A/N: All things Twilight belong to Stephenie Meyer.
HUGE thanks to those who pre-read and offered their suggestions: maryxweather, BellaScotia, Sadtomato and sydneytwilightmum.
This is my first Fan Fiction, so yeah... It's pretty much all lemon, pith and rind...
The sound of the phone ringing jolted me awake at, according to the clock on the DVR box, 6:44am. Edward had left for work just over an hour ago, so I grabbed the cordless from its base, hoping the car hadn't broken down.
"Hello?" I answered, with my most 'of course I'm awake' voice. I have set a goal for myself to haul my tush out of bed when He leaves at 5am and use the time to my benefit. My goal has yet to be achieved.
"Will you be coming home for lunch? Do you have any meetings?" He asks.
"Ah, I don't usually come home for lunch. Did you want me to?"
"OK, I'll check my calendar and let you know."
I placed the phone back on its charger and drag myself out of bed. Time to start a new day.
I stopped to get gas on my way to work. As I maneuvered the truck to line up with the pump, a horrid scraping noise emits from the front left tire. Fantastic, the breaks are grinding. All of the men around me who are getting gas give me a knowing look. I hate it when I appear to be a clueless female. This car had made no indication there was a problem. I try to call Edward to tell him the news, but He isn't answering. He must be busy already. I let out a sigh, pay for my gas and head to work.
The moment I arrive there are over a hundred e-mails in my mailbox. I cannot believe how many of these people appear to literally work through the entire night. I e-mail Edward to remind Him of several things we need to deal with around the house and add a note about the brakes.
My morning has gone well, aside from the typical corporate bureaucracy I deal with every day. After a few meetings, I've tackled about half of my e-mails and had three hallway conversations. As I am chatting with my cube-door neighbor, I hear his familiar Ringtone, "Take Me Beyond Love" by The The. I pull my phone from my pocket and tell my co-worker I need to take the call. I walk away as I swipe the answer image on the touch pad of my device.
"Hi!" I start. The smile crawls across my face as duck into a private office. It's best to keep my conversation private, instead of sharing my personal business in the cube farm where I spend my days. I hear the latch snap as I close the door and peek out of the little window in the door.
"When will you be home for lunch?"
"I have meetings until 11.30"
"I will need to leave by then, but only for about an hour. Can you take a later lunch?"
"No, I'm booked solid."
"So, you are only free from 11.30 to noon."
"No, 11.30 to 1pm."
"OK, I'll make that work."
Geez, what is He so hyped about?
At about quarter to 11, I realize that I can head home. My 10am conference call took less time than expected. I grab my keys, wallet, phone and badge, making my way to the stairs and out into the humid September midday. It really isn't very hot out today, but the humidity seeps into every pore, forcing you to drink in the heavy moisture with each breath. Everything is damp, including my jeans, hair and top. Yuck. I stop before crossing the executive building driveway, noticing a limo pulling down the lane. I barely register the driver through the tinted windows. He motions for me to go ahead. I wave and make my way to the parking garage.
I hop into my truck and it dawns on me that I should notify Edward that I am heading home earlier than expected. I grab my phone and hit the speed dial for our house number. He answers, with a very clear smile on his face. He sounds unusually relaxed. I am drawn to the dark honey resonance of his voice. He has a great voice. I can imagine Him making a ton of money as a male phone sex operator. Unfortunately, I don't think He would get as many female clients as male.
"My call ended early, I am on my way now." I say. I can hear the satisfaction in his voice. "Good, that will give us more time." We chat about a few idle things and I hang up, focusing back on my driving.
I arrive home and push the code into our electronic door lock. Making my way through the garage, I start to wonder what He has planned. He does all of the cooking, so maybe He just thought we needed a meal together before He starts his two overnight shifts this evening. I catalog my favorite dishes from everything He has made for me over the years. I wonder what He would choose for lunch.
I enter the house through the basement door which is connected to the garage. I glance down and shake my head in frustration at the damaged carpet. My ditzy mother and alcoholic step-father lived down here for a few months several years ago. We used to have a well laid out basement family room/man cave. Now, it is really a reminder of that ugly time in our relationship. Having to kick your mother and dead-beat step-father out of your home can cause a mountain of anxiety. I've been on antidepressants ever since.
I look to the top of the stairs. I find Edward standing there in a clean, white towel. Well, this looks promising. I lower my eyes to watch my feet ascend the rest of the flight. He opens his arms to me and I remove my glasses in anticipation of his Dom hug. At least I HOPE that is the type of hug He has waiting for me.
He pulls me very close, placing my right ear directly over his heart. The steady thumping is soothing. Ah, yes, this IS the Dom hug. I relax into the rhythm of his heart and allow some of the tension to release from my shoulders. "How has your day been so far?" He asks.
"Did you get my e-mail?" I reply.
"Something is wrong with the brakes."
I recap my discovery. He pulls me closer for one more, strong hug and motions toward the bedroom.
"Take off your clothes." He directs. The rush drops from my head to my heart to my girlie bits. FUCK YES!
I completely disrobe. "May I use the rest room, please?" I ask.
He nods and steps out of the bedroom while I take care of myself. I am anticipating a short session. We haven't had one in a few weeks. The last one we had was a five hour marathon. This one should be quick and welcome, due to the time we have available. We both need the stress release.
I hear Him return to the bedroom the moment I flush. I take a quick look in the mirror, take a deep breath and head out. He is waiting just outside the door, taking my hands in his. He holds them strongly and stiffly almost as if He is trying to force me to lower to the ground. That isn't what He is doing though. He is reminding me of my submission to Him. I lower my eyes so that I am looking directly at his chest. I note a line of my eyeliner across his left pectoral muscle, to the right and just above his nipple. I lick my thumb and rub off the offending splotch. I gaze back down to his feet.
"You are mine, Isabella. Do you submit to me?" His reminder is firm, but almost a whisper.
"Yes, Master, I submit to you." I breathe out.
He releases my hands and adjusts my position until I am up against the bed. The fronts of my thighs are flush against the quilt. He gently pushes my torso forward, forcing me to lie bent over the side of the bed. My belly and breasts pressed into the mattress, my hands under my head, my face turned towards the foot of the bed. I close my eyes, preparing for what is to come, but trying not to think too much about it.
I feel my breathing change immediately. This could go one of two ways. He's been working on anal training, a LOT, lately because it is something I am uncomfortable with, but not a hard limit. I've done the back door thing with Him before, but He is taking it to several new levels.
We have tried to communicate hard and soft limits, updating our thresholds as our relationship and marriage evolve. A hard limit is something that one or both of us simply cannot handle. One of mine is gunplay. The idea of someone "pretending" to hold me at gunpoint is not in the least bit arousing. One of is his "switching", which is switching roles. I cannot imagine dominating him as my sub. I guess that one is a hard limit for both of us.
The other possibility for today is a simple flogging. Since He did some anal training over the weekend, I anticipate the awkward pleasure of it, but am pretty sure He is done with that for this week. My mental musings are broken by the feel of his palm at the base of my neck. He gently brushes my hair away from my nape and over my right shoulder, so my face is visible to Him.
"Relax, Isabella" He says, running his fingertips down my spine to the top of my ass. I feel myself shudder and allow as much tension as possible to drain out of me and into the mattress. My mind reminds me: There is nothing to be afraid of here. Time to close it all off. I feel a little smile tug at my lips. This is going to be good.
I close my eyes and allow my ears to do all of the work. He is in his closet, the holder of all the special toys. I am intimately familiar with the space. Several nails are impaled along the inside facing wall. Hanging on those nails are the implements of his pleasure. Among them, a horsehair flogger, a leather riding crop and a leather strap. Listening as closely as possible, I cannot effectively determine his choice for this experience. As He moves closer to me, I hear nothing, indicating He has chosen something solid, like the crop or paddle. I wait.
I hear Him position himself just behind me, the implement in his hands. My breathing is even and steady, preparing for whatever he has planned. Without warning, the leather paddle slaps my backside. FUCK, yes! As always, He knows exactly what I need. He invades my space, laying himself over my back. I can feel his breath right next to my ear.
"You need this".
I sigh. "Yes, Master, I do."
"So do I." He acknowledges. "What are you colors, Isabella?"
"Red, yellow and green, Master." I immediately reply. Green was added more recently, as I became more accustomed to the toys.
"Good girl." He responds, lifting himself back to a standing position. I sigh at the loss of contact and warmth from his body lying over mine.
The paddle strikes me over and over, never in the same spot twice. Within 3 strokes, I feel the hot, salty liquid forming in the corner of my eye. Two strokes later, a tear drops to the quilt. The tears are blissful, cleansing and necessary. As my mascara stains the quilt, the edge of my lip curls into a grin. Oh, Edward, what you do to me.
He tires of the paddle, and I hear Him move about the room, back to the closet. Still, I cannot decipher any identifying sounds. I keep my eyes closed, because the anticipation and fear of the unknown are part of the thrill. There is a very faint swishing sound, and it moves closer to my backside, along with his footfalls.
Whap! I feel the first stroke of the rabbit and leather flogger. The sound of the leather and fur fills the room as it meet with my already inflamed ass. I love this toy. The pain is accompanied with the litheness of the rabbit fur. The fur is supple, where the leather is merciless. Each stroke is a myriad of textures, all working to undo me. My cheek sinks deeper into the quilt. I adjust my face, lying into a cooler spot on the bed. I take deep cleansing yoga breaths. Of any decision I have my in my adult life, taking up Yoga has got to be at the top of the list. The focus required to achieve and maintain proper positions have helped me through child-birth, anxiety attacks and intense sessions with my Dom.
Edward appears to again grow tired of the current implement. I hear Him move around the bed and back to his closet. The swishing noise I can hear is different this time. My ears are on high alert, as I am nearly certain the horsehair flogger is about to make contact. I have had an unexpected love/hate relationship with this toy. When it arrived, I was intrigued by the way it looked and how it might feel against my ass. We played with it a lot before we really knew how to use it. Edward loved it. I think He liked the way the hair looked. It really looks like a long, beautiful horse tail, or maybe even resembles a mane. The hairs are indescribably thick, nothing at all like human hair, nothing at all like my hair, which is very thin and soft, but still very long and dark rich brown.
This toy is usually used after warm up. It feels better that way, but since my skin is already inflamed from Edward's preparations, sometimes the coarse hairs break off at the tip to embed in my skin. It's a tiny price to pay to make my Master happy and proud of me. I just need to remember to inspect myself before donning a swimsuit, or shorts for the gym. He takes long sweeping passes over my lower back, behind and upper thighs. My thoughts are slipping away. I can feel the soft, fuzzy darkness curling in from the edges of my mind.
It is a strange kind of high. Though I have experienced both pharmaceutical and illicit highs in my life, the euphoria of sub space is different. It is a peaceful ecstasy that takes over my entire being. I fade into my support, sinking and focused on holding my position. It is beautiful and simple. I was not sure what was happening the first time. It felt as though I might be careening into a panic attack or preparing to pass out cold. I allowed it to happen, knowing He would help me, bring me back to earth. He would never let me leave without working to keep me tethered.
His passes move inward minutely. The tips of the hairs are striking the insides of my thighs, wrapping around almost to the front. Ever third pass, a few wisps graze my clit. I feel it swell and pulse in reaction. Before I can stop myself, the ninth pass nicks me just right and I am thrust over the edge into my first orgasm. I am in a place of serenity and darkness with flashes of bright orange and vivid yellow. I've been describing my intense orgasms to him for years, always with colors. I have to be careful and ensure I am properly communicating the color He expects. It would do me no good to describe an orgasm as "red" and end up stopping our play!
As He softens the blows, each one is completed with a soft stroke of his callused hands. He works so hard during the day, his hands take a beating. I love to feel his rough, hard skin tracing over mine. His palm slides gently over my ass cheeks, his fingers cupping the flesh and reaching between my thighs. With each pass He journeys lower, dipping into the satiny folds of my wet sex. The fluid is abundant, starting to trickle down my inner thigh. My sanity is tested. I can feel another powerful orgasm building. He loves and usually demands I complete my orgasms. However, I don't think he has detected how close I am this time.
My breathing deepens, and he pushes three fingers deep inside my pussy. His skilled and knowledgeable fingertips find my g-spot and push me over for another orgasm. I am tired, so the colors are less intense. A hot shot of white shoots across my vision. He very slowly massages and withdraws, a little at a time. G-spot orgasms are nearly painful for me when they are completing. It is almost as if the spongy area is trying to absorb Him and protests in pain when He has to pull back out.
It seems He has had his fill of my flogging. I hear Him drop the flogger to the floor. It falls with a unique swoosh, and then a thump, as the hair pools and the handle lands on top of the heap. I feel a gentle, but firm tug at my waist, indicating I am to rise up from my position on the bed. I follow his silent direction and straighten. I am immediately curled around and smoothly shoved back, so that my bottom is upon the mattress. He crawls over me, coaxing me back, but keeping me underneath Him.
I acquiesce, relishing in the feel of his weight over me. He hovers, ensuring I am comfortable, safe and submitting. His eyes probe mine, He is seeking my position. He needs to understand where I am and how I am feeling. My eyelids lower to half-mast, betraying my lust and need for his attention. It seems this is enough for Him. My vocal cords are able to emit little more than grunts and squeaks. I feel his torso descend from over my chest to between my thighs. Sub space is a great place to visit, but nothing compares to full realization of being savored by Him.
Rather unexpectedly, He shifts my body, pushing me towards the head of the bed. The bed has four wooden posts that meet and support a wooden canopy. The edge of the headboard is thin, but works effectively if I rest my ass just on the edge of it. Paying close attention to His non-verbal cues, I adjust my position, aligning myself against the wall and atop the headboard. I feel uncomfortable in this position over Him, but He has requested my compliance, so He shall receive it.
He pushes my knees apart, as far as they will go. My outer calves are resting flush against the head board. I tilt my head back, allowing it to rest gently against the image framed above our bed. It is a stipple swan, ducking its head regally, as if preparing to preen or dive for a treat. My eyes close of their own volition. The angle of my neck allows me to take long, slow, calming breaths. As I inhale, I feel his exhale, right at my core. I am as open for Him as possible. My pussy is ready and glistening, waiting for his attention. I am so happy I remembered to shave this morning.
His tongue begins its deliberate journey by taking one, long, slow, velvety lick from my perineum to my clit. His slow, intense, calculated movement is maddening and exquisite at the same time. I feel every inch of his talented tongue tasting what I have to offer. My legs quiver as I try to keep them still.
The very tip of his tongue peeks out and touches my clit. Not right at the head of it, but just below it, in the folds. He is savoring me. He tastes me. He is killing me. His brilliant tongue flicks up and down, up and down at an indescribably slow and flitting pace. I feel as though some tiny entity is tickling me, but I know it is the work of the man of my dreams. He knows what I want, what I need, what I love. My thighs tremble with the exertion of keeping as still as possible. I am not certain whether an orgasm is allowed just yet.
All too soon, I feel the twisting and burning begin in my lower stomach; the area ready to convulse. He gently brings the tip of his finger to my opening, slipping into the scorching wetness, but only up to his first knuckle. The sensation throws me completely over the edge. I cannot speak, cannot see, cannot hear. My throat emits nonsense, sounds that mean nothing to anyone but Him. He knows my sounds. He knows what He is doing to me, what He has accomplished.
He sweeps the broad mass of his tongue from my ass to my clit, tasting the full production of my powerful orgasm. I struggle to keep my arms taut, holding me in place on the edge of the headboard. He has moved away, his breathing no longer evident on my pussy lips. My heart is racing. My hips thrust forward involuntarily, not ready for more, but trying to find some friction. My head lolls forward on my neck, my chin resting in the hollow between my collar bones.
I am exhausted, but not finished. I feel his strong hands on either side of my waist, guiding me from my perch, back onto the bed. My legs are like jell-o. I slide down, careful not to scrape my spine along the headboard. He urges me to the edge of the bed, pulling me to lie on my side. I am like putty in his hands, my body trusting and moving to the exact position He requires.
My eyes are closed and I am coming down from my high. As my breathing recovers, I feel the velvety warm tip of his cock touch my lips. My mouth curls up into an unconscious smile. I peek my tongue out and taste Him, pulling the salty, thick pre-cum from the tip. My tongue swirls the liquid, as if it were pulling the silk out of a spider's spinneret. His hand finds my hair, digging his fingers into the brown mass, twisting his wrist to get a good hold. I open my mouth to Him, and allow Him to guide my head to the pace and movement He desires.
My lips are gently rolled over my teeth, ensuring to protect his silk covered stone cock. In and out He plays, twisting himself and my head to get the friction He requires. It is difficult, but not impossible for Him to climax this way. However, I know this isn't his plan today. He is getting himself ready. He loves my mouth; we've decided to get my tongue pierced. I suppose we will do it around my birthday this year.
As I continue my oral ministrations, his fingers find their way to my throbbing pussy. Massaging my clit, and then entering my cunt. I am over-stimulated by the attention to my clit, he finally enters my cunt. I lose control. My teeth are soft, but teasing on his cock. I am biting less than I am sucking, pulling his essence into my mouth. I taste him as he swirls his fingers in my arousal. I smell something tangy, hot and salty near my mouth. He is rubbing my arousal around the shaft of his cock. I am undone. Another orgasm rips through me as I taste myself on his warm, silky, rock hard cock. I am nearly to the point of losing consciousness as I work to recover from the explosion.
He pulls me back from his cock, my tongue darts out for one last taste. I feel the sharp smack of his hand on my ass. My action was not requested, but no less appreciated. He is reminding me to do as I am told, not as I desire.
Again, I feel his hands at my waist, lifting and centering me on the bed. I am positioned across it side to side – He positions my knees up, placing my feet flat, and moving his body over mine. I close my eyes, relishing the feel of his weight hovering over me. He leans down, placing his weight on his elbows. I feel Him tilt his face towards me and kiss my neck, my chin, my forehead, and finally, my lips. His tongue peeks out, demanding entrance to greet mine. Of course I comply. I open my mouth to my Master, I am his to take and to taste. His body urges mine to move up a bit more. As I do so, He lifts my knees and places his cock at the entrance of my pussy. My head arches back in blissful anticipation.
He pushes in with one powerful thrust. I feel, more than hear, Him grunt from the effort. I hiss out my approval, delighting in the feel of Him inside of me. I look up at the beautiful man who owns me, body, heart and soul. He pushes himself up, staying firmly seated inside of me and grabs my ankles.
I nearly climaxed as I realize what He is doing. He crosses my ankles in front of his chest, effectively rendering me cross legged below Him. The sensation this position gives me is without words. In the all years I have been having sex, nothing has or will ever compare to this find. The depth this position allows Him to reach. .God. It's beyond description.
"Put your hands behind your back." He commands, his voice is gruff and controlling. I look up at Him. He is hovering over me, daring me to challenge Him. I immediately move my arms back, securing my hands within the small arch of my back. My wrists are crossed; my fingernails are pressed against the swell of my ass.
With each thrust, He is deeper inside of me. His pelvis is resting flush against mine. He is so close to me, so deep inside of me. My trust and love have no bounds. He could rip me in two. I would still have nothing but respect, punctuated with a face splitting smile upon my face.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck", the word leaves my lips before I can control myself. He tenses minutely, "What have I told you about your language?" He warns, thrusting deeper, but lifting his weight from my legs.
"I'm sorry Master", I breathe. He knows I cannot offer more than this insignificant apology at the moment. I may suffer the consequences later.
"Unf!" I grunt incomprehensible sounds. I can hear my breathing, my moaning. He is frustratingly silent. Always so silent when we are like this. He watches, listens, feels. I am unable to exercise such control. I need to vocally release the pressure He is exerting on me. "Whatever you are hitting feels SO good!" I intone, "Please don't stop." My arms are getting sore in this position, but I surrender myself deeper into sub space. Nothing will stop what is happening now. This is our time.
I feel his body tense; He pushes as deep as possible one more time. With a shudder, I feel his release warm my body. He thrusts, one, two, three more times. His head bows forward. He releases his weight to press upon me. My arms are still trapped behind my back. I want to comfort Him, but his body prohibits my movement. I rest, waiting, taking shallow breaths as He recovers.
He pulls out and I immediately miss feeling Him inside of me. I stretch my back as I turn myself, aligning with the edge of the bed. I reach into the side table for a clean cloth. He is sitting back on his knees, catching his breath as I lean over to clean Him. His seed is still spilling from his tip. I resist the urge to lick it.
He unexpectedly hops in the shower as I clean up and get dressed. He makes quick work of rinsing off, and I leave the room so He can get dressed.
Lunch is already prepared, a fantastic take out tray from our favorite sushi bar. I savor the edamame and salmon. He takes the spicy tuna roll and Ika Sansai. I watch his face as his jaw works to process the delightfully fresh food. How I love good sushi in the afternoon.
Our time is up, and we must both return to work. I pout, reaching my arms around Him for a strong hug. He hugs me back, kissing the top of my head. "You smell good", I utter, barely above a whisper.
I can feel Him smile. "I smell like Right Guard."
We've had this dialog since we first met. He smells so good to me, cologne is completely unnecessary. I take one more deep breath, inhaling as much of Him as my lungs will hold. Releasing it slowly, so I can taste Him as I exhale. I cannot contain my grin. I look up at Him, pressing my chin into his chest.
Two hours later, I am completing the last of my conference calls of the day. I removed my headset, glancing up at my monitor to see what is left for me to accomplish. My phone rings with my favorite ringtone. "Hello?" I answer as if I don't know who is calling.
"How was your afternoon?" I can almost hear the smirk in his voice. "Good," I reply. "Other than a little distraction around lunchtime, it was pretty productive."
"I thought you could use a break in your day." He adds. "See you after work."