A Kink in Her Tails (9 page)

Other days would be pointless, endless frustration, with kids who were either sick, or irritable, or hot or cold, or just flat not in the mood to learn.

Those were the days he
really
missed going home and enjoying a good workout with his flogger.

* * * * *

Laura Stratton-Burns smiled coolly at the man on her right as he politely passed her the brochure.

Her navy blue pinstriped suit was crisp, her white silk blouse felt soft against her neck, and she knew she was completely in command of herself and this meeting.

Four of the top lawyers from Stratton-Burns, Howard and Mills were seated at the large conference table, along with two administrative assistants and Laura’s own right hand person, Mark Ffitch.

The subject under discussion was the adoption of a brochure to be circulated at the upcoming Metropolitan Legal Conference. Such things were of grave import to the sober souls at S-B, H and M.

Laura did her best not to drift, but she’d been over this matter at least ten times prior to the meeting, had given her formal seal of approval and was only here as a token of her support for the graphics department.

“Well, Laura, it looks like we have a winner here.” Saul Edelstein smiled at her.

“I agree, Saul. This should definitely make its mark at the conference, and I’m very pleased at the effort that the entire graphics department has put into it.” She made a point to smile at Ellen from the graphics group, noting her pleased blush in response.

Laura knew how important it was to make sure that those who worked for her were praised, petted, rewarded and encouraged. It was what made her such a successful head of the firm at such a young age.

Taking the reins from her father, Laura had held tight and driven S-B, H and M to the top of the legal pile by force of will and a couple of strategically brilliant moves. She was well-known in legal circles, mostly respected in spite of her gender, and, in the parlance of the day, was seen to “have it all.” All except a healthy marriage.

She leaned back and drew a deep breath, letting the soft babble of voices drift past her.

She loved Adam. There was no question in her mind that he was her mate, her man, the “one.” He had been since the first time they’d met, so many years ago now, at least seven…maybe eight.

The attraction between them had been instant. They’d been naked and in bed within an hour. And they had stayed there for most of their final post-graduate year.

But life had intruded—as it always does. Careers were begun, posts accepted, marriage and domesticity had followed.

When had it all begun to fall apart? When did the sex become routine, and the love taken for granted?

And how could she stop it from sliding any further?

A shiver crossed her flesh as she remembered the last time she’d dropped by Lincoln Elementary to pick up Adam. He’d been
very
closely chatting to another teacher. A young, female teacher. And she’d even been wearing gingham.

Laura snorted at herself for her foolishness. She trusted Adam with her life. He would never look elsewhere. But lately there had been an unusual expression in his eyes. A wistful look, a distance, which told her that he was drifting someplace she couldn’t go.

She was very afraid that something was going wrong. And she didn’t know what to do to fix it.

Mark reclaimed her attention by laying his hand on her shoulder. “No sleeping, Your Majesty,” he whispered teasingly.

Laura smiled up at him, noting the wicked smile in his baby blue eyes. Mark was her lifeline some days, keeping her sane, making her laugh and generally bringing fresh air into the otherwise stuffy environment of her law firm.

His lifestyle choices had been obvious to her from the moment they met, but a friendship had also been born that day. Laura had never regretted the impulse that made her hire the soft-voiced beautiful man with the too tight corduroys and the faded pink streak in his hair.

Now, Mark was elegantly, if quietly, dressed, having developed an appreciation for fine clothing. His position as Laura’s assistant allowed him the luxury of handmade suits, and his long term affair with a designer at the nearby gentleman’s clothier guaranteed at least one new suit a month.

He called Laura his “Queen”—in the monarchical sense of the word—and insisted he was nothing but her slave. She had but to wave her hand and he would obey her every command.

In fact, Mark had reached the point where she didn’t even have to wave her hand. He could anticipate a good number of her orders, and having Mark guard her door had made Laura’s days run more smoothly and her challenges easier to face.

She was deeply indebted to him, liked him a lot, and would have been completely lost without him.

She didn’t, however, want him as her slave.

A fact which miffed Mark considerably, and about which he would whine incessantly if given half the chance.

Laura had no idea how he’d react if she did strip his clothes off him and paddle his bottom as he’d laughingly begged her to do on numerous occasions, whether or not he’d done something that required punishment.

She just knew how she’d react, and it was with complete disinterest. There was only one bottom for her, and that was her husband’s.

With much fanfare, the meeting adjourned, and Mark gathered Laura’s papers together as she shut down her laptop.

“Well. That was a nice hour spent talking about nothing at all,” grinned Mark. “Gotta love corporate America.”

Laura winced in agreement, thinking of the piles of paperwork that awaited her on her desk.

“Come on, Queenie, let’s grab lunch before we hit the salt mines. I found a little sandwich place that makes the best egg salad…”

Laura’s mouth watered. “Okay, you’re on. But forty-five minutes, Mark. No more. Otherwise we’ll be waaay behind with things…”

“Ooh darling,” crooned Mark with a sly giggle. “That’s just how I like it…waaaaay behind.” Laura choked back a laugh. “You’re outrageous. Let’s go eat.”

* * * * *

As usual, Adam was home first, and he juggled his briefcase, his raincoat, his keys and the mail as he made his way into Apartment 6C.

He’d passed Adele on the way upstairs, she of the multitude of amazing cameras and the interesting packages from unusual P.O. boxes. He’d seen her name on several photo shoots, and they always had a nice word as they passed in the elevator, or, on those days when he was feeling guilty about that lunch room Twinkie, the stairs.

Today it had been the elevator. The hours had dragged past, the rain had finally set in just as it was time for him to leave, and the traffic had immediately clogged up as the road slicked ahead of him.

He dropped his coat in the foyer and took the mail through into the kitchen, kicking off his shoes as he went.

It was Wednesday, Laura’s night to hit the gym with her friends, so he knew he’d have a sandwich, some chips and a beer for dinner.

Then he could spend two hours with his secret.

An envelope caught his eye as the usual assortment of bills and junk mail spilled over the kitchen counter.

Hand addressed and from someone he didn’t recognize, he warily turned it over looking for a postmark.

It was blurred and inconclusive.

Adam opened the letter.

“
We regret to inform you of the passing of our beloved Master Granger Fields after a short
illness. His memory will be honored by his slaves and his followers at a private ceremony at his
Dungeon on…
”

Oh God. Master Granger was dead.

Adam sat down with a thump, holding the letter in his hand and staring at it in disbelief.

The man who had taught Adam everything he ever knew about being a Dom had died. The man who had been closer than a father to him, who had understood him better than his own father ever had. The man who had helped him come to terms with himself, and who he’d abandoned once Laura had become part of his life.

He hadn’t seen the Master since their wedding. He closed his eyes as he remembered the Master’s words. “Adam, you are afraid for the wrong reasons. But you must make the choices here, not me. I am sorry that your skills will go to waste. Don’t let your life follow suit.” They’d shaken hands, the Master had kissed Laura’s, if he remembered correctly, and they’d parted.

Now he was gone.

It was a bitter pill, and one that saddened Adam to his very soul. He passed on the sandwich and chips and went straight for the beer, twisting off the top and taking a long swallow as he went into the den and sat in front of his monitor.

He left the light off, and the gloom of the evening echoed the gloom of his mood. A few quick keystrokes activated his system and within seconds his secret life appeared on the screen.

“
Welcome to Shu Adama’s Dwelling. The Ultimate On-Line Resource for D/s Information and
Conversation. We understand
.”

* * * * *

Laura leaned against the wall of the elevator, tired to her very soul. The day had been a long and challenging one, her workout had been an effort, and she’d cut it short for the first time she could ever remember.

Her weariness seemed almost a solid weight resting on her shoulders and driving her downwards, and yet she knew that it was something not easily remedied by a good night’s sleep.

Adam would be upstairs now, waiting for her. Working perhaps, or watching a little television. Ready to give her a hug and listen to her as she talked about her day.

He’d be surprised she was home early, but she knew he’d be there for her. He always was. So what was the problem?

She didn’t know.

The elevator door pinged open and she was confronted by a couple locked in a rather passionate kiss.

“Ahem.”

The bodies sprang apart. It was Eve Bentley and Simon Austen from the fourth floor. They grinned at her.

“Hi guys. I’m going up. Want to wait till it comes back down? If you can find something to keep yourself occupied that is,” smiled Laura.

“Hey Laura, how’s it going?” Eve sparkled. Laura had heard they were getting married shortly. She felt happy for them, then another wave of depression swamped her.

“Fine, Eve. Good seeing you both.” The elevator doors slid shut and Laura rose the last two floors.

Her sneakers made little sound on the carpeted hallway as she reached her door, and she let herself into the apartment with a mixture of relief and exhaustion.

She was struck by how quiet it was. Usually there was plenty of light and the sound of the TV or some music going. Tonight it was hushed and dark.

Adam was home, that was for sure. His shoes were tossed against the wall and his jacket was on the rack.

Quietly, Laura closed the door behind her and dumped her gym bag and clothes.

She went into the kitchen. A pile of unopened mail lay on the counter, with one letter on top. Two empty beer bottles stood next to it.

Curious now, she picked up the paper and read, a frown creasing her brow as she struggled to make sense of the words.

“…Granger Fields…
” Oh no, how sad. She remembered him from her wedding, a handsome silver-haired man with a very appealing smile. He’d kissed her hand and made her shiver.

“…
his slaves…his Dungeon…”
Good lord, was the man some kind of medieval fanatic? Laura turned the letter over, noticing a handwritten paragraph on the back of the formal announcement.

“
Adam, the Master has left You something special. It’s been a long time, I know, but I beg that
You will honor him and us by attending. We have missed Your laughter and the welcome sting of
Your hands. Your Loving Pet, Fay
.”

Laura’s skin felt too tight for her body, and her throat closed up. For a moment she thought she was going to pass out.

Adam had “a loving pet?” What the hell did that mean?

She scrambled to make sense of the message and put it into context, her analytical mind tumbling about like a clothes dryer full of socks.

The fluff cycle ended. She needed more information.

Dropping the letter back on the counter, she turned to find Adam with curiosity, anger and some fear battling for prime position in her brain.

To her surprise he was sitting glued to the computer monitor in the darkened study.

His focus was complete and absolute, his fingers were flying over the keyboard and he seemed totally unaware of her presence.

She silently moved closer, blessing the large resolution on the monitor. Within a couple of steps she could read over his shoulder.

“
So, Alan, never let your sub feel alone after that experience. She will need your comfort and your
love more than ever. Your actions, if you perform them correctly, will send your sub into another
place, a state of mind that will be like no other she’s ever experienced. It will be frightening,
exhilarating and exciting for you both. Watch her, Alan
.” Adam paused, reached for his beer, took a swig and bent back to the keyboard.

Laura’s eyes were getting bigger and bigger as she read more of his message.

“
Watch her skin, her eyes, her muscles. See if she’s wet for you, if her nipples are reddening and
bunching under their restraints. How about her buttocks? Do your blows leave a glow or a stripe?

Does she flinch at them then thrust back for more? Learn all of this Alan, learn to read your sub’s
silent language. Then you will know what to do for her and with her when you have completed the
scene. Whether you should take her in your arms and just hold her or fuck her hard and long. Let
her tell you, Alan, because the truth is that there is no ‘leader’ in this experience.”
Laura’s belly tightened and her body tensed as she read over Adam’s shoulder.

“
There is no right or wrong, no ‘my way or the highway.’ There is only you and her. A couple. One
entity functioning for pleasure. And oh my, what pleasure it is
.” Laura slowly backed away as Adam began to sign his name and tap the keys which would post his message.

She reached the safety of the kitchen and rocked back on her heels, trying to come to terms with what she’d seen and what she’d read.