Mine

"Get up." Mimi breathed the words into Sven's neck, the thought of that summer evening that now seemed a lifetime ago pulled back to the surface by his hand on her leg. "Please." I don't want this.

"What?" he rolled over, smiled at her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she beamed back at him. She didn't want to ruin it for him, he was in a good mood and the last thing she wanted to do was make it about her and her fucking hang ups. "I'm just going to get a drink. Sorry, I think I laid out at a funny angle," she lied.

"Oh," the surprise was clear in his voice. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No, sweetheart," Mimi said. "You didn't, I'll be back in a moment. Do you want anything?"

"I'll have whatever you're having," he called, twisted up and peered at her over the back of the sofa.

In the quiet, cold kitchen she poured them both a measure of vodka from a bottle she'd found stashed behind a couple of boxes of cereal and, at the last moment, thought she had better bring some tonic water, too. Housesitting had its perks.

Sven laughed, "I see. Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"I'm trying get me drunk," she said, instantly regretting it "What can I say? It's been a busy week and I don't want to do it alone."

"I'll drink to that," he said, adding tonic. He passed the bottle to her and she conceded, took it.

"I think that I want to decide what happens tonight," she said, "If you'd like."

"Happily," Sven said. "It's been a while. I felt like I should have said something but I didn't want to sound like I was nagging you; I know you've been tired. We've both been busy and now we really do have time totally to ourselves up here in the wilderness. I'm looking forward to -"

Mid-sentence she pulled him closer, kissed him, pitching forward, sliding her half empty tumbler onto the coffee table.

"What's got into you?" Sven said, "One minute you're complaining, the next you're all over me. I mean, not that I'm complaining."

"Don't ever forget how glad I am to have found you. I know I'm not very good at romance. I know I can be a bit withdrawn and that I've been very focused on my work recently but, just for tonight, please, please let's go back to how things were at the beginning. Like when we had just met and found each other. Like when there was that crazy electric."

"Of course." He said, "You're drunk."

"I'm happy." Mimi explained. "I haven't been this happy in so, so long and now I have it and I have you I am absolutely committed to making sure that it is - that we are - functional and comfortable and...I don't know. Just better, somehow."

"You are so hopeful." Sven said, "Don't see that old passion as gone forever just see it as changed. We're more of a fine wine than a...Lambrini now."

Mimi laughed, and stretched out, the vodka beginning to remove the edge of the day. She thought of her father and his hospital bed, of Paris and doctors' appointments and B vitamins and the awful thought of her mother's teary face and slid the glass away.

"I want you tonight," she said, shaking off the past and the shadows, "I want to have you because I can."

"You know there's very little that makes me more happy." Sven grinned. "If you're offering then, tonight I am definitely willing. You have no idea."

He leant over, kissed her bared shoulder, grazed her jaw with his mouth.

"Good," Mimi smiled, "Perfect, wonderful, thank you, sweetness."

She stood as if nothing had happened and cleared away the glass, left his, stood and stretched and sent a silent votation of thanks to the heavens.

"I'm going to take a shower first if you don't mind." she said.

"Not at all. Whatever you need." Sven sighed, relieved and happy and thankful that she'd initiated it before he'd had to. Glad that she wasn't as distant or as sad as he'd worried. He presumed that it was work making her tired and the long drive to her mother's that day. Catherine had left them the house for a week on the condition they took care of her rapidly ageing Grate Dane, Lola.

After nearly six months working on what would become one of the biggest successes for Farnham Advertising, Sven had found himself promoted to an Account Executive alongside Jim. Much to his amusement, he was only vaguely annoyed at himself for joining the ranks of the suits he used to mock in art school. The rise in pay certainly helped to ease the burn. Lola trotted in and joined him, her huge body pushed against him.

"Darling, as much as I love you Lola, you were not the company I was expecting this evening. Still, beggars can't be choosers can they?"

He un-muted the television, flipped through the channels until he found some politician from a party he hadn't voted for complaining about striking bus drivers and wondered what had caused the sudden change in Mimi's demeanour. They had met up at the house and enjoyed dinner at the local pub before returning home in driving rain. Over their meal and into the evening after it, Sven hadn't mentioned Mimi's mood, preferring instead to keep things light, and amiable for the duration of their time away. He'd put up with enough shouting from work for the past few weeks for him to want to deal with any more in his private life. Still, the second Mimi had shot up when he touched her, as though he'd burned her shocked him. He didn't push it, knew better than that, that sometimes, there were things she preferred to fix on her own.

* * *

The house was quiet and warm. Outside, the rain poured heavily, evolving slowly into beads of hail. It was just after eleven in the evening when the crop fell across his chest, her hands curled around either end, pushing him into the seat. His eyes didn't leave the television.

"Come to bed," she purred.

"I presume that given the way you're brandishing that crop you've no intention of sleeping." His response was flat, disguising the flare of heat in his chest.

Her mouth was inches from his ear, "And I presume that by the way you're talking you're fully prepared to find out."

"I'll just finish watching this." Beneath his sweater, his heart was pounding, the blood rushing south. "I'll be coming to bed in a moment."

"Suit yourself." The lightest of nips landed on his jaw and he smiled, sure that this was the best kind of foreplay, his heart leaping like it hadn't in months. Finally.

By the time he switched the TV off and wondered upstairs he saw she had changed into an oversized sweater and was swaddled in a blanket, reading. His bare feet were freezing on the bare floorboards and he longed to be beneath the sheets, curled up with her, a million miles away from everything.

"Good book?"

"I've read better," she said. "Good programme?"

Now, it was her turn not to look up. He watched her ignore him and felt the flicker again, that piquant neediness that he had spent too long trying to fight.

"Okay," he said,pulling off his sweater. "I see you've returned the crop to its new resting place." He eyed the crop hooked on the back of the door, sighed heavily, wondered how much more foolish he could have been to have picked Question Time over her.

"I have," she looked up at him, "I want to watch you bring it to me."

"Of course," He turned, reaching for it. "Ever the sadist."

"Wait." Her voice was delicate, a blooming flower with a thorn beneath it, "Strip first. Get naked and then bring it to me."

"Yes."

"Good," her eyes ran over his body, fixing on his flickering fingers, the shirt fabric peeling away to reveal his chest. He moved lower, pulled open his belt like it was the first time, overly eager then sheepish. He pulled off his underwear and kicked them away. Naked, he turned to the door and plucked up the crop, the low lamplight spattering him with light and shadow, his long limbed body irresistible to her. Of course, she wouldn't have told him; she even found it difficult to admit to herself, that her desire for him, his submission to her was something singularly captivating. There had been others, more than he was aware of, and yet none compared to him in her eyes. Many of those men had gone on to mean more to other women. He too had been unremarkable to some yet, together they crackled and glistered, had found an understanding, a need for one another that could not easily be put into words.

It annoyed her intensely that she had always mocked other women for falling so suddenly and so completely for men, had prided herself with some arrogance that she had been impervious to such emotions. It was only now that she felt such intense love for him that she realised that it was not strength she had felt but fear, not moral superiority but emotional weakness; an inability to be vulnerable. Now it was gone, vanished like smoke, she was acutely aware of just how present it had been. She watched him walk towards her, holding out the crop as though it were sacred and realised that his vulnerability was strength and that to hide her own emotions when he had been so painfully honest about his did their relationship a disservice.

"Wait," she smiled. "It seems a little unfair that you're the only one who is naked here."

"I rather like it." He admitted.

"You do?" she peered over her sweater, half on half off, then cast it aside. Beneath it, she wore only a thin vest and her underwear that he soon dispensed with.

"Did I say that you could do that?" she laughed, rolling over and snatching a kiss from him.

"No." he sighed, his eyes rolling, "But I'm prepared to take whatever punishment you deign to mete out."

"Shut up," she laughed, pulling off her top. "You're so sarcastic sometimes."

Before he could retaliate, she kissed him again, her body melting against his, the playful threats pushed aside for a moment. He lay out next to her and listened to the rain outside, realised there was still so much more he had to do with his work; at least three more yearly reports to read and analysis to write.

"You're distracted," she sighed.

"No." he grabbed her arm as she rose, pulled her down this time. "I'm sorry. You know I find it difficult to switch off. First you, now me." Sven laughed.

"All the more reason for this then." Mimi said, gestured to the crop. "If you'd like, my love."

He nodded, "Yes, please."

"Beg for it." Her breath curled around his ear, "You know I love it when you do."

He mewled and stretched, "Please," he began, his fingers pressing into the sheets, his eyes closing, "Please may I have the crop, Ma'am."

She sat up, smiled down at him and felt that familiar coil of need spike upward through her, unleashing itself as that depthless greed that seemed to be unable to be quelled. Mimi was hungry for him, for his desire, for his moans of pleasure and pain, for their shared intimacies and finally, for the weight of him against her as they slept long into the morning. She pulled herself off the bed and plucked up the crop, decided that that would be exactly how they would spend the week.

She weighted the implement in her palm, glad to feel its familiar smoothness again, at once realising that it had been months since they had done anything remotely kinky with one another. She smirked; the word seemed odd, contrived in her mind: it was just the sex that made them happiest, like white water rafting for the kick of endorphins at the end. Sort of.

"What are you laughing at?" Sven raised his head, looked up at her. "You're really not doing much to cultivate an appropriately icy and dominant demeanour, you know?"

Wordless, Mimi swatted him on the thighs, harder than he'd expected. Sven let out a moan, sighed heavily the noise turning into shocked laughter. He gasped and twitched and grabbed the bedsheets. That familiar crackle of pain and endorphins began to bubble up, getting stronger, headier with every swat of the crop that landed across his thighs. After the initial blow, Mimi fell into a hypnotic rhythm that swelled into a burn on Sven's thighs, good but bad, like the kind of pain that comes with a particularly effective trip to the gym.

Through the sighs and gasps and small murmurs Sven finally spoke, "You haven't blindfolded me." He observed, "Usually you do."

"I know." Mimi bluffed, she hadn't noticed it, being in such a rush to take what she wanted that she realised she had dispensed with her usual habit of blindfolding him so that she could have her desire to herself.

"I love getting to watch you watch me." He panted, "I really love - ow - how much you like it."

"I more than like it." Mimi's hands were cold on his burning thighs, a balm to the heat that flared between them.

"Really?" he breathed, tensing as her hands rose higher, began tugging his member to life between her palms, touching him in all the ways she knew he liked. He groaned happily, sighed with pleasure.

"Yes, you know I do. I love watching you like this."

She leant forward, kissed him, words receding into the dark to be exchanged for soft sighs again. When she finally moved away, he gasped for her tried to reach out but she was too quick, moving backward and once more scooping up the crop.

She teased his hardening cock with the fine end of the crop, watched him buck towards it. She was silent, too rapt to spoil the moment. Beneath the crop, he knew better than to say anything.

"Turn over," when the words finally came they seemed momentous. Sven knew what it meant; a backside that would soon be reddened and welted. It had been so long that the thought at once terrified him and whipped up a delicious apprehension. God, how he'd yearned for it, he thought, how he'd missed her beatings now that he was to receive one.

"Will you fuck me afterwards?" he asked.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, sweetness." Mimi said. She trailed the crop gently over the curve of his upturned buttocks.

On the bed, he knelt on all fours, his body tense with anticipation. "I'm sorry."

"I think you'll find that it is you who will be doing the fucking after this." Mimi whispered, her hand on his back. "You will fuck me. Hard. Well. Like you fucking mean it."

"Yes."

"Good boy," she said, kissing his cheek playfully.

The cropping was better that he'd remembered it. Had it really been so long since they had played like this? Since he'd writhed and gasped for her pleasure. How he'd coped he could barely think. All Sven knew what that it was good and right and quite simply perfect to be back with her again, hurting, glowing, yearning. The pain had started sharp but soon had unfurled into a gentle throb that seemed to radiate through him. He sighed and moaned, lulled by the sensation of the neat, well timed blows. Mimi was getting neater, better at it and the thought gave him and odd, perverse pride to be used with suck developing skill. That he could become a canvas for her, useful.

"Sit up, sweetheart." Mimi whispered.

Sven realised he'd sank down from the all fours position he'd started on to lying flat out. The blood thrummed at his temples as he moved, endorphins crackling through him.

"There." Mimi rubbed his back, reached down to her side of the bed and produced a glass of water. "Drink it."

"I don't want to stop." He smiled, "Baby, it has been too long. What the fuck have we been doing?"

"Well, maybe I'll make you wait." Mimi said, 'just because I can."

The words danced between them, a taunt that only served to heighten the tightening throb between her thighs.

"Please don't." Sven said, falling backwards.

"You're pretty sore."

"I am fine," he said, rising up, pulling her closer. "Please, you look so beautiful tonight."

"Flattery will get you nowhere." Mimi said, pushing him into the sheets.

"Please."

"Ask again." She nipped at his neck, harder this time so he moaned once more. "Beg."

"Please. Please let me fuck you, I'll be so good, I promise. Please let me lick your pussy, baby. Please, please, please."

"No." she breathed, crawling down to lie next to him. Mimi pulled him nearer and took him in her palm again, moving in quickening strokes.

"Woah." he said, "just slow down a little, it's been a while and I'm so turned on right now. We haven't-"

"No." Mimi kept rubbing, "We haven;t. You on the other hand have."

"What?" Sven raised his head, frowned at her and found himself pushed down again.

"Don't think I haven't heard you wanking off when you got in late last night. I know you thought I was asleep."

He reddened, nodded at her. "Clearly, you weren't."

"No," Mimi said, "I wasn't."

"Please-" Sven's groan was sharp enough to make Mimi back away. She didn't want her fun ruined that easily.

"Tell me what you thought about." she commanded, her voice soft, coaxing him into confession.

"You," he said.

"Really?" Mimi raised an eyebrow at him. "Didn't you go to that dim sum place on Brook Street? Isn't there a waitress there who you always take a...shine to?"

"Yes." He admitted.

"Was she there last night? Did all you boys flirt horribly with her?"

"Yes."

"She probably thought you were all drunken arseholes, you realise?"

Sven laughed, "I know. We were."

"You are," she kissed him, "But I bet that didn't stop you from jacking it, did it?"

"No." he blushed. Sven's heart was pounding hard and the sensation of being interrogated like this, of turning over every base urge he had to her was at once terrifying and arousing. It gave her power and he could not turn away.

"So, tell me," Mimi continued, "In this fantasy, where did you fuck her? On a table? In the bathroom? In your car? Maybe out the back with the brickwork digging into your hands?"

"You catch us," he breathed.

"Oh? I do?" Mimi smirked, "I guess this doesn't end in a raging argument,then."

"Stop." Sven laughed, "Don't - I know it's stupid but - "

"You're blushing," Mimi kissed him on the mouth, "Tell me what happens..."

"You find me and you both punish me."

"How?"

"You both fuck me with a strap on, really fuck me...then you take turns-"

"At what?" Mimi asked, her hand sliding back between his legs, jerking him again. This time, she'd added lube and its slick coolness made Sven gasp.

"You tie me up, fuck me, force me to come over and over until it hurts, until...until I can't."

"I like that thought." Mimi said, the bright images glinting like jewels in her mind. "Me, you, that cute Chilean waitress with the amazing tits. Yes, I could see how that could appeal. We should eat there more often."

"Then you piss on me," he gasped, heart pounding, glossy shame glinting like broken glass, "I don't know where the fuck it came from but it really worked last night."

"Did it now..." Mimi did not stop, merely pushed him harder.

Sven glanced at her sideways, grinding, a maelstrom of emotions slopping about inside of him. He knew it was an absurd fantasy but he liked telling her, felt the feint humiliation an electric kick that fizzed around him and made his body yearn for her.

"I knew there'd be a little bit of shame in there," she continued, "getting caught doing something that you'd never dare do in real life, something awful to you..." her mouth was pouting, inches from his so that Sven had to arch his back to kiss her. "You're a whore," she purred, "My beautiful, greedy whore."

"Thank you." He said.

"Yes," she breathed, the word perfumed with intent as their bodies entwined and she knelt, arched her back like a cat, her backside pressed against his thigh.

"This?"He breathed, his hand sank between her thighs, pressed gently at her wet folds and he slid a finger into her.

"Fuck me." Mimi said, "Do it. I want you hard baby, it's been too fucking long."

"Tense tonight." He teased her slowly, pressing his erection against her.

"Don't you fucking dare," Mimi flipped over pulled him down, "Not tonight, you don't."

"Ha!" Sven pushed his hands through her hair, inclined his head to suck her nipple. "I'm sorry," he breathed against her neck leaving behind a trail of kisses that snaked upward, "I'll be good."