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whiskeycoffee2006-10-25 12:32 am
mjules.livejournal.com) wrote in whiskeycoffee2006-10-25 12:32 am
Entry tags:
"The Best Proof" (Maes/Gracia, OT4 hints, 1/1, NC-17)
Title: The Best Proof
Author: m.jules
Rating: For Mature Audiences Only
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Pairing: Maes/Gracia with mention of the OT4.
Author’s Notes: For the Cuff ‘Em, Vamp ‘Em, Or Just Make ‘Em Come Already kinkfic challenge. This is for the prompt of “collar (Master/slave)”. I didn’t take it quite so far as “slavery” in the sense that some D/s couples do, but there’s enough. This contains heavy themes of Dominance and submission, but in the most positive sense I know of. I wrote it with the intention of showing what it sometimes looks like inside a positive submissive headspace, so there is a notable lack of “props” (whips, chains, etc.). I didn’t want anyone to get distracted from my real purpose. There is no real plot to this, so while it can be called Porn Without Plot, I’d much prefer it be considered “Porn With Purpose.”
Many thanks to DM Evans for the suggestions, and to SJ Smith for popping in to coo over the pretty while she was ferreting away the bits I was sending her for safekeeping. (Having one’s computer eat all of one’s documents tends to make one paranoid.)
There will likely be a sequel to this, since Roy and Riza are coming over to play later. This follows the imaginary history I made up for Maes and Gracia in my Shades of Gray flashfic, “Well Met.”
The best proof of love is trust. – Dr. Joyce Brothers
Her world was a narrow space filled by the sound of her own steady breathing, her calm, rhythmic heartbeat, and the anticipation that tingled along her skin. Kneeling in the center of the bed, her hands folded demurely in her lap, she had her eyes closed to better concentrate on listening for the sound of footsteps. She heard when he entered the room—shoes on the wood floor and the soft rustle of his clothing. She listened, excitement fluttering in her chest as she heard him make his way across the room toward the bed—toward her.
Her breathing became shallower and her pulse skipped, then sped up, the palms of her hands curling with a sweet ache, and then he was there. His long, gentle fingers stroked across her throat, and she caught her breath, knowing what was coming next. Metal, light, delicate, and slightly cool, fastened around her neck, and she smiled as her heart pounded in her chest. Her body sang, and she opened shining eyes as he purred, “Hello, Pet.”
His eyes glowed with hunger and adoration as they swept over her, and her spine straightened. She tilted her chin up, preening for him.
”You’re beautiful,” he told her, pride in his voice, and she smiled, pleased with the compliment. He let his fingers brush over the exquisite silver collar that she wore, and his voice was guttural as he repeated, “So beautiful.” She felt happiness flush through her face and chest and saw the admiration in his gaze at the added pink hue to her flesh.
She loved everything about these times with her husband—loved pleasing him; loved seeing the unabashed adoration in his expression as she yielded everything to him. He always looked at her as if the sun rose and set in her eyes—had ever since the first time they’d met, when he and Roy had rescued her from her abusive boyfriend—but there was something special about the way he looked at her in these moments, something primal and possessive that thrilled her.
He’d told her once that it awed him that she could completely surrender to him the way she did, especially after all she’d been through with her boyfriend. She’d told him that he had himself to thank for that—she never felt so safe as she did with him. She trusted him completely, and this was just one more way of reveling in that trust.
Now, she remained perfectly still as he devoured her with his eyes. Her legs were beginning to ache from kneeling, but she didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. She knew he was aware of the strain and wouldn’t let her remain in that position for long. The juxtaposition between them—her kneeling, nude; and him standing, still fully dressed—only served to emphasize how vulnerable she was making herself to him, and she hummed softly when he stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles, trailing them down to her chest.
”Lie back, Pet,” he instructed, and she obeyed, heat pooling low in her stomach as he ran lustful, loving eyes over her form. She was more than just naked—she was exposed. Her body strained for his touch, but he with held it for the moment, his long fingers resting on his own hips as he studied her intently. He was looking at her like a lifelong art collector might look at the original copy of a rare masterpiece, and her body was responding, humming with excitement.
Finally, he leaned over, his mouth a breath away from her ear, and whispered, “Do you remember what we talked about, Pet?”
She shivered at the warm, moist air on her skin, and had to think for a moment about his question. When they had been discussing today’s scene the night before—when she had been Gracia, Maes’ wife and equal instead of her master’s adored Pet—they had talked about why he had yet to penetrate her while she was wearing the collar. The very knowledge that she would be wearing the collar often plunged her into a glorious headspace that only deepened as the scene went on, every touch of her master’s hand or mouth sending her spiraling into such levels of submissive ecstasy that Maes was apprehensive of what her reaction would be if there was actual intercourse involved. Gracia had insisted that she wanted to try, and now Pet remembered that conversation with a deep thrill. Wet heat flooded her, dripping onto her thighs, and she nodded.
”Good,” he purred, and her eyes drifted closed, basking in his praise. “We’re going to try that today. But first, I’m going to make you come.”
The promise, delivered with such casual confidence, settled like burning liquid in her core. She moaned as her thighs shifted restlessly, seeking to ease the aching pressure between them. A sharp ‘tsk’ from him froze her instantly, and he tapped her knee lightly with one finger. She understood that he meant she was not to seek relief on her own, and chastised herself inwardly. She knew better. That was his decision to make, not hers. He waited until she had lain still for a few moments before he murmured, “Better,” and she relaxed at his approval.
The mattress dipped with his weight as he crawled onto the bed, then his hands were on her hips, pulling her forward and elevating her. She felt him slip her legs over his shoulders, his hands cupping her buttocks, and felt rather than heard him growl, “So damn beautiful,” right before his tongue touched her.
Speaking had been next to impossible from the moment she had obeyed his instructions to wait for him, kneeling and unclothed, on their bed; but now noises worked their way out of her throat unchecked, wordless cries of pleasure as his talented mouth loved her. She shattered with a high-pitched keening, her hips arching in his firm grip, and as he lowered her back to the bed, her eyes fluttered open to see him licking his lips, a self-satisfied grin plastered onto his face.
“That was amazing, Pet,” he told her, his hands stroking her stomach with movements meant to soothe, not arouse. “You’re amazing. I love the sounds you make, how you look, your body flushed for me...” He continued showering her with possessive praises as he ran his hands over her body, bringing her down slowly with his touch. His voice grounded her a little, though the nature of his words filled her with a glowing desire to please him more by her submission.
Once her breathing had steadied, he began undressing, still keeping up a steady stream of compliments. Gracia had once teased Maes that he must study the thesaurus in his spare time, looking for new ways to call her beautiful, but Pet never thought beyond the sheer pleasure of her master’s admiration.
Finally fully unclothed, he sat back on his haunches, stroking himself lightly, and said in an authoritative voice, “Pet, do you know your safe-word?”
She nodded, her eyes fixed on his hand. He stopped his movements and her gaze flew to his face on reflex.
“Say it,” he commanded, and her eyes widened with distress. “It won’t end the scene,” he assured her, inferring her concern. “I just need to be sure you can say it if you need to. Now tell me your safe-word, Pet.”
Her lips parted and her mouth worked for a moment before she finally whispered, “Apple pie.” It was Maes’ favorite pie, and it had been decided on as a safe-word amidst much giggling one night.
“Louder,” he instructed. “I need to be sure I’ll be able to hear you.”
She swallowed, and finally summoned enough voice to repeat it in a normal tone, though she winced at the perceived loudness.
“Good girl,” he praised her as he continued stroking himself. “Good girl.” He noticed the way she watched him touching himself and smiled, catlike. “Want some, Pet?” His voice was low and raspy, and she shuddered at the desire that washed over her. He knew she loved pleasuring him with her mouth, and as he’d expected, her eyes met his, wide with a wordless plea for permission.
He nodded to her, grinning, and her face lit up as she leaned forward and tongued the head of his cock, tasting the salty precome. He shivered with pleasure when the flat of her tongue licked down the length of him. She was humming happily and he let his head drop back as he rested a hand lightly in her hair.
This was a sidetrack from his plan for the day, and they were on a bit of a schedule, but he figured they could spare a few minutes, especially when she was so obviously pleased and he was enjoying it himself.
Thoughts of technique were never upmost in her mind at times like this, but that was where familiarity came in. She knew without having to think about it what wrenched certain noises from his stomach and chest, and every muscle in her body was suffused with warmth as he responded to her. She lavished her attention on him, unaware that she was making soft noises of pleasure as she took the head into her mouth and suckled, her tongue massaging him. She felt his hips jerk, and then his hands were in her hair, pulling her up gently.
She let him slip free with a small sound of disappointment, and he chuckled breathlessly as he thumbed her chin. “I’ll let you have more later, Pet,” he promised. She licked her lips, chasing his taste, and he growled at the sight. Unable to resist, he leaned down and captured her mouth with his. She melted into him and he gathered her into his arms, falling back onto the bed with her tucked closely against his body.
“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth, and she pulled back for a moment, looking into his eyes with her own smiling ones.
“I love you, too,” she answered, barely audible, and his face split in an ecstatic grin. She so rarely spoke of her own initiative in these scenes, he was thrilled to hear those words. With a deep sigh he rolled them both so that she lay beneath him, smiling up at him. She went perfectly still, languid peace settling into her limbs. She was, she felt, in perfect contentment. His thumb brushed over her lower lip and he shifted against her, settling between her thighs.
“Pet,” he crooned, waiting until she focused on him. “Say your safe-word.” They’d gotten distracted since the first time, and he wanted to make sure she remembered.
The smile that graced her lips was almost naughty, and her eyelashes lowered coyly as she purred, “Apple pie.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk. “Dessert never sounded so sexy,” he flirted, and she grinned up at him. “Now,” he said, and the firmness in his tone snapped her back into her headspace instantly, her eyes lowering. “Now, I am going to make love to you.”
On the last word, he pushed into her, and she gasped, arching against him. He murmured a steady stream of assurances that she never quite registered as he found a steady rhythm. She heard the low noise of his voice as if it were another touch on her body, but none of the words filtered into her consciousness. She felt distinctly as if she were floating through some ethereal bliss where nothing bad could touch her; it was just him and the warm golden glow that enveloped her mind. She wasn’t even aware of herself as a separate entity; she was simply the vessel that contained his happiness. His emotions defined her worldview, and she thought she might completely disconnect from her body.
Pleasure built higher, rolling through her in waves. When a pulse of white light flowered open behind her eyelids, she sighed, feeling the intensity gently ebb, leaving behind an overwhelming peace. She didn’t know how long it took for her to regain a sense of equilibrium, but when she did, he had stopped moving and was resting against her, breathing hard.
“Pet?” he panted near her ear, and she hummed a little, searching for her voice so that she could respond to him properly, as she knew he expected her to do.
“Yes?” Her voice was so soft it was barely audible over his breathing, but even that took a concerted effort.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he gently disengaged from her, pushing himself up to get a better look at her face. She whimpered as he slipped free from her body, and the disappointed sound sent a skitter of warmth through his belly. He stroked her face and the sides of her breasts, taking note of the color suffusing her pale skin, the way the silver of her collar shone against the rosy flush of her throat. When she still hadn’t responded after a few moments, he pinched her nipple, drawing a squeak of awareness as her eyes flew open. “I asked you a question, Pet,” he reminded her firmly. “Are you all right?”
Her brow, which had knitted with distress at his discipline (though her real distress was that he’d needed to discipline her in the first place), smoothed as she nodded. “Yes,” she smiled, and the quiet ecstasy in her voice confirmed the truth of it. He stroked her forehead, then spent a few minutes covering her face and throat with kisses and caresses. She melted into his touch, her face a study in bliss, and when he covered her mouth with his, she opened immediately in happy invitation.
Finally, he rolled to his side and cradled her against his chest as she dozed. They had found that she made the transition from Pet to Gracia a little more easily if she could sleep. Ideally, she would sleep through the night, but she would have to make do with a nap today. Riza and Roy were coming over for dinner.
Maes and Gracia had discussed in great length whether it would be too much for her to have both the scene as Pet and the tryst with their lovers in the same day, but Gracia hadn’t been willing to give either of them up, and Maes had been looking forward to both as well. The best he could do was give them several hours between the two, so now, as morning crested toward noon, he let himself drift off with his wife in his arms.
***
A few hours later, Maes awoke and pushed himself up to get a look at the clock over Gracia’s head. He had to squint to make it out—his glasses were on the night stand by the bed—but he was fairly sure it read half-past three. Roy and Riza were due to arrive around six. He looked down at his wife, loath to wake her, but knowing she’d want to get started on dinner soon. Before that, though, he would need to take the collar off of her.
He knew better than to try to remove the collar while she was awake—she often grew agitated if she was aware that he was taking it off. She’d tried to explain to him once the significance of that accessory and why it was so important to her. She’d told him that, while it marked her as his, it also in some way marked him as hers. It showed that she was important enough to him that he claimed her.
She’d gotten tangled up in her words and hadn’t been able to explain it well enough to satisfy herself, but he thought he’d gotten the picture. Having a pet of any kind meant that the owner took responsibility and put himself to the side for the good of his dependent. People often said that pets owned their owners just as much as the other way around, and while he’d never take the “Pet” nickname so far as to compare her to an animal, he felt it was appropriate in that sense. She did own him on a certain level, just as he owned her.
Now, as he shifted to try to unfasten the collar, he fumbled with the latch and cursed under his breath when it slipped from his hands. She stirred and opened her eyes, and he caught his lip between his teeth, knowing that getting it off wasn’t going to be as easy now that she was awake, and he needed to take it off. It wasn’t that the collar was uncomfortable—she’d often slept in it when he’d allowed her to nap between activities—but he knew that the feel of it on her helped bring her into that special place in her head, and he wasn’t sure how much it would hinder her emergence from it.
“Lie still,” he said softly, pointedly not using her nickname or her real name in this delicate moment. “I’m going to take the collar off.”
Distress shone in her eyes for a moment before she lowered them in submission, and he frowned inwardly. Her attitude combined with the fact that she hadn’t spoken meant that she was still Pet, and he needed her to become Gracia. He took his hands away from the collar, knowing that taking it off now could bruise something in her emotions, that she would perceive it as rejection, and he didn’t want to do that.
“Hey,” he said, gentling his tone and searching for his normal voice rather than the one he used as her master. He bumped her chin with his knuckles and she looked up at him, struggling to look him in the eye. “Roy and Riza are coming over tonight, remember? We need to get dinner started. I need you to come back, okay?”
She nodded and he watched her throat work as she managed to say, “Okay,” but her hand went to her collar and she rubbed it. “Can I...?”
“You can keep it on for a little while,” he nodded, knowing what she was asking. If she could come out of that mental space enough on her own that she would voluntarily allow him to take the collar off, it would be easier for her to let it go. “Now - why don’t you get a shower and I’ll go ahead and start setting out dinner.”
He knew she still needed direction, at least until she came back to herself completely, but he was trying to stay away from phrasing it as a command, trying to help her make the transition. She nodded, and he watched her make an effort to answer him in words. “Okay,” she finally managed. “That sounds good.”
He got out of bed and pulled on his clothes, leaving the room without further instruction, and she pushed herself off the mattress, padding to the shower. Turmoil bubbled just below the surface, and she frowned, knowing that it was the stress of reclaiming her own will. She allowed herself the comfort of remembering that she was following his instructions now as she turned on the tap and stepped into the tub.
The warm water sluicing over her body felt wonderful and she relaxed into it for a moment before reaching for the shampoo. The act of showering—of forcing her body to go through the familiar motions without the direction or even presence of her master—helped her find her self-will again and she felt herself tottering to her mental feet as if waking from a pleasant dream. The chaos quieted as she began to adjust to the change, like becoming accustomed to walking on land after being on a ship. Her body still glowed with all the beautiful feelings he’d stirred up and she smiled to herself when she heard the echo of her own humming bouncing off the tiles.
As she soaped her skin, her fingers lingered a little on her own flesh, feeling the smooth surface with a satisfied kind of awareness. This body, this miracle of flesh and bone, made him happy because it was hers. She could make him happy. The thought stirred a sense of pride and she had to shake herself from that train of thought before she plunged herself straight back into her headspace.
She finished her shower with efficient practicality and dug deep in her psyche for the unique architecture of mental walls and windows that made her Gracia as she toweled off. She scrubbed the cloth over her short hair and mused that she would need a haircut soon. The thought made her smile—it was a sign she was coming back to herself, as he’d asked her to do.
She chose her clothes with an eye to the practical—the fewer buttons and trappings that were in the way, the easier it would be to get out of—and the aesthetic. The first dress she picked out was Maes’ favorite, and she made herself pause and put it back. She took a closer look at her wardrobe and chose another in the same style but a different color—one that Riza had once complimented her on. Tonight was not just for Maes, it was for their friends as well.
She slipped into the garment, pausing when the fabric caught on the clasp of her collar. She had almost forgotten she was wearing it—another good sign. She reached to undo it but felt a twinge of wrongness and dropped her hand instantly, taking deep breaths as she concentrated on remaining Gracia. She managed to stay mostly on her mental feet, but the check in her soul was still there.
He was the one who put the collar on her—he was the only one who could take it off. Something in her twisted at the realization that she’d defied his will earlier, however subtly, and she frowned at the thought. Tucking Gracia to the side for a moment, she slipped quietly down the hallway to the kitchen where he was just preparing the meat for dinner.
“Hello, love,” he greeted her with an open smile, and Pet faltered for a moment. This was not her master—this was Maes. Still, she had something she had to do, and she approached him silently, her eyes downcast.
“Gracia?” His voice rang with concern. “Is everything all right?”
She shook her head, saying quietly, “I’m sorry.” She wasn’t so deep in that speech had escaped her, but she still felt her will bowing to him and it was an effort to stand upright.
“For what?” He still sounded anxious and some part of her registered that he was probably worried that she had been unable to emerge from the headspace.
“I had no right to refuse you when you tried to remove my—Pet’s—collar,” she said, attempting to separate herself enough from Pet to ease his concerns. “That was your decision to make. I should have let you.”
She saw when he slipped into his role as master as easily as he slid into his military jacket in the mornings, and he lifted her chin to look at him. “You’re right,” he said, holding her gaze with his own. “That was my decision to make. It was also my decision to allow you to keep it on, to come out of that place at your own pace. I am your master, Pet, and if I had thought that taking the collar off at that moment was very important, I would have done it.” His fingers slid down her throat to rub across the metal band. “However, I’m glad you realize that, because now it is time for the collar to come off.”
He bent his head and kissed her gently, drawing her to him, and just as she whimpered into his mouth, his hand slid around to the back of her neck and flicked open the clasp of the collar. As he broke away from the kiss, he took the collar with him and slipped it into his pocket. When he smiled at her, it was as her husband, and she answered it with a smile of her own, feeling Gracia surfacing more easily this time.
“Now, what say we get dinner started?” he prompted, and she nodded, shaking free of Pet and surveying the kitchen with a critical eye.
“Why don’t you get your shower, then come back and chop up the vegetables for the salad while I take care of the meat?” she suggested. Maes moved toward the door to the hallway with a playful pout, and she snickered at him.
“I thought the man was supposed to be in charge of the meat,” he mock-protested, and she winked at him.
“Normally, yes,” she smiled, “But I really like watching you play with knives.”
His eyes twinkled with flirtatious mischief, but she saw a darker, more primal, gleam in his expression. A flutter of desire tickled her belly and her eyes half-closed with the sensation. There was a wealth of meanings in that, more than just watching the way he skillfully sliced vegetables. She knew he was remembering the way he’d won her, and she would always feel as though he’d earned every last particle of trust she placed in him that day.
“All right,” he finally smiled, bringing himself out of the memories. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She flashed a smile as he disappeared into the hall, and then leaned on the counter for a moment, closing her eyes as she listened to the water come on in their bathroom. She breathed deep and let herself savor the unique emotional aftertaste of their activity before she straightened and got to work on dinner.
Author: m.jules
Rating: For Mature Audiences Only
Disclaimer: Not mine!
Pairing: Maes/Gracia with mention of the OT4.
Author’s Notes: For the Cuff ‘Em, Vamp ‘Em, Or Just Make ‘Em Come Already kinkfic challenge. This is for the prompt of “collar (Master/slave)”. I didn’t take it quite so far as “slavery” in the sense that some D/s couples do, but there’s enough. This contains heavy themes of Dominance and submission, but in the most positive sense I know of. I wrote it with the intention of showing what it sometimes looks like inside a positive submissive headspace, so there is a notable lack of “props” (whips, chains, etc.). I didn’t want anyone to get distracted from my real purpose. There is no real plot to this, so while it can be called Porn Without Plot, I’d much prefer it be considered “Porn With Purpose.”
Many thanks to DM Evans for the suggestions, and to SJ Smith for popping in to coo over the pretty while she was ferreting away the bits I was sending her for safekeeping. (Having one’s computer eat all of one’s documents tends to make one paranoid.)
There will likely be a sequel to this, since Roy and Riza are coming over to play later. This follows the imaginary history I made up for Maes and Gracia in my Shades of Gray flashfic, “Well Met.”
The best proof of love is trust. – Dr. Joyce Brothers
Her world was a narrow space filled by the sound of her own steady breathing, her calm, rhythmic heartbeat, and the anticipation that tingled along her skin. Kneeling in the center of the bed, her hands folded demurely in her lap, she had her eyes closed to better concentrate on listening for the sound of footsteps. She heard when he entered the room—shoes on the wood floor and the soft rustle of his clothing. She listened, excitement fluttering in her chest as she heard him make his way across the room toward the bed—toward her.
Her breathing became shallower and her pulse skipped, then sped up, the palms of her hands curling with a sweet ache, and then he was there. His long, gentle fingers stroked across her throat, and she caught her breath, knowing what was coming next. Metal, light, delicate, and slightly cool, fastened around her neck, and she smiled as her heart pounded in her chest. Her body sang, and she opened shining eyes as he purred, “Hello, Pet.”
His eyes glowed with hunger and adoration as they swept over her, and her spine straightened. She tilted her chin up, preening for him.
”You’re beautiful,” he told her, pride in his voice, and she smiled, pleased with the compliment. He let his fingers brush over the exquisite silver collar that she wore, and his voice was guttural as he repeated, “So beautiful.” She felt happiness flush through her face and chest and saw the admiration in his gaze at the added pink hue to her flesh.
She loved everything about these times with her husband—loved pleasing him; loved seeing the unabashed adoration in his expression as she yielded everything to him. He always looked at her as if the sun rose and set in her eyes—had ever since the first time they’d met, when he and Roy had rescued her from her abusive boyfriend—but there was something special about the way he looked at her in these moments, something primal and possessive that thrilled her.
He’d told her once that it awed him that she could completely surrender to him the way she did, especially after all she’d been through with her boyfriend. She’d told him that he had himself to thank for that—she never felt so safe as she did with him. She trusted him completely, and this was just one more way of reveling in that trust.
Now, she remained perfectly still as he devoured her with his eyes. Her legs were beginning to ache from kneeling, but she didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. She knew he was aware of the strain and wouldn’t let her remain in that position for long. The juxtaposition between them—her kneeling, nude; and him standing, still fully dressed—only served to emphasize how vulnerable she was making herself to him, and she hummed softly when he stroked her cheek with the backs of his knuckles, trailing them down to her chest.
”Lie back, Pet,” he instructed, and she obeyed, heat pooling low in her stomach as he ran lustful, loving eyes over her form. She was more than just naked—she was exposed. Her body strained for his touch, but he with held it for the moment, his long fingers resting on his own hips as he studied her intently. He was looking at her like a lifelong art collector might look at the original copy of a rare masterpiece, and her body was responding, humming with excitement.
Finally, he leaned over, his mouth a breath away from her ear, and whispered, “Do you remember what we talked about, Pet?”
She shivered at the warm, moist air on her skin, and had to think for a moment about his question. When they had been discussing today’s scene the night before—when she had been Gracia, Maes’ wife and equal instead of her master’s adored Pet—they had talked about why he had yet to penetrate her while she was wearing the collar. The very knowledge that she would be wearing the collar often plunged her into a glorious headspace that only deepened as the scene went on, every touch of her master’s hand or mouth sending her spiraling into such levels of submissive ecstasy that Maes was apprehensive of what her reaction would be if there was actual intercourse involved. Gracia had insisted that she wanted to try, and now Pet remembered that conversation with a deep thrill. Wet heat flooded her, dripping onto her thighs, and she nodded.
”Good,” he purred, and her eyes drifted closed, basking in his praise. “We’re going to try that today. But first, I’m going to make you come.”
The promise, delivered with such casual confidence, settled like burning liquid in her core. She moaned as her thighs shifted restlessly, seeking to ease the aching pressure between them. A sharp ‘tsk’ from him froze her instantly, and he tapped her knee lightly with one finger. She understood that he meant she was not to seek relief on her own, and chastised herself inwardly. She knew better. That was his decision to make, not hers. He waited until she had lain still for a few moments before he murmured, “Better,” and she relaxed at his approval.
The mattress dipped with his weight as he crawled onto the bed, then his hands were on her hips, pulling her forward and elevating her. She felt him slip her legs over his shoulders, his hands cupping her buttocks, and felt rather than heard him growl, “So damn beautiful,” right before his tongue touched her.
Speaking had been next to impossible from the moment she had obeyed his instructions to wait for him, kneeling and unclothed, on their bed; but now noises worked their way out of her throat unchecked, wordless cries of pleasure as his talented mouth loved her. She shattered with a high-pitched keening, her hips arching in his firm grip, and as he lowered her back to the bed, her eyes fluttered open to see him licking his lips, a self-satisfied grin plastered onto his face.
“That was amazing, Pet,” he told her, his hands stroking her stomach with movements meant to soothe, not arouse. “You’re amazing. I love the sounds you make, how you look, your body flushed for me...” He continued showering her with possessive praises as he ran his hands over her body, bringing her down slowly with his touch. His voice grounded her a little, though the nature of his words filled her with a glowing desire to please him more by her submission.
Once her breathing had steadied, he began undressing, still keeping up a steady stream of compliments. Gracia had once teased Maes that he must study the thesaurus in his spare time, looking for new ways to call her beautiful, but Pet never thought beyond the sheer pleasure of her master’s admiration.
Finally fully unclothed, he sat back on his haunches, stroking himself lightly, and said in an authoritative voice, “Pet, do you know your safe-word?”
She nodded, her eyes fixed on his hand. He stopped his movements and her gaze flew to his face on reflex.
“Say it,” he commanded, and her eyes widened with distress. “It won’t end the scene,” he assured her, inferring her concern. “I just need to be sure you can say it if you need to. Now tell me your safe-word, Pet.”
Her lips parted and her mouth worked for a moment before she finally whispered, “Apple pie.” It was Maes’ favorite pie, and it had been decided on as a safe-word amidst much giggling one night.
“Louder,” he instructed. “I need to be sure I’ll be able to hear you.”
She swallowed, and finally summoned enough voice to repeat it in a normal tone, though she winced at the perceived loudness.
“Good girl,” he praised her as he continued stroking himself. “Good girl.” He noticed the way she watched him touching himself and smiled, catlike. “Want some, Pet?” His voice was low and raspy, and she shuddered at the desire that washed over her. He knew she loved pleasuring him with her mouth, and as he’d expected, her eyes met his, wide with a wordless plea for permission.
He nodded to her, grinning, and her face lit up as she leaned forward and tongued the head of his cock, tasting the salty precome. He shivered with pleasure when the flat of her tongue licked down the length of him. She was humming happily and he let his head drop back as he rested a hand lightly in her hair.
This was a sidetrack from his plan for the day, and they were on a bit of a schedule, but he figured they could spare a few minutes, especially when she was so obviously pleased and he was enjoying it himself.
Thoughts of technique were never upmost in her mind at times like this, but that was where familiarity came in. She knew without having to think about it what wrenched certain noises from his stomach and chest, and every muscle in her body was suffused with warmth as he responded to her. She lavished her attention on him, unaware that she was making soft noises of pleasure as she took the head into her mouth and suckled, her tongue massaging him. She felt his hips jerk, and then his hands were in her hair, pulling her up gently.
She let him slip free with a small sound of disappointment, and he chuckled breathlessly as he thumbed her chin. “I’ll let you have more later, Pet,” he promised. She licked her lips, chasing his taste, and he growled at the sight. Unable to resist, he leaned down and captured her mouth with his. She melted into him and he gathered her into his arms, falling back onto the bed with her tucked closely against his body.
“I love you,” he whispered against her mouth, and she pulled back for a moment, looking into his eyes with her own smiling ones.
“I love you, too,” she answered, barely audible, and his face split in an ecstatic grin. She so rarely spoke of her own initiative in these scenes, he was thrilled to hear those words. With a deep sigh he rolled them both so that she lay beneath him, smiling up at him. She went perfectly still, languid peace settling into her limbs. She was, she felt, in perfect contentment. His thumb brushed over her lower lip and he shifted against her, settling between her thighs.
“Pet,” he crooned, waiting until she focused on him. “Say your safe-word.” They’d gotten distracted since the first time, and he wanted to make sure she remembered.
The smile that graced her lips was almost naughty, and her eyelashes lowered coyly as she purred, “Apple pie.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smirk. “Dessert never sounded so sexy,” he flirted, and she grinned up at him. “Now,” he said, and the firmness in his tone snapped her back into her headspace instantly, her eyes lowering. “Now, I am going to make love to you.”
On the last word, he pushed into her, and she gasped, arching against him. He murmured a steady stream of assurances that she never quite registered as he found a steady rhythm. She heard the low noise of his voice as if it were another touch on her body, but none of the words filtered into her consciousness. She felt distinctly as if she were floating through some ethereal bliss where nothing bad could touch her; it was just him and the warm golden glow that enveloped her mind. She wasn’t even aware of herself as a separate entity; she was simply the vessel that contained his happiness. His emotions defined her worldview, and she thought she might completely disconnect from her body.
Pleasure built higher, rolling through her in waves. When a pulse of white light flowered open behind her eyelids, she sighed, feeling the intensity gently ebb, leaving behind an overwhelming peace. She didn’t know how long it took for her to regain a sense of equilibrium, but when she did, he had stopped moving and was resting against her, breathing hard.
“Pet?” he panted near her ear, and she hummed a little, searching for her voice so that she could respond to him properly, as she knew he expected her to do.
“Yes?” Her voice was so soft it was barely audible over his breathing, but even that took a concerted effort.
“Are you all right?” he asked as he gently disengaged from her, pushing himself up to get a better look at her face. She whimpered as he slipped free from her body, and the disappointed sound sent a skitter of warmth through his belly. He stroked her face and the sides of her breasts, taking note of the color suffusing her pale skin, the way the silver of her collar shone against the rosy flush of her throat. When she still hadn’t responded after a few moments, he pinched her nipple, drawing a squeak of awareness as her eyes flew open. “I asked you a question, Pet,” he reminded her firmly. “Are you all right?”
Her brow, which had knitted with distress at his discipline (though her real distress was that he’d needed to discipline her in the first place), smoothed as she nodded. “Yes,” she smiled, and the quiet ecstasy in her voice confirmed the truth of it. He stroked her forehead, then spent a few minutes covering her face and throat with kisses and caresses. She melted into his touch, her face a study in bliss, and when he covered her mouth with his, she opened immediately in happy invitation.
Finally, he rolled to his side and cradled her against his chest as she dozed. They had found that she made the transition from Pet to Gracia a little more easily if she could sleep. Ideally, she would sleep through the night, but she would have to make do with a nap today. Riza and Roy were coming over for dinner.
Maes and Gracia had discussed in great length whether it would be too much for her to have both the scene as Pet and the tryst with their lovers in the same day, but Gracia hadn’t been willing to give either of them up, and Maes had been looking forward to both as well. The best he could do was give them several hours between the two, so now, as morning crested toward noon, he let himself drift off with his wife in his arms.
***
A few hours later, Maes awoke and pushed himself up to get a look at the clock over Gracia’s head. He had to squint to make it out—his glasses were on the night stand by the bed—but he was fairly sure it read half-past three. Roy and Riza were due to arrive around six. He looked down at his wife, loath to wake her, but knowing she’d want to get started on dinner soon. Before that, though, he would need to take the collar off of her.
He knew better than to try to remove the collar while she was awake—she often grew agitated if she was aware that he was taking it off. She’d tried to explain to him once the significance of that accessory and why it was so important to her. She’d told him that, while it marked her as his, it also in some way marked him as hers. It showed that she was important enough to him that he claimed her.
She’d gotten tangled up in her words and hadn’t been able to explain it well enough to satisfy herself, but he thought he’d gotten the picture. Having a pet of any kind meant that the owner took responsibility and put himself to the side for the good of his dependent. People often said that pets owned their owners just as much as the other way around, and while he’d never take the “Pet” nickname so far as to compare her to an animal, he felt it was appropriate in that sense. She did own him on a certain level, just as he owned her.
Now, as he shifted to try to unfasten the collar, he fumbled with the latch and cursed under his breath when it slipped from his hands. She stirred and opened her eyes, and he caught his lip between his teeth, knowing that getting it off wasn’t going to be as easy now that she was awake, and he needed to take it off. It wasn’t that the collar was uncomfortable—she’d often slept in it when he’d allowed her to nap between activities—but he knew that the feel of it on her helped bring her into that special place in her head, and he wasn’t sure how much it would hinder her emergence from it.
“Lie still,” he said softly, pointedly not using her nickname or her real name in this delicate moment. “I’m going to take the collar off.”
Distress shone in her eyes for a moment before she lowered them in submission, and he frowned inwardly. Her attitude combined with the fact that she hadn’t spoken meant that she was still Pet, and he needed her to become Gracia. He took his hands away from the collar, knowing that taking it off now could bruise something in her emotions, that she would perceive it as rejection, and he didn’t want to do that.
“Hey,” he said, gentling his tone and searching for his normal voice rather than the one he used as her master. He bumped her chin with his knuckles and she looked up at him, struggling to look him in the eye. “Roy and Riza are coming over tonight, remember? We need to get dinner started. I need you to come back, okay?”
She nodded and he watched her throat work as she managed to say, “Okay,” but her hand went to her collar and she rubbed it. “Can I...?”
“You can keep it on for a little while,” he nodded, knowing what she was asking. If she could come out of that mental space enough on her own that she would voluntarily allow him to take the collar off, it would be easier for her to let it go. “Now - why don’t you get a shower and I’ll go ahead and start setting out dinner.”
He knew she still needed direction, at least until she came back to herself completely, but he was trying to stay away from phrasing it as a command, trying to help her make the transition. She nodded, and he watched her make an effort to answer him in words. “Okay,” she finally managed. “That sounds good.”
He got out of bed and pulled on his clothes, leaving the room without further instruction, and she pushed herself off the mattress, padding to the shower. Turmoil bubbled just below the surface, and she frowned, knowing that it was the stress of reclaiming her own will. She allowed herself the comfort of remembering that she was following his instructions now as she turned on the tap and stepped into the tub.
The warm water sluicing over her body felt wonderful and she relaxed into it for a moment before reaching for the shampoo. The act of showering—of forcing her body to go through the familiar motions without the direction or even presence of her master—helped her find her self-will again and she felt herself tottering to her mental feet as if waking from a pleasant dream. The chaos quieted as she began to adjust to the change, like becoming accustomed to walking on land after being on a ship. Her body still glowed with all the beautiful feelings he’d stirred up and she smiled to herself when she heard the echo of her own humming bouncing off the tiles.
As she soaped her skin, her fingers lingered a little on her own flesh, feeling the smooth surface with a satisfied kind of awareness. This body, this miracle of flesh and bone, made him happy because it was hers. She could make him happy. The thought stirred a sense of pride and she had to shake herself from that train of thought before she plunged herself straight back into her headspace.
She finished her shower with efficient practicality and dug deep in her psyche for the unique architecture of mental walls and windows that made her Gracia as she toweled off. She scrubbed the cloth over her short hair and mused that she would need a haircut soon. The thought made her smile—it was a sign she was coming back to herself, as he’d asked her to do.
She chose her clothes with an eye to the practical—the fewer buttons and trappings that were in the way, the easier it would be to get out of—and the aesthetic. The first dress she picked out was Maes’ favorite, and she made herself pause and put it back. She took a closer look at her wardrobe and chose another in the same style but a different color—one that Riza had once complimented her on. Tonight was not just for Maes, it was for their friends as well.
She slipped into the garment, pausing when the fabric caught on the clasp of her collar. She had almost forgotten she was wearing it—another good sign. She reached to undo it but felt a twinge of wrongness and dropped her hand instantly, taking deep breaths as she concentrated on remaining Gracia. She managed to stay mostly on her mental feet, but the check in her soul was still there.
He was the one who put the collar on her—he was the only one who could take it off. Something in her twisted at the realization that she’d defied his will earlier, however subtly, and she frowned at the thought. Tucking Gracia to the side for a moment, she slipped quietly down the hallway to the kitchen where he was just preparing the meat for dinner.
“Hello, love,” he greeted her with an open smile, and Pet faltered for a moment. This was not her master—this was Maes. Still, she had something she had to do, and she approached him silently, her eyes downcast.
“Gracia?” His voice rang with concern. “Is everything all right?”
She shook her head, saying quietly, “I’m sorry.” She wasn’t so deep in that speech had escaped her, but she still felt her will bowing to him and it was an effort to stand upright.
“For what?” He still sounded anxious and some part of her registered that he was probably worried that she had been unable to emerge from the headspace.
“I had no right to refuse you when you tried to remove my—Pet’s—collar,” she said, attempting to separate herself enough from Pet to ease his concerns. “That was your decision to make. I should have let you.”
She saw when he slipped into his role as master as easily as he slid into his military jacket in the mornings, and he lifted her chin to look at him. “You’re right,” he said, holding her gaze with his own. “That was my decision to make. It was also my decision to allow you to keep it on, to come out of that place at your own pace. I am your master, Pet, and if I had thought that taking the collar off at that moment was very important, I would have done it.” His fingers slid down her throat to rub across the metal band. “However, I’m glad you realize that, because now it is time for the collar to come off.”
He bent his head and kissed her gently, drawing her to him, and just as she whimpered into his mouth, his hand slid around to the back of her neck and flicked open the clasp of the collar. As he broke away from the kiss, he took the collar with him and slipped it into his pocket. When he smiled at her, it was as her husband, and she answered it with a smile of her own, feeling Gracia surfacing more easily this time.
“Now, what say we get dinner started?” he prompted, and she nodded, shaking free of Pet and surveying the kitchen with a critical eye.
“Why don’t you get your shower, then come back and chop up the vegetables for the salad while I take care of the meat?” she suggested. Maes moved toward the door to the hallway with a playful pout, and she snickered at him.
“I thought the man was supposed to be in charge of the meat,” he mock-protested, and she winked at him.
“Normally, yes,” she smiled, “But I really like watching you play with knives.”
His eyes twinkled with flirtatious mischief, but she saw a darker, more primal, gleam in his expression. A flutter of desire tickled her belly and her eyes half-closed with the sensation. There was a wealth of meanings in that, more than just watching the way he skillfully sliced vegetables. She knew he was remembering the way he’d won her, and she would always feel as though he’d earned every last particle of trust she placed in him that day.
“All right,” he finally smiled, bringing himself out of the memories. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
She flashed a smile as he disappeared into the hall, and then leaned on the counter for a moment, closing her eyes as she listened to the water come on in their bathroom. She breathed deep and let herself savor the unique emotional aftertaste of their activity before she straightened and got to work on dinner.