Just A Woman (Marina: Part Two: Naughty Nookie Series) by Serena Akeroyd Page A

hadn’t said I
couldn’t make myself cum.  But at the same time, he hadn’t said I
could.  I’m not stupid.  I know this kind of relationship isn’t based
on minute, conversational discrepancies.  Black and white; I’m to shower.
    So why did my
fingers begin the crawl to my pussy?  And why, almost as though he knew what thoughts were going through my head, did the door to the shower fly
open at the exact same time as I caved in to temptation?
    Perhaps he’d known
my intention, waited just long enough to catch me in the act, but as it was, I
hadn’t actually been doing anything.  He looked at me for a moment, his
eyes drifting down my body, probably measuring the distance from my hand to my
cunt, and then said, “Remember, you belong to me.  Every part of you.
 Even your orgasms.”
    With that, he’d
shut the door and left me to my shower.
    Even now, washed
and drying myself off with a towel, I realize the length of that internal
discussion saved me from punishment.  But strangely enough, I don’t find
pleasure in that.  Weird, or what?
    I should be filled
with glee, self-congratulating myself for winning that round.  Instead, I
feel guilty.  It was sheer luck that he didn’t catch me.  Five
seconds later and I would have been doing exactly what he suspected.  How
can I be pleased about deceiving him?  When I’ve promised him, I wouldn’t.
    Where these sudden
morals have come from, I don’t know.  Can I say I’m glad they’ve
appeared?  Not exactly. 
    Returning to the
bedroom, in the bright light of day, I can see my cases and Nate’s have been
stacked against the dresser.  With my towel tucked between my breasts, I
heave my own on to the bed, because Nate’s nowhere in sight and I couldn’t ask
him to lift my heavy cases in his condition anyway.  Picking out some
clothes and underwear, I place them on the bed.  Almost as if that was a
cue, Nate appears. 
    “Do you want me to
put my stuff in here with you, Nate?” I ask, hearing the betraying quiver of
guilt in my voice even if he doesn’t.
    He nods and turns
to the armchair.  I don’t know where he’s been, nor do I ask.  I just
watch as he takes a seat and watches me unpack.  Without asking, like a
good ‘little woman’ I unpack his stuff too.
    It doesn’t take
long.  Nate’s a light traveler and even though I brought a lot of stuff
with me, it was mostly objects not clothes.  Things I couldn’t leave in
Manhattan just in case the mob thought about torching my building too.  A
photo frame with my grandparents posing on their wedding day, my first glass
sculpture, the ring box housing Jimmy’s and my own wedding rings.  Stuff
that counted.
    “You’ll need to go
into Sheridan soon to pick up some more clothes.  You can’t walk around
like a corporate attorney every day.  You’ll make people nervous.”
    Irritated, because
he isn’t telling me anything I don’t know, I just nod and go about opening
drawers and filling them like an automaton.
    By the time I’m on
his last shirt, my hands are gripping the sides as guilt tears into me. 
With my back to him, I clench my fingers until they knot with pain and I lower
my head as shame floods me. 
    Shame isn’t
something I’m accustomed to feeling.  But with Nate, it’s becoming an
everyday occurrence.
    “I was going to,
Nate.  I was going to masturbate.  You caught me in time.”
    “I know.”
    I spin around to
face him.  “I’m sorry.”
    “Sorry isn’t good
enough.  But, you admitted it.  Instead of the three punishments,
you’ll get just the one tonight.  What rules were you about to break,
Marina?”
    I stare at him, at
his concerned but controlled face and whisper, “I was about to touch myself
without your permission.  I was about to cum without your say-so. 
And I guess I was defying you too.” 
    I hope I’m
right.  I’ve always had an attentive memory, but I was tired and upset
last night.  The rules are there, floating like ghostly