Intention /in-ten'shun / Design, Purpose, Aim
Develop /di-vel'up / To bring out what is latent or potential, to evolve
It has been my intention in this and the last episode to develop a number of story-line threads in preparation for what is to come. Thanks for going through this with me. I am now pleased with the options available to me for further episodes, and for Suzanne's on-going development as a sub to Graham, whilst simultaneously taking more control over Ian. That doesn't mean that the future is clearly mapped out and fixed. This story has a life of its own, and it is my role and duty to allow it to develop, and to report on its progress. I hope you enjoy reading these links and twists and turns as much as do when I discover them.
Chapter 17
They caught their connecting flight back to Edinburgh, tired and jet-lagged from the transatlantic leg, but with Ian's mind still on one thing. The events of the flight from LA would not leave his consciousness, and the dull ache of frustration was a constant reminder of the rash promise he had made to Suzanne in his moment of weakness and need.
Suzanne and the stranger had been locked in the bathroom for nearly an hour, with Ian restlessly awaiting her return, his cock still hard and his mind full of imaginings of what was happening only a few feet away. Finally, the engaged light had gone out and the stranger had returned to his own bunk, not looking at Ian as he settled into his flat bed, pulling the sheet over himself, obviously settling down to sleep for the rest of the trip.
Suzanne had stayed in the bathroom for a further 5 minutes before emerging; Ian assumed she'd been refreshing herself after whatever had transpired between her and the stranger. She had come to Ian and kissed him warmly, quickly feeling his erection as if to satisfy herself that he had done as she had asked and not yielded to the temptation to relieve himself. Ian had thought that he could taste evidence of the other man in her mouth.
"Thank you for that darling!" was all she had said initially, leaving Ian wondering whether he was being thanked for allowing her indiscretion, or whether she was thanking him for his own sacrificial abstention. As she leaned over him, her hand on his hardness and her pyjama jacket gaping, he had had an unrestricted view of her beautiful breasts. She looked into his eyes, drawing his attention away from her curves. Ian remembered her exact words.
"He was very excited, but able to satisfy me completely. I feel much better now, calmer."
She had kissed him again, wetly.
"Now I need my beauty sleep; it has been a very exhausting trip." She had paused for a moment as if considering Ian's needs. "I am so pleased that we have agreed that I will decide when you can cum. If you are very good, that might be quite soon."
That was it! With that thought, Suzanne had squeezed him once, as if in promise, kissed him again and returned to her own bunk, leaving Ian alone, frustrated, excited, remorseful, happy and rampant.
For a while, he couldn't resist the temptation to fondle himself; to gently stroke himself as he remembered all that had transpired. But he also remembered his promise to her, and he firmly resisted the temptation to bring to himself the relief that he so desperately needed, but which had been so firmly denied to him. He envied the stranger across the aisle, able to sleep, content and satisfied. But he was also happy in himself, in his own climax-free tribute to Suzanne, his future happiness and satisfaction, he thought, assured by Suzanne's half-promise.
He had spent a fitful night / flight, never able to completely relax and sleep, never able to clear his head of the thoughts and dreams, the confusions and the clarity of his silent submission.
The morning had been awkward. When the cabin lights had been gently raised to rouse the travellers, and the cabin staff had been busy scurrying about converting beds back into seats, Suzanne had slipped quickly into the bathroom to freshen up and change back into her travelling clothes. Whilst she was gone, Ian's glance had been returned by the stranger and their eyes had locked momentarily, before Ian had looked down and broken the connection. Ian had been unable to hold his gaze, or to read the look he had seen in the man's eyes. Was it envy? Was it pity? Was it understanding? Was it something else? Whatever had been in the stranger's eyes, Ian was in no doubt about what had been in his own; a complex mixture of jealousy, envy, submission, pride and ownership. The stranger may have stolen a moment of illicit conjugal bliss with Suzanne, but it was he, Ian, that would be living with her and enjoying her for the rest of his life.
When Suzanne had returned from the bathroom, and as the cabin crew had served breakfast to the half-awake passengers, the coast of Ireland slipping silently beneath them, Ian had seen her and the stranger exchange glances and half smiles, and a pang of real tangible jealousy had spiked through him. It was quickly replaced by love when Suzanne turned her glance to him and smiled at him with real warmth and affection.
Now they were sitting together at the front of the BA connecting flight to Edinburgh on the final leg of their amazing adventure's latest instalment.
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Suzanne and Ian arrived home mid-afternoon and spent the remainder of the day / evening reconnecting with their daughter Emma after sending away the child-minder / nanny that had taken care of her full-time during their absence. Emma was delighted to see them both, and even more delighted with the Mojave native American doll that had hastily been purchased for her at LAX by her guilt-ridden parents. She found the doll and its native costume so diverting that within 10 minutes of their return, she had forgotten that her parents had been away at all. So much for the concern of her parents and the fickleness of childhood!
After Emma had been put to bed and Ian and Suzanne had settled for their evening gin & tonic in the study, Ian caught up with the newspaper whist Suzanne checked her e-mail. Amongst the dross was an e-mail from Graham's secretary instructing her that an appointment had been made for her the following morning for a check-up with Doctor Packard. As she read the e-mail, Suzanne remembered her only other previous experience with the young doctor, and a frisson of excitement shivered through her as she remembered her embarrassment and humiliation at both his personal questions and intimate examination of her.
"What are your plans tomorrow darling" she asked, distracting Ian from his paper. Something in the way she asked the question alerted Ian that there was more behind it than the simple question implied.