John was undoubtedly the best fuck in the universe.
OK, OK, OK, I know 'zactly what you're thinking, and no, it's not like my body count is THAT enormous, but sure, I'd had my share of boys (I will call them boys, after meeting John) and yes, a couple of girls (we've all lived in a dorm, right?) and in every way imaginable, John was IT. Not like he is the most handsome guy in my universe, or the most athletic. However, he was extraordinarily smart and funny and witty and charming. In bed, he is... how can I say this.... Thorough? Yes. Thorough. I've never left his bed not thinking about synonyms for 'satiated'.
But, I'm w-a-a-a-a-ay ahead of myself. This is supposed to be about Carolyn, our slave.
I'm not sure if 'slave' is the right word. I mean, legally she's free to go anytime she wants. However, right now, I'm pretty sure she's emotionally incapable of walking out the door. We've tried to do whatever we can to support her and let her know she's a free woman and we'll support her in whatever becomes of the next phase of her life. Sigh... even the suggestion that she should move forward breaks her down in tears.
For example, once, because of an all-night business meeting, John had to skip her regular Friday evening discipline session and spanking. She was a bundle of nerves all night, tossing and turning at the foot of my bed until he came home the next morning. He saw the mess she was in, and lovingly ordered her to strip and follow us into the back yard. He blind folded her, strapped her to the whipping post, left her to rest in the morning sun for a few minutes, and then came back out to administer ten swats across her bare bottom with his leather belt. She literally cooo'd like a dove in delight! After carrying her into the house, he lay her down in the big, soft doggie bed we had for her in the corner of the den, covered her with her favorite old, torn blanket, and let her sleep for the rest of the morning. I don't think I've ever seen Carolyn happier!
But again, I'm getting way ahead of myself. To understand how Carolyn came into our lives, you first have to go back a couple of years and understand how John and I became a 'couple'. I met John my senior year in college, which was only sorta senior year because spring was upon us and I was still a couple of credits away from actually graduating with my degree in classical studies. It was that week before everyone was starting to cram for finals, and the other girls in my dorm suite forced me to go with them to a party. It seems that some guy named 'John' was having a reverse going-away party with his housemates, whatever that meant.
Turns out, John and two other guys lived in a quaint but surprisingly nice and well appointed three-bedroom farmhouse out in the country at the end of a long gravel road. Kinda spooky, but nicely secluded and not that far from the university and downtown. Anyway, John had just finished his MBA and had been hired at what was rumored to be 'King Midas money' by a local investment banking house. John owned the farmhouse -- he'd inherited it from his grandparents -- and thus no longer would need roomies to keep the lights on. Since his roomies were also graduating, and both moving away, John was throwing a 'reverse going away' party, with decorations saying things like 'get the hell out of my house' and 'go away -- I don't need your ass anymore'. Delightful stuff. I later learned that John and these two roomies were the closest of buds, and many man-tears would be shed as they packed to leave in the coming weeks.
I approached this party with no small level of trepidation. I was a classics major, remember? Some people in my class actually broke out in hives when they got close to any of the 'vocational' schools (business, engineering, pharmacy.... Places where people learn to make a living). I was somewhat immune, having grown up with parents who were in business, but I still avoided B-school types like the plague I thought most of them were. Narcissists, boring, and just a little on the 'too drunk al the time' for my refined tastes, particularly in men. Too much Yacht Rock music. Odd hobbies, like curating a bourbon collection. My girlfriends, such as they were, told me THESE guys were completely different, and I'd have a great time. Nonetheless, I went to the party well protected with a chain mail of cynicism.
I was pleasantly surprised. John's roomies (at the time I couldn't catch their names, so I simply thought of them as 'Thing 1' and 'Thing 2') were over-the-top drunk, but in a somewhat charming sort of way. John, on the other hand, seemed sober and exceptionally welcoming. He was clearly the commodore of this den of pirates he called home, and was going out of his way, but in a demure sort of fashion, to make sure everyone was having a good time and comfie. There was something about him that made you want to have a good time, even if you were prepared the other way.
When John introduced himself, the first thing that struck me was the way he made eye contact. It was if I was the only person in the room and I was the only person he wanted to talk with. And I say 'with', because he had -- and still has -- this knack for listening that makes a person want to completely spill their guts. He led me over to a sofa, sat not next to me but to the side of me in the chair, and leaning in he gave me an extraordinary amount of attention. I had completely not come to this party with meeting a 'guy' on my mind, and in fact purposely wore my worst undies just to make sure nothing would happen (cuz... well... I know my history with men).
