Part 2: Back at Home
The Paris air felt cold after the Canary Islands. Sonia shifted her carry-on and let out a breath. For two months she had thought about little except the dig. Now she wanted to get home to Marion.
From the cab, Paris felt unfamiliar after the isolation of the island. Traffic and voices filled the streets after weeks of shovels scraping at the quiet dig. They had called and sent messages throughout the dig. It had kept them in touch, but Sonia wanted Marion beside her, where a pause in the conversation did not mean a bad connection.
She set her suitcase down with a thud in the cramped entryway of the apartment, the air cool and faintly scented with Marion’s favorite lavender diffuser. The faint rustle of movement came from the kitchen, followed by Marion’s warm voice calling out, “You’re home! Finally!”
Marion appeared before Sonia could answer, her shoulder-long curls still damp from a shower. A black tank top, faded jeans, that grin. Sonia dropped her bags. By the time Marion drew back from their kiss, Sonia had stopped thinking about the airport.
“You look exhausted.” Marion brushed Sonia’s hair back under the dusty hat. “You’ve brought half the dig with you.”
Sonia smiled. “I missed you. And I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”
“Something edible. I’ve made an effort.” Marion led her into the tiny kitchen. “Sit. You can tell me whether it worked.”
Dinner was simple—pasta with a light tomato sauce and a bottle of cheap red wine—but Sonia wanted nothing else. They sat at the small, wobbly table, catching up on the mundane details of life. Sonia filled Marion in on the dig, starting with the heat, the long hours, and the frustrating logistics. But as the wine flowed, her recounting turned to the more intriguing details.
“The artifacts were… bizarre,” Sonia said, swirling her glass of wine. “We’re calling them Atlantean, but they’re nothing like the Atlantis people imagine. No shiny domes or lost cities under the sea. Just strange, advanced designs that feel… wrong, somehow.”
“Wrong how?” Marion asked, her chin resting on her palm as she leaned forward.
Sonia turned the glass between her hands.
“I have a theory. Five or six thousand years ago, a society builds all this machinery. Not just to run a city. To control individual people—their bodies, what they can do.”
Marion raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like slavery?”
“Exactly,” Sonia said. “But not in the way we think of it today. Their artifacts, their designs… It's like they were blending technology and ritual. Restraints that look ceremonial but are so precise they could have been functional. Collars with sockets for what might have been jewels—or something else entirely. It’s like a mix of high-tech and ancient BDSM.” She paused, grinning. “I’m telling you, the team was in denial. Too academic. Too vanilla. But you and I? It’s obvious.”
Marion laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “You’re saying Atlantis was a bondage cult?”
Sonia shrugged, her grin widening. “Why not? If you look at the carvings, the structures—it all points to obsession. Control. Submission. They didn’t just rule; they owned. Bodies, minds, everything. It was their identity. And they made it beautiful, in a way.”
Marion leaned back in her chair, studying Sonia. “And what do you make of it? Really?”
Sonia hesitated, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. “It’s fascinating. And unsettling. It’s like they were so advanced in some ways but so… regressive in others. But I can’t stop thinking about it. About what kind of people they were, how they lived. It’s haunting.”
After dinner, they moved to the couch, with its mismatched cushions and throws. Marion poured them each another glass of wine while Sonia rummaged through her bag. She returned with the collar fragments, carefully wrapped in cloth. Unfolding them, she placed the pieces on the coffee table.
“These,” Sonia said, her voice quieter now, “are what I brought back. I know I shouldn’t have. But look at them.”
Marion picked up one of the fragments, her fingers brushing over the corroded surface. The blackened metal was smooth in some places, pitted in others, but someone had worked it with care. “This was a collar?” she asked, tilting the piece to see where it might fit with the other half.
Sonia nodded. “I’m almost sure of it. Look at the curve, the hinge. It’s not just decorative—it’s functional. A slave collar, I think. A sign of ownership and control.”
Marion’s lips curled into a smirk as she set the piece down. “And you thought this would make a good souvenir?”
Sonia laughed, leaning against her. “I couldn’t leave it behind. And maybe it’s a little sexy.”
Marion wrapped an arm around Sonia’s shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Well, it’s definitely unique. And very you.”
Marion looked down at the fragments again. Sonia left them on the cloth between them; she had expected more questions.
Over the following days Sonia worked at her desk by the lace-curtained window. The collar fragments rested in the center of the table, propped on a soft cloth. Next to them were her tools: fine brushes, a loupe, a small container of solvent, and tweezers. She worked with a steady hand, brushing away layers of petrified grime that had hidden the true nature of the material beneath.
The grime came away. The “metal” at the core of the collar wasn’t metal at all, or at least not any metal Sonia recognized. It was black and pristine, gleaming faintly in the light. Despite millennia of burial, the material showed no sign of damage. Its surface was smooth and unmarked.
The jewels—if that’s what they were—were even stranger. They remained set firmly into the collar’s outer surface, showing hints of color as Sonia cleaned them with a pick. Red, amber, green, and lots of blue hues emerged, though the colors were muted, matted by whatever age and exposure had done to them. They weren’t multifaceted, more rounded, like ancient cabochon gemstones, and the faintly raised lines running along the inside of the collar felt purposeful, almost technical.
Sonia set down the pick. She had cleaned the same patch twice, expecting to find a scratch or a pit underneath. There was none.
Behind her, she heard Marion’s voice, low and teasing. “Still at it?”
Sonia glanced over her shoulder to see Marion leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed. She was dressed casually in one of Sonia’s oversized shirts and a pair of leggings, her hair loose and slightly mussed. Marion was smiling, but she had come no farther than the doorway.
“It’s just—” Sonia gestured to the collar fragments. “I think I’m getting somewhere. The material is—”
“Yes, yes. High-tech bondage jewelry from Atlantis.” Marion came into the room. “I think I could give the lecture by now.” She stopped beside Sonia’s chair and placed her hands on Sonia’s shoulders, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck. “But you’ve been glued to this thing for days. I’m starting to feel like I’m in competition with ancient alien kinks.”
Sonia laughed softly, setting her tools down. “It’s not like that.”
“No?” Marion’s hands slid down to Sonia’s arms, tugging her up gently but insistently. “Then maybe I should put on the collar. Would that get your attention?”
“Marion,” Sonia started, a mix of amusement and exasperation in her voice, but Marion was already leading her toward the sofa.
“No arguments,” Marion said, pulling her down onto the cushions with a grin. “You’re taking a break. Right now.”
Sonia let herself be pulled into Marion’s embrace, the tension in her shoulders easing as Marion kissed her. It started playfully, with Marion nipping at her bottom lip and murmuring something about “mysterious Atlantean charm,” but it quickly deepened. Sonia forgot her work as Marion tangled her hands in her hair.
“See?” Marion said breathlessly, breaking the kiss for just a moment. “This is way better than your weird ancient trinket.”
“Maybe,” Sonia said, kissing her again. “But you’ll have to work harder to convince me.”
Marion’s grin turned mischievous as she repeated Sonia’s earlier words, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “High-tech bondage jewelry from Atlantis. Very fancy. But what about good old low-tech bondage from Paris?” She leaned forward, reaching under the sofa to slide out a storage compartment. She pulled out a bundle of black and red cotton ropes.
Sonia looked at the ropes, then at Marion. “You’ve thought this through, have you?”
Marion shrugged, her smile unabashed as she dangled the ropes in front of Sonia. “Just thought I’d remind you how much fun simpler things can be. But only if you’re interested—”
Before she could finish, Sonia darted forward, twisting Marion’s arm gently but firmly behind her back. Marion let out a startled laugh as the ropes slipped from her grasp.
“Not what you had in mind?” Sonia teased, her voice low as she leaned in close. She pressed her lips to the corner of Marion’s mouth, just enough to make Marion squirm. “Too bad. My turn.”
“Wait, that’s not—hey!” Marion protested, though there was no real resistance in her voice as Sonia guided her to the center of the sofa. She knelt behind Marion, gathering the ropes with practiced ease. Marion rolled her eyes but smiled, her body already relaxing as she let Sonia take over.
“You’re enjoying this,” Sonia said as she looped the first rope around Marion’s wrists, cinching it snugly but not uncomfortably.
“Maybe,” Marion admitted, her grin betraying her. “But you better not—hey!” She broke off with a laugh as Sonia tugged the ropes tighter, pinning her arms firmly behind her back.
Sonia bound Marion’s ankles, crossed them, and connected the bindings with a longer rope. In minutes, Marion was in a snug hogtie, her body gently arched and completely immobilized. She tested the knots, wriggling against the bindings, but Sonia’s work held firm.
“This is not what I had in mind,” Marion grumbled, though her tone was light and playful. She wriggled again, her movements only emphasizing how stuck she was. “You’re supposed to be the one tied up.”
Sonia leaned back to admire her work, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Maybe next time. For now, I like you like this.”
Marion glared at her, but there was no hiding the flush in her cheeks or the spark of excitement in her eyes. “You’re going to regret this.”
“Am I?” Sonia asked, leaning in close again. Her fingers brushed lightly against Marion’s sides, making her squirm. “Because it looks like you’re the one in trouble.”
Marion gasped as Sonia’s fingers danced over her ribs, tickling her mercilessly. She squirmed and laughed, her voice a mix of protest and helpless giggles. “Stop! Sonia, I swear—stop!”
Sonia didn’t stop. She leaned in, planting kisses along Marion’s neck and jawline between teasing tickles. “You’re in no position to give orders, sweetheart,” she murmured, her breath warm against Marion’s ear.
Marion groaned, her laughter giving way to a frustrated sigh as Sonia kissed her slowly, lingering just long enough to make Marion’s helplessness all the more deliciously infuriating. “You’re terrible,” Marion muttered, her voice soft but full of affection.
Sonia chuckled, her hands sliding to Marion’s hips, tracing her curves with maddening slowness. “You wanted my attention,” she whispered. “Now you’ve got it. And I’m taking my time.”
Marion tugged at the ropes, her body arching slightly as she tried to turn her head toward Sonia. “You’re evil. You know that, right?”
“Maybe,” Sonia said, pressing another kiss to Marion’s shoulder. “But you don’t seem to mind.”
And Marion didn’t. She melted under Sonia’s touch, her initial protests fading into soft laughter and quiet sighs as Sonia took her sweet time exploring every inch of her, making sure Marion felt every second of her undivided attention.
Sonia let her hands wander lower, her fingers brushing the hem of Marion’s top before slipping beneath the fabric. The warmth of Marion’s skin greeted her touch, soft and inviting. Sonia took her time, her fingertips tracing slow, deliberate patterns along Marion’s sides, feeling her girlfriend shiver under the light, teasing pressure. She tugged the shirt up just enough to expose Marion’s stomach and breasts, pushing up the bra and freeing her girls. She was leaning down to press gentle kisses against the newly revealed skin, carefully circling her nipples, but never touching them.
Marion squirmed in her bindings, her breath hitching as Sonia’s lips traveled upward, leaving a trail of heat along her ribs. “Sonia,” Marion murmured, her voice a mix of protest and plea. She tugged at the ropes again, but they held firm, keeping her entirely at Sonia’s mercy. Sonia put out her tongue, carefully circling the areolae, first left then right, until she finally homed in. She was brushing the nipples with her lips, nipping at them without teeth, then using her tongue to wet them and then breathe on them. Marion lost her speech, and turned to soft moans, a sign for Sonia to now use her teeth and nibble, mixing in a bit more intensity into her play.
At Marion’s groan, Sonia let her hands roam over Marion’s skin. Her kisses followed, trailing over Marion’s shoulders and neck, her touch never too much but just enough to leave Marion trembling. Marion’s sighs made Sonia smile against her skin.
Then she slowly let her hands dive into Marion’s pants, searching and finding the wetness she was looking for. She was pushing the leggings down a bit and then eased her fingers into the folds, confirming she was ready. Carefully, she removed the leggings and the panties completely.
She moved down, taking her time and using her fingers and her mouth, carefully listening to Marion’s moaning, timing things to draw them out. While she kissed her nether lips, with her tongue darting out and flicking the clit, she slowly fucked her using more and more fingers, filling her slowly up.
Marion was squirming in earnest now, fruitlessly straining against the ropes, trying to meet her fingers, but Sonia controlled the rhythm and the pacing – savoring Marion’s helplessness. Slowly she turned her fingers inside Marion, until she was palm up and then curled against the spot, while continuing her slow fucking motion. At the same time, she placed her lips around Marion’s clit and started to carefully suck, now and then brushing lightly with her tongue. Marion was trying to buck seriously now, but the ropes held her fast. Finally, she came, loud and wet.
Leaving her fingers in, Sonia crept up and cuddled against Marion’s bound form, then slowly slid out of her, finger by finger. She trailed her fingers along Marion’s cheek, brushing gently before slipping them over her lips. Marion, still hazy and pliant, parted her lips without hesitation, her tongue flicking out to obey. Sonia’s other hand cradled Marion’s head, her thumb stroking softly over her temple.
“That’s it, my sweet girl,” Sonia whispered, her voice low and intimate, meant only for Marion. “You’re so good for me. So perfect. Always so eager to please.”
Marion’s lips closed around Sonia’s fingers, her eyes fluttering shut as she drew them into her mouth. Sonia caught her breath as Marion slowly cleaned each finger.
“Just like that,” Sonia murmured against Marion’s ear. “You’re so beautiful like this. I love how much you trust me.”
Marion whimpered softly, the sound muffled by Sonia’s fingers, and Sonia took her time. She let her fingers linger, teasing over Marion’s lips before slipping back in, deeper this time. Marion opened her mouth wider, breathing slowly.
“You’re such a good girl for me,” Sonia said softly. “So perfect, letting me take care of you, letting me have all of you. I could keep you like this forever, couldn’t I? Helpless and mine.”
Marion hummed, her lips closing firmly around Sonia’s fingers as she sucked gently. Sonia smiled, brushing a kiss against Marion’s temple.
“That’s my girl,” she whispered. “So sweet. So perfect. I don’t deserve you, do I?”
Sonia finally withdrew her fingers, brushing them one last time over Marion’s lips before pulling her into a gentle kiss. “Thank you,” she whispered against Marion’s mouth. “For being everything I need.”
Marion, photo taken by Sonia.