Mr. Wobert

The alarm triggers its usual annoying tone at the exact time it has been set to for eternity. It is always the same blaring noise. It always seemed to be at the precise moment in time when it was most inconvenient for me. The buzzer would continually interrupt some fantasy I was living whilst in a dream. I could have been in the grasp of a handsome white knight. Perhaps my prince-charming had finally conquered the evil king and rescued me, the entrapped princess. None of that matters now though. The bothersome tone disrupts my slumber. There is a bright side to the agonist clamor though. It means my lover awakens.

            It doesn’t matter which side either of us fell asleep on; our eyes always open to each other’s face. My eyes flutter open to his. It is as if I can look deep into his eyes and see his soul. Oh my how sweet and innocent I feel when I look deep into his orbs. The blueness of his eyes is like catching a glimpse at the magnificent ocean, the clear pristine water at the beach perhaps, at the perfect moment of relaxation and romance. How wonderful it feels when he gazes upon me. We are just a couple of young lovebirds with our souls entwined in bliss. It is his eyes that attract me to him. I adore those perfect, passionate, loving eyes of his. Oh James, I love you.

            I watch as he stirs and stretches out in the bed. He then leans in and gives me a light kiss on the cheek. His lips were smooth and warm against my delicate skin. We exchange smiles before he slides out from under the sheets, hops off the bed, and makes his way to the bathroom. His smooth rear sways back and forth as he walks. I still can’t believe he got his backside waxed for me. It is a sacrifice that must have been difficult for him to do. He has always said he preferred the natural look, but I just love the feel of hairless skin. My lovely form follows him into the bathroom. I have always believed I am a stunning and attractive girl.

            I step into the bathroom, and already his hands are on my form. He always wants to play in the mornings. His hands slide over the silk nightie that tightly hugs my curves. I must admit, his hands always feel wonderful when they slide across the silk of my nightwear. I let out a giggle and grind my rear back against his pelvis. He wants to have me right there in the bathroom, but he can’t have me today. I thrust my rear backward hard, and pull it back just enough to give us space. I watch his face in the mirror. His eyes peer toward me, and I can read the confused expression over his face. His eyes do not look away from me, and I get a sense he wants affection so bad, but he can’t. I wiggle out of his grasp. My index finger shakes back and forth at him, signaling no. He lets out a sigh in defeat before walking out. I look at myself reflected in the mirror for a moment before my frame leaves the view of the mirror. I, however, continue to stare at the mirror. A vacant, expressionless, empty image reflects back at me. I am just a hollow aura of my true self.

            I know there is nothing wrong with the mirror. It shines brilliantly as ever. Its smooth, glossy finish reflects every detail with such clarity. Even with a sparkling of dried droplets of water on the mirror’s surface, it does not hinder in its effort to reflect. I can even see the old stains of chipping paint on the walls around the bathroom. That was a great day. It was the first day we had settled into this place. We were so happy at the time; so in love. Those were the best of times.

            “Do you like it?” James said to me while he admired at his handiwork.

            I stepped up behind him and wrapped my arms around his chest, just under his armpits. We swayed back and forth for a moment while my eyes took in the scene. Each tile had been delicately placed in the small shower by the former owners of this apartment. It could have been a master craftsman that had spent hours of work to make his bathroom perfect. And there I stood, looking at the wonderful tiled shower with cheap, pink paint all around it. “Think you went a little overboard with the paint?”

            “Hey, if my girl’s favorite color is pink, then I’m going to give her the pinkest bathroom in all the land,” he proudly replied.

            “Hmmm…. Does that mean I can have the living room pink?”

            “Not a chance.”

            “Thought so.” I giggled. “What color of pink is that?”

            “It’s called unspoken love….”

            I gently kissed his neck. “I love it.”

            “Glad to hear it.” He whispered as he slowly spun around in my arms to face me.

            Our eyes instantly locked onto each other’s. Even with the pink walls surrounding us in rose light, his eyes were still an amazing blue. My hands slid down from his under his arms and gently coiled around his waist and hips. The paint bucket and brush dropped behind me with an echoing clank. He smiled and gently pressed his lips to mine. I melted into his kiss and into his arms when they enveloped around me. Our bodies became pressed together in perfect unison. His hands slid up and down my back as we shared kiss after kiss after kiss. I didn’t want our lips to break apart. Suddenly, his hands caressed my bottom, and lifted me off the tile floor. I gasped in surprise and on instinct wrapped my legs around his hips. He murmured in response, and then he gently stepped back into the shower. I kissed him again; much stronger and passionately that time. He jostled me against the wall, and turned on the showerhead.  The water began to drench us.

            “What are you doing?” I said in a soft voice, directly to his ear, as I kissed his neck.

            “I’ve always wanted to kiss you in the rain,” he cooed into my ear. “Figured this was as best of time as any.”

            “How sweet…”

            That is a good memory. I snap out of my trance and return to the sight of me staring at the mirror. My hands gently move across my face as they apply make-up to my skin. The tank top I have put on hugs my chest and pushes up my cleavage. The short shorts, with the words “sexy” across the back, make my rear firmer than it is. I have never had a great butt in my opinion. I think my breasts are my best feature. Compared to the other girls in our apartment complex, I am the only one that isn’t full of plastic. None of that is a concern to James though. It doesn’t matter how I look or what I do to change my appearance. I am always an angel in his eyes. Even when things are rough, I never fall from my pedestal James has planted me on.

            I fix up my hair in a ponytail before leaving the bathroom. That’s when I see the bed has been made by me. The silk sheets have been pulled up, and the thick blanket has been stretched across the whole surface. James never notices how I would make the bed on days like this. I take great care in making the bed in my special way on these days. James never sees it. He is dressed and in the kitchenette before I make the bed. He never notices anything is out of the ordinary. He always notices everything that is about me and tries to pamper me, or he used to, but now, he never sees what is important to me.

            I find James at the table, reading away at his newspaper. I am seated at the other end of the table, working on a bowl of cereal. The clanking that comes from the spoon sliding across the bottom of the bowl echoes through the room. The only response is the crinkle of the newspaper. He concentrates on the business section for a long while before he moves onto the sports section. My eyes glare down at the front page that has been set aside. My eyes look to read the headlines for the day. For some reason, the characters look different to me. The whole newspaper looks like gibberish to me.

            My eyes just see this:

            “Damn, time to head to work.” James says as he puts down his paper.

            “Ok babe. Have a good day at work.” I say with a smile.

            “How about a kiss from my hummingbird?”

            “Sorry hon. Ummm… my lipstick is already on, and I don’t want to mess it up when Cindy and I go out to lunch.”

            “Come on, just a quick peck?”

            I look up into his eyes as he looks down at me. I get a sense that he wants a kiss so bad. I smile and giggle in front of him, but I don’t give him a kiss. He leans in to gives me a kiss, but I playfully push my head aside. He stops for a moment, leaving his head close to mine, before he closes his eyes, and kisses the far back of my jaw – where it meets my neck. He lets off a soft sigh as he holds it for a moment before moving toward the door behind me. His hand touches the handle, and that is when he glances at me. I can see his hurt look. His soft eyes become a rosy red, and his saddened look eats away at me. I should have just given him a kiss.

            He walks out and slams the door shut. My head turns, and I watch the lock turn from the outside. His footsteps echo off the old wooden floorboards as he marches away. I smile and quickly finish my bowl of cereal. As I am rinsing out my bowl, my phone vibrates from the incoming text message. I look down at it, and my eyes grow wide with joy. Christopher’s text reads simply, “I’m on my way over.” I shiver in anticipation before I quickly run back into the bedroom. I watch as the blanket across the bed is pulled away, and the spandex bondage outfit comes into view. I quickly slide out of my tank-top and short shorts. The newfound dominatrix-side within me starts to come out as I carefully buckle the harnesses and the straps of the outfit.

            A smile moves across my face. I remember how I met Christopher. It was a night when James had to stay late at the office, working on some business meeting. I had been growing so lonely with the long nights of James being away from me. When we were first dating, we couldn’t be separated. But as things progressed, James was pulled further and further away from me. James’s career as a stock broker was starting to take off when we got married. He was well on his way to becoming one of the firm’s best advisers. But all the company success had a major flaw. It meant James was putting his job above me. I had to take a backseat to his career. That was not how things should have gone.

            That night, after putting up with the loneliness and lack of attention, I stared to browse the internet. I surfed through the chatrooms of various websites, looking for some sort of attention. The wanting for any kind of interaction was too great from me to handle. After a while, I came across a bondage website. It was a random occurrence – a typo and a mis-click – but I was instantly intrigued. It was such a foreign thought to me. I had been raised like a princess, sheltered from the darkest aspects of life. But the strangeness of the whole idea of being a mistress was a seed never planted within my mind. I was used to being pampered by everyone; especially James. He tried so hard to give me what I needed to be happy. However, he had never given me anything like this. The seed had been planted.

            The thought of being the dominant female, the master in total control, grew. The more I browsed the website, the more fascinated I became. The seed had grown into a tall tree, and I had tasted the forbidden fruit plucked from it. Then, an instant message popped up on the screen from “tapoutslave 69”. He asked me how I would feel about giving him a “good spanking”. I laughed it off, but the thought stewed in my head for a little while. Soon enough, it exploded. The next night, when James had left for a two-day business trip, Christopher came over. He helped me dive deep into the idea. After that, I was buying whips, chains, and every other material for my new lifestyle. I wanted to be the real mistress of power.

            That was a few months ago.

            My mind returns to the present as I pull out my secret bag full of toys. I am still surprised that James hasn’t discovered the bag. He probably would have a heart attack if he sees what is inside. I dump out the contents and watch them spill out onto the bed. Whips, chains, ball-gags, paddles, and other devices spread out in a little pile of torment. I watch while my hands run through the pile. I lift up a green strap-on while thinking of Christopher. It is his favorite toy when I wear it. Christopher is a weird guy, but I love the feeling he gives me. He is completely willing to let me abuse him as I see fit. Oh what a power trip I embark on when I’m with him. It really has helped get me get through the feeling of being abandoned by James. Our once-a-week events are so pleasant; or at least pleasurable for me. Suddenly, a knock comes from the door.

            I quickly throw on a bathrobe and answer the door. My eyes gaze on Christopher as he walks into the apartment. His Tapout t-shirt squeezes his amazing chest and large muscles. He works out every day. His physique is his pride and joy; it is my flesh to control. I coax him over with a devilish smile. He marches over and wraps his arms around me. I am no match for his strength. However, I am his master, and he is the slave.

            “Alright big boy, kneel for me.” I order as I squirm out of his grasp.

            “Yes my mistress.” He says while getting on his hands and knees.

            “Kiss my toes slave. They are rather lonely this morning.”

            Christopher does exactly as he is told. He is completely obedient and subdued to do my bidding. I strap a leash on him while he suckles on my pinkie toe. I then make him bark like a lost puppy. It amuses me that such a strong, large man is on the floor like a mutt. He follows me into the bedroom where the fun really begins. Before long, I have him strapped to the bed posts, naked. I see the expression of pure bliss across his face, and it drives me wild. Momma is going to punish her baby. I place a blindfold over his eyes and gag him. Oh Christopher, you are going to be whipped until you cry tears of joy.

            I am so distracted at the moment; I don’t notice James standing silent and still like stone. There is a tremble in his lower lip, and a tear itching at his eye, wanting to fall. He tries to remain still, but his foot jerks. A floorboard in the doorway creaks. I look up at the door, and my heart goes cold. My eyes lock onto his set of bright blue eyes that are turning bloodshot and filling with tears. I don’t know what to say; I am completely speechless. Christopher has no idea James is standing at the doorway. The silence is unnerving. I swear that I can hear each breath taken. Finally, Christopher breaks the tension when he starts mumbling from the gag. James shakes his head and then runs out of the apartment. I chase after him, but he’s out the front door in a matter of seconds. I want to chase after him, but I can’t.

            The effects of the whole scene start to take effect of me as I stand in the kitchen. My eyes glaze over the outfit I have adorned, and the whip that is in my hand. I know I should be feeling guilty, but at that moment, I’m not. I’m confused. I mean, how dare James just walk-in on me like that. Who knows how long he had been watching. But, on the other hand, what a shock it must have been. Could he have just forgotten to grab his newspaper or maybe something? And then he came home to that. I’m so confused.

            I untie Christopher, and he soon leaves. He wants to start over, but I am too bewildered. I rip off my spandex suit, and put the tank-top and shorts back on. I throw all my gear back in the bag, and toss it into the closet; didn’t even bother hiding it. Emotions run wild within me as I sit on the corner of the bed with my face in my hands. James has been treating me like shit every since he got that damn job at the brokerage. The entire time we have been married, he has been a ghost to me. I am tired of it. I am just a trophy to him now. He has won my heart, even my soul, and now has placed me on the shelf. He thinks he is such a romantic husband, but he’s not.

            But I love him… I love him so much. He has always been good to me. He always put himself ahead of me. He loves me with all his heart. What have I done?

            I wait all day from him to come home, but he never shows. I become more and more worried that he isn’t here. He never was good at handling his emotions. Was he afraid of confronting me? I figure he is with each hour that passes. I try to stay up all night, waiting for him, but it’s no use. I lay down in the bed to fall asleep. It is the first time in a long while James hasn’t been in bed with me. I pull up the blanket with a tear slowly trickling down my cheek. We have this king-size bed, and it is usually so comfy. However, at this moment, it feels like a bed made of nails. I miss how wonderful it feels to have James in bed behind me. Our bodies fit against each other in a perfect pair.

            During the night, James does visit the apartment. I am long asleep, curled up in the blankets of the bed, as he softly steps through the front door. He is not the elegant and perfect image. His suit doesn’t look the same pressed and ordered it usually is. Even his tie isn’t looped around his neck and tied straight; it hangs loose and uneven. He creeps into the bedroom as if he is a specter. His eyes look weary and strained. Could he have been crying for hours maybe? I don’t know. He stands above me for a moment, the longest moment it seems, before silently shuffles around the bedroom, in the closet and in the bathroom. He hangs his head low, and looks like he is going to cry. Is he all out of tears? Before long, the apartment is empty except for me.

            The alarm triggers its usual annoying tone at the exact time it has been set to for eternity.

James is nowhere to be seen. I awaken, and I look around the apartment. It is exactly how I left it yesterday. I stagger from the bed, and go into the bathroom to take a shower. At first, I didn’t notice it, but just as I am about to step in the shower, I see something out of the corner of my eye. On the countertop are a small envelope and the day’s newspaper. I step up to the counter, and to my surprise, it is wet. I lift up the envelope and open it while my eyes glance over the countertop. I catch a glimpse at the headline in the newspaper when I pull out the letter.

            I open the letter and start to read. My facial expressions fill the mirror. James has an interesting way with words. At first, I suspect it is a letter full of hateful remarks about how I’m a cheating bitch, maybe rightfully so, but I am wrong. James keeps it rather simple and short. He talks about how he loves me and tries to give everything he can for me. He says he sacrifices all his deepest wishes for me so he can pamper me like the goddess that I am. I can hear his voice in my head as I read. The letter ends with him saying he will be home later to end all our troubles. What does he mean? I shake my head and set the letter down. How could I have been so stupid?

            I look deep into the mirror. I wish I am not the hallow girl I have become. Continuing to stare into the mirror, I step into the shower and begin to wash. I can see my figure behind curtain in the reflection. I stare at it, thinking how thickheaded I am. The letter lies on the counter, tormenting me. It reminds me of a similar letter, but one more romantic and good.

            “Your skin is a gentle meadow where each individual follicle of hair is a blade of grass that begs to be parted as my hand moves across your skin like a curious hare. Each curve of your voluptuous frame is a magnificent mountain range, and my lips are the adventurous climbers that are destined to conquer each ridge. Every time you speak, your words are a sweet elixir for my ears to drink. I am jealous of each particle of cloth that hugs your body when it should be my arms!” I read out loud.

            “Do you like it?” James asked.

            “Mmmmhmmm….. I love it.”

            “I want you to know how much I love you.”

            I giggled as he took my hands in his. “Oh really now?”

            “Oh yes. You are my world hummingbird. If I could, I would climb up to the stars, and pick you the brightest ones.”

            I leaned in to him and kissed him gently on the lips. The scene was perfect. He said he wanted to dedicate the night to me. He took me to the restaurant of my choice – sadly for him the most expensive one in town – and bought me a dinner meant for a princess. I was so happy. I even got to laugh at James when he got jealous at the waiter for hitting on me. He got so irate sometimes when other men looked at me. How foolish he was. He was so in love with me, and that proved it. The night couldn’t be any better.

            “Hummingbird…” James started.

            “Yes?”

            “There has been something I have wanted to ask you for so long…”

            I looked deep into his eyes. I knew what he wanted to ask.

            “Over these two years, we have been through it all hon. We have been to heaven, to hell, and to every land in between. I give you all I can my love. I give you my soul, my heart, and my flesh. You are my goddess; my angel; my warrior woman.”

            I laugh under my breath. He had such a way of going overboard when dealing with his emotions.

            “I am totally yours hon. I want to give you the world if you will have it. I want to give you all of me, if you will have it. I want to be with you forever, if you’ll have me.”

            “Oh James… Can’t you just ask one question? You always have to pamper me with your words and actions.” I rubbed his hand against my cheek. “I do love it though. I love it how you serenade me like a goddess.”

            “Babe, I don’t want you to ever feel like I don’t love you. I am your humble servant; your humble servant to kiss your feet and to be your slave. I love you that much.”

            “I love you too James, with all my heart.”

            “Will you marry me?”

            I wait all day for James to come home. Time slowly passes in the apartment, and it is excruciating. I grow restless. I try to plan out the confrontation between us. How mad will he be? How strong should I be about bringing up the point that he has abandoned me and that is why I have turned to Christopher? Should I beg for forgiveness? Should I make a stand for a change? I don’t want to lose him, but things can’t remain the same. Damn it. I love James. I love James, not Christopher. If I have to give up everything – the whips, chains, everything – then so be it. James is more important. He’s always been there, and always will be there. I was wrong; I should have gone to James first.

            Morning turns to afternoon, and then afternoon turns to night. Still there is no James. I cook myself some dinner, and still there is no James. I lie down in bed, and curl up alone again. I don’t want another night to sleep alone, but it looks like I am in for one. Suddenly, the front door opens, and James walks in. I move to the doorway and look at him. He drops his suitcase, and looks in my direction. He is hunched over, his eyelids are dark, and his face has a growing layer of hair across it. It looks like he hasn’t slept for at least a day.

            “Hey…” I softly say from the doorway. “You’re home.”

            “Had to stay late and finish up a contract.” James says from the kitchen as he gets a beer out of the fridge.

            “Is that all you care about anymore?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “All you seem to care about is your stupid job.”

            I don’t know why I’m starting so aggressive. Maybe it’s best to get all the anger out first?

            “That’s not all I care about.”

            “Well enlighten me then. Because to me, I’m just some girl you come home to. We used to be so close, so in love. And now it seems that all you care about is your job.”

            “I care about giving you everything your heart desires. That’s the only real thing I care about.” He sips the beer.

            “Well you aren’t. I want you. I have always wanted you.”

            He stands there, looking grimly at the fridge. I watch as he slowly lowers his head, and presses it up against the fridge. Before he closes his eyes, I notice him staring at the picture of us on the fridge. It was taken the night he proposed to me.

            “All I have ever wanted was to serve you with all my heart and soul. You are my hummingbird. I’d die for you.”

            “James… I love you. I really do. But you have never been around for so long. It is like you are a ghost haunting me. You are just a shell of the man I fell in love with.”

            I walk away from him and tumble into the bed. “That is why I went to Christopher. I need to feel loved, I need the attention.”

            “I know hummingbird… I know… You want me to be Romero… the romantic Romero.” He says from the kitchen. “I don’t know what to say… I try so hard to give you a life of luxury. I love you with all my heart hon. I always have, always will. I don’t want any other man to have you. You have always been my only love, my soulmate. If you left me for another man…I’d feel lost. I’d be nothing. You are my whole world hummingbird…”

            I wish I can hold him as he speaks. I want to wrap my arms around him so badly. I should not be in the bed.

            “What was that?” I say, curled up in the bed in tears.

            He slowly staggers into the bedroom, and stands next to the bed. I look up at him from the bed. “What do you want from me darling?”

            “I’m tired. I’ve been waiting for you all day, all night. Let’s just go to bed. We can finish this in the morning.”

            “If that is what you wish hummingbird.”

            “Goodnight James.” I turn away from him and close my eyes.

            “Goodnight Rosaline.”

            That didn’t go well, but I think a night to sleep it over will be good for both of us. The morning will be better to handle this.

            He stands above me for a long while, until I’m asleep. My back is turned to him, but that doesn’t matter to him. Tears stream from his eyes. Each one trickles down his cheek, down through is unshaven facial hair, and plummets off his chin to the floor below. I am fast asleep before he finally moves again. He drinks the rest of his beer, and goes into the kitchen. His steps are slow; it is as if he is walking through mud. After a few moments, he returns to the bedroom with his suitcase. He steps into the bathroom quietly. Gently, he opens his suitcase, and starts removing its contents. There is a black shiny outfit with metal chains, sticking out of his suitcase. There is also a glimpse of a bottle of some kind, and a handkerchief. What does he have planned? What are you going to do James?

            He walks into the room with both the bottle and handkerchief in hand. He steps around the bed, and stops in front of me. More tears trickle down his face. He leans in and gives me a gentle kiss on my forehead. It isn’t enough to disturb my slumber. What are you doing love? He gently places the handkerchief over my mouth and nose. He holds it here for a while, not hard enough to smother me, but close enough for me to inhale it all. What the hell are you doing James?

            He gives my cheek a rub, but I am unresponsive. “I’m sorry Rosaline… I love you so much… I can’t lose you to another man. Nobody else can have you.”

            He brings in his suitcase, and puts the bottle and handkerchief away. All my bondage gear is in the suitcase. Damn-it James, don’t do it. He snaps it shut, and looks at me. He shakes his head, and moves next to me. His hands move under me, and he lifts me from the bed. I am limp, but still breathing. He lays me over his shoulder, and grabs his suitcase. I am defenseless. He marches to the front door, but turns back for a second. He looks in my direction for a moment, but then leaves. After a while, he returns home, without me, and falls asleep.

            The alarm triggers its usual annoying tone at the exact time it has been set to for eternity. James awakens, and the pretty blueness of his eyes is on full display again. He stretches out on the bed in every direction. He rolls onto my side of the bed, and he feels the depression I have left there in the bed. It might even be a little warm still because I was laying there for much of the night. After a few more moments of groan-filled stretching, he staggers out of bed and goes into the kitchen. I follow him. He picks up his newspaper, and starts to read it at the table. He sighs heavily before turning the page. My picture is in the paper. It is an older picture of me, but I still look the same I did before. There is a story under it:

            James lets out a heavy sigh and leaves the kitchen for the bathroom. He tosses the paper into the corner of the countertop, and steps into the shower. The water begins to fall from the showerhead, and James begins to wash. Steam starts to perspire on the mirror. Mist expands on the mirror until only the bottom remains clear. The newspaper reflects in the mirror to me. The words are reflected back, and are readable. I read them, and become shocked. The mist fills the mirror fully, blocking the reflection. I fill with dread, my heart stops, and I lose all feeling. The bastard has killed me. The son-of-a-bitch killed me. I thought it was going to be ok. I thought the morning would fix everything. Why? Where? When? How? What the fuck? James, how could you?

            Everything goes black and silent. There is no feeling; no emotion; no memory.

            The alarm triggers its usual annoying tone at the exact time it has been set to for eternity. It is always the same blaring noise. It always seemed to be at the precise moment in time when it was most inconvenient for me. The buzzer would continually interrupt some fantasy I was living whilst in a dream. I could have been in the grasp of a handsome white knight. Perhaps my prince-charming had finally conquered the evil king and rescued me, the entrapped princess. None of that matters now though. The bothersome tone disrupts my slumber. There is a bright side to the agonist clamor though. It means my lover awakens.

            It doesn’t matter which side either of us fell asleep on; our eyes always open to each other’s face. My eyes flutter open to his. It is as if I can look deep into his eyes and see his soul. Oh my how sweet and innocent I feel when I look deep into his orbs. The blueness of his eyes is like catching a glimpse at the magnificent ocean, the clear pristine water at the beach perhaps, at the perfect moment of relaxation and romance. How wonderful it feels when he gazes upon me. We are just a couple of young lovebirds with our souls entwined in bliss. It is his eyes that attract me to him. I adore those perfect, passionate, loving eyes of his. Oh James, I love you.