Story Time

The story below is part of a short story written for an online challenge with the prompt “The Contract.” For a very long time, I have fantasized about visiting the UK and Ireland. I set this story in Scotland, thinking about my love for the Outlander books, but I could’ve just as easily set it in Ireland. The dream of finding a cute cottage in the countryside is still brewing in my mind. Now to just find me a cute Irish or Scottish boy to help complete the fantasy.

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I was feeling very anxious getting off the plane. I know I still had an hour or two from the airport. It scared me to be in another country and stay in a place so far from civilization. But at the same time, the countryside we got into leaving Inverness was so beautiful. Exactly what I dreamed of. I chose November because it is easier to get away but I wanted to see a true fall season in the highlands. I was not disappointed.

I could hear that voice in my head asking me if I was being safe. Am I doing the right thing? The scenery distracted me. I had waited almost all my life to get to go to Scotland. He picked a cottage for us at one of the many castle estates that were supposedly haunted. He knew I was a fan of spooky places.

But I was not here for the scenery. I was not here for the history and the ghosts to be found. I was here for him. I joked a bit about using him for a trip here, but I would have traveled anywhere for him. There was something about him that drew me in. I was not sure I would be satisfied with the one time he was offering me.

And there he was finally in front of me, waiting at the front of the castle. I knew it was him instantly. The red hair seemed just a bit more red than I imagined. It is funny, growing up with bright strawberry blond hair and being made fun of for it made me less attracted to other redheads but over the last few years I couldn’t get away from them. His was more subtle in his pictures so I never even thought about it before.

I was trying not to compare him to Jamie Fraser, but that is immediately who I thought of, my old book boyfriend that I have held close to my heart for years. He was no Jamie, though. He had already shown me through words and messages, that he wasn’t the hero. He is definitely a villain.

“I hope your flight was uneventful.”

My god that voice and that accent. I am such a bad person and all I want is that accent dripping from his mouth. It doesn’t matter what he says, I am already dripping myself. Am I fetishizing his accent or do I really want him? As I get closer and start to really take him all in and smell him, I know it is him. It is like I have known him forever even though this is the first time we have set foot in the same space. I have always had the feeling from the first time I saw one of his posts and every time I messaged him. I was always comfortable with him and being in his presence did not change that. If anything, it made that sense of comfort and rightness stronger.

“Come.”

I follow him through the grounds to our cottage. The estate is gorgeous but I can only think about being in his presence. He has me close to him walking in step with each other touching hands. As we walk into our cottage, I see he already has the wood fire going in the living room. You can see the view to the forest behind the house with the yellow leaves adorning the trees. Two wine glasses are ready on the kitchen bar along with a piece of paper.

“We have all week and I thought we could take it a bit slow and continue our negotiations tonight. No pressure. I know you are likely tired so let’s just relax, have a glass of wine and we can talk about everything or nothing tonight.”

As he said I might be tired, I felt the weight of the day hit me. He was right. Already he knows me better than I do. I wanted to argue anyway. I was ready for him. I wanted all of him. I wanted the whole experience. I wanted to see how we could fit together. I wanted him to want me beyond control. Screw that piece of paper on the bar. I have seen one of those contracts before. They are so cold and emotionless. That is not what I want from him.

Instead, he showed me to my room (yes, I had a separate room, what the hell is that about?) and let me shower and get comfortable. It didn’t take me long. I could not stand another minute to be not in his presence. I had enough of that. I walk back into the main area and spy him filling our glasses.

We meet on the couch and I have the feeling of wanting to be as close to him as possible. As I move toward him and get comfortable, I realize any closer I would be in his lap. Still, he pulls me in and hands me my glass of wine. I sip and listen to his voice. We talked about our previous experiences with scene play and dynamics. It hits me again as the conversation turns to abduction play and heavy impact on how secluded we are out here. There are people in the main castle, I am sure, but I never went inside so I have no idea who else is staying here. I have not met one single staff member and the driver that brought me is now gone. I suddenly shiver thinking about how alone I am now with him. That piece of paper he wants me to sign is not going to take away all of that fear.

“I understand if you still have fears about me. I promise we will go slow.”

“That is the thing. I am sitting here very aware of how alone I am with a complete stranger and all I can think of is how frustrating it is that you want to go slow. I want you to want me. I want you to attack me now.”

“Such a brave girl. You understand that I am in control, though don’t you.”

“Yes, Daddy.” I gasped realizing I had never called him that before. I never asked him for permission to use that title. It just came out. I have been thinking it for ages, but never said it or typed it. It felt natural coming out just now, but I was worried I would make him mad by being too forward.

I don’t think mad was the emotion I was picking up from him now, though. The low growl went straight to my center. The pool of wetness in my panties was continuing to build. The look on his face told me he liked hearing that honorific. I liked saying it.

I was waiting for him to say something, but he did not. He stared at me and played with my hair. He moved his hand to caress my face and then suddenly he was on top of me with his lips on mine and his tongue forcing its way down my throat opening it up for other things that seemed ready to get pushed into my mouth as well.

Coming up for air for a second, he simply said, “You are mine.”

These are the three words I have been longing to hear more than anything else especially from him of all people. This experience is what I wanted all along. His hands on me, both of us trying to get closer but never feeling close enough. This is what I wanted. He is what I wanted all along.

“I can’t be gentle.”

“Don’t be gentle, Daddy.”

Another growl erupts and I am picked up like I weighed nothing more than a down pillow. He makes quick work of getting me to his bedroom, ripping my nightgown off, and strapping me to his bed. Apparently, he had been here a while and was hopeful that we would eventually end up in his room. I am not sure how much I like being strapped down since I can’t get my hands on him and I really want to get my hands on him.

“Poor baby. You are rethinking this now, aren’t you? No more control for you. You are in my hands. Let Daddy take care of you.”

No more thought. No more worries. No piece of paper between us.