Author's Note: This story was originally submitted in the Chain Stories category as part of the FAWC experience. I'm resubmitting it in the proper category so that readers following this couple can locate it.
This is the continuing story of Ethan and Grace. While it is not necessary to read any other story before reading this one, if you would like more background on these characters including how their love affair started, check out the "Amazing Grace" series, or any of the other "Ethan's Grace" stories posted in BDSM and Anal.
Exploring Exhibitionism
I spotted Grace chewing her cuticle out of the corner of my eye. She was starting to get on my nerves. I'd just about had enough of her impatient sighs and annoying pacing.
I lowered the iPad to my lap and turned my head to face her.
She immediately got defensive. "What?"
My lips tightened to a thin line on my face. I didn't appreciate her tone. "Go lay down on the bed and wait for me."
Grace huffed and planted her feet in place.
"I'm not playing, Grace. Now."
She made a bratty face and then marched to the bedroom like a petulant two-year-old. I had to stifle a laugh. Even when she was getting on my nerves, she was still kind of cute.
That's probably how all newlyweds feel, though.
I was still having trouble coming to grips with the fact that we were married. It wasn't the short amount of time we'd been together that made me feel that way. Hell, I'd asked her to marry me, so I'd already gotten over that part. It was our spontaneous decision to just do it while we were in Vegas for John and Melissa's wedding. It started out as just a half-joking remark by John. But it made so much sense, it was hard not to take it seriously. Before we knew it, we'd said the vows and signed the paperwork. It was just that quick. It made me think that if it was that easy and quick to do that maybe it wasn't that big of a deal. Grace's parents begged to differ, though.
Grace wouldn't repeat the exact lecture she'd received from her mother when she told them the news. They didn't even know we were dating. And Grace's late husband hadn't been gone all that long. I can't blame them, really. They were shocked.
Wait until they actually meet me. It'll be impossible to hide these tattoos in the summer. Not that I'd try, anyway.
Fuck 'em if they're that short-sighted.
I set the iPad down on the coffee table and strolled to the closet to retrieve my dungeon bag and carry it to the bed. Grace's jaw dropped when she saw me approaching with it.
"I didn't say anything."
I tilted my head in warning. Her tone was bordering on disrespectful. She really needed to learn to watch her mouth when she was nervous about something. "Wrists."
Grace rolled her eyes and presented her wrists for me to cuff them.
"Since you're hell-bent on being a brat, you can spend this time in a ball gag, too. And by all means, keep rolling those eyes."
I fastened her wrists to the headboard and her ankles to the frame. Then I fetched a petite ball gag and buckled it in place. Standing back to admire my handiwork, I realized that my dick was getting hard. She was fully dressed and I still got hard binding her to the bed.
"I told you I was a slow reader. Now let me finish your book in peace." I chuckled, and added, "Not that you have any choice in the matter now."
I strolled back to the living room and lifted the iPad to continue reading. It was a good read. Grace had done a good job with the characters, and the BDSM elements had more teeth to them than her previous "sugar kink" novels. I attributed that to the fact that she was accumulating scores of experience now that she was married to a Dom.
I'd been exposing her to different things through role play, but generally staying on the tamer side of BDSM. I wasn't in a hurry to push her. We literally had the rest of our lives to explore our kinks. But while reading her latest work, a realization popped right off the page and slapped me in the face. She hadn't been real honest about her limits.
I don't think she lied on purpose. Like any newbie, she had no clue what she could handle, and what she couldn't. She could hardly articulate her particular kinks. As I read along, though, it was apparent to me that she was definitely into exhibitionism. Whether she was willing to admit it, or not. She couldn't possibly fold in that much emotion if she wasn't into it, and had already taken mental steps toward doing it, on some level.
I finished her draft and set the iPad down on the sofa next to me. I liked it. I'd always known she was very talented.
And now she's your wife.
It was really time to celebrate. She'd been working on it for months. Although, she didn't really start to make progress until I forced writing into her routine.
God, remember how much she resisted that at first?
We'd had a few words over it, then a nice cropping. She began to see the importance of doing it after that. It wasn't like I was this total control freak boyfriend or anything.
I didn't make her wait on me, or do chores, or anything like that. She wasn't my slave. This was something I did for
her
. I wanted her to know that her writing, which was something she did completely independent of me, was just as important to me as it was to her. If I wouldn't have made her sit down and do it at scheduled times, she would've blown it off to be with me. And sooner or later, she would've quit, altogether.
Writing gave her strength. It was what kept her afloat after her husband died and she discovered he'd cheated on her. It was her lifeline. She would've grown to resent me for taking her away from it. Maybe not right away, but eventually. I couldn't have that. So I became a real hard-ass about her writing schedule. Somewhere along the line she started to see the benefit in it, like she does most things.
It would be fitting to make this celebration specific to her finished product.
I started forming the plan in my mind as I was tugging my phone from my jean pocket. I searched for the number, and then dialed.
"Ello?"
"Julian, it's E."
"Hey, whassup?"
"When is your next dungeon-opening shift?"
"Tonight. Why? You need some private time?"
"Yeah, well, sort of."
"I'm gonna be heading over there in about an hour. You'll have about 45 minutes before people start showing up to work. That enough time?"