like some captive bride? Not that it fucking mattered. She was here now. He held open the door and waited. "After you, princess."

Her mouth dropped open as she took in the large open plan kitchen, dining and living room. The stone fireplace that heated the bungalow even on the coldest of Welsh winter nights took up almost a whole wall. His collection of hand-painted military figurines was arranged neatly on its mantle. It was a hobby that had always appealed to his need for detail.

A large leather sectional took up most of the rest of the room. A thick carpet and coffee table where he kept his laptop and whatever he was working on at the time filled the rest of the space between the sofa and fireplace. Off to the side was a small round wooden table and chairs, though he could never once remember eating there. He usually ate on the sofa or his bedroom while he worked.

The large country kitchen had never held much appeal to him. But he could see the light in her eyes at the neat and orderly space. Her quick intake of breath when she saw the auger caused him to laugh. "I am not much of a cook, but we will go into town tomorrow and pick up some things for you."

She looked back at him and he saw the tightness in her jaw as she bit back whatever smartass reply had popped into her beautiful head. Instead she dropped her eyes and replied, "Thank you, Sir."

One part of him was pleased with her obedience. But another louder portion knew that he must break it. She had spent five years burying herself beside that bastard in a grave that he dug slowly and meticulously. He had watched the transformation from his sassy and self-assured friend to that man's docile little slave. Claire might be a natural sub but she was not a slave. But as always she subverted her own needs, becoming what the other person needed, giving too much of herself to a man that did not deserve to even kiss her boots.

The last thing he wanted was for her to lose herself in him the way that she had always done with the others. He did not want her trying to change, to become whatever he thought was the perfect sub. He wanted her to be her. The woman he had known for eight years...giving, fiery, intelligent, and passionate. He wanted the woman he fell in love with back.

"Drop the coat," he commanded. He smiled as the command reignited the fire in her green eyes. She opened her mouth. But then closed it and dropped her eyes even as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on the coat. She obeyed...a bit too easily.

"Hang it up on the hooks next to the door. Your bag too," he ordered. He studied her as she walked compliant across the room. The corset was punched in the back. Obviously too large after all the weight she had lost. Her legs were covered in black silk stockings, the old-fashioned kind with the seam up the back.

They were perfectly straight. Just as she had not dared to deviate from the line that man set for her. Not even when it hurt her. Not even when the selfish bastard placed his wants above her needs. No true master had such little regard for his property.

Her round bottom was covered in lacey briefs with only the slightest glimpse of bare skin peaking between it and the stockings. In that moment James knew. Knew the exact button to push. Exactly what would wake his sleeping beauty from her coma.

As she turned and came to stand just next to him, his smile widened. "Now strip naked."

Her reaction to his firm command was so instant that not even her submissive nature could stop it. Her head shot up. She squared her shoulders back. The auburn hair about her face fell from the tight confines of the ponytail as she shook her head so violently. "Hell no," the dragon breathed the fire that he watched dance in its eyes.

He crossed his arms and planted his feet firmly apart as he stared into those fiery depths. "You have earned one punishment already. You are working on number two. You forget I know that the bastard has not been properly punishing in a long time. How much pain do you think that cute arse of yours can actually handle, sweetheart?"

"You know that is a hard limit," she pronounced those final words slowly.

"But I thought you liked playing without limits. What? You can do it for a man that would not even fucking recognize you to his family and vanilla friends but not the one that has stood beside you through thick and thin for eight years?" He tried to keep the pain out of his voice as the words cut a bit too close to home.

She closed her eyes as the words sliced the air between them. She was silent for a long moment. Then her shoulders slumped. Her eyes opened again and he saw the tears dancing in them. "Why?" she whispered.

James almost wrapped his arms about her. He wanted to draw her into his embrace. Reassure her that everything would be all right. Tell her that... Well, maybe not that. Not yet anyway.

Instead, he did something that went against his better judgment, but something that he knew would set him apart from that bastard and all the others. He offered her the explanation she sought. "Because punishments are supposed to be something you do not like, Claire. You need the pain that I am going to give you. You have been missing it for too fucking long. And you need a far firmer hand than he gave you. But you also need something that will make you think before you do or say something stupid again."

He placed his fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face, forcing her to look into his eyes. "I above all people know exactly what this means to you. So you should know now that all punishments will be the same. You will strip naked in front of me. Then you will kneel and remove my belt. You will assume the submissive pose...legs as wide apart as I say. Then you will offer the belt to me. Is that understood?"

He watched the indecision dance in those fiery depths for several long minutes. He was not certain what he would do if she continued to argue. He was not even completely sure that he had the will to push this one. He knew exactly why naked was a hard limit with her. As he said, he knew better than anyone what he was asking. What this cost her.

"You will have to unlace the corset," she whispered at last.

"Upstairs. It has been a long fucking night. We both need to wash that shit off our bodies. So this time it will be strip, shower then punishment." James wished he could wash that man's stains from her sweet spirit as easily as the soap and water would remove the stale smells of the pub and the long uncomfortable trials of travel from their bodies.

"Lead the way," she whispered.

James took her hand in his once more. He brought it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. This woman had done just that for him. He owed her everything. The faith that she had in him through all those years gave him strength to have faith in himself. He would do all he could now to do just that...lead the way out of this mess she had gotten herself into. No matter what the future did or did not hold, he owed her that much.

He tugged gently and she followed him up the rough wooden staircase to the loft that overlooked the living room below. This area was even more sparse than the downstairs. It was where he worked most of the time so he liked it that way. Simple and uncluttered.

A king size bed sat against the back wall. It was neatly made as always. The bedside table next to it was more a shelving unit for his gaming systems. But instead of a television they were connected to the projector that hung from the ceiling just above the bed. The white walls made the perfect screen upon which to play or to work.

The walk-in closet/dressing room and bathroom were the only other rooms on this floor. They took up almost as much space as the bedroom. Two dark doors against the white wall announced their presence. One opened up to the huge closet. The area had once housed another smaller bedroom or study as well a tiny bathroom but he had it remodeled into storage space and a much larger bathroom. The closet was neatly lined with racks upon which to hang his clothes, pull out drawers and shelves for his books and game collection.

But it was the other room that drew him now. The bathroom had once held nothing more than a toilet, sink and old tub. It now had a large shower encased in glass and a sunken tub. It was his favourite room. He luxuriated in its opulence.

"Turn around," James commanded. Claire's silent obedience continued to both bother him and feed some demon deep inside him. For the first time he understood, truly understood, the others. The heady power of controlling this magnificent creature was like a drug. Not even when he got lost in a game or painting a figurine did he feel this kind of calming release.

He could see now why they had held on to her, even when they must have known they were hurting her. But he reminded himself that domination was as much about giving as it was taking. He would not get addicted to this power the way those selfish bastards had.

His fingers fumbled with the knots at the back of the corset. It took him longer than he wanted to work at it. "This was his favourite, wasn't it?"

She nodded without turning around. He walked around her to the bedside table and opened a drawer. He found what he sought instantly and was back behind her before she could protest.

The pocket knife sliced through the thick cord easily. Each strand gave way without protest. "What the fuck are you doing?" she demanded.

The knife cut through the final strand. His fingers grasped the top edge and yanked so hard that she spun around. Fuck, he cursed. He had forgotten that the stockings were attached to the suspenders that hung from the bottom of the damned thing. It became a tug of war between them as she crossed her arms across her bosoms and sought to hold onto the damned thing.

He used the knife once more to slice cleanly through the two at the front and two more at the side. Only two more in the back remained. "Turn back around," he demanded.

"Or what?"

"You know you really need to learn better comebacks than that, princess. You are not my sister and we are not five years old. Now turn back around." When she shook her head again, he grabbed the front of the corset, pulling it away from her chest and spun her about like a rag doll once more. The knife cut the final bindings. He used the momentum to toss the damned thing over the wooden railing.

"You have until the count of ten to take off the rest. Or I will do it for you," he challenged.

She spun back to face him. One arm was crossed over her chest and the other angled to try and conceal as much below her navel as she could manage. "You would not dare."

James stepped back and crossed both his arms over his chest. "One."

Her mouth and brows tightened. He fought the need to laugh. It was more the look of a petulant two year-old than a woman approaching fifty. "Two," he chuckled at the irony.

She drew in a deep breath and looked around. He stood between her and the stairs. She looked across at the other closed doors. "Three."

Like the little girl she was acting, she made a run for it. As Fate would have it, she chose his room, the one they had been heading towards. She was not fast enough to get the door closed before he pulled it open again, "Four."

She backed further into the bathroom until her calves bumped against the edge of the sunken tub. He reached out a hand to steady her. "Five."

She tried to jerk free but it only propelled her backwards. If he had not stepped forward and wrapped his arm about her waist she would have toppled into the empty tub. "Six," he hissed through his teeth as his cock hardened in his jeans. Her almost naked body pressed against him was not something he had thought through completely.

He watched as her eyes widened with shock. Her hand that had been covering her tits shoved at his chest. He was the one sucking in air as he caught his first sight of them. "Seven," he tried to steady his voice but feared his body's reaction showed through anyway.

If the crack in his voice did not give him away, the back of her hand trapped between their lower bodies must have surely felt the pounding blood rushing to his cock. "Eight."

He felt her tremble as her eyes dropped once more. Her cheeks all the way to the light brown areolas pinked up as they took in the tent that was the front of his jeans. "Nine," he could not resist the urge to press closer to her hand. He yearned for her to turn her hand around. Her fingers to wrap about its hard length.

His words and their ragged breathing echoed off the cool clean white tiles that surrounded them. He held his breath and waited. He willed her...

But even he was not sure what he willed her to do. To fight him...deny the power that strummed between them. Some part of him yearned to break her, to drag her to her knees, to force her to face what they had been denying for too fucking long.

Another part wanted her to surrender willingly. Why would she not give to him that which she offered too fucking freely to those other worthless bastards? How could she not feel it? Feel the connection they shared from the beginning. Why was it the one thing she fought hardest to deny? Why was he the only man that she could not surrender to completely?

"Ten!"