Authors Note: Special thanks to HMAuthor for the massive effort she put in editing this story. Of course it goes without saying that any errors are entirely my own!
This is a long story with quite a gradual build up. It follows Claire on her journey from a normal vanilla relationship to one filled with submissiveness and kink. Although I feel there is plenty of action throughout it may not be for you if you are looking for something that cuts straight to the chase.
Thanks for reading!
Prologue
I think every girl believes their true soul mate is out there somewhere; sometimes they turn up in the least expected places. Never in a million years would I have imagined that my life could be flipped upside down like this, yet I couldn't be happier.
The way the leather restraints bite into my wrists & ankles, and the ball gag fills my mouth is simply divine. After all these years I've finally found my place, my calling, and who would have thought it would be bound to a St. Andrews cross completely naked? All I see is darkness; the blindfold that covers my eyes has my every nerve sitting on edge as I wait, my heart heaving against my breast.
If only my friends could see me now; I don't think they'd recognize what I've become. However I've never felt more liberated, more free, more sexual.
I hear footsteps, the unmistakable thud of leather boots on the cold, hard floor as he strides towards me. A drop of sweat percolates from my brow as I wait, my whole body quivering in anticipation. I know he is close.
"Hello little one," he mutters. My heart skips a beat as I realize he is only feet away now. Suddenly I feel his firm hand run up my side and I tense up against my bonds. Oh my god, this is bliss!
I have seen the light.
1.
"Harder, Tommy, harder!"
This had to be a joke right. There's no way sex ever felt that good.
As I sat in my living room, all I could hear was the raucous moans of my housemate Rachel.
Did she not realize some of us still had work to do?
Don't get me wrong, being a secondary school teacher had been my dream for as long as I could remember and was an amazing career. Helping teenagers learn and grow through adolescence was an absolute privilege. However when you have thirty essays analysing characters traits in Romeo and Juliet ready to mark it did start to grind you down.
"Oh yes, Tommy, fuck me harder!"
Seriously, did she not think anyone could hear her?
The thought of Rachel on all fours, while Tommy slammed into her from behind, was not a picture I wanted on my mind tonight. I really wanted to get through these essays before the weekend.
"Oh my god that feels so good!"
Fuck it. It must be for effect. There's no way anyone could be that good.
I sighed and buried my head back into the pile of papers that sat on my lap.
Perhaps one day I'd find my Romeo.
This wasn't strictly true; as far as my friends and family were concerned I'd already found him. Apparently Aaron and I were like peas in a pod, quiet and unassuming, the perfect couple.
If that was true, then why did Aaron never make me scream like that in bed?
To all intents and purposes we were already married. It was just a case of Aaron getting down on one knee and slipping a ring on my finger. I dreaded the look on my mother's face if I ever told her we were breaking up. She was enamoured with him in every way, from his spidery blond hair to his kind and easy demeanour, in her eyes he could do no wrong. I certainly couldn't say he was anything other than the perfect gentlemen to me.
But then why did I crave something more? Something extra.
In truth I wasn't sure exactly what it was I craved. I just knew I felt I was missing out on something.
I heard a loud moan erupt from across the hallway.
I can't remember the last time Aaron made me scream like that.
There was the truth, the seedy, dark truth that I was too afraid to admit to anyone, even myself.
Perhaps it's just Rachel making me jealous.
I'd always told myself I was a good girl. Not good in a pious, Christian, always turn up to church way, but good in a kind, reliable and good natured way. Just like my mother had taught me.
I heard the click of a door unlocking across the hallway and busied myself in my marking.
"Still on those essays are we?" asked Rachel, as she sauntered into the room. It was like her state of orgasmic bliss was carrying her through the air such was the freedom of her movements.
How could she just talk to me as if nothing had happened after I've just heard her screwing her boyfriend like that? I wouldn't be able to look her in the eye for days.
I looked up from my papers. Her auburn hair dishevelled, while no more than a pink bathrobe covered her long-legged frame. "Well they won't mark themselves," I said wistfully. "It'll be good to get them out of the way."
Goddammit Rachel. Just because you're a maths teacher and your marking just seems to magically disappear doesn't mean you have to come in here and show off. And you're having great sex. So what? Stop rubbing it in my face!
Rachel and I had been best friends since we'd met at University. We ate, laughed and cried together as we went through the same rigorous teacher training program, and now we shared a house together having both been hired at the same school.
I had to admit I'd always been a little jealous of Rachel. Her body was long, toned and slender, whereas mine was short and a little plump. She'd always had far more attention from the opposite sex. But now things were coming to a head, we had the same damn job yet she seemed to be enjoying herself more in every way.
Tonight would be different though.
I had it all planned out in my mind. Aaron was leaving for a week's work tomorrow, and we were heading out for a few drinks later before he set off. With a little bit of Dutch courage for both of us I was confident we'd be fucking with unbridled passion before the night was out. At least that was the plan anyway.
Then I'd be the one screaming.
***
Like every other English pub, The Greyhound was dying a slow death. With its trade killed off by skyrocketing alcohol prices and the smoking ban, the place was barely able to keep its head above water these days. However on a Saturday night it was still able to attract a lively and amicable crowd.
Aaron and I sat at a small table, the hubbub of the crowd distracting us from the air of tension. "So looking forward to going away?" I asked, running my fingers through my long, dark hair.
"I'm not sure," he replied haphazardly. "It looks like we're going to be getting a few more contracts up north soon so I could be away a lot more."
I could see from the look in his blue eyes and the slump in his lean shoulders that he didn't want to be here. Aaron was a consummate professional, the thought of poisoning his system with a few stiff drinks the night before a big work project was the equivalent of committing the deadliest of cardinal sins. Like the pope breaking his celibacy hours before performing midnight mass.
Still he wouldn't be complaining later. When I had him ravaging me from every angle.
"Do you know where you're staying yet? Anywhere fancy?"
I was trying to steer the conversation away from work but was failing miserably, although I was certainly not helped by Aaron's indifference. He worked in the IT department of a road maintenance company, no doubt mind numbing work and my impressions certainly weren't improved as he babbled on about operating systems, programming languages and other inane computing jargon that meant nothing to me. As he began an irrational rant on the inadequacies of the public sector my mind started to wonder, and my gaze started to drift.
In particular my eyes were drawn to a man sitting at the bar, his long brown hair drawn back into a short ponytail.
I'm sure I recognize you from somewhere.
After a few seconds I placed him. Growing up with two brothers in a football mad family, he reminded me of Tottenham star David Ginola. Pete must have had his poster hanging on his wall for years. However, it wasn't Ginola's ability to dance round defenders that had him stuck in my mind for so long. No, it was his flowing locks, his broad shoulders and his sartorial French accent that really caught my eye. I'd always seen him as a more cultured, Parisian version of Brad Pitt when he had long hair. I don't mind admitting that I admired Ginola almost as much as my brothers did in my teenage years.
"I'll be back in a minute; I'm just going to use the loo." I awoke as if from a trance as Aaron rose from the table.
Damn it how long was I staring for? I hope he didn't notice.
"No problem," I replied hastily. "I'll get us another drink before we go."
I wandered towards the bar, not trying to get so close to Ginola that it would be awkward but close enough that he might notice me.
Did I really want him to notice me?
I reached the bar and waited to be served with my head pointing to the ground, almost out of embarrassment for the awe I was in.
Please notice me!
"Hi there."
Dammit. No hot French accent.
I looked up and was greeted with a pleasant smile. The bottom half of his face was covered in a trimmed goatee that I couldn't remember seeing on any of my brother's Ginola posters.
"Hi," I stammered back. It was all that I could muster as I forced myself to smile back.
"Don't be so shy," he said calmly. "I love the way your glasses highlight your eyes. They really bring your whole face to life."
I blushed a deep shade of red. No one had ever complimented me on my glasses before. In fact not that many people had complimented me on my looks period.
"Thank you," I replied as without thinking my hands were drawn to adjusting the way my thick rimmed spectacles sat on my nose.
He looked into my eyes and it felt as if he was staring into my soul such was his intensity. Normally I would have felt scared with someone scanning me so thoroughly. However all I felt was warmth in his big, hazel eyes.
"So do you come here often?" he asked casually. "I don't recall seeing you before. And I would certainly remember a face like yours."
I blushed again.
Aargh. How was he doing this to me!?
"It seems you are not used to such compliments," he smiled. "I'm Jeff."
"I... I'm Claire."
Jesus. Just talking to him was giving me the jitters. He was so out of my league.
"Well it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Claire. Since you have put up with my advances so politely may I offer to buy this round for you?" The barman approached us as I saw Aaron return from the rest room.