‘Why don’t you call me by that other name?’ Sarah whispered. ‘I won’t mind if you do.’
When Charles Hunter loses his highly-paid job, his wife Sarah decides to indulge his long-hidden fantasy of living as her slave. To begin with the change feels easy, almost natural, but soon they are enacting the strange rituals of sadomasochism, partners in a devil's-dance of love and pain, cruelty and desire -
‘I’m serious, Charles.’
‘You can’t be.’
‘Oh, but I am,’ she said, folding her arms, and keeping her manner clipped and stern. ‘And just to prove it, I have a request to make of you, a request I expect you to carry out without the slightest complaint.’
‘Do you indeed?’ said Charles, trying to laugh away her nonsense, but his laughter had a false ring to it.
‘I do,’ said Sarah, holding to her course. ‘I want you to kneel.’
‘Kneel?’ he said, unable to hide the panic in his voice.
‘Yes, at my feet,’ she said, oddly calm. ‘I think I’d like it if you did that, and I have a feeling you’d like it too.’
‘I can’t do that,’ he protested.
‘Of course you can,’ she said. ‘Just get down on your knees, it’s not difficult. Anyone could do it.’
‘It’s ridiculous,’ he said, wondering why he was even discussing it with her.
‘Of course it is,’ she said. ‘That’s what makes it fun. The great Charles Hunter on his knees before his wife. Who could imagine such a thing?'
‘Stop it, Sarah,’ he said, fighting his arousal, trying to sound forbidding and manly.
‘Why?’
‘Because I won’t do it.’
‘Actually, you will, Charles, or you’ll be in trouble.’
‘Trouble?’ he said as if she’d gone mad.
‘Yes,’ said Sarah, holding to her course. ‘Very serious trouble.’
‘This isn’t happening,’ he said, feeling dizzy. ‘It can’t be.’
‘I’m afraid it is, Charles,’ she said sternly. ‘Get on your knees.’
‘I’ve told you, no.’
‘Don’t keep me waiting,’ she said, strangely sure of getting her way. ‘You’ll only make me angry.’
Charles shook his head in an attempt to clear his brain. Of course he wouldn’t kneel. Sarah truly was being ridiculous. He’d never do such a thing, it was out of the question, but there was something about her manner, the matter-of-fact certainty in her voice, that made his brain swim. And the third button on her blouse had come undone, and he glimpsed the pretty lace of her bra. And somehow her perfume smelled stronger, and the curve of her smile seemed both mocking and infinitely sweet. He told himself to get up from the couch and leave the room before this foolishness got the better of him, and he went to do exactly that, but then, with a roaring in his ears, he found himself sliding to his knees until his eyes were level with the glass of wine she was holding in her lap. When Sarah spoke he heard her voice as if in a dream.
‘That’s the way,’ she said, her voice warmly encouraging. ‘You’ll feel better now. You’re where you belong, Charles – at your Mistress’ feet.’
An erotic romance of dominance and submission, love and surrender. Adult readers only.
Also by Molly Sands - Cruel Heaven, The Devlin Woman, A New Devotion, An Obedient Husband, Slave Song, Contessa, Magda, Sacred Days, The Adoration of Adele Adams.