Read an Excerpt
Ellie was first home from work. Jake wouldn’t be in until late so she had the early evening roughly planned, shower, snack, a movie she’d saved. It was Monday. Jake had been in sexual overdrive all weekend so she had no expectations. When he got home, a glass of wine together perhaps and then drift off into Tuesday.
But in the lounge, the picture on the wall told her immediately that the evening was going to take an entirely different course. Jake had changed their wedding photo to one of just him.
This was the signal for the start of the Game.
He smiled at her from the photo, wet blond hair curled by the ocean, the ocean itself roaring behind him and the smile on his face a subtle blend of triumph and achievement.
She sat on the edge of the sofa. It had begun. A sticky note on the TV said, Home at eight. She had a couple of hours. There were few rules. Whoever controlled the Game got to choose when to call Game Over. The next Game they’d agreed would always begin where the last one had ended.
Ellie’s heart was pounding. She’d ended up bound and gagged on the bed.
She had been yearning for the picture to change ever since – not that there was anything wrong with “wedding photo” Jake but the salt of the man who could tame the ocean was a missing guest and though she loved both the man she’d married and the man who dominated her – she also wanted to dominate him. But she had to win the Game first.
Ellie went to the bedroom. On the bed, the same black bra and pants she’d “worn” at the end of the last Game, a pair of handcuffs, the scarf he’d gagged her with, a blindfold and a snake’s nest of luggage straps and old ties. He must have set all this up after she left for work.
It dawned that she not only had to tie herself up before he got home she had to work out how to do it.
His timing irritated her. This was Monday and there would be only limited time to play. It was work for them both tomorrow.
She gathered her thoughts. Declining was an option simply by changing the photo back. This would be accepted without discussion but it would still remain his turn to swap it and call the next Game some other time. She dismissed the idea.
Toast and orange juice would do for a meal. A bath would be better than a shower giving time to relax and remember exactly how she’d been tied at the end.
In the bath she encouraged flashbacks from the previous Game.
All the sex over the weekend had been because he wanted her to start sexually exhausted, a condition seemingly unknown to him. She rarely got a glimpse of his penis unless it was erect. If he thought she was sexually exhausted he’d got it wrong. This time, if she could get the upper hand, he’d discover what the word sated meant.
Relaxed, ready and naked, confronted by the array on the bed, she quickly went to work. It all had to be done in the right order so that she could finally handcuff her hands behind her.