Chapter 33
Simmons
After us both upgrading our memberships to unlimited, Freddie and I set a pace I didn’t think was possible.
Once a week turned into three times a week when Freddie wasn’t travelling for work.
Burt and Arnie welcomed us both to the club, pleased to see me back in my element in a place that used to bring me so much joy.
Freddie being the sole cause of it, and I can’t and won’t deny it.
There was so much fun in the room when we had scenes.
Even his full bratty form has me anticipating amazing sex.
His first encounter with the aftercare didn’t deter him from how nurturing and caring I needed to be after the rough and fast sex.
It had been two months since that first night, and something I noticed after the first few times is that Freddie loved being caged. It was like an anchor for him. Except for the hand job I gave him at the expo, I had yet to touch his cock.
It was a shame, too, and I’ve yet to see it fully hard or even bared to me soft.
I’m pretty sure he’s caging himself during daylight hours too and not just for the sexual factor.
Torn between wanting to ask and knowing it isn’t really my business, I still want to know for the curiosity alone.
Why does he do it? For how long at a time?
There was also the question of whether he even masturbated in the traditional sense.
With the amount of cum that shoots from him in a scene, I’m confident the answer is no. I felt powerful with that knowledge, that I owned his orgasms, his pleasure. That not even the man who owned his own body could cum if I wasn’t present.
With other subs, there was never much of a care for power over orgasms unless they wanted it. I never enforced it as it wasn’t a part of my being as a Dom, but with Freddie, it’s clear that the cage symbolises more than just orgasm denial.
With a brief chat last night, we are both on the same page about monogamy within the D/s contract. Sharing is something I have always been okay with. When separating sex from connection as a life partner, it makes it an enjoyable experience for everyone involved.
Although Freddie claims he has never shared or been shared, he was more than honest with his fantasies of me watching him writhe against another sub, entangled and free to explore.
That had me rock solid at just the thought.
Would my little latex slut enjoy being fucked by another sub?
Or would he want to be given the chance to prove himself worthy first with his hot, full-lipped mouth.
Shaking the thoughts away despite them already going too far and leaving me hot and bothered as I work from my office, I’m glad to be working from home today.
I try to concentrate on anything other than my bratty sub.
These days, though, I drift to our first encounters.
The airport, the interview. How many missed chances we had.
Back then, I believed the universe was sending me the perfect gift I had begged for during lonely nights.
Why did he have to be Scottish? As hot as his accent was and the way he cursed, being both scary and adorable, he wasn’t going to stay here forever.
Not for a job, and definitely not for a middle aged professor.
Pretty soon he would go home to his family and find a nice guy to marry who had the same roots.
They’d have a tartan wedding with tartan cakes and a tartan-themed honeymoon.
Okay, I was being ridiculous, but it was as if life itself was shafting me by making the one man I wanted unattainable.
I had to get this idea out of my head that there was some way to keep him. To wake up every day to his cheeky smile. His natural sugary scent and quick-wittedness. There wouldn’t be any lazy sunny Sundays where he placed his head in my lap and we listened to music in my library.
No drinks with friends who were sometimes lovers.
No bratty tricks that would have me more amused than angry.
And definitely no happy ever after. As I sink further out of work mode and into self-pity, the doorbell rings.
Pushing away from my computer, which is now asleep anyway, I pad through the narrow hall.
The front door has a stained-glass window that takes up half the size of the door. From here I can see someone dressed up holding a large box. Shit. Praying that Arnie hasn’t sent me a singing telegram for my birthday, I sigh, resigned to what is on the other side, and pull open the heavy door.