No Ordinary Love Story: Sequel to The Diary of a Submissive (32 page)

‘Don’t be like that, I didn’t think about it. It wasn’t important. It isn’t important. James has no bearing on my life now, certainly no bearing on us.’

Adam’s faced was screwed up with an emotion I couldn’t quite understand, and his tone made me flinch. ‘I think he has quite a big bearing on us. Not least because when we started seeing each other you weren’t anywhere near being over him. You’d stepped back for self-preservation purposes when he went quiet, but it was obvious you still liked him. If nothing else, you told me so.’

I couldn’t speak for a moment. He was jealous. It felt odd – it was daft that he knew me so well, could read my emotions better than anyone I’d met and yet could be so stupidly blind.

‘That was ages ago, you bloody idiot. Do you think I’d have started a relationship with you, much less moved in with you and started building a life together if I secretly hoped I could get back together with another man?’

Adam’s mouth dropped open at the anger in my tone, but there wasn’t time for him to interrupt quite yet.

‘I love you, you moron. You’re my person. When I wake up in the morning and see your head resting on the pillow next to me, everything feels right with the world. When something good happens, or something bad, my first instinct is to share it with you. I’ve never been as honest, spoken as frankly, with anyone as I have with you. You make me laugh.’ My voice softened. ‘I wonder what our babies might look like, whether they’d have your hair or my eyes. I think about
what it’ll be like to get old with you, what we’ll do when my knees get so creaky that if I kneel in front of you you’ll have to help me up afterwards. When I think about my life I can’t imagine you not being in it now. You aren’t some kind of back-up in case I can’t find someone better. You are the best. You’re the one. I love you, you stupid arse.’

I turned round to look out the window, suddenly incredibly self-conscious and a bit tearful. I stared at the road outside, trying to pull myself together for whatever happened next.

Suddenly his arms were sliding round me from behind, his body warm and comforting and solid behind me. With every fibre of my being I wanted to lean back, to lean into him and yield, but I stayed upright. Suspicious. Unsure.

He rested his chin on my shoulder. I could see his reflection in the window and while he wasn’t smiling he didn’t look angry any more. He sighed quietly and his breath against my neck made me shiver.

‘I’m sorry. I know I’m an idiot. I was just surprised that you hadn’t told me. It’s not like you.’

I turned round and opened my mouth to reply, but he put his fingers against my lips.

‘I know. I know you didn’t want to upset me. I bet they were some kind of gold-plated bouquet and you were worried I’d feel bad about that too, especially if it was not long after I was made redundant.’ I smiled, in spite of myself. ‘It was just a shock to hear he was back in your life and you were giving him the time of day.’

I bit my lip. ‘Adam, it wasn’t like that. He’s not back. He knows I’m not interested.’

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. It was a tiny gesture,
one he had done hundreds of times before, but the sheer relief that he had done it again almost made my knees buckle.

‘I know it wasn’t like that, sweetheart. And I know you think I’m mental. But when we met you were still consumed by him, even though he had treated you so shabbily and I knew you deserved better. The fact that he came back to try again is pretty much my worst nightmare.’

I sighed. ‘But I’m not going anywhere.’

He smiled. ‘I know, and that’s amazing. But I didn’t know that to start with, did I?’

I shook my head somewhat sheepishly. ‘No. I suppose not.’

‘The thing is, I love you too. I don’t say it as much as you do, although I am getting better on that front, but I try and show you every day,’ he waggled his eyebrows, ‘and not even just in sexy ways.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I can’t imagine my life without you in it either. It’d be quite boring. Tidier, probably. But if we broke up my parents would be very disappointed. They’d given up on me ever finding anyone to put up with me.’

I pulled a face at him. ‘Wow, so you’re settling with me then as the only woman who’ll put up with your ways?’

He nipped my bottom lip in playful warning, and grinned. ‘It’s not that you’re the only woman who’ll put up with me. It’s that you’re the only woman who can keep up with me.’

I think my face must have fallen a little, because suddenly he was pressing kisses to my face again.

‘No, no, no, not just that. Don’t get me wrong, I love the sex we have, but I think what makes it so intense and
fun is our emotional as well as physical connection. I know partly that connection comes from us being able to talk to each other about pretty much anything,’ he touched my cheek, ‘even if sometimes it makes you blush.’

My lips quirked.

‘I love you, Soph. The real thing. The spending our lives together, getting through the ups and downs, looking after each other, loving each other whole caboodle.’

I couldn’t hide the frustration in my voice. ‘Well, why are we arguing then?’

He kissed me again. ‘Because I get perturbed when you’re not characteristically open and honest with me.’

I swallowed hard. ‘I know, and I’m sorry. I was going to tell you.’

Adam smiled. ‘I know you were. I believe you.’ He pressed his mouth to mine, and I opened my mouth, eager for a proper (or, OK, improper) kiss. Before I got the chance, though, he’d broken away again. ‘Oh and for the record, “I love you, you stupid arse”? Very smooth.’

I kicked him in the shin with my bare foot and he kissed me.

I’m not good with rows, but there was something about my post-pub chat with Adam that cleared the air like a summer storm. Was I glad it had happened so dramatically? No, and there were a good few weeks afterwards where I felt the urge to reassure him of how much I loved him – and, if I’m honest, needed similar reassurance that he no longer felt upset at me. But all it did, weirdly but happily, was make us stronger, not just as an ordinary couple but in D/s terms.

One of the things that I found most interesting about submitting to Adam was that his type of domination was so different to that I had experienced before. There were some similarities in how the people I had played with before had controlled me, but the most notable thing was that there was a lot of pain involved. That didn’t bother me, in fact quite the opposite – my masochistic tendencies and enjoyment of the endorphin rush meant it felt pretty amazing – but Adam’s style was different. He was far from being a sadist. I knew he’d had submissive partners before that were really into pain – it’s not an unusual trait to find in a sub, after all – but he seemed to get off on seeing a woman
enjoy
the pain, rather than purely from inflicting it. He was a complex man, nothing if not surprising.

Sometimes, though, even I was astonished at how and
where we managed to discover kink. One weekend we were in a large sports store so Adam, who had begun cycling to both get fit and save petrol money, could buy some new lights for his bike.

I was wide-eyed at the huge warehouse-like shop. I like swimming and go to the gym, but otherwise I haven’t played sport since my days in a netball skirt at secondary school. And certainly things have changed on the shopping front since then. We had just walked past the wetsuit aisle when we got to the equestrian goods.

I may have enjoyed our recent forays into pet play but becoming a ‘pony girl’ didn’t really interest me – or Adam, as far as I knew. However, something clearly put a spring in his step; his pace quickened and I hurried after him. He had a grin on his face that could only mean he’d seen something he found exciting – he really was like a big kid at times; it was just as well I found it – and him – endearing.

I followed his gaze and noticed a large selection of riding crops. Adam had recently broken his crop mid-session – thankfully not as painful as it sounded – and I’d had to bite my lip to stop myself laughing at his forlorn look as he hid the two pieces in the rubbish. It seemed he wanted to pick up a replacement.

Just as we did at the pet shop, we stood in that run-of-the-mill shop surrounded by weekend bargain hunters, and in hushed tones discussed purchasing what seemed like an ordinary item for kink purposes. I’d like to say that I was blushing less this time round, but I really wasn’t. It was only my eye for a bargain that stopped me fleeing back to admire the snorkelling gear. What surprised us
both was that not only were the crops identical to the ones we had seen online and in sex shops – obviously some supplier had two very different types of customer – but they were about a quarter of the price. You accept that you generally have to pay over the odds for sex toys and equipment, for well-made stuff it’s just a kink tax that has to be endured. However, this was like finding the ultimate sex toy discount and we selected a lovely looking crop that had a price tag of something ridiculous like £4.

My ears were hot by the time he picked it up off the rack but I was actually almost as excited as him at such a bargain. Well, that and also the fact that this was a pretty good sign we were going to head home for an afternoon of lovely, endorphin-heavy fun.

We were about to walk away when Adam stopped, eyes wide. I wasn’t sure that this was a good sign, especially when I saw what he was looking at. I couldn’t swallow my gasp. The sign said ‘dressage whip’ and it was about 30 inches in length, not dissimilar to the crop in many ways but much longer and thinner. About three quarters of the way up the shaft the strong but flexible core seemed to come to an end but the material carried on, hanging limply from the end like a thick shoelace.

I knew with certainty that it would hurt. A lot. I stared at it, wondering what the marks would look like, how long they would last. It was in his hands in a moment and as he flexed it, trying the weight, his eyes narrowing as he thought about how it would swing, I won’t deny that it fascinated me too. Not that I necessarily wanted him to buy it. But, of course, he did – it was a new toy for him to play with. I would have called his excitable face at his
second bargain of the day ‘cute’ – if I didn’t know how he planned to play with the toy when we got home.

Almost as soon as we got back to our flat, he was fishing around in one of his many well-organised boxes of toys. It didn’t take him long to find his flogger, which had a weighty black leather handle with many thick, almost suede-like tails coming from the end. It was something that he could stroke over my body, causing me to break out in goosebumps, or strike heavy blows and bring up welts with. In spite of that, OK
because of that
, I loved it.

The flogger, crop and whip were laid out in the living room and I almost dared to hope he was just obsessively organising his collection rather than planning something. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, use all three in one go, could he? Ah, who was I kidding with my wide-eyed optimism?

Once he’d laid them out as he wanted, he noticed me watching and smiled. He grabbed hold of me and started to kiss me, his arms snaking around my back, pulling me close. I melted into him, forgetting the slightly worrying pile on the coffee table and just focusing on his embrace.

His hands didn’t stay where they were for long. At first he was stroking my back and then he grabbed my top and pulled it up, breaking our kiss for just a moment as he lifted it over my head.

Next my bra was unfastened and within moments my jeans and knickers were round my ankles. We shared a laugh as we continued to kiss – he really had become quite adept at making me naked very quickly.

He stood back so I could shed my now-useless clothing, and once again he was fully dressed and I didn’t have a stitch on. He made me stand with my legs shoulder-width
apart and my hands behind my head, fingers interlocked. He made me wait, and I enjoyed the building nerves as I watched him, trying to figure out what I needed to prepare myself for. Then he picked up the flogger, and I bit back a smile, knowing he was saving his new toys in the same way he saved his roast potatoes during Sunday lunch, because they were his favourite bit and thus should – in his world – be eaten last.

He stroked the tails of the flogger up and down my body, making my breasts tingle and my nipples harden. He then stood behind me and did the same to my back and legs, making me struggle not to shake a little with nerves.

But then he stopped stroking and started swinging. Not hard at first, in fact it was barely noticeable, but as the minutes passed the flogger was definitely moving further away from my body and being swung back harder onto it. It still felt nice, but gradually the strikes became more and more intense. He was warming me up. It was working.

Eventually I was feeling real impact on my arse and thighs. It still wasn’t what I’d call painful but as he swung his arm and the strands of the flogger hit me together it felt like a solid thud rather than a number of different tails stinging me.

The blows got harder and harder, until I was wincing with the impact every time he hit my arse. He then started to move round my body, striking all round my legs, stomach and breasts as I grimaced. He varied from swinging his arm as though he was wielding a tennis racquet to turning his wrist in circles so that he was suddenly hitting
me with just the tips of the suede tails rather than the full length. Each variation was a different sensation to experience and endure.