"Goodbye, dear Emily," Maggie said out loud, staring at the muted TV. She had about twenty huge designs spread out on the coffee table in front of her but had stopped paying attention to them ten minutes ago. Instead, the television drama had caught her eye. She'd looked around for the remote, meaning to put the sound back on, but she hadn't been able to find it, so she'd just let it go, making up words herself and saying them out loud. Mischa, the large brown Chow at her feet, stared at her with interest.
But suddenly, the emergency room backdrop faded away and the mandatory commercial break ensued, making Maggie realize just how long she'd ignored her work. Swearing at herself for her lack of attention and wondering if maybe she had A.D.D., she picked up her ruler and pencil, struggling to finish the third floor of the building.
She drew, erased, and redrew, feeling frustrated and wishing she knew how to do yoga, or something like Tai Chi, because she really needed to calm down. When she erased for the fifth time, the paper ripped and with a frustrated sob, more angry than sad, she pushed the paper off the table and pulled a fresh sheet from her bag.
When the car pulled into the driveway, she had almost caught up to where she'd been before, but immediately dropped her ruler and pencil when Sergei walked in. She stood up, smiling happily but tiredly, and took a few steps across the room. Sergei dropped his bags in the hallway, grinning broadly.
"Maggie!" he exclaimed, both relieved and excited to finally be able to see her after being gone for ten days. Without having to think, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her urgently, obviously taking her off guard. She tried to pull back if only to catch her breath, but Sergei held her tighter, and at last, she gave in and let him have his way. He kissed her for a long time, one arm firmly around her back, one hand behind her head. He pressed into her, and with mild surprise, Maggie could feel him already semi-aroused, against her hip. She had a pretty good idea of where this was going, and she also knew she wasn't going to let that happen.
At last, Sergei loosened his grip and pulled back. "I missed you," he said with feeling, and Maggie smiled back. But when Sergei leaned forward to kiss her again, Maggie smoothly tilted her head to one side and rested her cheek next to his for a moment and then slipped out of his embrace.
"I missed you too," she replied genuinely, but nevertheless went back to the couch and sat down tiredly in front of the coffee table. Sergei didn't move at first, surprised and hurt. He'd been gone for ten entire days, thinking of her the whole time and missing her, and now that he was home she barely cared.
As if on cue, Maggie turned and her face softened. "I'm really glad you're back. I missed not having company. Here, come sit with me while I try and finish this."
Well, maybe she's just tired and stressed from work, he told himself. After all, sometimes you aren't always happy either. Besides, that sounded like the old Maggie. Pushing it aside as stress, he followed her to the couch and sat down next to her.
"What are you doing?" he asked her, deciding that if something was bothering her, he'd at least find out what it was. She tried in vain to give some sort of order to the stack of papers before responding with a distracted, "Working". Then, apparently realizing her rather cruel behavior, she turned toward him and elaborated.
"See, the bank needs a new building downtown, but they don't want it too modern. So I've been trying for days to un-modernize everything I'd already done before I found out they weren't looking for modern. It's taken me three days and I'm not done yet." She sighed and added, "It has to be done in two days."
He rested his hand on her back gently. "Yeah, but you can do it." She pushed up the sleeves of her shirt, already unbuttoned at the cuffs and rolled up, and sighed heavily, once again concentrating on her work. Sergei felt vaguely unimportant, but he could understand. He watched her as she worked, looking so intense. She didn't pay any attention to the hair that was hanging in her face, and Sergei reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his fingertips wander, tracing the line of her jaw. Touching her was a little too much, though, and he couldn't help leaning over and kissing her lightly on the corner of her mouth.
Maggie relented a little, letting him do what he wanted for a minute. He'd been gone for a long time, and, busy or not, she could at least pay attention to him for a bit. Besides, it really did feel nice, she thought. He nibbled her ear and from there his lips moved to her throat, and then she decided to put an end to it. Ten days or not, she had a deadline. She knew she was giving hideously mixed signals, but Sergei would understand.
"Okay," she began, drawing out the word as she leaned to her right, away from him, and gently disentangling herself from his arms. "I really have to get this done, so not now, baby, okay? Later, I promise you, later tonight, but right now I have to finish this." He nodded, looking at her with a helplessly in love gaze, and Maggie reached up to run her hand through his hair, something she knew he loved, before going back to work.
For what seemed like a long time, Sergei was quiet, watching TV and only absently rubbing her back from time to time. Maggie drew and erased, made little noises of frustration, and then drew again, lost in her world. Sergei tried his best to pay attention to the TV show, but his mind kept wandering back to Maggie. And to how much he wanted her. And as his mind wandered, so did his hand. At first, he just laid it lightly on her knee, and while she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, she said nothing.
His mind wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop thinking about how she looked that night, with the top three buttons of her shirt undone, letting the cloth hang open deliciously, just a little bit. It wouldn't stop thinking about how much he wanted to slide his hands into that gap and feel her soft skin, warm against his hands, or how her hair fell on her shoulders so perfectly. It wouldn't stop thinking about how he wanted to unbutton the rest of that shirt and slip it off her shoulders. But, worst of all, it wouldn't stop thinking about how she always looked at him when he fucked her, looked him right in the eye, and her eyes were always darkly intense, and she always breathed his name, making it sound so wonderful. It wouldn't stop thinking.
So instead of watching TV and leaving Maggie alone, the hand on her knee crept slowly and steadily up her leg. For a little while, Sergei thought she wasn't even noticing, and that spurred him on even more, stroking little circles ever higher. It was when his fingers finally reached the inside of her thigh that she tore her gaze from the designs in front of her and turned her face toward him.
She looked at him with a trace of amusement but her voice was stern despite the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "Later," she told him, taking his hand and putting it back into his lap firmly. He stayed still after that, struggling to listen to the words coming from the TV, to follow the plot, but he was terribly distracted. Maggie would move, and he would smell her perfume, or she would run a hand through her hair that always curled under at the ends. Or worst of all, she would clear her throat or murmur little notes to herself, and he would realize how much he'd longed to hear that voice when he was gone, talking to him, telling him exactly what to do to her and exactly how to do it.
Sergei shifted, a little impatiently, the uncomfortable hardness between his legs making him even more impatient. Before he could help it, his hands were on her again, stroking, exploring, and this time, Maggie wasn't so gentle. She shrugged away from him and closed her eyes before speaking, a true sign that she wasn't happy.
"Sergei, later. I mean it. I'm trying to work."
He stared at her petulantly, wanting his own way, wanting her attention. He realized it was vaguely childish to want her to pay attention to him instead of work, but at that point he didn't really care. Without even a few minutes between, he reached for her again and Maggie snapped.
She stood up so fast that a few sheets of papers fluttered to the floor.
"Fuck, I have the worst headache," she muttered angrily, and headed toward the kitchen. Sergei followed her, stood behind her as she poured two Tylenol into her hand and swallowed them with a glass of water. She stayed in the kitchen, sipping her water, and Sergei moved even closer. He put his arms around her from behind, his body pressing against hers, and she spun around so fast the water sloshed over the glass and splashed to the floor.
"Sergei, not now," she growled, and there was that dark look in her eyes. He couldn't help himself, and said what he was thinking.
"I need you." He said it quietly and then moved toward her, meaning to kiss her.
Maggie finally stopped being a little irritable and started being very very angry. She hadn't realized she'd had a headache until just then, and that was probably a lot of why she was irritated when Sergei tried to touch her. But she was also truly busy and stressed, and although she'd explained that, he was still being selfish. So when he went to her the last time she actually, physically pushed him away.
Sergei stared at her in disbelief and Maggie stared at him in fury. They stood in the kitchen, staring at each other, for the better part of a minute. Sergei himself started to get a little mad then, mad that she wouldn't understand that he just wanted to be with her.
Maggie's eyes dropped for just a second to the unmistakable bulge in his pants, and then something in her face changed, something that made Sergei's anger melt into curiosity and excitement. He'd seen that look a few times, and he was pretty sure he knew what it meant, absolutely sure when she spoke.
"Strip." Her voice was low and menacing, and it was only a moment before Sergei's hands went to the top button of his shirt, and he realized he'd lost. And he also realized he didn't mind. They'd played these games before. It always scared him when she got like this: dominant, aggressive. Harsh. But it made him hot, too. It made him feel good to surrender to her because it made her happy.
But he didn't need any games right now to be hot. He was already aroused because of her very presence. He didn't really want to play, he wanted to make love. But he knew better than to argue with her when she got in these moods.
He stood before her, naked. Aroused.
She stared at him. He was so gorgeous. Broad shoulders, tight abs, slim waist, dark bronze hair, silky, sensual lips. She wanted him. Wanted to have him. Hurt him. She was hungry. It had been so long.
He could see it in her eyes then. She wanted to make him suffer tonight. He'd pushed her too far. He swallowed. He was beginning to think this was a bad idea. He wanted to back out. It had been so long.
He looked at her and she saw it right away. She was scaring him. Well, too damn bad. It was his fault. He had put her in this mood. He wasn't escaping without some sort of penalty.
He opened his mouth; she held up a finger.
"Shhh." She walked slowly toward him, finger still in place, a small, hungry smile on her lips. He closed his mouth and watched her, transfixed.
Her hand found his hair and she twisted her fingers in it, not hurting. She looked straight into his eyes. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"
The question threw him momentarily. But he never doubted the answer. "As much as I love you, Maggie." It came out as a hoarse whisper. She nodded as if it was what she expected to hear. But as much as he loved her, a thought kept nagging at the back of his mind and it scared him. Scared him so bad his hands shook.
"You want to hurt me."
Maggie closed her eyes. It made her weak to hear him say that, in that voice. Tremulous, vulnerable. It made her want it even more. "Yes," she breathed. Her fingers tightened in his hair and he winced slightly. She smiled.
"Get on your knees to me." It was an order, to be obeyed. He did. Slowly and reluctantly, but he went, her hand in his hair the whole time.
She was so turned on. She forced his face to her crotch.
He sucked in a breath, surprised - God. Already - though he shouldn't have been. His submission always did that to her. His crotch throbbed at the thought that it was because of him.
Suddenly, her hand twisted in his hair, roughly pulling his face from her groin. He whined softly. That yank had hurt. Instinctively, he raised his hands to pull hers away, but she slapped him lightly with her other hand. Not hard, but with enough force to remind him of his place. He lowered his hands, and clenched his jaw. The smack was humiliating. He dropped his gaze.
"Look at me."
That tone…Sergei raised his eyes. When they connected with hers, he could see her hunger grow. Looking into his eyes always made her insatiable. His throat went dry. "Please, Maggie…," he croaked. "You're hurting me." He said it because he knew it was what she wanted to hear. He said it because it was true. He said it because he wanted her to stop.
She purred and cooed at him, fingers caressing his cheek, expressing sympathy. But her eyes said something different. And her grip on his hair never loosened. Sergei swallowed and endured. He had no idea how long they stayed like that.
Maggie's voice broke the spell. "Back to the living room." Her hand released his hair. Sergei sighed from the sudden release of pain, and dropped his chin to his chest. He started to get up.
"No." He looked up at her, questioning. She smiled smugly. "Crawl."
Sergei's eyebrows crashed together.
This was a new wrinkle. A dehumanizing wrinkle. Maybe this had gone too far. Maybe he should stop this now. He was stronger and bigger, by far. He didn't have to do this. He looked up to tell her so. But he never got that far.
"Please, baby," she whispered softly. "For me. I love you." She stroked his hair.
His anger melted. Tears welled up in his eyes. And he gave in. For her. Because she loved him. And he loved her. And he crawled, despite his tears of humiliation, on his hands and knees to the living room, Maggie following behind. How did she do that to him?
**********
She made him kneel in front of the couch, facing away from her, but within touching distance. He made her so wet. God, he was gorgeous. His submission was so exquisite. She knew he would do it for no one else. She walked up behind him and pushed his head down, to his chest.
"Spread your legs," she ordered huskily. He complied immediately and that sent shivers up her spine. Instant obedience. God. She had to take a moment to swallow as her arousal grew. She could see his balls hanging low between his legs.
"Put your hands behind your back…Don't move."
She went to sit down on the couch. She had to finish these layouts. His punishment was going to be denial of the relief he had sought all night when he wouldn't stop bothering her.
It would be her punishment too. All she wanted to do, seeing him like that, was jump him. But no. He had to suffer. She was going to make him suffer until she was done. He deserved it. It was his fault they were both suffering.
That didn't seem fair.
Why should she suffer? She shouldn't. With a resolute nod, she got up from the couch to go get her vibrator.
"Maggie." Startled, Maggie stopped. She was annoyed.
"I thought I told you not to move. That includes your mouth."
Sergei bit his lip. He didn't want to make her mad, not when she was like this. But he knew how long these moods could last and he had to say something, in case. "Please, Maggie, my knees…"
Yes, his knees would be getting sore by now, Maggie knew. But she wanted to hear him say it. "What about them?"
Sergei squeezed his eyes shut. Maggie could see him clench his fists. How he hated this game. "Please Maggie. They hurt." His voice implored her. It was almost a whimper. Goddamn, that tone made her hot.
She'd bring him a pillow to kneel on. Not to would be cruel. Without a word, she continued up the stairs. Let him wonder.
He heard Maggie bolt up the stairs. He hoped she'd bring him a pillow, something. But with the mood she was in, he had no idea if he'd pissed her off by even asking. If he did, she would ignore his plea. He was only semi-aroused now, the pain taking some of the attention from his cock. How long would she keep him there?
He heard her returning, heard something jangle, but didn't dare turn his head to look.
She walked up behind him, so close her crotch was pressed against his back. He could feel how aroused she was, and that brought his own arousal back full force.
She entwined her hands in his hair, delicately. His head remained bowed. She loved it when he bowed his head to her. The ultimate submissive pose. She brought her own leg between his, forcing his balls to rest against her shin, forcing his cock out. He groaned. She yanked his head back and his eyes snapped open, wide. She looked down at him. His chest, jutted out because of the knee in his back, his genitals because of her shin, both slick with sweat; his mouth, his fine, sensual, soft mouth, grimacing in distress. So hot. He was so fucking hot.
He whimpered for real then, uncomfortable, in pain.
She smiled and dangled the handcuffs above him.
"You are going to be punished."
He closed his eyes. He hated being bound. He could take her slaps, her hair pulling, her domination - as long as it didn't involve any sort of physical restriction of movement. He hated it, hated having his freedom taken away so symbolically. Clinically. Wanted to say no, but knew it didn't really matter to her what he said right now. She'd do it anyway.
She saw him swallow and knew he read her mood correctly. They were both in their headspace. Their own worlds, but it was the same world. Just different places.
He could have stopped it. She knew he detested ropes, handcuffs, restriction. But he didn't. He was in his space. Willing to go there, for her. Jesus, he knew what buttons to push to make her hot.
Nevertheless, when she threw his head forward (he bowed it to perfection) and grabbed his wrists, he whined a bit. But she got the handcuffs on, carefully watching his tensed muscles flex, fighting the urge to pull away.
"Do you know what I'm going to punish you for?" she asked, replanting her leg between his. She began rocking her weight on her leg, rubbing the underside of his balls against her smooth shin. He grunted, struggling to answer her question around his arousal. Answer, because not to would make her stop. "Yes," he whispered harshly.
She stopped and gripped his shoulders, hard. "Yes, what?"
"Yes, Maggie," he said at once. "I know what I'm being punished for."
"What? If you get it right, I'll release you now. If not, you are going to suffer all night."
Sergei's heart beat faster. Damn, it was that mood. Even though, he'd known it was for a long time, he still shuddered. He suddenly couldn't answer he wanted so badly to be right. But he didn't know. He had two choices. He hoped he picked the right one.
"For interrupting you. Not letting you finish your work." He held his breath.
Her lips found his ear. "No," she whispered cruelly. "Too bad for you."
She released his shoulders and they sagged in misery.
"I expect you to have the right fucking answer by the time I'm done with you."
She threw the pillow, a king size pillow, down beside him, in front of the couch, to the left of where she would sit. "Kneel there."
He moved awkwardly to the pillow, off balance with his hands behind him. He was grateful for the comfort she allowed. "Thank you," he whispered.
She smirked. "It'll be a long night. I don't want your knees to distract you from what I have planned."
It was what he was afraid of and he swallowed audibly.