Enchanted Again (17 page)

“Perhaps I should give you more time to think about it,” Bill suggested, perceiving her uncertainty. “It is extremely important that you realize what you will be getting into. You have to be in full agreement about this from the very beginning.”

“Putting aside the punishment part of it—assuming I behave myself—” she blushed when she said this “—in other respects, when you say you will dominate me, what do you mean exactly?” she asked.

“My decisions in our relationship will be final. I will use force when necessary. That doesn’t mean I expect you to simply ‘obey’ me without a fight. I expect you to fight. I would enjoy the fight in fact. But I will not patronize you. You will lose.”

She felt a titillating thrill so powerful that she shuddered when she heard these words from him. She seemed to recall wishing once that she could find a man who wouldn’t cower from the sight of an angry woman. Men had always found her intimidating. She wondered how Bill would handle her at her most extreme moments.

Bill paid the waiter with a self-assured ease that Marcie was all at once admiring and envious of. He was fully composed while she was aching with desire for him. In that instant she knew that she would be going home with him for that night at the very least, whatever the consequences.

“I don’t need more time to think about it,” she announced boldly.

Bill took her hand in his and led her out of the restaurant. They drove to his house in silence, a comfortable silence where both sat thinking their own individual thoughts. Marcie trembled in anticipation of what was to come. She had never participated in any sexual activities that deviated from the norm. She had never been tied up, or spanked, for example, although she had read about such things, and they always left her fascinated and aroused. Yet she knew that she would never be the one to suggest them. Even to acquiesce had been terribly difficult and embarrassing. She stole a glance at Bill and he smiled, reaching over to take her hand firmly into his.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she replied, looking away. He gently squeezed her hand.

“Good,” he said. “Because we’re here.”

Bill’s house was just as Marcie would have imagined it. Straight, masculine lines formed rooms that were bathed in hushed brown hues that clashed delightfully with the spatter of cold, steel-gray accessories that were spread throughout. All was in perfect order and exceedingly clean. The stark surroundings were made considerably more bearable by the disorderly encroachment of overgrowth that flowed out from the tropical plants that were placed about everywhere.

“It needs a woman’s touch,” Bill admitted when she only stared all around her in silence. She had been thinking how intimidatingly perfect it already was.

“Would you like a tour?” he asked her.

Marcie followed Bill around his large house, noticing that he saved the bedroom for last. She shuddered suddenly as she stepped over the threshold into that room, thinking perhaps to find items of bondage within, and was even mildly disappointed to find nothing at all out of the ordinary in sight.

Bill approached her straightaway, taking her face in his hands and tipping her head back slightly for his impending kiss. His tongue penetrated her mouth with authority as his hands moved persuasively through her hair. Marcie had the comforting awareness that she was not expected to perform or impress or put forth any effort at all. Quite the contrary, she had only to allow Bill to take matters in hand and see to it that they both were fulfilled. She wasn’t certain how she knew this, but that didn’t matter. The feeling didn’t appear to require substantiation in order to provide the incredible sense of bliss and well-being that came along with it. The feeling persisted and grew as Bill’s caress meandered lower to glide along her shoulders and back, deftly finding the zipper to her dress and effortlessly easing it open. It was as if all the self-consciousness and pressure of the event were being stripped away from Marcie’s body along with her clothing. All that remained was a feverish anticipation for what was to come and a genuine sense of freedom to experience it in absolute contentment.

When she was completely naked Bill lifted her into his arms and placed her onto the bed. He stood over her, drinking in the sight of her, while he removed his own clothing. She lay trembling before him, instinctively knowing not to cover any part of herself with her hands, or in any way try to hide herself from his gaze. He took his time undressing, and the possessive aspect with which he perused her naked body made her gasp. When he pulled off his pants she saw that he was fully aroused.

Bill joined Marcie on the bed, immediately capturing her lips in a passionate but exceedingly tender kiss. She was somewhat distracted and even mildly dismayed that there didn’t appear to be any dominating or punishing forthcoming—for her curiosity had been peaked by his disclosure in the restaurant—but these thoughts were quickly being diminished by the overpoweringly gentle seduction of his kiss. She was once again enthralled by the self-assured yet considerate manner that originally captured her heart. Bill’s confidence and strength seemed to become more pronounced with his mild handling of her. His earlier words were nearly forgotten but not entirely, for there were little reminders that thrilled her imagination and left her wondering. There was a conviction and determination in nearly everything he did, from the way he held her hands so carefully in his that she barely registered that she was actually being restrained in his iron grip, to the way his fingers gently titillated her tender labia while surreptitiously prying them apart. Slowly and methodically, his will became her own.

Marcie could do little more than cling to Bill as he skillfully and persuasively mastered her body. He took his time discovering all the little nuances of pleasuring her, gauging not only the places she liked best to be touched, but also the intensity and pressure that she preferred as well. Marcie lay back in a kind of delirious stupor, thoroughly captivated by Bill’s seductive efforts on her behalf. He used his fingers, and then his lips and tongue, to lure her into a state of utter arousal. Once he had her fully impassioned, he let his tongue roam leisurely over her clitoris, again and again; pattering and prodding it until she felt the molten waves of exquisite pleasure roll over her. She cried out in stunned surprise.

Once this first passion had passed, Marcie lay dazed and pliant as Bill moved up over her and lovingly took her into his embrace. Forgotten for the moment were all thoughts of dominance as Marcie’s body melted around him. He made love to her with such thoughtfulness and consideration that it was impossible to imagine him any other way. Marcie fell in love with him all over again.

And for the first few weeks of their being intimate together, Marcie could not imagine anything more wonderful than being with Bill. He was attentive, loving, kind and caring. He spared no expense to indulge her every whim. There were no disputes. How could there be when everything was exactly as she wished it? They talked for hours without end, and still he wanted to know more about her. He seemed to really understand her, continually amazing her with his insight. He cared for her better than she cared for herself. He accepted her. There was no part of her that he did not embrace.

One of the things that impressed Marcie most about Bill through this period of intense intimacy was that he always approached every matter that was set before him with integrity. He was a man who stood up for what he believed in. It was not just his integrity in and of itself but the way in which he fulfilled it. He was thoughtful, firm and inexorable, acting with such strength and grace that it enchanted Marcie to observe him. Even more importantly it cemented her trust in him. He was not pushy or arrogant, but loving and kind. Had he been less loving, perhaps his gentle authority would have seemed more interfering and dominating. But if he in fact dominated her, she was not aware of it, except perhaps in the bedroom. He was becoming a more demanding lover, but she adored the attention, and so far it worked out in her favor, causing her to feel desired and needed, and making her ego soar.

But even as they grew closer, Marcie became increasingly overwhelmed by the sheer impressiveness of Bill, and over time a subtle voice began presenting doubts to her mind, intent on sabotage. Joined with this was a mild resentment of his unwavering self-assuredness throughout her own self-doubt and inner conflicts. She began seeking something that could transform her fears and insecurities from mere conjecture to reality.

One day, in this kind of a mood, Marcie wandered up into Bill’s attic and began sifting through boxes, yielding at last to her accumulating suspicions and doubts. The more commonplace the items she found there, the more she felt—rather than relief—frustration. She scanned the items that marked Bill’s former life contemptuously, certain that they must be concealing something she had a right to know about.

At last her eyes fell upon a clump of letters that were held together by an elastic band. She pulled one out and began to read it. After that another one followed, and then another. She was not surprised to find that they were love letters. They appeared to be remnants of a long-distance relationship from the past. They were all addressed to Bill and sent by the same woman. Marcie tried to glean what Bill’s feelings had been for the woman by the inferences she made in her letters. She wondered why Bill kept the letters. Did this woman still mean something to him? More questions and doubts assailed her thoughts. She felt intense jealousy for the woman and fumed over the deductions she was making from what the woman had written.

By the time Bill returned home to her that night, Marcie was fuming with righteous indignation. All her insecurities and doubts had found an outlet through her anger. Even so, she knew she could hardly accuse him for something that had happened in the past—especially something she had no right to know about. This, too, irritated her; the fact that she must suffer with her new knowledge silently, knowing all the while that he was clinging to the memory of a woman from his past—this was one of the deductions she had made.

Bill noticed her mood instantly, although she was attempting to remain aloof. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, ignoring her attempts to move away from him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, holding her close and examining her face.

Bill’s nearness was not conducive to Marcie’s bad mood, but she couldn’t extricate herself from his embrace without being openly hostile, so she turned her head casually and said the mysteriously magic word that had always worked wonders for her in the past. “Nothing.”

But Bill refused to take the bait, holding her fast. “I asked you what was wrong and I would like an answer,” he said matter-of-factly.

Marcie bristled. “And
I
said there was nothing wrong!”

“Okay, I’ll take you at your word,” he said good-naturedly. “So this is just a bad mood then?” He continued to hold her and meanwhile kept looking at her, searching her expression for the answer he sought.

“How dare you!” His reasonableness was antagonizing.

“I dare because you’re clearly upset while insisting that there’s nothing wrong. I can only assume from that behavior that you’re in a bad mood. Is it or is it not the case?”

Marcie was becoming frustrated. This was not going the way she expected it to. She reminded herself that she was the one who was injured and tried to regain control of the situation.

“Am I a machine that has to smile all the time?”

“Not at all,” he said. “If you’re in a bad mood just say so. But I’m getting the distinct impression that you’re upset about something. If you’re upset, and especially if it’s with me, that gets me involved and puts the ball in my court.”

Marcie was becoming even more frustrated. She had never met the man who would not retreat guiltily in the face of an outraged woman, effectively surrendering under the confusion of it all and graciously granting her the advantage she sought. Her anger continued to escalate, even as her respect for him increased—or perhaps it was
because
her respect for him had increased. She once again felt the disturbing mixture of admiration and envy amongst the many other emotions.

“You’re so full of yourself!” she erupted, raising her voice. “Everything has to be about you.”

He laughed at that. “Last chance to tell me if there is something bothering you,” he said, remaining fully self-composed and utterly unperturbed by her outburst.

“Go to hell.”

In the next instant Bill picked her up and, before she was even aware of what was happening, he had slung her over his shoulder. Outraged, she kicked and screamed and jerked about wildly, trying desperately to get him to put her down. He laughed once again at her outburst, holding her tightly so that she could neither hurt him nor escape. He carried her into the bedroom and placed her carefully down on the bed. Then he got into the bed and climbed on top of her, gently restraining her. He was still amused by her struggles, chuckling softly as he easily subdued her. His indulgent reaction and patient resolve seemed to encourage her to fully let loose with all the pent-up aggression she didn’t even know she possessed. She thrashed about vehemently, really trying to hurt him in her fury. But Bill controlled her effortlessly. Having captured her flailing arms, he held them firmly together, above her head, with one of his hands.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said in a maddeningly calm voice. His unruffled composure, more than his words, inflamed her even more, and she thrashed about on the bed even more violently than before; but to no avail. Bill held her fast and there wasn’t anything she could do about it. “Easy now,” he said in a tone one might use with a wild animal. He waited until her energies were spent and her fighting stopped.

“Let go of me,” she then demanded.

“Not yet,” he said.

To Marcie’s dismay she began to cry. “Please let go of me!”

“I haven’t gotten you figured out yet,” he said contemplatively. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but I intend to get to the bottom of it.” Marcie was alarmed by his words. Meanwhile her skirt had risen up during her struggles and Bill was slipping his free hand up her thigh. He wiggled a few fingers inside the leg band of her panties. “What’s this?” he asked her, smiling, when he discovered that she was wet. Marcie was more surprised than he was by this discovery. Bill continued to stroke her for a moment but then, to her dismay, he took his hand away to quickly remove his tie. He then used the tie to secure her hands, which he had kept hold of the entire time with his other hand, to the bed.