by Violet Blue
“Forever.”
Jane might believe him about Leanne, but some things would never change. Not for long. “You’ll get dishpan hands.”
“Never.” Mark raised his hands in front of him and wiggled his yellow-gloved fingers at her. “My dad taught me all about latex. In all its forms.”
She looked at the puddles on the floor, trying not to give in to the amusement. She wanted to kill him, after all, not laugh with him. The relationship was over, and he had to leave.
“One more chance,” he said, correctly reading her uncertainty. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. Anything.”
Having an eager, capable man at her beck and call might have been another woman’s fantasy, Jane thought, but it wasn’t hers. “I want you to do things without being told. I’m tired of being in charge.”
He concentrated on removing first one latex glove and then the other, a thoughtful expression on his face. “You want me to show some initiative?”
“Not just some,” she said. “All. I don’t want to make any more decisions for us. I want you to make them. Every single one of them. It’s your turn.”
He tossed the gloves into the sink. “You wouldn’t last two minutes without taking over.”
Expecting Mark to act responsibly was even more insane than plotting to kill him, she thought, but at least she wouldn’t end up in jail. “If you can change your behavior, I can change mine.”
He leaned against the sink for several thoughtful moments before holding out his arms to her. “Come here.”
“I’m too tired for games.”
He dropped his hands to his sides. “Two seconds. You didn’t even last two seconds with me in charge.”
He was serious, she realized. He was willing to take on some responsibility, if she would just let him. “I’m sorry.”
He raised his arms again, and this time she moved into his embrace, snuggling into the damp, dish-soapy skin of his chest. His chin dropped to rest on the top of her head. “Thank you.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, and she couldn’t help thinking that she’d known him to stare into space—or a video screen—for hours, doing absolutely nothing worthwhile. If it were up to him, they might spend the next forty-eight hours standing here, just hugging in suspended animation. Someone had to say something, get things moving. “Let’s go upstairs.”
He raised his head. “Ninety seconds this time. You’re getting better.”
Not really, she thought. She was getting worse, inching closer to the insanity she envied, because she actually felt guilty for making an obvious little suggestion. She willed herself to relax. “I can do this. Really.”
“I’ll be expecting a lot from you.”
That was only fair. She’d always demanded a lot from him. She could handle anything except the total responsibility she’d borne until now. She nodded against his chest. “Whatever you want.”
He picked her up and seated her on the marble-topped kitchen island, slick with soap and water splatters from his dishwashing. “I want you.”
And she wanted him. Physically, at least. They’d never had any problems with sex.
She started to unbutton her blouse, but he placed his hand over hers. “I didn’t tell you to do that, did I?”
“I thought it was what you wanted.”
“Don’t think for me,” he said. “Just do what I tell you.”
“I was trying to help.”
“I’m a big boy.” He brushed her hands away and took over undressing her. “I can do it myself.”
He parted the fabric slowly, stopping between each undone button to brush his thumbs over the newly exposed skin: the upper slopes of her breasts, then each of her ribs and finally her bellybutton.
It felt nice, but it wasn’t the hot, frantic make-up sex she craved. He was supposed to tear off her clothes and kiss her wildly and then fuck her insensible. “Are you sure you don’t want some help?”
“I’m sure.” He slipped the blouse off her shoulders and kissed her neck.
“This is going to take all night.”
“That’s the idea.” He continued with all the single-minded concentration he usually reserved for video games. He undid her pants zipper and slid his hand inside. Between kisses, he said, “I want to play with you all night.”
“We can’t,” she said, still a little irritated with him. “I have to get some sleep before I go to the office tomorrow.”
“Maybe.”
That was going too far, she thought, and she was about to complain when he found her clit and squeezed it. She could spare him a little time. They’d both be finished in a few minutes, anyway, so there was no point in worrying about an all-nighter. She lay back on the marble-topped island, letting him remove her remaining clothes and toss them on the floor.
He took a step back, cupped one elbow in the other hand and stared at her naked pussy. “This is where the decisions become so difficult. There are so many possibilities.”
“You were doing fine until now,” she said. “Just keep doing what you were doing.”
“That’s for me to decide.”
She covered her face with an arm to hide the rolling of her eyes. He couldn’t be serious about this.
A moment later, she heard the sound of a stool being dragged over to a spot in front of her. She peered out from behind her arm to see Mark seating himself between her thighs and staring at her.
He looked serious. He wasn’t going to take directions from her this time. She was going to have to wait and wonder what he would do next. She didn’t want to wait. She wanted it now.
Her hips squirmed demandingly, and he placed one hand on her pussy, holding her still. “I’ve made a decision.”
“Good.” She tried to rub against his hand, guiding him by example, but he took his hand away.
“I’ve wanted to do this forever.” He lifted her knees onto his shoulder, her lower legs hanging down his back, and her pussy open to him. “You’re always so intent on getting to the end that we never get to enjoy the process.” He bent toward her, his tongue teasing its way to her clit and lightly tracing a circle around it.
“We’ve had oral sex before,” she said.
He raised his head. “Not like this. Not with me in charge.”
If he wanted to believe that tonight was different, she wasn’t going to argue. She needed his mouth on her again. She closed her eyes and wiggled her pelvis at him. “Show me.”
“I will,” he said. “When I’m ready.”
Her eyes popped open. “But I’m ready now.”
“I know.” He gave her one quick lick, as if to prove that he knew exactly what she wanted and could give it to her—or not—at his own discretion. “I’ve decided you’re going to wait. I like looking at you when you’re aroused like this. It’s the only time you’re not in complete control of yourself.”
“I like to be in control.” She started to sit up, but then his lips were on her clit again, tugging, making silent promises of the pleasure that would follow eventually. She dropped back onto the chilly marble surface, moaning her pleasure.
“You’re going to like being out of control too,” he whispered against her skin. “Totally, screamingly out of control.”
“I’m not like that.”
“You can be.” He sucked her until her brain melted, and the concept of control no longer made any sense, and then he raised his head. “Not yet.”
“What?” She blinked. “You can’t stop now.”
“You gave me the right to do anything I choose,” he said. “I choose to stop now and watch you cool down a little.”
“I don’t want to cool down,” she said. “I want to come. I want you to suck me again.”
“I know,” he said. “And I will. When I’m ready.”
She groaned in frustration. “How can I make you ready?”
“You can’t,” he said. “I get to decide.”
He’d always fucked her exactly the way sh
e wanted it. Why had she ever thought they needed to change? “Never mind what I said before. You don’t have to take on any responsibility. I like being in charge.”
“No,” he said with more determination than she’d ever heard from him. “That’s your pussy talking, not your brain. We’re doing this my way, my rules, my timetable.”
He meant it, she thought. He was going to make her wait, possibly all night, just to prove he could play this game to the end. “What if it doesn’t work?”
“It will work just fine.” He tweaked her clit between two fingers. “See?”
She gasped, startled by the intensity of the unexpected little touch, as if she could feel each ridge of his fingerprint as it passed over her skin.
“Perhaps I can give you a little more.” He rubbed her gently, and, much as she wanted him to press harder and faster, she knew that saying so would only make him stop, and anything was better than that. She couldn’t help squirming, though, and as soon as she did, he stopped.
He couldn’t leave her like this. He wouldn’t leave her like this. She trusted him. All she had to do was wait.
She’d never realized how hard it was to wait, to be the one who listened, the one who obeyed. A frustrated little cry escaped her, but she didn’t let any words form. Nothing that he might consider to be an order. Not even a demand or a plea. She couldn’t stop her thoughts, though: Please, please, please; now, now, now.
A few thousand silent nows passed. Without warning, he resumed rubbing her clit. Grateful for any contact, she didn’t complain that his touch, more erratic and tentative than she was used to, missed as much as it hit. He needed to do it his way, and she needed to let him.
“I don’t want this to end,” he said, even as he settled into a surer rhythm, making the end inevitable.
She knew he didn’t expect an answer, and, in any event, she was beyond words. She waited, enjoying the pleasure he gave her, half believing that he could make it last forever.
“The longer I can make you wait,” he said, keeping her at the exact same level of need, “the better the release will be.”
She moaned contentedly.
“On the other hand,” he said, increasing the pressure slightly, “if you come now, without me, I can watch you come, and then we can start all over again.”
This amazing feeling couldn’t last forever, she knew, and she was growing more anxious. Her entire body was shaking.
“You can’t wait any longer, can you?” he said.
His words barely made sense, and she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t do anything, except keen with need.
“Next time,” he said. “Next time, we’ll both know what to expect, and I’ll be able to tease you all night long. All you have to do is trust me to do the right thing for both of us.” He bent his head to demonstrate the sureness of his tongue, and she ceded what little remained of her self-control, screaming with the pleasure he gave her.
The sun was still shining when Jane scurried into the house an hour early on Friday afternoon. She didn’t need to turn on the overhead light of the mudroom to see where she was going, but she flipped the switch anyway. Barely noticeable against the daylight, the newly changed bulb glowed.
As she passed the stairs, she could hear the sound of splashing in the kitchen. She peered around the corner, and there, standing at the sink with his back to her, his shirt off, his hands in the water up to the elbows, was Mark.
“Can I help?” she said, enjoying the display of startled muscles contracting across his spectacular back.
“Not with the dishes.” He turned off the faucet and placed the freshly rinsed skillet in the rack to dry. “They’re done.”
“Anything else?”
He pulled off his yellow gloves. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
“Whatever you want. You’re in charge.”
“The house is a mess,” he said, watching her closely. “And I spent the day playing video games.”
He was testing her, she knew, goading her into taking charge. A week ago, she’d have been making lists and dividing up the projects. Today, she wasn’t even tempted. The house, the mess, the priorities—they were all Mark’s responsibility now and he could keep them.
“Whatever.” She tugged off her suit jacket and tossed it on the top of the island where he’d first shown her just how responsible and decisive he could be.
“Let’s get to work.” He grabbed his latex gloves. “Upstairs. Now.”
He herded her past the bed and into the adjoining master bathroom. It was Mark’s favorite room in the house, the only significant project he’d actually finished since moving in with her. He’d completely redone the space, adding a walk-in shower big enough for them to share.
“You might as well strip, so your clothes won’t get wet while we work.” He gestured at his own bare chest, and then began removing his jeans. “It’s more efficient this way.”
Reasonably certain that he wasn’t going to do any real scrubbing once they were both naked, Jane quickly undressed, tossing her clothes into the hamper on top of his jeans.
“The shower. Now.” Mark handed her one of the natural sea-wool sponges from beside the sink.
“The regular sponges are under the sink,” she said. “These are supposed to be used on people, not tiles.”
“I know what I’m doing.” He turned on the water and backed her into the shower, all the way to the built-in bench along the far wall.
“Have a seat.”
She resisted until he said, “Trust me,” and she remembered how well the evening had turned out the last time she’d given him free rein.
She sat abruptly.
“I’m getting pretty good at cleaning,” he said, slipping on his latex gloves and then turning on the shower faucet. “It’s all about patience and perseverance.”
“And prioritizing,” she said. “Otherwise, it’s too easy to run out of time to get things done.”
He took the sea sponge from her and drenched it in the water spilling out of the faucet. “I can’t work that way. I get more done if I just go with whatever appeals to me at the moment.”
The shower stall was filling with steam. “What appeals to you right now?”
“Same as always.” Mark squirted shower gel on the sponge. “You.”
He started with her neck, skimming the sponge across her skin, leaving a trail of vanilla-scented lather everywhere it touched her. He continued down, working the sponge in a spiral pattern around her breasts, to the nipples, and then down to her belly, making sure that no spot was missed. Finally, he dragged the sponge across her mound and lower, between her legs.
He knelt before her. “Patience and perseverance. Those are the keys to a proper scrubbing.” He sponged her pussy, back and forth, as if trying to remove a stubborn stain between her legs. “A man’s work is never done.”
She closed her eyes and slid down the seat, spreading her legs apart and offering him better access. She heard the impatient snap of the latex gloves as he stripped them off, and then the ragged edges of the sponge found her clit, tickling softly. With each movement of his hand, a different bit of the unevenly shaped sponge touched her, sometimes in one spot, sometimes another, always a surprise.
She craved predictability. And more intensity. “Scrub harder.”
The sponge trailed away, down her inner thighs. “Not yet,” he said. “This time, we have all night to find out just how long I can keep you aroused before you come.”
She opened her eyes. “All night?”
He nodded and held the sponge tantalizingly close to her pussy without quite touching her. “Patience and perseverance.”
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall of the shower. Her job was still stressful, Leanne would always annoy her, and the household chores never ended, but they were mere nuisances, fading away beneath Mark’s patient, persevering hands.
She lost track of time as he played with her, repeatedly bringing her to the moments of
intense pleasure just short of orgasm. Finally, he dropped the sponge and turned a focused stream of water on her clit, sending her through the shivers of pleasure and into exhaustion.
Afterward, he toweled her dry and carried her to their bed. As he tucked her beneath the sheets, she caught a glimpse of the skin on his fingers, all pale and puckered from the prolonged immersion.
“You have amazing hands,” Jane said contentedly as she pulled him into bed with her. “Perfect, take-charge, dishpan hands.”
MY TURN
Jude Mason
She made the final decision. She always had. Brian gave her choices, and a beautiful, sexy smile, whenever he dreamed up some new game he wanted to try, or was simply horny and wanted her. Of course, if she wanted to play, she’d accept. She nearly always accepted—he had such wonderful ideas and if she wasn’t horny to begin with, his suggestions always made her so.
There’d been that time he wanted to take her to a strip club and have her dance. She’d loved the idea and agreed. The spanking he’d given her beforehand made her ass glow brilliantly for the audience. That had been her first taste of exhibitionism but definitely not her last. She’d blossomed in the public eye and her orgasms later had been stupendous. After that, she often wound up in public with some form of disciplinary marks on her body. Or even more exciting, he’d punished her in public. The games got better all the time.
Her face grew warm with a flush and she squirmed, that deliciously squishy feeling spreading from the most female part of her. She loved those exhibitions. She adored Brian.
This time, he’d come up with an even more wicked plan. One that made her shiver with excitement even now. He’d taken her into the den, where they normally began their play, and after waiting for her to strip, sat her at his feet.
Gazing up at him, his tall, dark, good looks and his wicked smile, she wondered what he was up to. The quiet room held their bookcases and the matching leather wingbacked chairs they both loved. It also held the spanking bench and a tall oak cabinet they’d spent months filling with all manner of disciplinary paraphernalia. The rug burned her knees when she moved too quickly, and she stifled a yelp. Shuddering at the adrenaline rush, she smiled her pleasure.