“Oh, Sir!”

The lights of the cabin are low as Victor's cock teases my core, rubbing over my clit and moving in and out of my entrance. I can’t hear anything but his voice, his breathing, the slaps of the flogger still ringing in my ears.

“Please,” I beg. My voice cracks with need, wanting him deeper, wanting more.

“I told you, kitten, where I was going to fuck you, and it's not in this tight, warm pussy.”

My throat dries as I try to swallow. I've gone along with everything since last weekend. And while Victor made me nervous on our first drive to the cabin, everything since has been as he promised. It's my fantasies played out in real life. Over the last week, after our appointment with Dr. Kizer, we've taken the time to talk to one another. We’ve been honest and said things we should have said long before. More than that, these new roles have given our marriage something we've never had—total trust and freedom.

Freedom to be open with one another with our bodies and our hearts. Freedom to give the kind of trust and submission it takes to allow a person to do what Victor has done and is doing to me. My wrists are bound to the bondage table, but instead of lying flat, my ankles are also bound, attached with short chains that hook to my wrists. I'm on my knees and shoulders with my cheek pressed to the table and my ass in the air. I couldn't straighten my legs if I wanted to.

His finger moves in and out of me. Each time it's gone, I tremble at the loss. Not only that, but each time it leaves me, it gets closer and closer to my tight hole. I’m scared, but by the evidence on my husband’s fingers, I’m also excited.

“Do you trust me, kitten?”

“Yes, I do, Sir.” My answer gives me the strength to let him continue. Though I can’t believe this is going to happen after years of protest, I’m equally as excited. This is what he’s wanted since we were first married, but for the first time, it’s also what I want.

I shiver as cold gel combines with my essence as Victor lubricates my tight ring of muscles.

“When you get used to this,” he explains, “we won't need the gel. You're always so fucking wet. But now, I want to make it easy. I don't want to hurt you.”

His words seem ironic, being as he's just flogged my ass and thighs. Unlike a paddle, the flogger has an array of leather pieces, their ends like sharp whips as they abraded my skin. Though they never cut, it felt as though they did.

Each strike wasn’t one, but twenty as the flogger reddened my ass and thighs. Nevertheless, I understand what Vic means. I understand the difference between intentional pain for pleasure and pain for harm. My husband chose the flogger to clear my mind, to get me ready, and bring my focus on him, where it belongs.

It worked. Not only because of the pain, but because I trust him to know how much I can take. Because I do trust, I’ll also obey and submit. Now, my mind is clear. Nothing else exists beyond the walls of this cabin.

I whimper as his finger penetrates the tight ring of muscle.

“Kitten, listen to my voice.”

I do. My mind slides into that space where I’m filled with the deep timbre.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do it. Trust me.”

The flogging left my ass and thighs tingling while building my want. I long for relief. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and concentrate on his movements—the way his finger moves in and out of my ass and the way his other hand works my clit. He knows my body better than I do. Just as with the punishment, he knows exactly how much I can take.

Higher and higher he strums me until my toes curl.

“Not yet.”

I hold my breath as the tip of his cock presses against me.

“Relax and I'll let you come.”

I've learned his meanings. He is really saying that if I don't relax, he won't let me come. And as much as I want air right now, I want to experience an orgasm. In the last week, we’ve had more sex than in the last two years. It’s left me sore and wanton. Each time shows me how good it can be, making me desire more of what only Vic can do.

There’s no more self-gratification after an erotic read. I am allowed to read the novels, but Sir wants me to read them aloud. If I thought they were sexy reading them to myself, I had no idea what it would be like to read as he teases my skin, making me hot and bothered.

“Who owns you, kitten? Who do you belong to?”

“To you, Sir.”

“And what do you want?” His cock pushes harder, applying more pressure.

I push back toward him as much as I can in my bindings. “To come. Please, Sir, fuck my ass and let me come.”

He'd told me before that he wouldn't take my ass until I begged. I never thought I would, but I just did. I'd do anything for him.

I suck in a breath and ball my fists as he plunges forward, taking my ass and making it his. Tears leak to the table as he moves; thrust after thrust, the fire inside me burns until the rhythm is right, and my body accepts the invasion. His warmth covers my freshly punished skin. My thoughts are monopolized by the fiery burn of his cock in my ass and pleasure of his fingers on my clit.

Higher and tighter I go, lost in the sound of his breathing until I see explosions of light, and I come apart. Moments later Victor does too, filling me with his seed until I’m overflowing.

He pulls out and kisses my most private parts. Next he unfastens the chains and my legs relax. When he rolls me over, his expression takes my breath away. So much love and adoration. He smooths back my hair, tucking a piece behind my ear, and gently kisses my lips.

“Kitten, you're perfect and you're mine—forever.”

I'm too tired to speak. Instead, I smile and nod. He's right.

I am.

This may seem unconventional to others. I’m not sure I can tell even Jenn what we’ve been doing. She already knows that my attitude has changed. It is impossible to hide my satisfied grin when I mention his name.

He’s my husband, my love, my life, and my Sir.