We resume this story some time after the events in 'The Confession, Or, Sarah Comes Out'.
Sarah (me) and her husband (Paul) are currently living apart, though not separated. Sarah got a new job which involved spending a lot of time at the company's head office in the north of England, but as a family we did not wish to relocate and move our son to a new area and school where he knew anyone, and it would have meant that Paul would have had to leave his job and find another. The new job however is well paid enough to be able to afford a small flat (apartment) close to the office, which Sarah lives in occasionally during the week, returning home at the weekends.
As before, this is a blend of my real life and what might happen in another, kinder, reality.
Note - Part one of this story contains a lot of exposition and there isn't a huge amount of kink in it. Part 2 warms up our subject considerably...
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"I'll see you Friday night, I love you both", I kissed my husband and son goodbye and got in the car to drive up north for my first week of hotel-free head office visits. As I was walking up the path my phone beeped with a message, which I read once I was sat in the car. It was from my husband.
"I love you, please don't do anything reckless"
He was referring to Louise, the American woman who controlled my orgasms.
In the weeks since my confession to him, we'd developed an uneasy understanding. He accepted that I was not cheating on him, and that what I was doing was like some kind of therapy for me, though he didn't really understand it. We'd agreed that any contact I had with her would always only ever be through chat messages, no voice, no cams, no visits.
I was disappointed by this because I had hoped, or at least fantasised, about going to visit her quite soon. But my family was more important. Edging for her and chatting to her worked well enough, and I had agreed with her and with him that any orgasm she allowed me to have would only be when I was with him, and that he could deny me too if he felt like it. He wasn't keen on that idea, the thought of frustrating me like that didn't really appeal to him.
We still didn't have sex very often, but he was getting used to significantly more regular blow jobs since I'd 'come out' to him, which definitely helped with his acceptance of my 'therapy'.
I still hadn't told him just what a dirty bitch I had been for her, that denial and edging for months on end had at times made me so desperate to please her that I'd pissed myself, crawled around the house naked except for a collar and a buttplug, cooked him dinner while plugged and humping the corner of the kitchen table every time he went out of the room... the list goes on. I might tell him about these things, but not yet. Who am I kidding? No way am I telling him about those things!
I drove off thinking about *exactly* those things, and getting very wet at the thought. Four years of denial has made me quite, umm, productive. I'm not wet all the time, I don't think biology works that way, but it takes very little mental or physical stimulation before I'm soaking wet. As a high-up in the company I now worked for, I always wore panty liners in the office now, regardless of where I was at in my cycle, I literally would die if my wetness was noticeable. Louise teases me about this, says she will ban me from using them!
Several hours later I arrived at the flat, having spent the drive listening to music and my mind wandering to what I might get up to this week, when really I should have been concentrating on my upcoming meetings. Louise knew this was my first full week in the flat and I'm sure she had some surprises in store for me so this was pretty much all I could think about.
About 30 seconds after I closed the door being me, I was sitting at the kitchen table checking my phone for messages from her and rubbing my cunt idly. There were none. This was not unusual, she has a life too, but I was a little disappointed.
I made a cup of coffee and started working, I'd spent the day driving so had some catching up to do before the first meeting tomorrow.
My phone pinged, I hoped it was Louise, but it wasn't, it was Lagertha, my Danish friend, and someone I had a lot in common with, not least a mutual fondness for denial and what Louise could do to us. Lagertha isn't her real name, but she is a real person, and quite a warrior so I have chosen to use this name for her here. Watch 'Vikings' if you want to see who Lagertha is, she's amazing!
Lagertha wanted to know if I had heard from Louise, because she had not either. We chatted for a while, wondering where Louise might be, both concerned but not unduly worried. We talked about other things too, about my job, which was going well, and hers, which wasn't. And inevitably it got kinkier the longer we talked. Where I am actually quite dominant, in real life and in my online life (with notable exceptions like Louise), Lagertha is completely submissive. Not doormat submissive, but she craves control and and wants to please, frequently to her own detriment. I am a kind and loving person and I adore her. I also enjoy making her hurt herself, and making her denial worse. It turns me on, a lot. Neither of us are allowed to cum without Louise's permission but that's pretty much the only thing that's forbidden if we play together.
I had recently introduced Lagertha to the joys of Tiger Balm. If you don't know what that is, go and buy some and rub it on your genitals, you won't ever forget it!
She had little idea what it was and had to go to a specialist oriental shop to find some, and then rather naively rubbed it straight onto her denied cunt. I think I could her her whimpers of pain from here!
I felt little guilty about that, I had assumed she knew what would happen as we've tried similar things before, but I guess she wasn't prepared for just how intense it was.
Still, I enjoyed her discomfort and she enjoyed knowing I enjoyed it, so we both won.
I apologise, I got distracted. Back in our conversation, I needed to have an early night so I told Lagertha I expected her to wear a buttplug to work the next day and said goodnight.
I called home, spoke to my husband and my son, then cooked dinner and relaxed for an hour, watching TV. Still no sign of Louise.
I rubbed a to a soft edge before using a considerable amount of self control, and making myself go to bed early to get a decent nights sleep.
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I woke to the sound of the alarm on my phone, set 20 minutes earlier than it needed to be so I could edge before I got up. I lay there thinking about what Louise was going to make me do tonight, or tomorrow night, or for the rest of the week and bought myself to a gentle edge before getting up going to the bathroom. As I sat on the toilet I checked my phone for messages from Louise. Nothing. I sighed, hoping she was ok, and really hoping she hadn't just disappeared.
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Once the office I went straight into a meeting, emerged for about 20 minutes at lunchtime and went straight into another meeting. I eventually got back to the flat at about 7pm, having barely stopped all day, just in time for a Teams call with a team in the US, which went on for 2 hours. After this I ate something, had a glass of wine and a quick chat with Lagertha and a couple of other lovelies on Tumblr while watching TV and went to bed. Still nothing from Louise.
The rest of the week followed pretty much the same pattern, 12 hour + working days, barely any time to myself at all. Ironically I probably wouldn't have had any time to spend with Louise even if she were around. I'd emailed her earlier on in the week just asking if she was ok but hadn't had any response from that either.
I drove back down south wondering what might have happened, concerned for her but also concerned for myself. She had been my denier and teacher for four years. During that time I had maybe 10 or 12 orgasms, no more, and all but two of them were with her express permission. Also during that time, I was the happiest and most level-headed I have been since I was in my 20's. I was worried what was going to happen to me if I'd lost her.
I was also bloody exhausted from work and really quite looking forward to a rest over the weekend but my husband, having been in charge all week, had different ideas, so I went straight from Business node to Mummy mode, and barely stopped again for the next two days. I drove up north again on Sunday night and literally went straight to bed when I got there.
The next couple of weeks was pretty much the same, I couldn't keep this up. I was still edging every morning but bar the occasional sexy chats with Lagertha, who was having a bad time at work herself, that was pretty much it. Without Louise my desire to edge and deny myself was dropping, the hormone cocktail denial generates was fading, which added to the exhaustion was starting to to take its toll. I could feel the black dog following me, I needed to do something before it was too late. There's a point where I can see it coming if I know to look out for it, and there's a point where its there, and its wrapped around me like a cloak that I can't escape. I needed to change something.
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I talked with my boss, saying I might have to stay down south more, I couldn't cope with this level of work without the support and home comforts of my family and I needed to reduce the workload. She told me that the company thought I was doing a brilliant job, and that my physical presence made such a difference that they really wanted me to stay. Would an assistant help? They offered to hire me a PA, which as a senior, but non-exec, employee was very unusual. But it might work I supposed. I thought about it for a few days.
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I also received an email from Louise. She had dropped offline because things had all got to much for her and some people were causing her problems. She didn't go into details, but I understood, this secret, anonymous, kinky online existence is full of fakers and griefers and it only takes one to ruin it for someone else. But I was upset. I deserved better than weeks of no contact and then a brief email with little explanation. Four years of my life, giving everything of me to her, my innermost secrets, at my most vulnerable, and that was all I got.
My plan of gaining the freedom from my husband, the space for myself, that I'd worked on so hard, and through so much heartache, so I could spend more time being a good girl for her was wasted, the dream of what the relationship might turn into was crushed by a single paragraph email.
So what was I to do? Stay on in my flat, lonely but hopefully less overworked with the assistance of a PA, or admit defeat, go home and hope that I could make the job work remotely somehow.
And then something unexpected happened. I had to travel to see a customer in Denmark.
