Three Sides of the Coin (Catherine I) (28 page)

             
He spun suddenly, grabbed her arm, turned her and bent her over, then gave her a gentle swat on her backside.  He bent close to her ear and whispered, "Don't mess with Negotiator Man."   He laughed and pulled her erect.   She looked into his face and only saw her playful Steven, and not the second coming of Captain Jack.   She almost wondered if she had imagined the entire thing. 

             
"Can you do it again?" She whispered.

             
He wiggled his head, and asked, "Do what again?  I got the job."

             
"No, the other thing."

             
His face fell and he said, "I'm sorry, I was just fooling, I didn't mean anything by it.  Can you forgive me?"

             
"Only if you do it again.  And mean it."  She replied evenly.

             
He smiled with relief and said, "I am not exactly sure.  It really isn't me with women.  And I am never that angry with you."

             
"Well, you know I am not usually angry at all with you when I redden your ass."

             
"But you enjoy it, and that makes it great for me."

             
"Maybe you would enjoy it.   I think I just might enjoy being on the receiving side.   What you just did there was a thrill for me."

             
He hesitated, "It was an impulsive act on my part.   More creative than interactive.   I don't think I could do it deliberately very well."

             
"Think about it," She offered.  "Now tell me more about these people who just promoted you.  Do we have to move?   How old are they?  How long have they had their job? Will you have an admin? Was it hot in Miami?  What were they wearing?  Does our health insurance change? Do they have kids?"   The questions droned on and the answers were less than satisfactory, as she wondered what numbers must he being thinking about if he couldn't answer these obvious questions.

             
Later while Steven went out for a long jog, she thought about what all this meant for her.  First, the salary Steven would get would allow her, if she chose, to leave Mike and his firm and either support her in a local design firm, or quit altogether. She wasn't sure if she wanted to walk away from the friendship she had with Mike.  The rest of the firm and the clients were nice to interact with too, but they could be replaced with some other flow of people.  But Mike was unique.   Second, it definitely meant that she would no longer need the Agency and Captain Jack.   And until a couple hours ago, she would have, at least a little, missed that.   But now there was a glimmer of bold fierceness popping up in Steven.   He had denied it, of course, but she knew what she had seen.   And just like Steven had seen the domme in her, she had seen a warrior in him.   It might take extra work to make him find it, but it sent her devious little playful mind a-spin.  

             
When he came back from jogging he said, "You're Alma Mater is playing mine in a football game tonight, do you want to make a little bet?"

             
At the time, she was multi-tasking a rack of lamb, a load of laundry, sorting through the mail and absently replied, "I don't think so.  My team couldn't play their way out of a paper bag this year."

             
It was only later that she realized her mistake.  It was the first quarter and her team was already two touchdowns behind when she sat down beside him and asked, "What were the stakes going to be?"

             
"While I was jogging, I thought about what you said earlier and I thought the winner would have absolute control of the other for the night."

             
"Okay."  She said perkily.

             
"No," he replied.  "It isn't fair now.   I don't think your heart is really in it, anyway."

             
"What would you have done to me if you had won, anyway?"  She asked at the next break in the action, knowing full well that he couldn't watch and listen at the same time.

             
"I would have put you in some sort of humiliating underwear and made you be my serving wench, and spank you if you displeased me."

             
Her heart beating with surprise, she stammered, “I'll take the bet."

             
"No," he replied, his attention back to the game, "It wouldn't be fair.  There is no tension in the bet now.  Look, my team just scored another field goal and your quarterback is limping.   And he couldn't play with two good feet.  Maybe another day."

             
Catherine, not being one to take no for an answer, got up and pulled the drapes closed in the living room and left Steven in his focused intent on the ball game.   She had sensed that he had taken another risk and she had, once again, disappointed him and he was sulking.

             
This was new ground for her.   As a dominant personality, she could have forced him to respond and change his mind set.   Here, she had to change him from the more submissive position.  She went to the bedroom and set her plan into motion.   She figured she had about half an hour before halftime, when Steven's attention could be drug from the television, for just a little bit.   She was convinced that was all she needed.   She pulled the red lace beaded panties from the back of her lingerie drawer where she had hidden them.   She had no idea why she had kept them, but now they were key to her plan.

             
She undressed and after a quick shower she pulled the panties up her legs.  The red lace lay lightly against her hips like a belt and the two strands of pearls hung gently between her legs attaching both at the front and back in the middle.   Every slight move felt like a gentle stroke on her vaginal lips and clitoral bud.   She felt herself getting instantly wet with the tingle of the beads and the unknown response she would get from Steven.   She pulled on a robe, put on bright red lipstick and fluffed her hair, as she looked into the mirror, pursing her lips and turning her head and body to look for some flaw in her appearance.   It was a ritual that Steven enjoyed.   A warm glow entered her, just thinking about how much she loved him and how they found little things about each other fascinating.   She slid her feet into some high heeled silver shoes, and hearing the announcer on the television pronounce the halftime score in the game, (Her team was now down 24 points.), she came into the room and stood against the wall next to the television.   Steven looked at her curiously.   She had his attention!

             
"I give up."  She said, unbelting and sliding the robe off her shoulders.  "You win and I am your slave.  What do you want me to do?"   She asked, dropping the robe to the floor, standing before him in high heels and the panties.

             
He looked at her, and she feared he would reject her.  She would understand, but she didn't want him to.  "Come here," He ordered in a firm voice that she had seldom heard.  

             
She walked slowly before him until he could slide his hand between her legs and lightly rub the beads across her privates.  She gasped and he raised an eyebrow.   "How does that make you feel?"

             
"I don't know.  Sexy, embarrassed, alive."

             
He reached up and took the nub of her nipple between two fingers, with a smile and squeezed ever so gently.  "And that?"

             
"I like it."

             
"And now?" He asked with a tougher twist.

             
She gasped.  "It hurts."

             
"Should I stop?"  He asked, withdrawing his hand just a bit.

             
"No.  Please.  Master."   Her eyes almost teared up in desperate lust.  "I love it.  I want more."

             
He suddenly twirled her and she found herself over his knee.  "I prefer my serving wench to wear garter belt and stockings."  He used his hand, his large hand, to slap her back side once on each cheek, then a second.   She smiled inwardly, realizing he was incapable of not balancing the count on each side.   She would never need to fear an odd count on her spankings.   And she hoped that this wasn't the last time for this.  Because it gave her a joy she found suddenly fulfilling.   All of this seemed so long in coming.

             
Soon, too soon she was back on her feet.  "I want some iced tea."  He said, his eyes going back to the halftime show.   "But you need to have the proper clothing articles on.  Do you understand?"  He asked, in a voice that left no room for argument, in a voice she did not know he had.  She nodded mutely, wholly engaged in her role as a slave.   She wanted to please him.  He wasn't just her husband anymore, a person she didn't want to see harmed.  He was her master, who she wanted to please and worried that he wouldn’t be and at the same time, the person she wanted to control her, to embrace her lusty soul with his demands like a child wrapped in swaddling clothes.  She wanted no room to move in any direction but the one he wished.   It was the very opposite of her everyday nature, and she knew this could never be the forever status.  But of all the men in the world, Captain Jack even, maybe especially Captain Jack, this was the one she wanted to please.

             
She scurried off to the bedroom and put on a garter belt and black stockings, her trembling hands barely able to function.   Eventually she got them straight and attached and came back to the kitchen, made him his tea and returned, served him and sat next to him on the sofa while the game came back on.  She thought if the roles would have been reversed, that she might have him on the floor at her feet; but when he pushed her legs open and gently, idly stroked her as the game resumed, she realized what his strategy was.   The second half would take a wonderful forever.  Her team scored quickly as the second half began, and then his team fumbled the kickoff and suddenly, she worried that her team might get back into the game and she would lose all of this.  But fortunately, they were as bad as promised and eventually lost the game in a lopsided fashion. 

             
She was nearly climbing the walls by the time the game was over.   He had her clean up and meet him in the bedroom.   When she came in, he was lying naked on the bed, his cock looking larger than she had ever seen.  "Suck it."  He ordered firmly.  

             
She crawled between his legs and luxuriously ran her lips and her tongue over the shaft, savoring it.  For the first time it became a joy for her, rather than a chore.  The soft velvety head, the sweet taste of precum, the steely rigidity of the penis all became sensory events.    She actually was bothered when he pulled her mouth off his cock with a slight pop and had her ride him.  Again, she took joy in the sensation and focused her eyes, when she could, on his face as his pleasure grew.  Once again, he broke the spell and she whimpered as he pulled her off him.

             
Fiercely, he pushed her on her belly and slapped her one, two, three times on her right ass cheek.   Then, of course, but slower, three times on her left.  "Don't complain while I am in charge."  He growled.  "Do you understand my little slave?"

             
"Yes, master," she replied.

             
"On your hands and knees, then."

             
He entered her from behind for only six or seven strokes, his thickness almost painful to her, the beads playing with her clit on every stroke.   Then he was out and she swallowed her whimper of frustration.  Then he turned her on her back and put his face between her legs.   She came faster than she ever remembered, the sensation skyrocketing in that exquisite pain as she screamed out.   As she descended, she became aware that he had not yet come and she felt guilty and wished him to punish her for her selfishness.   Instead, he lay on his back and said, "Get on."

             
She happily sat on him and screwed her hips down on him, trying to drive him into the mattress.   He grabbed her hips, and his fingers slid across her flesh.   And suddenly, she felt him expand and he grunted, stiffened and shuddered, and then the slow relax.   After a minute of savoring the dwindling sensation, she slid off him and lay next to him, her head in the crook of his arm, her fingers lingering over his nipple.   "That was thrilling," she said.  "I didn't think you had it in you."

             
"Who knew you were such a little sex slut?"  He laughed.  "I didn't think you were capable of being spanked."

             
"You can be a lot rougher." She replied.

             
"We'll have to see."

             
"But not tomorrow."  She said.  "Tomorrow, you'll be the little slut with a red tail."

             
They both faded to sleep as happy as they could ever remember, with the future opening hope and joy before them.

Chapter 20:  
Mike-6

              "Do you think I am weird?" Catherine asked me.   It gave me pause as it is a difficult question.  You know that old saw:  "Everyone is weird except for me and thee, and sometimes I wonder about thee."   If I go with that, I have to say no one is truly weird because everyone is weird.   On the other side, like beauty, weird is in the eye of the beholder.   And if I go with that, everyone is weird to someone.