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Monday, October 3, 2011

Homebound



"Gilda" by Alan Daniels available at ObsessionArt.com

Got a piece of flash fiction published in Oysters and Chocolate.
Tags include erotica, bondage, female submission, mmmmore.

http://oystersandchocolate.com/Stories/2288/Homebound.aspx

Ruby was punished. She was on lockdown. She could not leave the house for any reason. Ruby was homebound.

As a child, she had never been grounded because her preference was to stay in her room and read. As a teenager, she hated everything about her life so she simply left home rather than observe the curfews her mother tried to enforce. Now, at the age of 42, she embraced the restrictions imposed upon her, fell into them as a baby melts into its cradle, safely surrounded by cushions, tied up in knots.

It was strangely calming, not speaking to anyone, focusing on her tasks. Cooking for him, preparing an elaborate costume for his entertainment. She stood by the window to take his calls, holding first one leg, then the other, by the ankle and stretching it up behind her. He was affectionate, yet stern, aware that she was enjoying and molding his restrictions, creating a dynamic that he no longer owned. Part of her power was her ability to turn punishment into pleasure, any punishment.

During one call, she asked permission to leave the house briefly, just to move her car to a safer spot. She promised to come right back. He considered this request seriously, as he might ponder a life-altering investment. Since he was a reasonable man, most of the time, he eventually granted his permission.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to embrace the feeling of obedience that had carried her through the previous days. She had been told that she would be unable to leave on Saturday, so had completed all of her duties on Friday, moving through the day in a sensual, yet highly focused, state of controlled servitude. She had forwarded progress reports to him, in which she had utilized her writing skills to literately and concisely create provocative prose, instilling layers of suggestion into descriptions of each mundane chore. The writing served a number of purposes, the least of which was a record of her purchases and completed tasks. It allowed her the self-expression that she was often denied, while calling his attention to her creative gifts. She knew that her writing both pleased and awed him, and that he was a bit discomfited by her intellect and talents; he found himself recalling his childhood dyslexia, and the special education classes to which he’d been relegated.

By five o’clock, Ruby was ready. She was particularly excited about the blonde wig. As soon as she heard his car pull up, she turned off the overhead lights and waited for him in the shadows of her cranberry candles.

Ruby opened the door slowly, keeping her head down, her face partially obscured by the wig’s long blonde hair.

His double-take was comical. If he’d been a bigger man, he might have channeled Jackie Gleason in the Honeymooners. He grew more and more enraptured; throughout the night, he struggled to maintain his role, becoming so passionate that he came close to an unplanned, uncontrolled, ejaculation. Ruby expected him to eventually become angry at his loss of control and was shocked when he began to entertain and amuse her, at one point hiding behind the door, wearing a silly grin.

She was expected at his house at 8:00 the next evening. She called him at 8:01. “I can’t come tonight,” she said.

“Okay . . .” he answered.

“I can’t ever come again.”

He was unsurprised. All he said was “Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ruby, “I tried.”

He said “Okay” one more time, and she hung up the phone.

She brushed the blonde wig out and placed it on its stand on top of the closet. The black dress, reeking of sweat and cum, soaked in the bathtub. Ruby turned the radio to a jazz station, threw some coriander scent into the tub and joined the dress. She bore neither bruises nor memories; blankly, she stared at the tiles, listening to Coltrane, imagining herself as a redhead.

Within a week, she would forget his name.



Copyright September 30, 2011
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.