Fleur said the words exactly as I had instructed. Softly, clearly, in my ear.
“Come over here,” she continued. “Kneel just there. That’s good.”
I could imagine him. Her husband. Neville. Nev. Kneeling. He’d have responded instantly to her call and walked, head down, across the white carpet to where she sat in her favourite chair. The love seat. The deeply upholstered green velvet love seat. The love seat I am getting to know quite well. A seat upon which he is no longer allowed to sit.
He’d be naked. Except for one small complex of steel fashioned around and secured tightly to one small part of his body. His body! Not so much anymore, Neville, I thought.
“Darling.” I listened as Fleur spoke again to her husband. “Kneel up a little straighter. You know how I like your posture to look just right. That’s better, thank you.” A subtle affirmation of her dominance over him. Exactly as I had instructed her to speak. A subtle affirmation of my dominance over her. “Nev! Stretch your legs open a little more. I want to see what I’ve locked away. That’s better.” A soft sign of satisfaction accompanied her last two words. I heard a moment of hitched breath from him. Nev. Neville. Never.
I could imagine as he knelt before the chair, before Fleur, his wife, his knees sinking into the deep soft pile. His legs spreading. Revealing more of the stainless-steel prison, shining cold and bolted to him. Her steel, his prison.
“I always like the way this looks. On you.” I heard her say. “I always get such a kick out of it. Let’s give you one or two.” I knew her right foot had reached forward and tapped him hard a couple of times between his legs. Against the polished steel cage that imprisoned his manhood. Permanently. Manhood! ‘Nothinghood’ I thought. I laughed silently to myself before returning my concentration to her words. I reached for my glass of wine as I savoured his deep grunt as the most sensitive part of his body absorbed the impact of her foot. A deep full bodied red wine. I sipped and savoured.
“Now. We need to talk. I want to take things up another level,” Fleur says with a certain finality that I wonder if her husband can sense. I can.
“I am taking us up to another level,” Fleur repeats. More certain.
Silence. He’s not permitted to speak at times like this, unless asked a question. I could imagine Fleur looking at him, as he knelt before her, eyes down. Preparing himself. As she prepared herself. I had no doubt she was feeling an intense awareness that I was listening in. I suspected she is also intensely turned on.
Her phone is sitting in her lap, beneath the swirl of silk that is her dressing gown. And with Fleur, it is most definitely a gown — a gorgeous silver robe, contrasting with her dark black hair and the hint of olive colour in flawless skin. I imagined her big dark eyes watching him from her simply beautiful oval face as she played her part in my plan.
Fleur had called me 15 minutes earlier, before concealing the phone within the silk and the warmth. Before summoning her husband. As required. By me. Her lover. Thom. The man who is now leading her more and more firmly by the hand.
I am listening very carefully. My phone on mute, my headphones in, as I sit back in my chair at The Arabesque. One of the waiters has just topped my glass up with more of the dark red wine from the bottle open on the table in the corner booth where I sit. The waiter glided away as unobtrusively as he had arrived. The other diners relaxing in the warm evening light of the restaurant are oblivious of this drama of my creation. I noticed the gold and glass of the room, the understated opulence, and the place across the table where Fleur would join me later.
As the sounds of animated conversation and good food swirled around me, the next Act I had conjured was about to begin. My lover’s voice, another man’s wife, drew my attention away from the place in which I sat to the place in which she sat.
“Now, I have quite a lot to say. I want you to listen carefully,” Fleur says. I adore the sensual tone of her voice. “Darling, I know I am fulfilling your every dream, and to my delight, I find myself creating my every dream. Or having them created for me.” I wondered if Neville, this husband of hers, had grasped the significance of her choice of words. My words.
I heard a subtle tapping — three taps. Already! I thought to myself, already Fleur is so aroused. We had agreed a code, an arousal code. She was expected to inform me how turned on she is, from time to time, and when she reached another threshold. The code had 5 levels, 1 the lowest. Already she has missed out the first two and is already at 3. And we have only just begun.
“Oh God!” she had gasped in my ear last night, as I had set out what I expected of her. We were lying in bed, I was naked, she was wearing a blue silk corset basque and jewels to match. I had been ‘using her’, as she liked to refer to our lovemaking, for over 2 hours, and now we were relaxing. We talk and relax well together.
Her voice in the earphones brought me back to the present moment.
“And as I have said before,” Fleur continues, “I am so grateful to you for being courageous enough to share with me your desires. Your fantasies. Your needs.” Once again she is following my instructions perfectly. Such an obedient paramour. But could she complete what I demand of her tonight? With him. If she can, she will be well rewarded. “And now they are your reality,” she says.
“Oh God! I’m so fucking horny.” I hear her say. An echo of last night. “Neville. You already know how much the fulfilment of your fantasies turns me on? Don’t you, Darling?”
A question. He is permitted to answer questions. Which he dutifully does.
“Yes, Ma’am,” says Neville. Kneeling still. Nev. Never.
He calls her Ma’am. She calls me ‘Sir’. That’s hot. I could hear him clearly. She had positioned the phone well. Clever girl.
“And right now, I am feeling really, really aware of my evolving sexuality,” she says. “And it’s all thanks to you. Encouraging me, all those years ago. To take control. I am so astonished at how far I have come. Thank you darling. And my pussy darling, my husband, my Neville, right now, is soaked. Though you, almost never do you get to sip upon this nectar. Do you?” Fleur uses his name like that on occasion, reinforces something between them she’s told me, reinforces their dynamic as well as their relationship.
“No Ma’am.”
“And you will not be knowing anything more about how my body is tonight, Darling. Other than the reason. Control of you is about to increase and change, significantly. That’s the reason. A good reason, is it not?”
Another question. “I am always pleased when you are aroused Ma’am,” he answered. Very formal, I think.
“Of course you are. You’re always aroused when I’m aroused aren’t you? That’s one of the keys to this whole thing isn’t it? If it wasn’t what I wanted, if it wasn’t turning me on so much, it wouldn’t be working so well for you, would it. For both of us. Am I right?”