Cross My Heart

Cross My Heart - Part 3

Chapter 9 - Game Over

We returned to town the next day, after sleeping in and eating lunch. Robyn retrieved our remaining belongings without incident. She met Stephanie outside her front door. Badass martial artist or not, when I got out of the truck, she took a step back toward her house. I stayed by the still running truck without saying a word, smiling to myself on the inside.

We were back and forth between the hotel and the house for the next few days. Despite going everywhere together, another part of my security paranoia that Robyn didn't seem to mind, we had no further discussions of what had happened on that ill-fated day.

I supervised all the work on the house, verifying that no one performing any of the work was one of Robyn's Dumb Game friends, or, as near as I could tell, a brother, cousin, uncle, or friend of a friend. Deacon swung by after I texted him, dropping off my plastic tote and receiving repayment of the money I owed him. The tote went into the shed where I would sort it out later.

When everyone was gone and all the keys were swapped out and the passwords were reviewed and all the rest of that bullshit was done, I stood at the kitchen counter, making myself a sandwich. There was a long scratch on the counter where I had dropped the mighty shovel blade a lifetime ago.

"You want a beer with that?" Robyn asked from behind me.

"No, thank you."

She closed the fridge and stepped out where she could see me. "What?"

"No, thank you," I repeated.

"Is the world about to end? Should I put this wine back in the bottle or down the whole thing right now?" she asked, half seriously, I think.

"Only if you can do either without spilling it," I said, trying to be funny. There was still tension between us, and I didn't know how to unravel it. We had worked together, talked about the everyday things that keep a home running, had sex, and done all the things couples do, but that day and all its fallout was still between us.

"Can we just forget this ever happened?" she said, looking from her glass to my face to the scratch in the countertop.

"I don't think I can," I said, taking her question literally. I had watched hours of video recently, which cemented the memory of the day firmly in my head. I had been drugged, man handled, stripped, washed, chemically depilated, shaved in the places they couldn't Nair, crammed into a chastity belt, corseted, pantied, and restrained. Aside from the pictures that had been taken, violation of my person by someone other than my wife had been limited to the very helpful hands all over my body during the process, and a few strokes and swats on my cock when it didn't behave as wished. At least no one had stuck anything in my ass or pleasured themselves with my mouth.

Not that I would have been much good, I imagine. I was entirely unconscious at the time, and have no memory at all of these events.

I had been focused entirely on myself as the aggrieved party, but Robyn had been put through some similar or worse experience, only she had been awake. I noticed that her pussy had been shaved. The fine blonde down that covered parts of her skin usually unseen was also gone. I didn't ask her about it. If there were videos of her brief captivity, they had not surfaced anywhere. If they had been given to her, as I hoped they had, she had not mentioned it.

I really didn't want to see them.

"Do you forgive me?" she asked, adding, "I am so very fucking sorry. I had thought-"

"Of course," I interrupted, not letting her finish. I got up and moved the chair, sitting down beside her, grabbing her hand. I decided to be honest, not certain if this was the time for it. My instincts really suck sometimes. "I forgive you. I think I forgave you in Henry's waiting area. But I'm still working through my feelings, which are mostly anger, and I think that will take some time. And I understand you may need some time to sort some things too." Her hand tightened on mine, but I wasn't sure what it meant.

She leaned her head against my shoulder and said nothing more. I wondered what thought I had interrupted in my desire to reassure her. I probably should have waited for her to finish talking. Now she seemed content to let it slide.

What I wasn't being honest about was everything that wasn't me being mad at Heather, Carrie, Stephanie, Bobbi, and company. After all the shit we had been through, the simple fact was that I still wanted what I wanted. What I had always wanted. I still wanted to see Robyn dressed up like some teenage boy's wet dream. I still wanted her to be my damsel in distress, or play some other gently kinky scene with me.

But now all these desires came with a generous helping of guilt, doubt, and uncertainty. Which Robyn should I believe? The one who had said I was being a demanding ass? The one who said it was okay to ask nicely as long as I accepted the answer? Or the one whose new 'friend provided' clothes were nowhere to be found and whose underwear drawer now looked like the beige section of the old lady's underwear sales rack?

Short of asking her, which felt like a bad idea, I resolved to return to my original promise and be happy with the wonderful life we have together. I would pay closer attention to her, too, and try to see the signs of lingering hurts still troubling her.

October arrived before we had any breakthroughs. We had gone to some couples therapy, which was kind of fun, but neither of us was willing to discuss more than the polite, surface issues, like our difficulties communicating or my bad temper. As emotional scars go, I guessed these weren't so bad. I worried about Robyn and whatever had happened to her, but that subject seemed closed now too.

I was sweeping some leaves off the patio. They had blown in from the Campbell's trees. By the way, Erin had been in on the Dumb Game, and I had not spoken to her since. I was nice enough to toss the occasional wayward toy, ball, or Frisbee back over the fence. For some reason, her kids no longer ventured into the yard to retrieve them.

"Would you mind grilling tomorrow? For nine?" Robyn called, phone in hand, from the door, which I hadn't even heard slide open.

"No," I said, feeling a flash of deja vu. Tomorrow was Friday. It wouldn't be the Dumb Game gang. Despite her earlier contemplation of working things out, there had been no reconciliation with her friends, except Bobbi and Erin. Erin because we were neighbors, and she was only tangentially involved. I'm not sure what Bobbi had done, except to be the only Dumb Game participant to be physically accosted by me.

Carrie had moved to Texas at the end of August. There was a going away dinner which Robyn did not attend. I don't know if she was even invited, and I sure as hell wasn't going to ask. The long phone chats she used to have with Heather had not resumed. Heather still ran a popular gym, and taught fitness and martial arts, but Robyn didn't go there anymore.

Robyn shut the door and vanished, only to come back a few minutes later without her phone. I looked at her with my best expectant expression.

"Deacon, Maddie, and the kids are coming over for lunch tomorrow," she said. "Burgers, hot dogs, maybe some chicken? And sides, which I'll take care of."

I guess my expression had shifted to bewilderment. I suppose 'grilling for nine' should have given it away. Analysis is supposed to be my strong suit, but I was still caught off guard. Robyn walked over and wrapped her arms around me. I dropped the broom and returned the hug with one of my own. We held on to each other, and for a moment, I forgot everything that had happened this year.

She smelled nice too, I thought as I inhaled the Robyn scented autumn air. My arms tightened, squeezing us together. I never wanted to let go, but eventually, I had to.

"I need a better class of friends," she said, resuming the conversation our embrace had interrupted.

"Well, they're a good place to start, but I thought you and Maddie didn't much like each other," I said.

"Why would you think that? We just don't have much in common except husbands that are best friends. I think it would be nice to see more of them."

I had seen a lot more of Deacon, and even Maddie, since June. Neither of them ever mentioned the Dumb Game. Neither of them acted surprised to find out that me and Robyn were still together. Both of them were quietly supportive without being at all inquisitive.

We went inside and I noticed the rather lengthy grocery list on the table. "Who's making the grocery run?" I asked, mentally erasing the list of things I had planned to do today.

"How about we both go?" Robyn answered. "You can guard the cart while I forage for meat and veggies," she said.

Acting more like a pair of love struck teens than the responsible adults we thought we were, we navigated the store without issue, right up until the bread aisle.

"Hey Robyn. Andy," a woman said. We both looked, and I belatedly recognized Heather. She had cut her hair, and was wearing gray sweats and a ball cap instead of fashionable, trendy gym wear.

"Excuse me," Robyn said, reaching right past Heather's face for some hot dog buns. She turned to me and said, "Four packages enough, you think?"

I nodded, and she dropped the bread into the cart, took two steps, and grabbed four packages of hamburger buns. We rolled on without another word. Following Robyn's lead, I didn't even turn around to look. I did note, out of the side of my eye as we went left at the end of the aisle, that Heather was still standing by the buns, staring at Robyn's back. I stifled a laugh.

"Well played," I said as we picked up cheese in the refrigerated section.

"What was well played?" she replied. She turned to me and flashed a beatific smile. We never heard from Heather again. On those rare instances when we crossed paths, she ignored us as thoroughly as Robyn had ignored her.

After that, lunch the next day was calm in comparison. The day was mild enough to leave the doors and windows open, but we mostly sat outside.

Deacon, Maddie, their three boys, and the twin girls, were excellent lunch company. The kids played in the yard, organizing makeshift games with ever-changing rules. The sort of thing Dad used to call 'disorganized grab ass' in his singularly charming manner. We chatted. I grilled. We made about twice as much as we could eat, and sent the leftovers home with Maddie. They didn't need them for themselves. The downturn had barely affected them, but they knew plenty of folks that could use a little help right now.

Deacon's handyman church jobs had morphed into general work about town. He had no shortage of paying gigs, but he also saved a chunk of time every week to help out families that could only pay him with an IOU, or something from their garden or workshop.

Maddie had been homeschooling her older kids already, so the teacher shortage and various school disruptions hadn't affected her either. Robyn reminded us all that she taught math, should they need any help. Maddie smiled at this and said she was okay for the moment since her oldest was only a third grader, but she knew some teenagers that would be grateful for the help.

Robyn got up and grabbed her phone from the kitchen counter, immediately sharing her contact info with Maddie. I wondered who had replaced my wife with an alien clone in the middle of the night.

The fun was over by around 3:30. Maddie hugged me before she got in the van, and I knew then that the aliens had come for sure.

"That was fun," Robyn said. "We should do it again." She put her arm around me. "You smell like smoke, sweat, and grilled chicken. Go jump in the shower. I'll be along in a few."

At least I didn't smell like beer this time. I kept that thought to myself. I did feel pretty grungy, so I headed to the bathroom, stripping along the way.

I had just lathered up my hair, and had my eyes closed to keep the suds out of them when I heard Robyn come in.

"Room in there for me?" she said over the sound of the water.

"You know it!"

I heard the shower curtain rustle and then Robyn's body pressed against me. She wiped my mouth and then kissed me. Her hands roved and roamed about my body, and her tongue flicked past my lips, probing and caressing. When I wrapped my arms around her, I felt slick, wet, fabric instead of naked skin.

I opened my eyes and noticed two things. First, I had not rinsed all the suds off my face, making my eyes sting. Second, Robyn was wearing a black camisole and black stockings. I hadn't stopped kissing her, but she still sensed a change and opened her eyes. No need for questions now, the look on her face signaled her desire with crystal clarity.

I thought about lifting her on to me, face to face. I wanted to be looking at her. We had done this before, believe me. Well, we were both naked those times. The point is, we weren't novices, but the shower floor was slippery with soap and we were both practically vibrating with frantic lust.

Robyn licked her lips and turned away from me, leaning against the wall and going up on her toes. I didn't wait for a further invitation. I stepped forward, arms wrapping around her, fondling her breasts through the wet fabric of her camisole. We had not turned the shower off, and the hot water beat against my back. My cock, hard and jutting up, slipped easily into her, and she relaxed her legs, sinking onto me. Our bodies pressed together, as I pushed up and into her pussy.

My hips ground against her, feeling every bit of her skin against mine that I could, plus the now soaked fabric of her top and her stockings. Our arms provided some cushion against the wall as we rocked together. My cock slipped and slid within her pussy, staying inside her instead of slamming in and out. I kissed the back of her neck, the sides of her head, her wet hair. We continued our passion for minutes, edging closer and closer to climax.

We knew each other's bodies well, and Robyn used that knowledge now, rising slightly on her toes and tilting her hips. The motion put pressure on the sensitive underside of my cock. I lasted four more strokes. Tightening my arms around her, and pressing hard against her, my whole body shook with my release. I held on for a few more seconds, just feeling the heat soaking into me from all directions.

Gently, Robyn pushed backward against me, and I let her move me, uncoupling our bodies as I did. I was planning what to do next, but she was ahead of me again. She shut the water off and then reached down to grab the hair that had regrown in my crotch. Before I could protest, she laid one finger from her free hand across my lips. I remained quiet, and she released my hair only to grab another tender part, urging me to follow her.

We went only as far as the bedroom, where she had covered the bed with a heavy quilt and layers of towels. When she turned to face me, I took hold of the hem of her soaked camisole and lifted it up and over her head. She raised her arms to help, and I tossed the soaked wad of cloth over my shoulder toward the bathroom.

She tumbled backward onto the bed and beckoned me to follow. I helped her scoot further onto the bed, and she helped me fall on top of her by wrapping her long, black nylon clad legs around my waist and pulling. Catching myself with my arms on either side of her, I kissed her and entered her at the same time.

Where our sex in the shower had been intense, passionate, but slow and paced, this encounter was quickly turning into a lust flavored wrestling match. My arms had slipped beneath her, wrapping her tightly as our lips and tongues sought to kiss the spots that aroused us the most. She clung to me with arms and legs, helping time my thrusts to a rhythm that brought her steadily closer to orgasm.

When Robyn stopped exploring with her mouth and simply pressed her head hard against my shoulder, I knew she was on the edge. I changed the tempo, slowing slightly and allowing my cock to verge close to sliding out of her. Small sounds began to escape from her lips, bubbling up from somewhere beyond conscious thought. They were expressions of desire, her way of saying 'Please make me come' and 'I never want this to stop' at the same time.

I knew her body as well as she knew mine. Gradually, I quickened my thrusts and she bucked in time with me, letting me set the pace. Time slowed to a crawl even as our bodies slapped together with increasing frequency. Robyn's fingers tightened against my back, and I felt her magnificent body clench before releasing all tension with a low moan. Spasms, big and small, ran through her, gradually relaxing her into a sweating, panting bundle of bliss.

"Mmmm," she murmured, looking up at me. She flexed her hands, fingers mashing into my back and shoulders. "I may have left some marks."

"Won't be the first time," I said quietly.

She wiggled her butt against the bed. I was still inside her, still hard. Her head tilted to her right, a quick little gesture. We rolled and now I was looking up at her.

I love looking up at her this way. There are so many things to see and do and touch. We grasped hands and she adjusted her position, taking the opportunity to tease my manhood.

"I think someone's ready to play," she said. "We're not going to break anything important like this, are we?" she teased. She was already starting to ride me, correctly intuiting my willingness.

My eyes took her in from her wet blonde hair down to her flexing legs. Of course I lingered on the sexy parts, but when you can see the woman you love in the throes of such passion and pleasure, they're all sexy parts. She caught me looking at her and winked, slowing her bouncing ride on my cock to near stillness.

Her hands tightened their grip on mine, and she pushed down against my arms for support as she slowly rose, legs bending at the knees. I could see all the details of our coupling, which I think was her goal. Her legs trembled slightly at the apex of her motion, and it felt like my cock was about to slip from the grasp of her sex.

Then she descended, moving as slowly on the downward trip as she had on the upward. I watched the skin of her labia fold in around my own flesh as she seated herself firmly upon me.

She must have known I was close, because she started teasing. First, there was a wiggle of her butt, then a shaking of her tits. She released my hands and ran her fingers through the damp tangle of her hair. Her arms dropped to her sides, and her fingers trailed over the black nylon still covering her thighs. Then she did something she had never done before.

Her hands dropped down to the V of her legs and fondled my balls before encircling the shaft of my penis, gripping firmly despite the wetness of all parts involved. She kept this grip while continuing to ride up and down, slowly and gently. Without warning, she released me and flung her arms up and out for me to catch before engaging in a wild, bucking ride upon me. It didn't take much to push me over the edge.

For a minute or two, we stayed together in a pleasantly exhausted heap.

"I love you," I said into blonde locks partially covering my face.

"I can tell," she answered. She slid off and rolled to her side, facing me. "I love you, too." I kissed her, tenderly. I felt somewhere between mellow and frenetic, as though I could go either way. If she asked me to do something naughty, I was game, but if she asked me to take a nap with her, I could have done that too.

Naturally, we did neither.

Chapter 10 - A New Game

"You were never going to ask me to do this, were you?" she said. Her fingers tugged at the elastic band of one of her stockings.

"Never is a really long time," I said without answering the question. She was right though, I was aiming for never. "But yeah." I really didn't want to spoil a perfect day with this conversation.

"I told you it was okay."

"After telling me a few dozen times that it wasn't, and being forced into it," I answered, already tired of the subject. "Can we talk about something else, Robyn?"

"We could," she said, "but I'm done waiting for you to start the talk. I've done all the reflection I care to do. Whatever comes next, it will be something we decide together, not just whatever happens because we're both too scared to talk about it." She sat up, and I followed her, sitting up cross-legged, shoulder against the headboard.

"Okay," I said. "Where would you like to start?"

"I don't understand you at all. At least not about this," she said.

"Feels like you understand just fine. This was amazing."

"Really?" She looked perplexed. "That's all you want to do?"

"I can think of a few other things that might be fun to try, but yeah, this was great."

"So, like…" she started. Her use of the word 'like' and the long pause that followed told me that she was a little flustered about something.

"Whatever it is, just spit it out," I finally prompted.

"You just… You're not… You don't want to do, like, whips and chains and stuff? On either of us?" She took a deep breath and the floodgates opened. "And the stuff you want me to wear? You just meant to bed, or on the way to bed? And you're not planning to go all leather and boots and stuff?"

My mouth fell open. I couldn't help it. Robyn continued to pepper me with questions of similar nature, covering a huge swath of the kink spectrum. When she finally wound down, I wasn't sure what to do.

In the end, I went with honesty again.

"Out of all those things you just reeled off, is there anything that you think you'd like to try?" I asked.

"Not really," she said. "Well, maybe a couple. I don't know."

"Then those are the things I'd like to hear about. When you're ready."

Instead of the red I'd seen in her face so often since June, this time I watched the color drain from her face. That was all the warning I had before catching a sobbing, incoherent, clutching wife as she flung herself across the short distance between us. The only word I could make out was 'sorry' repeated over and over.

I held on, and at some point started rocking, trying to be comforting. Eventually, she pulled away a little, just far enough to speak.

"I'm sorry," she said. That was the last time she would utter those words on this subject, but the discussion was not done. "I should have just asked you. I was," she paused. "I don't know what I was. Confused and a little scared, maybe. I was afraid that your little suggestions were just the start of something. That wearing certain things to bed would be the start of you asking me to wear them all the time. Or tying me to a chair would end up with a rope around my neck someday, or something stuck up my butt. I don't even know what to call you. You sound like a dominant, but then you don't push the issue, so I thought you might be a switch, or maybe even a sub, but now I'm pretty sure I can rule out CD, gender play, or exhibitionism."

"Whoa," I said when she paused for a breath. Her words had rushed out in one continuous stream, and I had a feeling she was about to repeat the entire recitation she had made a few minutes ago. "Let me think for a minute." I watched her watch me like she could see wheels turning in my head. Realizing I had been too wrapped up in my own issues to pick up on hers was a little troubling.

"Which is more important to you: figuring out where we went into the weeds before now, or figuring out where to go from here?" I finally asked.

"Can we do both?"

I was not surprised. Robyn does not let go of vexing problems easily, and apparently we had created not one, but two of them. Also obvious was my mistaken belief that planning to never ask for anything outside her well-defined comfort zone was the right choice. Another light went off in my overwhelmed brain. I realized that she had probably now read more about the kinkier side of the sex world than I had ever considered investigating. Her problem solving method, and I could see that I, or my behavior, had become a problem, is to gather data, form a solution, then test the solution.

And she is extremely focused and expert in her methods. Lather, rinse, repeat, as it says on the shampoo bottle.

"Let's do ‘where to go from here’, and I think that will shed some light on the rest of it," I said.

"Okay," she said. "I like your approach."

I couldn't help but smile back at her. Her face and tone told me she was confident that the 'problem' would soon be resolved. I was not so confident. Suddenly, I needed to express in words exactly what I felt and wanted to do. This was not something I had ever done before. In the past, my explorations of mild kink had happened organically. Oh well.

Suddenly, no words would come to me.

"Uhm. Hmm," was all I could manage.

"Just spit it out," she said. I could tell by the twinkle in her eyes that she was enjoying throwing my own words back at me, again. Instead of getting mad, I almost laughed.

"I like picturing you in certain clothes. I like the idea of playing some lightweight kinky games with you. It really is that simple. I'm not some kind of dungeon master. I don't want to hurt you, expose you, or share you," I finally said, thinking I had come up with a nice summary.

"What about a spanking?" she asked. Her head tilted slightly and her face gave me no insight into where the question came from.

"If you wanted to try that, I think we could figure it out," I said, trying to sound sure of myself.

"What if I wanted to spank you?"

"I'd be willing to try, but under the same conditions that I want you to have," I said, wondering where this was going.

"Which are?" she asked. I saw the trap looming ahead of me, but it was too late to avoid it now. I plowed on, knowing I was about to get my ass handed to me as the whole debacle came full circle.

"That if we learn it's not fun for us both, we move on to something that is," I said. Silence flooded the space between us as Robyn seemed to consider my words. The punch I expected never came.

"I like that. What if it's fun for one of us, but just okay for the other? Or not even okay, but not really fun at all?" Her eyes were locked onto me, a look I knew from our year together in college.

"I think we'd have to figure that out as we go, but I will not do anything that would endanger either of us. Nothing that would expose either of us. Nothing that involves anyone else. And absolutely nothing that would endanger our relationship. At all. Those are my limits," I said. I wondered if I should apologize, again, for my own requests to her. Between the two of us, we had broken all of those limits already. I decided we had both apologized enough.

"I need to show you something," she said quietly. "You might want to throw some shorts on. And shoes. It's in the basement."

I had a brief moment of suspicion, but Robyn is not acting furtive. She's distracted.

We go to the basement and after she rearranges some stuff and pulls an old drop cloth down, she drags a stack of familiar plastic totes out and then opens two upright steel cabinets that had been crammed into an empty space between some built-in shelves and an old water heater.

The cabinets are full of toys and clothes for big boys and girls, like someone picked up an adult store catalog and ordered one of everything. The totes are packed with ropes, leather cuffs and straps, and nylon cuffs and straps, in a spectrum of colors.

"So, when you said sexy sex game, you really meant to have all the bases covered," I said.

"I just wasn't sure what you really wanted. Plus, I listened to my friends, who I now see were having their own fun with me. And you. The looks on their faces when you - well, nevermind," she chuckled to herself. "Now that it's over without bloodshed, I think it's funny as hell how unprepared we were for your reaction." She looked at me, expression unreadable for a change. "I'll bet every picture and video of us that is not here in this house has been deleted. They certainly aren't in circulation like I was afraid they'd be. Not even Bobbi, who thinks she's been forgiven, wants to piss you off again."

Those assholes were still affecting my life even though they had been excluded from it. I was so tired of them. She was right about needing a better class of friends.

"What do you want to do with all this stuff?" I really didn't see her wearing a female chastity outfit and I wasn't about to ask her to do so for my sake. And the riding crop and flogger? Not really a thing for us either, or at least I hoped.

"I don't think we can get a refund. We'll sort it out some day and get rid of anything we're sure we won't ever want to play with. Together. Using words this time," she said. "For now, I want you to think of something fun to do tomorrow."

She took my hand and pulled me toward the stairs.

"Tomorrow," she repeated. "After we catch up on our sleep."

My brain was in overdrive already, and I knew what I'd be dreaming about tonight. Inspiration eluded me though. I mean, the first choices were obvious: the things I'd asked of her like lingerie and heels and a little bedroom bondage. They were the safe choices.

The other possibilities were things I had a little experience with, such as spankings or candle wax or similar sense play.

I was making breakfast for the two of us, standing exactly where I had started a pot of coffee that I never finished back in June, when the thought hit me. The first thing I did was put up the bacon and eggs that I had been ready to start cooking.

"Buttered toast and apple slices?" Robyn said when I set plates on the table. "Who are you, and where is Andy?"

"I had an idea, so I thought we might want to go easy on the food," I said, still distracted by my evolving brainstorm.

She stopped and stared at me for a moment, and even in my distraction I wondered if that was an expression of curiosity, excitement, or alarm.

"Let me know what you need me to do," she said. Then she nibbled on her toast as though she didn't have a worry in the world.

"Go to our room when you finish," I nodded at her plate. "I'll meet you there in a few." I polished off my toast and apple, put my plate in the sink, and grabbed a large garbage bag from the pantry. At the basement door, I turned back to her. "Love you," I said. Without waiting for a reply I stepped onto the stairs down and shut the door behind me.

Our basement is not some dank, dim, dungeon, and I didn't mean to leave that impression. I flipped all the light switches, and the large room was bathed in the glow of bright LED lights and not just a single, flickering twenty watt bulb from an old horror movie. Ignoring all the items I didn't want to think about, which was most of them, I filled the bag with the things I thought I'd use. Later I'd figure out that I overfilled the bag.

By the time I returned to the main floor, the kitchen was empty, and I assumed Robyn was either waiting for me in our bedroom, or, she had changed her mind and lit out for parts unknown.

She was in our room.

When I came in, she stood up from where she had been sitting on the bed. Her attention flicked from my face to the bag and back to my face. I held the bag closed and set it on the bed.

"You sure you want to do this?" I said.

"Will you stop if I ask you too?"

"Maybe you'll have to stop if I ask you to," I said. She laughed.

"I doubt that." It was weird to see her so relaxed after all the tension we'd had, most of it surrounding the very things we were about to experiment with.

"To answer your question, yes. I will stop if you ask me to. I will stop if I feel weird. I will stop if you give off any weird vibes, and so on."

"We might never get done," she said.

"Not if we keep talking," I joked. "Take off your clothes." She needed less than ten seconds to strip. "And back up to the bed, but stay standing." She did what I asked, and I was struck by the stark difference between now and the first time I had ever said something like, 'Can I tie you to the bed with these scarves?'

I pulled a rope out of the bag. I had prepared it while in the basement, tying four steel rings to it, hopefully spaced to achieve my aim. I reached around Robyn and started wrapping it around her waist. She raised her arms up over her head, giving me a nice view of her chest as I leaned down.

The rope was braided nylon, bright pink. The rings were just hardware store steel rings, roughly two inches across. I had gotten the spacing right, which was good. Once the first loop was around her waist, I threaded the ends through the rings in opposite directions twice, making a total of five loops around her, then tied the ends together in front. That left a few feet on each end that I'd either use somewhere else or cut off with the safety shears I had found in a small plastic bin marked 'Safety!'

Shame no one thought to just give me the 'Safety!' bin them when I asked for release back in June. I banished the thought with a deep breath and returned to the bondage at hand. That was the only rope I planned to use on Robyn. Well, directly on her body, anyway.

Luckily, I had the foresight to arrange all the things neatly, even though it looked like I just dumped a bunch of stuff into a garbage bag.

"You can put your arms down," I said as I reached into the bag. My hand came out holding what looked at first like four pink nylon dog collars, about an inch wide. They were actually cuffs with Velcro closures and a pair of D-rings each. A number of lengths and colors had been neatly organized in plastic bins, complete with suggested uses like 'male wrist' or 'female collar' and so on.

Instead of telling her to hold out her hands, I stepped close, very close, to her naked body and fastened a cuff around each wrist and then around each upper arm, just above her elbows.

Another dip into the bag and four more cuffs appeared, two for her ankles and two around her thighs, about halfway between her hip and knee.

"Put your foot on my quad," I said. She raised her leg and planted just the toes of her foot against my thigh, reminding me of the pose she struck back in the spring. I cuffed her ankle and lightly stroked the top of her foot.

I saw a possible flaw. The cuff for her thigh was going to ride down until it reached her knee, or, I needed to make it uncomfortably tight. Or, I realized, I had just found a use for the excess rope still hanging between her legs.

I wrapped the longer strap around her upper leg and closed it.

"Other leg," I said. She switched legs, making even that simple motion graceful.

This time, I put the thigh cuff on her first, then the ankle cuff. Then I spent an extra moment on her foot and toes. I don't have a thing for feet, but I should spend more time on all of Robyn.

"Both feet on the floor," I told her. "There's something I need to fix."

One tail of rope went left and one right, each through a ring and then down to one of the rings on the thigh cuff. It wasn't beautiful, but I tied the rope to a D-ring and cut the excess off after wrapping a couple turns of black vinyl tape around the spot I was about to cut.

There was just one more thing. Well, there were two more things, but in my head, this was the thing that could trip us up. I pulled one more pink nylon restraint from the bag and held it up.

"I don't know much about bondage rules or S and M protocols or symbolism," I said. Robyn probably knew way more than I did now, since she had researched. "But I know a collar is a special symbol in that world with several different meanings, but almost all of them signify a singular bond between two people."

I paused. She looked at me and then at the collar in my hand and then back at me, saying nothing.

"May I fasten this around your neck, Robyn?" I asked. It wasn't a rope, but I was treading dangerously close to something she had been concerned about enough to specifically mention it. But if she had done all the reading I thought she had, she would understand the meaning.

She looked at me so long and so hard that I was sure she was about to refuse. I had a back-up plan in case she balked. I would toss the thing over my shoulder with a smile.

"Yes," she said, without preamble or even drawing a deep breath. I wrapped the collar around her pale skin, making it snug but not tight, and pressed the two Velcro covered surfaces together. She didn't reach up, though I think she wanted to.

"Now," I said, opening the bag to show that there was another layer of rope and cuffs, all in a vivid, electric blue. "Repeat the whole process on me."

The surprise on her face was gratifying, though not unexpected. As I've mentioned, Robyn is persistent and thorough when solving problems, but she tends to be linear. My history of requests made a pattern she probably expected me to follow. Asking her to apply the same rope and cuffs to my own body deviated from that expectation, especially after my reactions back in June.

"Really? Pink and blue?" she said. She laughed and shook her head, her slightly damp hair swinging as she did.

Her own reaction was where this plan could go off the rails in a heartbeat, and I had a moment of uncertainty over the wisdom of my idea.

"Strip," she said. Her tone was light and amused. That could be a good sign or a bad one. I complied, and she quickly tied the blue rope around my waist. Her touch lingered on my skin, fingertips stroking my belly and chest.

She looked at me from just a few inches away. I had no idea what she was thinking now. I had just handed her the reins, the control of our scene, and now I would just have to see what came next.

My plan was to do something she would not expect, and it had worked. On the other hand, she didn't need a plan to do something I didn't expect.

She pulled two cuffs from the bag and looked at them closely, as if estimating their sizes.

"Stand still. Don't move," she said. She stepped behind me. I felt light, hot, touches of her skin as she wrapped the cuff around my wrist and closed the velcro strip. The brush of her arms and the rubbing of the side of her leg felt unintentional, soft and incidental to her task.

She placed the other cuff above my elbow and leaned in to fasten it, her hair tickling the back of my neck and the side of my face. I felt something brush my back, and then I was certain her hip had just bumped my ass.

The amazingly sensual contact continued as she cuffed my other arm. I was so intent on how and where the next contact would occur that I didn't notice my own arousal.

Robyn did.

"Are you going to make it to the end of whatever it is we're doing today?"

"I'm sure I'll make it to the end several times," I said, remaining still.

She chuckled, almost a giggle. Robyn never giggles. "And you're being so good, too. I wasn't sure you had it in you."

She turned to the bag and pulled the next four nylon restraints out, dropping them to the floor. Leaning toward me, so close I could feel the heat from her naked flesh, she said, "I'm going to go down… there to take care of your legs."

The long pause in the middle of her statement did not help cool me down.

"While I'm there," she continued, "I want you to stroke my hair with your fingers. Just your fingers, and do it gently, softly."

She squatted down, directly before my jutting erection. It twitched a little, pointing right at her face, but she ignored it entirely. Whether it was an act or she was totally absorbed, she focused all her attention on fastening the nylon straps in their appropriate locations.

I did as she had asked, more like ordered, and ran my fingers through her hair and over her scalp. The action of stroking her thick blonde mane focused me on her, and at the same time made me keenly aware of how hot I suddenly felt.

Abruptly, she stood up, having fastened all four cuffs around my legs. She stepped in even closer, but to the side so she touched me nowhere at all, and gathered the tails of the rope tied around my waist.

"I see why you secured those thigh straps the way you did, but I think I'll just leave these here," she said. She tied the ropes in a loose bow around my waist and then paused. Her gaze was on the bow she had just tied, but I could tell her mind was elsewhere.

She inhaled and reached into the bag, retrieving the last item in that layer. Slowly, but smoothly and confidently, she wrapped the collar around my neck, pressing gently to engage the hooks and loops. I had to focus to remain still, and I was berating myself internally for not thinking this scheme through.

"With this ring, I thee wed," she said, snapping my attention back to her face. Robyn's fingers lingered on the nylon, then on my collarbone before she lowered her hands to her sides.

Well, she had done something unexpected. Before I could ask the question, she spoke.

"It seemed like the right thing to say," she said. Her brow furrowed and she looked like she was having second thoughts. "Like we are renewing old vows and making new ones, if that makes any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," I said. I wasn't as sure as I sounded, but I liked that she had seen something in this that I had not. I pulled the cover off the last layer. The bottom of the bag was full of various lengths of black straps and black rope. Robyn looked at the array of restraints, obviously wondering what was happening. I decided not to let her stew.

"We're going to bind ourselves to each other, and hopefully have enough wiggle room to make things interesting," I said. And suddenly, I was even more unsure of the whole idea. Should I have talked it through with her? Maybe throwing a curveball when she thought in terms of dom, sub, or switch, was not such a great plan?

It was too late to back out now.

"How do we decide who is doing what?" she asked. It was the obvious question.

"One of us could take the lead. We could do something cooperatively. Or, we could make some kind of competition out of it," I answered.

"I have guessed wrong too many times. I want to know what you would do, to understand you, but with one request. I want to be able to see everything," she said. Her face was calm and worry free, two qualities I wished I could embrace now.

Then I realized I could be calm. Robyn had just given me her trust. Inspiration hit me.

"Grab some of these towels and quilts and follow me," I said, picking up the bag and an armload of towels. I led us to one of the two unused bedrooms and dropped the towels to the floor.

The room wasn't so much unused as it was used for whatever we needed, and what we had needed lately was a place to store items and supplies we were using for renovating and updating of our home. Two of those items were the old mirrors from the bathroom, basically three foot by four foot pieces of mirrored glass with beveled edges.

I arranged the pile of towels and blankets to make a comfortable nest and protection for knees and other bits that might not like being mashed against the bare floor. Then I positioned the mirrors, leaning them against the walls and propping them so they wouldn't fall over, but would still work to see ourselves. Robyn watched the entire process from just inside the door.

"Come in and kneel down right here," I said, sweeping my hand over the pile of fabric. She stepped forward and knelt. The smile she offered was radiant, bordering on joyful. Her normal trepidation was nowhere to be found. I marveled at the change, especially now that I understood where those feelings had come from.

I considered the remaining items in the bag. I had added a few of the velcro cuffs, in case I needed them, which I didn't think I would. I had also included short ropes, straps with metal clips on the ends, and straps with velcro closures, which were intended for use in binding, restraining, or otherwise connecting me and Robyn. I decided on the velcro closed straps. The straps that looked like double ended dog leashes would be faster, but the metal bits might poke us in uncomfortable places. The ropes were the most flexible and probably comfortable, but would take time to tie securely, at least with my level of expertise.

Robyn waited patiently while I worked all this out in my head.

"Okay," I said. "I'm going to move your legs where I want them."

"Got it," she said. She helped by lifting and letting me guide her to a slightly wider legged position. I knelt between her calves and made certain the bag was in reach before threading the nylon strap through the rings on her ankle cuffs and fastening it to a ring on mine. I didn't explain to her yet, and I probably didn't need to since she could see what I had done in the mirror, but when she spread her legs, mine would go with them until they were snugged up against the inside of hers. I repeated the process at our knees.

After a long pause to plot and calculate, I connected six more straps in a flurry of motion. Hopefully, we weren't about to get into something we couldn't escape without help. That gave me a pause as I imagined the abject humiliation of needing one of Robyn's friends to release us from a self-inflicted bondage foul-up.

Recovered from the moment of doubt, I left two straps and two ropes where they might be reachable if we felt the need to add some extra restraint. I hoped that in a few minutes we would be too far gone in mutual pleasure to need them.

"Hands and knees," I said, bracing myself with my own hands on her waist. She bent, catching herself on her lowered arms, and I immediately felt the tug of my bondage design.

"Ooh," she said. "I hope there's more." Robyn nearly purred, then snapped her legs apart, instantly drawing mine hard against hers. She stretched her arms forward, pulling me slightly against her, but not entirely. I had set things up so that it took us cooperating to become, ah, fully engaged.

"Is that what you want?" I teased her a bit by running my fingertips along her upper back and shoulders, which created slack for me. She could only stretch her hands out so far, and it was not enough. "Or is it this?" I asked, drawing my hands down toward her hips, which tightened things to the point that my hard-on was starting to poke at the wetness between her legs.

She pushed back, trying to get ahead of our little game, and I leaned forward and let my hands wander up to her shoulders, again providing enough slack to delay. Then she slid into a position she had never taken before, stretching her arms fully forward and dropping her head, shoulders, and chest to the floor, while pushing her hips and ass up.

That nearly pushed me right over the edge, but I managed.

Inevitability took over. I pulled my hands back onto her upthrusting ass, forcing my torso forward against her, and into her. Robyn is not shy about expressing herself, but the moan that arose as my erection slid into her extraordinarily wet pussy was unlike anything I had heard before.

"Baby. Ooh, baby. Tie us together. Ties us together around the waist… please…"

That was a request I could not refuse. I grabbed at the rope, which was the longest, and wrapped it around our waists as fast as I could. Not waiting for further direction from my wife, I started flexing and bucking my hips, driving into her as hard and fast as I could. I lasted longer than I thought I would. My orgasm came suddenly, shaking me the way a dog shakes a toy.

I didn't stop. Slick with our combined wetness, I kept thrusting. My cock gradually hardened and we let our passion take control. What followed was an incredible combination of frenzied sex, orgasm, struggle, and finally exhaustion.

We collapsed in a heap, letting the towels cushion us. When I put my hands and arms down to keep my weight off of Robyn, she said, "It's okay. I want to feel you on me. It's not like you'll crush me."

I eased down onto her, and we stayed like that for a while. When we finally decided to move, we discovered we were much more thoroughly entangled than I had planned. There must be some universal law that all cords, ropes, and cables become tangled messes even when left undisturbed.

Our restraints had definitely not been left undisturbed.

Like a game of Twister in reverse, with some bondage thrown in, we eventually freed ourselves. We snuggled, pulled a blanket over us, and took a nap.

Chapter 11 - What Comes Next?

We slept for several hours, and woke up slowly. Her stomach growled and mine echoed the sentiment.

"Lunch?" I said.

"Something more than toast and fruit?" She answered with a question of her own.

We washed up before heading to the kitchen where we decided on bacon and eggs. The eggs turned into omelets, for which we raided our supply of cold cuts and veggies to complete. We talked while we ate. Just everyday talk about grocery lists and new tires for the truck and all the other little details of life together. Well, mostly.

"How long does it take for the marks to go away?" Robyn asked, looking at her wrist, a forkful of food stopped almost to her mouth.

"I don't really know," I answered. "I think it depends a lot on the person, and what made the mark." I looked at the already fading pink mark left by the nylon. "Don't rub it. I read that somewhere."

She looked over the fork at me, eyes twinkling with familiar mischief, but took the bite instead of teasing me.

At some point, we ended up back in the spare room. I think our plan was to clean up the disarray we had created. We got distracted by the pretty colors of the straps and the lingering scents of our sex still in the air.

Another shower later and we were in the basement, sorting. Surprisingly, we kept more than I thought we would, at least on the first pass. Robyn figured we can always toss something, but we should keep the marginal items in the event we changed our minds.

She saved even the raunchiest, sluttiest clothes and shoes. "Maybe I'll do a fashion show for you someday," she teased.

On the other hand, I tossed every bit of apparel meant for me. It was almost all women's wear anyway. Robyn didn't say a word, except to claim the packages of stockings and anything else she thought would fit her before I could add them to the trash pile.

She kept the female chastity. I was stunned at first, but she explained.

"It's metal lingerie! Whenever else will I find, let alone buy, an armored bikini?" She turned serious. "However," she said, making sure I was listening, "no locks. And no putting this on me without my very explicit permission."

I met her eyes, and her gaze was full of challenge. I stared right back. "That won't be an issue. Really, Robyn. Never."

Her face softened. "Never. I guess I knew that already."

The days rolled on and we grew together, stronger in our relationship and in our trust. Part of me wishes I could say we turned into a pair of well-equipped fetish sex fiends, but that's just not us. Sometimes we play around with our new kink fascination, and sometimes we do something else.

That's really all I ever wanted.