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gently, until she trembled in my arms and came. Was it an
apology? I know she thought it was, but no, it wasn t really that,
it was more like a thank you. Thank you, Wednesday, for trusting
me to use you. Thank you, Wednesday, for being so vulnerable to
me. Thank you, Wednesday, for being brave when I hurt you.
Thank you, Wednesday, for letting me lose my mind.
Sometimes we would go days between these stockings
sessions, sometimes only hours. It depended on a lot of factors,
mood and timing. Need. Even when she didn t wear stockings, I
took her at least twice a day. Any less than that, and I ached with
need. Any more, and we considered it a bonus. The stockings
were certainly central to our sex life, but even when they weren t
on, I confess I used her hard. Even when I fucked her gently,
fucked her so gently she was almost in tears, I was still hard on
her, because I never let her hide from me. I refused to let her
hide.
And there she was now in the harsh morning light in my
kitchen, my brave lover, dressed for another day on the job. I
could have kept her like some treasured concubine, paid for
everything she needed, but she wanted to work. I paid for
everything anyway, and she put away her money in her own
accounts. There was only one reason I could fathom that she
would keep working, and that was that she expected me to leave
her someday. Leave her high and dry, as if I would. But because
that was her worry, I let her keep her job and accounts for her
peace of mind.
She glanced over at me. I smirked back at her. Yes, I m
watching you, Wed. Of course I am. With a sigh, she grabbed an
apple off the counter. Breakfast was a strict household rule.
Wednesday hated to eat breakfast, but I insisted on it. Of all the
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rules I forced her to follow, most of them perverted sexual rules,
the ones that annoyed her the most were the simple ones
concerning her health. Eat breakfast. Sleep well. Don t bottle
your feelings. Exercise. Laugh every day. Take your vitamins.
Be a good girl. I suppose because I used her body so ruthlessly, I
felt a certain selfish need to keep it healthy for further usage, and
a certain guilty responsibility to promote both mental and
physical health for her, since I performed such acts of depravity
upon her mind and body every night.
But not everything I required of her was purely selfish. I
insisted on these rules, also, because I loved her. I loved her with
the fire of a million suns. I told her so, often. Maybe someday
she would fucking believe me.
Sweet little girl, she was so cute and fuckable in her office
clothes. Stylish little suit and shiny pumps, and yes, stockings
underneath most days. She had enough sets to choose from, there
must have been nearly fifty sets by now. She said wearing them
to work reminded her of me while she was away. Sometimes it
was all I could do not to fall on her as she headed out the door,
and now was one of those times. I d had her twice already, made
her late, and yet I still wanted her. She gazed at me from across
the kitchen.
 I m not coming over there.
 I ll be good. I promise, I lied.
 I m already late. You ve already made me late.
 I m sorry. Come over here. Let me apologize properly.
She fought a smile.  I m serious. You have to let me go.
 I will! Just one little kiss goodbye.
She walked over to me like she was approaching a wild lion. I
guess what I was feeling was written all over my face and in
the tent of my pants but I was good. All I did was lay a
passionate kiss on her, one that I hoped she d remember all day.
 I had fun last night, I whispered, caressing her beautiful
bottom over her skirt.
 I did too, she said, her eyes shining. Then she pushed away.
 I m going to be so late.
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 Do you want me to drive you?
 No. I ll see you later.
I watched her ass sway as she walked out the door, slamming
it behind her. I really fucking hated it when she left.
She worked as an editor with erotica, among other things, at a
slick little publishing house down the street. An apt job for my
little pervert, certainly. I had numerous naughty fantasies of her
at work. Well, when did I not have naughty fantasies of
Wednesday? But the work ones were some of the more exciting
ones, because she had forbidden me to visit her there. She found
it too difficult to concentrate when there was a chance I might
pop in, so after a couple of breathless, tempting visits, I had
agreed it was probably better to leave her to her tasks.
But I still had fantasy visits. Oh, yes. I visited her office
regularly in my mind. I pictured her leaning over a manuscript,
her reading glasses on the end of her nose, legs crossed under the
desk, the tops of her stockings just peeking out from beneath her
pencil skirt. I would knock on the door and she d look up at me,
and her lips would part ever so slightly. I d come in and lock the
door, and order her to her knees. Or bend her over the desk,
spreading her legs wide with my feet.  I m going to start in your
pussy, and finish in your ass, I d growl. Papers would scatter,
phones would knock off the hook, pens and paperclips would go
flying. Her moans would get so loud I d have to muffle them
with my hand.
Ah, the lovely office fantasy. Smart girl, barring me from her
work.
And yes, she truly loved her work. She didn t only do it for
security. I told myself she did to make myself feel better, but the
truth was, she just fucking loved her job. Unfortunately, she
would need to leave it soon, for a while anyway. I hadn t told her
yet. I was putting off that chore because I knew it would mean an
ugly standoff. She would fight me tooth and nail. She was not
going to be happy, but I had accepted a script assignment that
would take me to an overseas shoot for several months. There
was not a chance I would attempt it without her. I was going to
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14. Black and White
have to give her the news soon. I hated to force it on her, but it
couldn t be helped. It was too much of a trial for me to go so
much as a day without her now. A week? No, torture. Months? A
flat impossibility.
But God, it was going to be wretched. It was going to be a
bigger fight than we d ever had. What would I end up doing?
How far would I go to subdue her?
Between us, those lines of allowable force were sometimes
blurry. And so I stayed quiet probably longer than I should.
* * *
I decided to talk to her on the weekend, but Saturday began
with such wonderful intimacy that I pushed it back to Sunday.
Sunday over breakfast, when we ate our favorite yummy foods.
Pancakes, eggs, fruit, mimosas. And dread, because she knew.
She knew exactly what was coming. She knew my upcoming
schedule, that it would separate us. She knew what I would ask,
had known for weeks. But now, here it was.
 Wednesday, I said.  Can you take some time off of work?
A leave of absence?
 For how long?
You know how long, I wanted to say. She wouldn t make it
easy.
 For three months or so. Maybe four.
 Four months? No. I ll lose my job.
We both kept eating. Avoidance. She stabbed her pancakes
around in her syrup while I took a sip of my drink.
 Well, you ll need to quit then, if you re going to come with
me.
She was quiet a long time. Then she said,  I don t really want
to quit.
 I know. I know you don t. But you ll have to. There s no
other way.
 Can t I just visit you? Spend the weekends, now and again?
 Now and again? I laughed humorlessly.  No. Now and
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Owning Wednesday
again doesn t work for me.
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