Redemption For Two

by Tobias Tanner

“Nice talk,” he said reprovingly. “What did I tell you about that?”

  “You can’t expect me to be nice without coffee.”

  He went to refill her cup and took it out to the garage just as the timer ran out on the treadmill. Sandy slowed to a stop with the belt and stood there breathing deeply for a minute. She drank the rest of her water in long gulps from the bottle. Mickey put the coffee down and went to towel her off.

  “This is crazy,” she said. “You know that, don’t you?”

  “What, exercise?”

  “No, I mean all this naked stuff.”

  “My kind of crazy,” he said. “Get used to it.”

  “Christ,” she said, and took the towel from him to dry her legs. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” She started to wrap the towel around herself sarong fashion but Mickey took it away from her and folded it on the tailgate.

  “Sit here,” he said, and kissed her. “I’m proud of you, baby. This is a good start.”

  “Bare ass exercise?” She sniffed, pretending to be miffed. “Gimme that coffee, man. I earned it.”

  “Bare ass everything,” he said, passing the cup.

  “Honey, it’s kind of fun, but you have to realize...I mean, we’ve got a kid, and...”

  “She’s one thing, this is another,” Mickey said. “Whenever Cindy is asleep or out of the house and you’re here, I want you naked.”

  “All the time?”

  “Okay, you can wear high heels.”

  “You can’t just frog march me around like this, Mickey. I’m not some...” She shook her head with that half fond, half exasperated look. “You’re an impossible man, you really are.”

  “Nothing’s impossible, darlin’,” he said with a grin. “And look, here’s how I figure this. If momma’s having fun, and daddy’s having fun, then baby’s going to have fun, and a better life to boot. Everything will be better. For us, for her. For everybody.”

  “And me shaking my little boobs on a treadmill is going to do this how, exactly?”

  “Not just on the treadmill,” he said.

  She sighed. “What am I going to do with you, Mick?”

  “What do you think?”

  He gave her a look and she knew what he was thinking. She reached out to turn his hand over and looked at his watch.

  “Cindy will be up in twenty minutes,” she said.

  Mickey put his cup down. “Hell, that’s plenty of time,” he said.

  “Do you think?”

  “Get a move on,” he said.

  Sandy took her shoes off. They dashed through the quiet house and locked the bedroom door. Mickey grabbed her and they tumbled laughing and sweaty onto the bed. There wasn’t much time for the niceties. Sandy yanked his crank to get him up to strength, and he rolled over on top of her and kissed her hard while she guided him in. That little sound came out of her, and Mickey folded her legs back.

  One of his favorite positions was her legs doubled with her shins caught under his arms. Mickey could put however much of his weight down on her that he wanted, and still be able to reach around underneath her quivering thighs and get his hands on her taut breasts. It raised her hips right off the bed, so that he could drive straight down into her and it was the deepest inside he could get.

  It hurt to be fucked like that. Sandy liked it, even though sometimes it made her cry. She liked it almost as much as Mickey did, and sometimes she liked it more. He could never really pour the coals to her in that way unless she was a little drunk, or at least he never could before. She was mad at him, but she was also ready.

  She dug her fingernails into his ass and hauled at him, rocking up to meet the thrust and grunting every time the head of his cock thumped into her cervix. She wouldn’t cum with all that going on, but Mickey damned sure would, and she didn’t seem to mind it too much, either.

  He rose up at the last and pulled out to spurt onto the folds that being doubled up had put into her belly, and onto her chest between her heaving, sweating breasts. She made a face, because she liked to feel him cum inside her, but she helped him, and liked what he did. They stayed locked together like that for long minutes, stroking each other, trying to catch their collective breasts. Then finally he lifted himself enough so she could put her legs down.

  “It’s working,” she said, stroking his face.

  “What is?”

  “This momma being happy thing.”

  “Oh, that.” He got some sperm off her chest and held it to her lips. “How about a little breakfast?”

  “How about a lot of breakfast?” she said, and licked his finger.

  He got some more, wiping it through her sweat, and she licked that, too, and swallowed deliberately where he could see her. And then she kissed him. Mickey figured it was just to see if he’d let her. And he did, not caring that there might be a little saltiness to her mouth.

  “Good work this morning, cunt,” he said as they got up.

  “What am I going to call you?” she asked on the way to the bathroom. “You calling me cunt makes me think I should call you something, too.”

  Mickey laughed. “I liked that master thing.”

  “Yes, Master,” she said, grinning wickedly. “But I warn you, buster. You want to be my master; you’re going to earn it.”

  “No problem,” he said, laughing. “You may shower now, cunt. Shave your legs and under your arms. And wash that sperm off. People will talk.”

  “Let them,” Sandy said airily, and closed the door.

  When she was getting dressed, he kissed her again and ran his hands over her backside where the garter belt lay taut. “You’ve got a camisole top, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Mm.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Yes, master, I have a camisole top.” She leaned back in his arms and grinned. “Christ, I hope I never say that out loud in public.”

  “Wear the camisole with your slip,” he said.

  “It’s too pretty for work.”

  “And no bra.” He grinned at her expression. “In fact, you can just gather up all those panties and bras in your drawer and throw them away.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I am not throwing my underwear away,” she said.

  “We’ll see,” he said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mickey was under Pete Oliver’s boat when Sandy called later in the morning. He’d huffed through both scuba tanks, but when he surfaced finally into the sunshine, the props were on and the bottom was clean again. He’d gotten all the old zincs off and just had to replace them with new ones. Another half hour, tops. He climbed out of the water for a drink and to change tanks, and checked his phone.

  “We need to talk about this thing with me doing Linus’s lab work,” she said. “It’s a lot more money than I thought it was.”

  “How much more?”

  “I can make what I’m making now working part-time.”

  “Yeah, but for how long? Do you want to give up...?”

  “I won’t have to,” she said. “Dr. Benson says I can use his lab, so all I have to do is work a couple of extra hours a day.”

  “That doesn’t sound like much of a deal.”

  “Double the money, Mickey. Double.”

  He sighed. “I don’t want you working twelve hours a day, San.”

  There was a thoughtful silence. Then, “I feel like I ought to do this, baby.”

  “See if you can get the boss to let you work the lab on his dime, and maybe offer to do his stuff for free.”

  “I don’t know...” she said, voice trailing off uncertainly.

  “Or just quit and come be my dive tender,” he said. “Sun’s shining. Water’s warm. You could work on your tan.”

  She laughed. “You can’t afford me,” she said. “And we have to decide on this pretty quick, Mickey.”

  “What if we set up a lab in the spare room?”

  “In the...um...I hadn’t thought of that. Could we do it?”

  “I’ll let Cindy
be your assistant.”

  Her laughter came again. “Oh yeah, that’ll be a help.”

  “We’ll talk about it tonight while you’re on the treadmill.”

  “Damn, I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

  “What color underpants are you wearing?”

  “What do you think? Kind of pinkish, with some brown in the middle.”

  “Not a skid mark, I hope.”

  “It’s in front, if you must know. You’re a nasty, nasty man, McCord.”

  “I am that,” he said cheerfully. “How does it feel not wearing a bra?”

  “Loose as a goose,” she said. “It drives me crazy.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  They did talk about Linus while Sandy walked on the treadmill. She was pushing toward the three miles per hour mark, not fast yet, but improving. He stopped her after she complained about her breasts bouncing around, and wound three feet of cord around the base of each one, making it fairly tight. She stood still while he did it, looking down at his hands and then away. The constriction squeezed her breasts down to about half their size, and the ends protruded like obscene balls, beginning from the start to turn red.

  “Is this something you’re likely to be doing a lot of?” she asked, getting back on the treadmill when he was finished.

  “It’s a nice effect,” he said. “Been a long time since I...”

  “You never tied them this tight.”

  “Hurt?”

  “A little. They’re really tight feeling.”

  “I’ll bet,” he said. “They’ll turn purple in a few minutes. Rumor has it they’re really going to hurt, eventually.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  When she tired, he leaned over to slap her on the behind. Sometimes more than once. She glared at him, but got grim faced and determined. Then he did it again.

  “Hey! What was that for?”

  “Fun,” he said. “I see a buggy whip in our future.”

  “Oh, goody,” Sandy said.

  As the minutes ticked by, Sandy’s breasts darkened to a blue tinted rose, then purple, and finally, almost black. When she had finished her half hour, Mickey took the cords off and kissed the deep indentations left in her skin. Sandy had a grim look on her face, hurting as the circulation returned. He massaged them, probably a little more deeply than necessary, and kissed her.

  Reaching around her, he tied her wrists together behind her back. Sweat rolled down her body as he knelt to remove her shoes and socks, the only things she wore. She left damp, narrow footprints through the house as he led her into their bedroom. With the door locked, he took her to the bathroom and sat her on the open toilet. She looked at him briefly, and realized that he was going to stand there and wait. Her lips tightened briefly in protest, but she peed without demur.

  When she was done, he hauled her up again and kissed her crotch where she was wet. Sandy shivered with the contact, but her hips trembled and Mickey gripped her thighs to hold her still. He took her to bed and tied her down, wrists and ankles spread wide to each bedpost. He kissed her again, on the mouth. She seemed very calm.

  He massaged her body, kneading her breasts deeply, until she groaned with the force of it. She writhed under his touch, responding to the strength and the urgency of it. When he tasted her wetness again, there was more of it. He teased her with his teeth, making her cry out. Sandy seemed lost to it. She said nothing, and the orgasms washed through her one after the other until she was weeping helplessly.

  Finally, he mounted her, swiftly, and drove himself with fierce strength into her, and came deeply and completely. When it was over, he put his elbows onto the mattress and lowered a portion of his weight onto her and kissed her deeply.

  “That was unexpected,” she said, sounding pleased.

  “You were very quiet,” he said.

  “I wanted to see what you would do.”

  “Well?”

  She raised her head off the pillow to kiss him. “I almost came on the treadmill,” she said. “If you’d spanked me even a little bit like you did this morning, I would have.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. “What else?”

  She closed her eyes. “When you licked me. After I...”

  “Peed?”

  “Yes. I had a little tremor then.”

  “I should have bitten you.”

  Sandy laughed softly. “Yes, maybe you should have.”

  He untied her feet, and then her hands. They turned into each other and wrapped their arms around each other, and lay happily dazed for awhile. Then Sandy stirred and said she had to shower. They went together, Mickey washed her gently and with great tenderness. She washed him the same way, and they dried off again and went back to bed. Lying face to face with legs intertwined, they kissed each other good night with more care than they had in years, and went to sleep.

  In the morning, they woke almost together in the same position. Sandy slipped out of bed to pee, and Mickey followed her. She drew him to her and kissed his belly and the front of his thighs, and then his penis.

  “I’ve never seen you pee,” she said.

  “Step aside.”

  Mickey stood at the toilet and she reached around to hold his cock. It was more difficult than he thought it would be. Strange hands seemed to give him pause for such a common function. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and managed at last.

  “Ooh, I wish I could do that,” Sandy said, directing the stream into the water, and moving it around experimentally.

  “I’m glad you’re doing this,” he said.

  She shifted around beside him and put her hand in the stream. “Hey!” Mickey said, startled, and cut off the flow,

  “Warm,” she said in a silky voice. “It feels good.”

  “Um...”

  She tugged at his cock. “Do it on me,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Can you?”

  “Well, sure, but...”

  “Don’t worry about the floor. I’ll clean up.”

  “With your tongue?”

  Sandy made a face.

  “Here, sit on the john.”

  She put one foot over and slid in front of him, still holding his penis. He bent to kiss her, and said, “Let me hold it, cunt. You’ll get me hard, and I can’t pee when I’m hard.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Nobody can, as far as I know.”

  Sandy sat back a little and put her hands on his hips. Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off her then, his bladder let go on command and he directed the stream onto her breasts. She jumped and gasped at the sudden wetness and the heat, and her mouth was open, watching him excitedly.

  “You’re full of surprises,” he said, finishing.

  She grinned at him. “I thought you’d give me a little taste.”

  “Next time,” he said.

  “Promise?”

  “Every morning for the rest of your life. How’s that for an idea?”

  “All right,” she said. “Now get out of here. I have to shower again.”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Go do the treadmill.”

  “But, you peed on me.”

  “Doesn’t change a thing.”

  “Shit,” she said disgustedly.

  “That’s more advanced,” he said blandly. “I’ll work you up to it.”

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “And who was it asking to be pissed on?”

  Sandy gave him the finger on the way out and he backhanded her a good one on the ass. She hopped, rubbing the spot, and went out to the garage without looking back, dripping urine with every step.

  “Damn,” Mickey said, and went to find the mop.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It’s going to take forever,” Sandy said at lunch time.

  She was sitting at Linus Davidson’s cluttered desk in the converted sales office. His Caddy was still outside, with her Volkswagen parked in exactly the same spot it had been exactly a week befo
re. This time, Mickey’s truck was parked there, too. And no baseball bats were in evidence.

  Mickey was sitting on the brown leather couch, thinking that Sandy was a very cool customer to do what she was doing while he did so. She had on another one of her white nylon uniforms, and had just run down from work to meet Mickey and go through whatever they could find at Linus’s.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked, crossing his legs.

  “I’ll have to call every one of these offices,” she said. “There are thirty of them on this page alone, honey. And more on the receipt list.”

  “What’s active? I mean, how many things is he working on? Or was he working on before he got...um...disabled?”

  “Sixteen or twenty,” she said, fretting. “And orders for maybe a hundred active over the next month.” She flipped pages. “He’s making runs all the way to Dania and Ft. Lauderdale. How do you make any money that way?”

  “Who knows?” He patted the cushion beside him. “Come on over and sit down. Bring the accounts with you so we can see if...”

  “You come over here,” she said, looking at the couch.

  “Aw, baby...”

  “We don’t have time, Mickey.”

  “Don’t have time for a quickie on the couch? Who are you kidding?”

  There was, he had to admit, a perverse pleasure in teasing her about the couch. She’d gotten laid on that couch. Lots of times, according to Davidson. And she had zero interest in letting Mickey tear off a piece in the same place. That much was obvious.

  “I have to get back to work,” she said firmly. “Now let’s get this done, please. I don’t like it here.”

  “No?”

  “No. It’s nasty.”

  “And you with no undies on.”

  “Whose fault is that?”

  Mickey got up, enjoying himself a little more than he should, and went over to the desk. He propped his butt against the edge beside Sandy and reached down between her arms to squeeze her unfettered breasts. He could see stocking tops at the hem of her skirt, and wanted to touch her thighs, too.

  “Stop it, Mickey. I mean it.” Her voice was very sharp, almost panicky.

  “Oh, hell. All right,” he said. “Look, just gather this crap up and we’ll take it home. There’s got to be a box around here somewhere.”