The Prodigal
Eight
I STOOD OUTSIDE Wendy’s door trying to get a handle on what I knew would be waiting for me on the other side. As soon as I’d made my initial proposal, the conversation and planning had been taken away and I didn’t get another word in. And I wasn’t finished.
Wendy and I worked out a signal when she needed special time together. With my three other wives chatting and planning their solo weeks with me, she’d silently tapped the stone at her throat. I could see a range of emotions flick across her face—fear, sorrow, love.
I opened the door and stepped in.
Candles were lit on the vanity, reflected in the mirror. The room was pristinely clean, the bed turned down with satin sheets reflecting a subtle sheen. Beside the bed, Wendy knelt on the floor, naked save the silver collar with its tiger-eye stone at her throat. Her knees were shoulder width apart, her hands clasped behind her back and her mouth slight open as she stared straight ahead.
I hated this.
No, not hated. I loved Wendy, but when she went into this ultra-submissive state, it was almost more than I could handle. It was such an open, unconditional willingness to please me in any way she could that it made me feel unworthy. It didn’t happen often, but it always gave me chills when she simply waited on her knees for me.
I’d even gone with Wendy to one of her therapy sessions and with her permission had seen her therapist, Sheila Garvey, a few times, by myself. It had helped me understand that Wendy simply needed to surrender her will on occasion and let someone else be completely responsible for her. It allowed her mind to purge itself of emotions, memories, and responsibility that threatened all the time to overwhelm her. I understood this intellectually. But I thought it was just too kinky.
“Tell me, Tony,” Sheila said as we chatted. “Exactly how is Wendy’s need for submission kinkier than your need for four wives?”
“I don’t need four wives,” I sputtered. “They just kind of gathered around me.” I suddenly noted that she’d included Wendy as one of my wives. Had I thought that as well?
“But picture yourself now with just one of them. Who would it be and where would the others be? How happy would you be?”
Shit! It wasn’t possible for me to imagine life without even one of the four, Wendy included, without feeling a desperate sense of loss. Maybe I did need four wives.
“I would be very unhappy,” I said.
“You’d function, though?”
“Yes. And I’d love the one I was with. There would be an empty space where the others had been. I don’t know if I could get over it.”
“Think of Wendy’s need as that empty space. She functions in the real world, but there is an inner longing to let go—something that is always there, but which she controls except in those intimate moments that she entrusts to you. Those moments of complete surrender are possibly even more intimate than the moments you share with Lissa, Melody, and Kate.”
I knew from experience that Wendy would not move from this position or change her eye focus until I’d satisfied her need to submit. Once I had tried to release her from her submissive posture by ordering her to tell me what she wanted, but the answer was simply ‘to serve.’ I would have to take control before we could get past this stage to talk about what was really on her mind.
“Tiger, help me undress, please.”
“Yes, Master.” She immediately rose and helped me out of my clothes, carefully folding them and putting them in the closet as she went. She took much better care of my jeans and T-shirts than I did. She was so good at moving around the house unnoticed that she had begun slipping into the master bedroom to gather our laundry, wash it, fold it, and put it away. When I was naked, she led me to the bed.
“Is your pussy wet?” I demanded. A shudder ran through her.
“Yes, Master.”
“Kneel on the edge of the bed.” She obeyed and I could see the gooseflesh rise on her back and butt. She considered this her most submissive posture—open, facing away from me, vulnerable to whatever I wished. I’d found that it was in this position that her father and Rafe had both beaten her and through her vulnerability she was demonstrating her trust in me. The waiting, however, tested her and she became progressively more aroused the longer I stayed silent behind her.
I could see the sheen of moisture on her pussy lips as they engorged and blossomed, opening of their own accord so that I could see the wet entrance to her vagina. Watching her get turned on by nothing more than my silent presence behind her got me painfully stiff. It was always me who couldn’t wait any longer. I stepped forward and pushed my cock into her in one long slow thrust, listening to her orgasm overtake her with a long keening followed by a sharp sob. Then I began rhythmically thrusting into her, at first only touching her with my cock in her pussy, but then relenting and grasping her hips and finally letting my hands creep up her sides and around to her breasts as I bent forward, pulling her to me to increase our contact. My own orgasm overwhelmed me. As I poured myself into my odalisque, I felt her clamp down on me to come again, and again.
Once we could regain our balance, I swept her up in my arms and carried her to the shower where we each paid attention to cleaning the other thoroughly, gently, sensually. When we were showered and dry, I carried her back to her bed, laid her in the center and held her to me.
“So good,” I whispered. “So wonderful. You are such a gift to me. I cannot imagine life without you.” I continued to repeat words of praise and love to her and gradually Wendy arose from her submissive state to relax into my arms as a lover and not a slave. I knew what she wanted and this time, I was only too glad to give it to her.
“Listen to me, Tiger,” I said gently when we had settled down. “Our winter break is going to be a little crazy with the openings and Christmas and all. I want you to be sure you’ve told Carma that you will be gone from the twenty-second of December through the fifth of January.”
“Are we staying in Nebraska for two weeks, Master?”
“No, Tiger, just one week. But you and I will not be returning to Seattle for New Year’s Eve. We will be elsewhere.”
“Where will we be, Master?” she whispered.
“Do you not trust me to decide that?” I asked. I felt her shiver against me at the thought that I was making the decision.
“Oh, yes!” I noticed that the ‘master’ had fallen off as she saw that I was arranging a week for the two of us alone. Wendy’s quiet and submissive nature made it easy for my other three queens to simply overwhelm her when they got excited. I leaned down and kissed her gently. Her lips responded to mine with hunger that I seldom felt from her. Between kisses she continued to whisper, “Oh, yes.”
“Wendy,” I said softly as I nuzzled against her ear, sending waves of gooseflesh down her body. She squirmed against me. “Can we make love now?”
“Oh, yes. Oh, yes.”
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