JC took a deep, shuddering breath as Kristina came around to the left side of the table. She laid the dildo on the table between his restrained hands. He looked up at her, surprised to see deep affection and regret in her eyes. Honestly she had every reason to hate him for he had put her through. She reached to stroke back his sweat-soaked hair with a sad little smile and shaking hand.
“It’s over,” Kristina told him in a voice barely above a whisper. “Feel like going home?”
Home? “Yes, please,” he responded, docile.
“I’m going to get dressed.”
She had barely taken two steps when, to his horror, he saw Shebitch’s hand reach across him for the dildo.
“She thinks you’ve learned your lesson, slaveboy,” Shebitch purred menacingly. “I’ll teach you—“
Kristina was back, snatching away the device of torment. “He’s mine. I said it was over,” she growled, protectively standing over JC like a mother bear protecting her cub.
“You think one night will turn him into a proper submissive?” Shebitch challenged.
“That was not what this was about. I just wanted him to understand…” Kristina put her hand out, her voice firm and decisive. “Keys.” When none were forthcoming, she added, “I won’t let you or anyone else hurt him. He’s mine. Give-me-the-keys.”
The cold, hard look in Kristina’s eyes must have been enough to convince Shebitch she meant business. A ring of keys dropped into his lover’s palm. A moment later his wrists were released. Shortly after that his ankles were freed.
Stiffly JC straightened from the table. Staggering painfully at his first few steps, he found Kristina readily coming to his aid, supporting him. “It’s really over…”
“Yes, darling.”
”I know why…”
“That’s all I wanted, JC.” She kissed his sweaty temple tenderly.
“I’m sorry—“
“Shh…”
They entered a small locker-room type area where Kristina closed and locked the door.
“Would you like a shower?” she asked, releasing him.
He did feel dirty and used – probably the way he had made her feel any number of times in their own home. “No, honey. I just want outa here.”
“All right.” She stripped out of her dominatrix outfit, which he no longer found sexy and quickly replaced it with a more familiar mode of dress: one of her sundresses.
JC looked around for the jeans and shirt he had been kidnapped in – he found nothing familiar.
Reading his mind easily, Kristina took out a pair of loose drawstring pants and a tee-shirt from her locker. “I thought you wouldn’t want to wear anything too tight or rough,” she remarked as she knelt down to assist him in dressing. She was gentle and careful as she pulled the pants up over his abused bottom and tied it at his waist. The tee-shirt she had chosen was soft from many washings. It was cool against his fevered flesh as he carefully put it on. She may have planned this torture, but she had also planned its immediate end – clearly not wanting to prolong his agony.
“Kristina…”
Rising, she put her fingertips to his lips. “Shh… We’ll talk later.”
Nodding slightly, he slipped his feet into the flip-flops she had provided. He wanted out of this dungeon in the worst way – and the best of it was the fact Kristina was still with him.
Mere moments later, they entered a limousine that would take them home. As they settled back, JC put his arms around Kristina to snuggle her close. He had so much to say, so much to apologize to her for, but words were empty. He’d proven that much in the past. Words had been a means to bend her to his will – but no more. His actions would have to speak for him.
“Are we okay, JC?” Kristina ventured after several minutes of thick silence.
“I should ask you the same thing,” he replied. “If you don’t hate me—“
“I love you,” she stated firmly.
“And I love you.” He nuzzled the top of her head tenderly. “Hell, before I was pulled from the limo, I was thinking we should get married.”
“You were? How could you? We weren’t in a good place.” She peered up at him with those big eyes of hers.
“No, we weren’t, but we are now.”
“I hope we are.”
“Kristina…” What could he say? He didn’t want to use words.
“Kiss me?” she hinted.
“Yeah, that works.” He bent his head to hers. His kiss said it all – that she was precious and important in his life, that he would try to never hurt her again, that he loved her endlessly. The selfishness was over.
JC hurried down the corridor of Kristina’s office building. He didn’t want to be late for his lunch date with his fiancée.
“Yes, Mister, Watson… Right away, sir…” a timid little secretary backed into the hall in a hurry.
“Whoa!” JC steadied the blonde with the too tight bun, ugly glasses, and a homely suit as she scurried from what he decided must be her boss’s office.
The woman raised her eyes to his. It took a long moment, but it dawned on him just who this woman was. “Shebitch,” he murmured, stunned.
With a sly smile that transformed her from dowdy clerical to the dominatrix he knew her to be, she said, “Well, if it isn’t Puddles! I hear I’m invited to the wedding.”