“I talked to the doctor, Ivone.”
Ivone’s heart kicked up a notch, and she battled with instant anger that her privacy had been invaded. But then overwhelming relief drowned the anger. She wouldn’t have to pretend and see the man she loved struggle with her rejection. She just hoped that Jamison would be able to deal with it. She would still make it as easy as possible on him.
“I know why you didn’t tell me.”
How could he know?
“What do you mean?” she asked carefully.
“I know you were going to find a way to leave so that you wouldn’t disappoint me, Ivone, if you couldn’t conceive. Because you love me too much to let me down.”
Ivone stared at her Dom in utter astonishment. Her heart swelled with hope, then cramped with fear.
He
wanted to terminate their contract rather than give her the opportunity to do so. He wasn’t ready for that. It had to be her fault for him to move past it with righteous anger and disdain. She heard him continue as if from a great distance.
“I am so full of conflicting fucking feelings right now, sub, that I’m not sure what to share first. I’m humbled that you would do this for me, to spare me, but I’m pissed that you didn’t give me more credit, although I’ll own some of that because I still have a selfish streak. I find myself wishing I’d told you how much I love you instead of waiting for you to say it first. We are so fucked up, Ivone, you and I, by our pasts.”
Ivone tried to respond, to say anything, but couldn’t push much more than a muttered “Oh” past her lips. Jamison gave her a dark look.
“But right now I am so furious with you, Ivone, that I could spit. I thought there could be something terribly wrong with you, that you were sick with something that would take you away from me permanently! Goddamn it, woman! You scared me to death! If you can’t have a child, we can adopt. I want you, Ivone. You.” Jamison’s tirade ended in a whisper, and his face was pale, his eyes bloodshot.
Ivone reached out and gently laid her hand on his cheek. She leaned into him and pressed her lips to his and then stood. He rose to his feet to tower over her, his face a study in confusion. She pulled her clothes off and knelt before him, lowering her forehead to the floor. Jamison was silent for what felt like an eternity, then bent to pull her up to her feet, enfolding her in his arms. He rested his head on the top of hers.
“We’ll follow up with your doctor’s orders, Ivone. But there will come a time when we’ll have a discussion about withholding. And I might not be inclined to honor your safe word. Are we clear?”
Ivone nodded and finally found her voice. “Very clear, Jamison. And honey, I’m sorry I misjudged you, that I didn’t give you more credit. You don’t need me to protect you, at least not all of the time. I do love you, with all my heart, and you deserved to know.” She tipped her head up to look at him. “I obviously have much more to learn than you do.”
“We’ll keep teaching one another.”
Jamison claimed her lips with his, and any misgivings were swept away before the tide of love and trust between them. This, then, was the right thing and to hell with the voice of reason.
Ivone lay stretched over the spanking bench, her pussy clenching in anticipation. This night had been a long time coming. The laparoscopic surgery had been uncomfortable, and she thought that her insides might have been scraped and drawn like plaster on a wall, but her doctor was satisfied that most of the masses were gone, and the adhesions freed. The surgery took place after the drug therapy. Now
that
hadn’t been a cakewalk. Ivone had spent several nights sleeping alone in her room, despite Jamison’s entreaties. Such were the mood swings from the male hormone-based drug that she had been afraid that she might strangle him in his sleep on any pretext. She’d gained weight and privately inspected her body for telltale signs of beard growth. On one memorable occasion, she had slammed her water glass down so hard that it shattered, eliciting shocked glances from John and Joyce and an assessing one from Jamison. Ivone had really wanted to throw it squarely at Jamison’s head simply because he had made a comment about her refusing to eat vegetables. It had actually been kind of amusing, in retrospect. Ivone wondered if he had been concerned that she was going to challenge his supremacy in the household. Lord knew she had felt capable of it!
However, the symptoms eased once she’d reached the end of the treatment, and the surgery had been more of an afterthought. There was even a carefully offered medical opinion that the odds of her conceiving had improved. Jamison clearly didn’t care. He had never wavered in his steadfast love and support, overcoming his abhorrence of anything medical. He had even gone to see a doctor for a physical and committed to seeing him on a regular basis. Ivone had held onto that throughout the whole time under the doctor’s care, clutched it like a lifeline. At the back of her mind, she knew that in selling Jamison short, in not sharing her diagnosis with him, she had both hurt him and challenged his authority. Not that he had ever mentioned it again until today, now that she was totally healed. Now it was time to pay the piper, and Ivone welcomed it. Jamison could let go of his hurt, reestablish his dominance, and Ivone would be purged of her guilt.
“Are you ready, sub?” Jamison’s deep voice was full of dark promise.
“I am, Master.”
“You will count the strokes, sub.”
The first blow on her buttocks was an indicator of what was to follow. It had been a long time for Ivone, and the smack stung like fury. She flinched and sucked in air.
“One.”
The next nine came hard on the heels of each count, and then Jamison rubbed his big calloused hand over her, making the burn spread. Ivone tried to focus.
“Those ten were for withholding, sub. The next are for your presumption, and for not trusting me to accept you regardless, and for not believing I cared about you enough. They will be at my discretion. No safe word.”
Ivone wouldn’t have used it anyway. They both needed this. She deserved it. She relaxed and he began.
She next became vaguely aware of lying facedown on the bed, cool lotion being applied to what were very sore buttocks. Ivone could feel the tears drying on her face, and she was absolutely emotionally drained. She had no idea how long she had been off in her head, but Jamison had been patient. He stretched out beside her and touched her cheek. He looked at peace, and the love in his eyes shone back at her like a beacon. Ivone managed a smile, and he reached for her left hand. She felt him slip a cool circlet over her ring finger and Ivone nearly laughed, despite her languor. It was so typical of Jamison to simply indicate his intent of marrying her, not asking her, just declaring it. This time she was content to accept his arrogance for he was correct in his presumptiveness, and he would have chosen the ring with taste and care to please her.
He maneuvered her up on her side, pulling her to him, hitching her thigh over his hip. His cock found her opening with ease and pushed inside. He filled her, completed her, and they rocked together for a long time as Ivone gently ran her thumb over the raised stone in her engagement ring, another symbol of Jamison’s love for her. He finally reached between them to where they were joined and stroked her clit. Ivone shuddered in a gentle release and felt him come as she quivered around his cock, his hot ejaculate bathing her womb.
“Love you, Ivone.”
Ivone smiled. This wasn’t a competition. It wasn’t about taking a risk any longer. She knew Jamison saw and felt the love in her heart. But he
had
said it first. “Love you, too, Jamison.”
Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband of many years and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the dark side of romance.
Ménage Amour:
The Promise
Ménage and More:
Forgiveness
Ménage Amour: Running to Love 1:
Away
Siren Allure: Running to Love 2:
Broken
Siren Classic: Club Pleasure 1:
Wishes
Siren Allure: Club Pleasure 2:
Madness
Ménage Amour: Aspire 1:
Near Perfection
Ménage Amour: Aspire 2:
True Perfection
Available at
BOOKSTRAND.COM
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com