tagNovels and NovellasImagine There's Still Love Ch. 04

Imagine There's Still Love Ch. 04


Despite Jon's best efforts in the days that followed, the truth and reality of his situation began to become clear. Despite the promises, the dynamic of their relationship had not really changed. He wrote in his new on-line journal each day, and confirmed that she never opened it once. The only change he experienced was that his diet consisted of fruits and vegetables in smaller quantities than he had ever imagined and he was hungry all the time.

The first morning he carefully and completely shaved his penis, testicles and ass. When he presented his work to Lucy she barely acknowledged him. He dutifully ordered not one, but two different chastity devices. He left the Fedex packages on the kitchen counter where she could not miss them and then later found the packages in his office under a stack of bills on his desk.

He rose early each morning to make sure the laundry was done, and enjoyed a calm sense of belonging and joy of service as he imagined that she paid any attention. He also experienced a faint joy when he discovered that he was much better at folding the towels that she was. He enjoyed putting her cotton panties away each day, and could not help but marvel that she had chosen far sexier panties for him than she chose for herself. Morning and night the dishes were all washed, dried, and put away, and he found a certain deep submissive satisfaction in that activity as well. The problem was that he had to imagine her strict direction rather than experience it.

He rubbed warm vitamin E oil on her feet and legs each night, enjoying the sight of her deep relaxation under his ministrations. On Wednesday night he spent almost an hour messaging her back and butt and legs, then had to practically pour her into bed. He lay awake for hours that night, staring at the ceiling, wondering about the predicament he seemed to find himself in.

Where was the dominance he craved?

He was more than ready to serve her orally when she woke each day and then again as she settled into bed each night, but each time her lack of any real enthusiasm became apparent. By the end of the week the amount of time he was allowed to adore her pussy each morning and night had become a brief routine and she was beginning to act for all the world like she was doing him a favor rather than demanding anything of him.

They talked about all of the usual things they had talked about for years. Her lesson plans for each of the district special education assistants were riveting as usual and he did his best to hang on her every word. The Facebook updates about their daughter's lives were given the same rapt attention. She talked about her friends, and the movies they had seen and the books they had read. They were friendly and cordial and even occasionally mildly affectionate to each other in the same passionless vein as before. It seemed obvious that that they were on their way back to the very casual relationship that Jon had been so ready to give up on before.

On Sunday morning they weighed in. He had lost four pounds in the first week, but her only response was to document the loss on the calendar. Though he waited through the rest of the day, Lucy made no mention of the devices on the corner his desk in his office. Reality was really beginning to settle into his brain late that evening as he typed away on his laptop, finishing the last several details of a PowerPoint presentation for work the next day. The same question that had been haunting him for years now began to work its awful and dangerous magic again.

Was there any chance for them to continue on like this? Was he willing to forego any real passion for the rest of his life, until death did them part?

Somehow he finished his work and managed to survive the small talk through dinner without thinking too much about their bland relationship. He managed to enjoy doing the dishes, then folding the week-end laundry and putting it away. He persevered mindlessly through Lucy's foot rub and backrub, and was then somehow able to get to sleep without hours of tossing and turning.

Monday morning played out much the same as the week before. Jon dutifully shaved his testicles, penis, and anus, then carefully and thoroughly lotioned everywhere to limit any chafing. He considered opening the boxes that still sat on the corner of his desk, but decided against it. The morose edge of the current circumstances of their relationship kept him from doing what he felt was her responsibility. It was not rebellion he was feeling so much, but more a sense that it was a waste of time and that there was no point in attempting to court the D/s lifestyle that she had no interest in. In fact, he thought about not wearing the black panties she had provided for him. She had not bothered to check once whether he was wearing them anyway.

Monday night slipped into the oblivion of service without demand or expectation, then Tuesday followed with the same, just as expected. Wednesday night's foot rub and back rub seemed as bland and uneventful as could be imagined. And he was certain that she would have just as soon have skipped Thursday night all together. Friday night's dinner out was exactly like so many before. They spent five minutes that night having the same sex in the same choreographed positions as every week for so many dull lifetimes, and then she fell into a deep contented sleep while he thought about getting up a going for a walk to settle and clear his head.

Other than weighing in, washing her car, and a few other mundane chores, Jon managed to keep a fair and safe distance from Lucy all week-end. She was busy with lesson plans and he managed to stay busy with work as well. Sunday night finally came, and he was satisfied that they had finally reached a point where they knew enough to leave each other alone except when she needed to endure his service to her. He had finally decided to print out labels so both packages could both be returned the next day when he noticed her leaning against the door jamb of his office.

The vision rather surprised him, but the calm of his growing discontent stilled in him like cold water in his veins. The office was dark except for his desk lamp, and the light from behind her cast her form in a shadow that did not allow him to see the expression on her face.

"Have you decided which of those you are going to wear?" she asked.

Was there a hint of laughter in her voice? He considered her shadow for a moment, trying to see her eyes, then turned his attention back to his computer.

"Not really," he replied as he finished typing.

"I thought I had made myself quite clear...you were supposed to be wearing one of them last week-end. Would you prefer that I make an appointment to get you pierced?"

He glanced up at her again. Was this an attempt to re-establish some dominance over him after ignoring him for the last two weeks? Where had she been? Did it matter? Was he interested in the kind of relationship where she showed up occasionally to give him some meager attention? He already had enough experience with the casual and almost platonic life with Lucy to last him a lifetime.

"Why don't you just save yourself the time and energy?"

"Save myself the...whatever do you mean? I'm doing this for you...I thought you wanted this."

"I must seem pretty pathetic to you, don't I?" he asked as he logged off and glanced up and closed the laptop.

She silently eased into his office and took a seat on the fake leather couch which was next to the door. Her features were still somewhat in shadows, so he still could not see her eyes.

"Of course you don't," she finally said quietly. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"Because I want and need so much more than you ever want to give."

Lucy sighed deeply.

"I thought we had that behind us. I don't want to go back through that, you know."

"I know," he replied. "I don't either."

"Then what's this about? I thought the week went well...what's the matter?"

Jon eased back in his chair. It sounded so much like the same damned discussion that went nowhere each and every time.

"What did you enjoy about this week?"

She thought about it silently for almost a minute.

"I was content...we were content. I told you what I expected...you lost another four pounds. You did your tasks each day...just like last week. You seemed to enjoy them."

"How would you know if I enjoyed them? You've hardly noticed me."

Lucy was silent for so long that Jon wondered if she had gone to sleep.

"This sound familiar?" he finally asked.

He thought he saw her nod her head slightly.

"Fire cannot burn in a vacuum, you know. If you demand something from me each day...give me some attention each day...forced me to savor your pussy for a half hour the same way I spend on your feet."

"I tried...but that really does not do anything for me," she replied with a sigh. "It really never has...you know?"

Jon sighed and put his hands behind the back of his neck.

"I know. Has anything sexual between us in the last twenty years done anything at all for you?"

"Of course it has," she snapped.

"And what would that be?"

"Friday night was nice...and I always love your backrubs."

"You fell asleep...just like you always do...and I stared at the ceiling...just like I always do. How do you suppose that is for me? Where is my motivation? Should I have washed the dishes again...or gone out and washed your car again?"

"I thought you enjoyed serving me."

"I do enjoy serving you. Serving you! But who have I been serving the last two weeks? Where have you been? I washed the clothes. Where were you? I washed the dishes? Where were you? I washed your car...I rubbed your feet...I rubbed your back...I got to kiss your twat for an instant... where were you?"

"I was there."

"Maybe you were there physically...at least part of the time. But weren't there mentally...and not emotionally...not for me anyway."

"You just want to be in control. Bill warned me about that."

"Maybe Bill's not as smart as you think he is. I don't want to be in control. I just don't want to be ignored. I don't want to feel like I'm in this all by myself."

"Is this supposed to be about what you want, or what I want?"

"What a convenient answer. What do you want? It seems like you just want no effort on your part. No risk emotionally at all. Nothing to do but give an order, close your eyes, relax, and perhaps go to sleep. I wonder what kind of teacher you would be with that kind of work ethic."

"That's not fare. That's completely different."

"It's not completely different. That's the problem Lucy. For you, our relationship has been on autopilot for so long that it seems right to you."

She stared at him. He could make out just enough of her features to see that she holding back an emotional outburst. It almost always came to this. She was so guarded and so in control of her passion and emotions that these conversations just became too much for her. They were becoming too much for him too.

"I put a lot of thought into my journal entries this week...what did you think of them?"

She did not answer.

"You haven't even taken the time to open them. You accused me of playing a game with you, but isn't that what you're doing? How long did you and Bill think the effects of that one episode were going to last me? If you don't want me to lick your pussy...fine...then think of something else. But whatever it is, at least try to pretend that you're interested.

"You promised to submit to me."

"You promised to challenge me...intrigue me...excite me. Two weeks ago I thought you understood that I need some passion and excitement back into our sex life. If you don't have any enthusiasm, then maybe we would both be better off trying to find something else to do with ourselves."

"So we're back to that? Why isn't my love enough for you?"

"What kind of love do you have for me? Do you love me with the intensity you showed me at Bills?"

"That was different. Bill put me up to that. That was to capture your imagination and get you to really submit to me."

Jon sat and stared at her, hoping she had heard the words that had escaped from her mouth. The words stung him more than a little. Bill had talked her into something that he could never get her to consider. That hurt, but at least it had moved her off center.

"So let's pretend that Bill was right. I submitted. Now what are you going to do with me?"

"I guess I need to figure that out," she finally said.

He expected the conversation to wind down to nothing like it always did, but Lucy rose silently and sauntered out of his office. He also did not expect to hear the back kitchen door open and shut. He did not expect to catch a glimpse of her going through the gate into the commons. There was a hint of the pleasure and pain from his jealousy when he realized she was on her way to Bill's.

There was at least some delicious and painful emotion as he wondered about what they might be doing besides talking. He did not expect her to come home long after he was in bed and fast asleep.

Monday morning was tense between them. He did not offer to serve her orally, and she certainly did not demand that he did. That night was only slightly better, but she did at least allow him to rub her feet and legs. Tuesday morning and night she allowed him a brief kiss on her twat, along with vitamin oils on her feet. Lucy was busy with parent teacher conferences on Wednesday and Thursday night, the opportunity to serve and adore her was lost in the business of her total focus on students and their parents.

It seemed a conterminous pattern of decline had begun again, so it really was no great surprise when Lucy informed him that he would be on his own for Friday night.

There was a moment of excitement, combined with overwhelming dread that filled him such a thrill of life, when he thought about the prospect of her telling him she had a date with another man. Even an evening with Bill would have been a little exciting, though he really did not believe there was anything passionate between them.

The disappointment of her response was very depressing however. Was there any point in trying to get excited about any part of their life together? Was there anything that was not more important than their relationship?

As she explained, Jon remembered a familiar theme. Perhaps once a month she planned a night out with some of the ladies who worked in the same school district. Lucy named each woman, and Jon was able to place a face and story to their descriptions. The pattern and purpose of the night out came back to mind. They were all single women near Lucy's age, although they all seemed so very much older. All but one was heavy; fat in fact. They were all average looking at best, all without significant others, all rather lonely if not for Lucy to get them organized and out enjoying life. Lucy was probably the only motivation for a social life those women had.

How was he supposed to be angry with her about that? Lucy was the perfect friend to these women, just like she was the perfect person for almost any needy cause. If she had a joy or true calling in life, it was to help others. She had been the secretary and treasurer for the local United Way for more than ten years, a donor and volunteer for Relay for Life since the program began, and had even become a district sponsor for the Make a Wish Foundation.

He felt guilty and ashamed of himself for begrudging any of them their night out together, but that did not diminish his frustration.

It seemed as though every possibility of any real chance for vibrant and vigorous passion in their lives together had been a mirage. He stayed late at work each night for the rest of the week, trying hard not to resent how so much of their lives seemed to interfere with what he wanted.

Staying at late at work had its own set of problems, however. It was hard not to appear like the typical micro-manager he had long ago vowed he would never become, especially when there was really nothing for him to do. The analysts and technicians kept glancing over their shoulders at him, as though trying to determine what was wrong that he was still there long after his usual day. The day shift supervisor remained working long after the night supervisor logged in to the system, and there was certainly no need for that. They were good people, all of them doing a good job, and he was driving them to distraction. He had to get out of there.

He dreaded the week-end. He dreaded going home and facing the night alone. He dreaded facing the possibility of spending the rest of his life alone.

He found himself many hours later, nursing the third or fourth Crown Royal on ice at a Jazz club some twenty blocks away from work. He had been there before; it was a good escape. The music was soothing, and the buzz from the alcohol had a numbing therapeutic effect on his emotions. He watched several couples dancing, and thought of Lucy in the arms of some tall dark stranger as they glided around the small dance floor left him feeling mesmerized. Was he really up for that fantasy to come true, or was it just some candy for his somewhat submissive brain? He did not really want her to have an affair; he just wanted the excitement and thrill of the unknown and the passion that might come with it.

Eventually he observed a few middle age women in professional attire glancing in his direction, and the sight disturbed him. Were they trying to catch his eye? That was not what he had in mind at all, but one of them had the look in her eyes that rather captured his imagination with images of demanding and captivating desire. The fantasy of Lucy with another man was one thing, but he had never really gleaned any enjoyment from the thought of him being with anyone else.

Was this his future? The image in his brain was frightening. The whole idea of his life becoming an exercise in failed dating in old age because he was so unhappy with the lack of passion in his marriage was more than he could take. He had to get the hell out of there before melancholy took over and he did something stupid that he would regret for the rest of his life. He tossed a twenty on the table and headed for the door, only vaguely aware of the effect the whiskey he had consumed had on him.

He was not staggering at all. He was in pretty good shape actually. He knew that he had far too much to drink to ever consider driving home, but he was not so drunk that he was embarrassed by his circumstances. His company car was more than safe in the parking lot at work, but he called security on his blackberry to confirm that they would keep an eye on it over the week-end.

He strolled down the street, aware of a faint lack of coordination to his gait from the alcohol, trying to figure out what to do next. Should he call a cab? How many bus changes would be required to get anywhere near home?

Did he even want to go home? Now that was a damned good question. Did he have the courage not to go home? That was an even better damned good question.

There were several motels down the street where visiting company executives usually stayed. He remembered picking them up and dropping them off. It was logical to assume that the company had a discount at both of them? Before he knew he had even decided, Jon found himself signing a registration card and passing his company credit card across the counter at the Marriott. With complimentary travel kit in hand, Jon finally found his way to his room on the second floor.

He took a long hot shower, washing his panties while he did. He used the blow dryer to make sure his panties were dry before carefully hanging up his suit and pressing his dress shirt with the iron in the closet. Once certain he had not overlooked any detail for the next day, he climbed into bed.

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byEdgarJames34© 0 comments/ 13957 views/ 5 favorites

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