James looked across the car. She had been staring out that window for the past two hours. Silently. That was shocking enough. The woman never shut up. It was one of the things that he loved about her, how completely open, honest and transparent she was.
And one that annoyed the crap out of him. Normally he liked quiet. That was why he had bought this place when he sold his first video game...for more fucking money than he thought he would make in a lifetime. Isolated on the Welsh coast, he could go days without seeing a single person if he wanted.
But the quiet now disturbed him. She had not said a word since her simple, "Yes Sir," in the cafΓ©. For two whole fucking hours she just sat and looked at the dreary scenery passing outside the window. It was what she had been doing for months, probably for years. Keeping safely quiet while life passed her by. But no more.
He turned onto the single lane road that led to his bungalow. It was hidden in an alcove of trees less than a hundred metres from the raging sea. He loved to just sit and listen to the waves pounding against the rocks. Its eternal rhythm gave him peace that little else could. Except for her.
When she was not pissing him off, like she was now, that is. He meant it. He was not allowing her to throw her life away the way that stupid asshole had his. The way the man tossed her and her love about as carelessly as he did everything and everyone else. Like the whole fucking world owed him. He had used his illness to elicit sympathy from everyone, especially her. Used it like a mask to hide his arrogance and selfishness.
James gripped the wheel tighter as he took the sharp right turn that would bring his bungalow into view. He smiled at the gasp its harsh stone beauty elicited from her. It was the same response he had when the estate agent first showed him the property.
"It's beautiful," her voice was breathy and cracked a bit on each syllable like she had not used it much lately. Which was probably pretty damned close to the truth.
"Thank you," was his only response to all the questions that shone in her bright eyes. There would be time for those later. He opened his door and walked around the car to open hers. She hesitated for a long moment when he held out his hand to her. He frowned and prepared for another battle. But in the end, she simply placed her fingers in his and allowed him to help her from the car.
It was only a dozen or so step to the small wooden porch that wrapped about the whole ground level of stone edifice. He helped her up the couple of steps while he dug the keys out of his pocket. He so rarely bothered to lock the place, isolated and hidden as it were. But he had been cautious knowing he would be away overnight.
Looking at her now, he wondered. Had he known all along? That he would bring her back with him. Had that been the secret plan he hid even from his own consciousness? Had he gone with the intention of spiriting her away like some captive bride? Not that it fucking mattered. She was here now. He held open the door and waited. "After you, princess."
Her mouth dropped open as she took in the large open plan kitchen, dining and living room. The stone fireplace that heated the bungalow even on the coldest of Welsh winter nights took up almost a whole wall. His collection of hand-painted military figurines was arranged neatly on its mantle. It was a hobby that had always appealed to his need for detail.
A large leather sectional took up most of the rest of the room. A thick carpet and coffee table where he kept his laptop and whatever he was working on at the time filled the rest of the space between the sofa and fireplace. Off to the side was a small round wooden table and chairs, though he could never once remember eating there. He usually ate on the sofa or his bedroom while he worked.
The large country kitchen had never held much appeal to him. But he could see the light in her eyes at the neat and orderly space. Her quick intake of breath when she saw the auger caused him to laugh. "I am not much of a cook, but we will go into town tomorrow and pick up some things for you."
She looked back at him and he saw the tightness in her jaw as she bit back whatever smartass reply had popped into her beautiful head. Instead she dropped her eyes and replied, "Thank you, Sir."
One part of him was pleased with her obedience. But another louder portion knew that he must break it. She had spent five years burying herself beside that bastard in a grave that he dug slowly and meticulously. He had watched the transformation from his sassy and self-assured friend to that man's docile little slave. Claire might be a natural sub but she was not a slave. But as always she subverted her own needs, becoming what the other person needed, giving too much of herself to a man that did not deserve to even kiss her boots.
The last thing he wanted was for her to lose herself in him the way that she had always done with the others. He did not want her trying to change, to become whatever he thought was the perfect sub. He wanted her to be her. The woman he had known for eight years...giving, fiery, intelligent, and passionate. He wanted the woman he fell in love with back.
"Drop the coat," he commanded. He smiled as the command reignited the fire in her green eyes. She opened her mouth. But then closed it and dropped her eyes even as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on the coat. She obeyed...a bit too easily.
"Hang it up on the hooks next to the door. Your bag too," he ordered. He studied her as she walked compliant across the room. The corset was punched in the back. Obviously too large after all the weight she had lost. Her legs were covered in black silk stockings, the old-fashioned kind with the seam up the back.
They were perfectly straight. Just as she had not dared to deviate from the line that man set for her. Not even when it hurt her. Not even when the selfish bastard placed his wants above her needs. No true master had such little regard for his property.
Her round bottom was covered in lacey briefs with only the slightest glimpse of bare skin peaking between it and the stockings. In that moment James knew. Knew the exact button to push. Exactly what would wake his sleeping beauty from her coma.