by Gabi Moore
I knelt down, my face a mere inch from that perfumed mound buried in her cheeks. I could almost feel the heat off of her. Almost taste it. She seemed to be losing control. Her body began to twitch and convulse.
“Kat, listen to me…”
She moaned.
“Kat, you will not come until I tell you to.”
She moaned again.
I took a deep, slow breath in.
“Wait …wait …”
Then my lips, only a few atoms removed from her gorgeous pussy, exhaled hard, and with one long, warm sigh, I breathed one word: “now.”
It was though the word was the first falling domino that set off a delicious chain reaction all through her excited body. It was as though I could actually watch the air from my lips touch her and ignite the immense powder keg she had inside her, just waiting for a touch, no matter how slight.
It took an instant, and a lifetime, but she came. The chains rattled and she bucked hard, and in an instant she was screaming, loudly. She threw back her head and flung her weight down and off her bound arms, her hips jerking madly as wave after wave of pleasure pummeled through her.
“Oh fuck … oh fuck!” she cried out.
I had to force myself to not reach out, to not embrace her and help her through it.
I could do nothing but smile dumbfounded as I watched her detonate and burn right before my eyes, her body becoming plasma. I couldn’t believe it. I hadn’t touched her. A braided cord had guided her to the edge and a single word had pushed her over.
She was exquisite.
“Oh god …oh please…” she was still whimpering, her orgasm sending shudders right through her long form. “Please fuck me,” she begged.
God in heaven, I wanted nothing more.
I reached forward and unbuckled her exhausted body, one clasp at a time, but before I undid the last restraints at her feet, I leaned forward and whispered into her ear.
“Kat, you couldn’t handle it,” I said, winking at her. Her face came alive and she raised an eyebrow at me.
“Really? Are you seriously telling me I’m ‘not ready’ for your cock?” she asked incredulously.
She stood before me wild-looking, hair loose, expression open and mischievous. She was glorious. If this is what one orgasm did to her, I couldn’t wait to see the effect of a whole string of them…
“Yes that’s what I’m saying.”
“Pfft!” she said and grinned. “I’m not scared.”
“You should be.”
We gave each other a look. I nodded my head, took another step back and peeled off my shirt, then unbuttoned my pants. She started laughing. But when I dropped them to the floor and whipped off my boxers underneath, she fell silent.
“Oh.”
She couldn’t tear her eyes away. Most women react that way. They’re playful at first, then they realize what they’re actually in for. The little flutter of panic turns into full-blown fear. And then, when it comes down to it, that fear morphs again, and suddenly they want it, no matter how much it hurts. It’s like a sick little dare for them, a challenge, to see how much of my cock they can take…
“It’s …big,” she said quietly.
“Probably a little more than you’re used to,” I said breezily. I watched her throat bob up and down as she swallowed.
I pulled up my pants again and buckled them, watching the cogs going in her head.
“Contrary to what’s happened here this morning, I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, smiling. I leaned down and started to pick up her clothing.
“Let me get you something to drink,” I said and moved towards the kitchen. She stood for a while, thinking intently, then started to put her clothes back on. The tree loomed, all knowing, behind her, its chains hanging limp and its restraints empty.
Chapter Twelve – Kat
I had already silently practiced millions of little speeches. On my way to work I internally lectured Anthony about just how ill suited we were for each other.
On my morning run I sat him down and proceeded to explain at length how I just wasn’t ready and I hated being pushed like this. And late at night, exhausted from a long day, I’d launch into a rant at him: why was he so goddam uptight about sex?
The irritating truth, though, was that Anthony had gone quiet. I had already felt boat-loads of guilt for the whole …tree incident, and I had already argued my case passionately in front of an imaginary jury of my mind, saying exactly why I hadn’t technically led him on, that we’d never agreed to be exclusive… but I soon found that he wasn’t banging on my door, demanding an explanation in any case.
My phone pinged.
Mark: Don’t worry, you can keep it here, at my place
I’ll never know what righteous bit of insanity had gotten ahold of me these days. I couldn’t believe I had sought out, commissioned and now paid for a seven-foot-tall sex toy in the shape of a tree. Once my head had stopped spinning and my toes had uncurled, the what-have-done question rapidly turned into a what-have-I-bought one.
The last thing I can more or less remember is begging him to make me come. Hard. I wanted a reset orgasm. One to truly fry my circuits. Well, I had asked, and I had received.
I had felt myself zinging all the way home, a little dazed, a little raw. It was fantastic. People all around me were going about their everyday lives while I felt like I had just touched God. All my limbs were still in place, and I still looked like myself when I peered into the mirror. But something drastic had shifted. Something was very, very different.
It seemed like a small miracle. I’ve always been the kind of woman that needed an hour of foreplay, a hot bath and six months’ written notice if I was going to eke out an orgasm. With my ex I had tackled the chore with the same seriousness I had reserved for my yearly appointment with the dental hygienist. Usually, if I could quiet my mind for half a split second, I could sneak in a quick moment of bliss and then clean up just before I had to start dinner.
But with him? He had made me come without even touching me. I didn’t know whether to stop thinking about it in case it jinxed the whole thing, or to brag to anyone who would listen. He had used that leather strap, sure, but on examining the area the next morning, I noticed there was zero evidence, no mark. Either he was supremely talented in that area or I had, in my frenzied state, imagined the whole thing…
So I was a sex zombie for a few days. Anthony had gone quiet and wasn’t really returning my calls, and I found myself idly reading the Wikipedia entry for Zen Buddhism, looking over my shoulder in case anyone caught me. And now Mark was texting me throughout the day, and we had to decide what to do with his, uh, massive creation.
Kat: Yeah I might have to. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s just too damn big
Mark: So you’ve said ;)
I laughed quietly to myself.
“Kat, are you with us?”
I snapped my head up and smiled broadly.
“Sorry! Stuff at home, you know how it is,” I said quickly, and stuffed my phone away. “I’m listening though. The iron fish were premature. Now we have a cheaper option but we’re committed to Thinkcreate, correct?”
It was a stupid position to be caught in. We had funded a giant shipment of miniature cast iron fish to be sent to Sri Lanka in partnership with an aid organization there.
The idea was that the fish could be cooked along with soups and stews, releasing tiny particles in the process and boosting the families iron intake, which was often deficient in diets the area. But now we had discovered the fish had a poor reception and there was a better pill option on the market anyway – cheaper and more accurately dosed – and the women wouldn’t be tempted to drill holes in them and wear them as jewelry. The only trouble was, the company we had already signed a year contract with were also our suppliers for other vitamins and it was clear to everyone who had worked with them so far that pulling the plug on one initiative would jeopardize all the others.
“That’s the jist of it,” Linda said. �
��Pain in the ass.”
“How much are we saving with them for the prenatal vitamins anyway?” I said.
“Folic acid is cheap. It’s the packaging that’s the problem,” she said.
I rubbed my eyes.
“Yeah, I remember. Let me call up a few people. The budget can’t take any more this month, but let’s let them know by week’s end, there’s always a chance they’ll keep us on.” I scratched some notes in my diary. “Was there anything else?”
Linda shook her head. I nodded and saw her out.
I quickly pulled my phone out again.
Kat: Do you know how hard it is to keep a straight face at work when you send me messages like that?
Kat: And I’d feel bad leaving that great hulking thing with you. I’ll take it, just give me a few days to find a space for it. Maybe I can use it as a jungle gym
Mark: Kinky
Kat: Yes, well, I hope you’ve made it sturdy enough, my four-year-old is 100% going to try and climb it
He was still online, but didn’t reply for the next five minutes.
Mark: You have a four-year-old? Shit
I frowned at the screen.
Kat: Shit? Not sure how to take that…
Mark: Oh, please don’t worry, I’m totally fine with it
I stared long and hard at those words.
Kat: Well, I didn’t really ask if you were “fine with it”, although thanks I guess?
Again the reply took a while to come.
Mark: You’re angry
I sighed and flung myself down in my chair.
Kat: I’m not angry. But I do have a child. Anything else I need to apologize for?
I sent the message and instantly regretted it. What was it about this guy that always had me at such a high pitch all the time?
Mark: Hey, no I’m sorry, I’ve offended you now. Can I call?
Kat: I’m busy at work though
Mark: I understand. Hey, I don’t mean to be an idiot, it’s just that I’m not used to dating older women, and I guess it never occurred to me
My ears burned.
Kat: Well, I’m not used to dating men less mature than me either, so I apologize, I expected more
The phone started to buzz and ring in my hands. I hastily picked it up.
“I said I was at work, Mark,” I hissed.
“Hey, you’ve misunderstood me, can we just talk about this quick?”
I exhaled loudly.
“Sure, I’m sorry, it’s just been a stressful day.”
“Yeah, no doubt. Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve just …kids just kind of freak me out,” he said and laughed nervously. My mouth hung open. I couldn’t believe how adolescent he suddenly sounded.
“Is this …is this some kind of problem?” I asked.
The line was quiet for a while.
“Well, Kat, I’ve never been with anyone with a kid before, that’s all, you just kind of sprung it on me…”
“I didn’t spring anything on you.”
“Hey, calm down, I’m just saying I’m surprised.”
I laughed cynically.
“I’m surprised too. I didn’t take you for the commitment phobic kind…”
“Ouch.”
“I’m sorry, that was mean.
I could hear him breathing.
“Not mean,” he said. “Just kind of hypocritical.”
“Hypocritical?”
“Well… you’re the one who’s divorced, you know? And now you’re stringing along two men without committing to either of them.”
I felt so angry I wanted to throw the phone against the wall.
“I am not stringing anyone along. Jesus.
He laughed drily.
“Is that what you also tell Anthony?”
I hung up. I dropped the phone like it had turned to poison in my hands. I wasn’t mad at him. How could I be, when everything he had said was perfectly true? I couldn’t explain it. I couldn’t explain why I had kept Anthony around, waiting in the wings like this. No, I had hung up because I was ashamed. Ashamed because he could see right through me, right through my fear. I was a hypocrite. I was fearful and cowardly and I didn’t have the guts to go for what I wanted.
Mark frightened me. I was afraid of myself, when I was with him. And every time I spoke to him it was to chase him away in fear, to joke, to deflect. I knew I did it. I knew what a phenomenal pain in the ass I must have seemed. But I couldn’t let go. I was too hurt. Too old. Too tired.
I had Nicky and a mortgage and a little clean house that could feature on the cover of Unexamined Life magazine and somehow, I just knew that Mark would tear all of that away. He’d expect more from me. He’d make me think about what I wanted, and then I’d have to admit to myself how so much of what my life wasn’t what I wanted…
And so I couldn’t speak to him. Not when I knew that I couldn’t be honest. Not when I knew I couldn’t offer all of myself. My phone pinged again.
Anthony: Hello princess. I have a surprise for you. Pick you up at work in half an hour?
My first thought was whether my tears had smeared my mascara and whether I’d have enough time to quickly apply a fresh coat.
Chapter Thirteen – Kat
And that’s how it came to be that I spent more time planning my wedding than dating the groom.
The next few weeks blustered by with their own momentum, like they were being chased. And I went along with it.
The strange buzzing between my legs, the heat, the delicious sparks and butterflies I had found in Mark’s workshop had long since fizzled out into embers, and then nothing.
He disappeared from my life almost as quickly as he had entered it. I mentally filed him away as a dream, a weird vision, a strange movie I watched once, nothing more. Nothing else in my life reminded me of him, and so it was easy to push his memory down and away, so that I only dreamt of him. Or at least, I felt like I dreamt of him, when I woke up with a weird taste on my lips and a dull, distant throb all through my body.
Life once again took on the safe, predictable rhythms I was familiar with. I had once let a handsome stranger lure me into his workshop and make me orgasm with nothing more than a whisper. But that was just a strange drug I took in a time long ago. A poisoning. A fever I had. I paid for the tree in full and never went to pick it up. He never contacted me again. Life moved on.
But it wasn’t so easy to get rid of him completely. He was a mark on me. Though I had scrubbed clean my mind and my daily routine, he still found his way into all those unmonitored, empty spaces throughout the day.
I found myself dashing across the road to escape oncoming traffic, but delaying just a fraction of a second longer than what was sane. Just to rub up against the warm shoulder of the possibility of death, just an affectionate nuzzle before I hurried off and went back to my life.
I felt him other places, too. The ache in my body was long gone but something in my mind was altered. Bodies are disposable. But a mind that is stretched to a new idea never returns to its original dimension. I found strange words coming into my mouth, like visitors. I woke up one day, as from a dream, in my office; wearing a skirt of such a violently red color it almost felt worse than being naked to wear it.
“Kat, are you with us?”
I shook my head and focused on the woman in front of me. A smiling pair of retirement-age ladies in twin sets, pearls and smiles fit for a washing powder commercial.
“Yes, yes I’m here, sorry I just blanked out for a second.”
“So what do you think of the gathering on the bust? We were going to make a decision on that today,” one of them said warmly.
I cleared my throat and considered my reflection for a moment.
Me, the wedding dress version. Great swathes of lace and tulle were bunched all over me. I hated it.
“It’s too busy,” I said plainly.
They looked at one another, like they were deciding whether or not to correct my bad etiquette, and then hastened to take the dress off again.
“That’s perfectly all right, dear, you take your time,” the other one cooed.
“It needs to be tighter,” I said.
“Tighter?”
“Yes, more snug around the waist.”
“Dear, this is already a corseted bodice…”
“Can it be made tighter?”
They exchanged looks again.
“And maybe I want a buckle, as well.
“Like, a belt?”
I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I looked better naked in any case. Wasn’t the best wedding dress to be naked? To come to your partner with nothing, no masks, no coverings, just as you were?
“And I want the garter belt to be a leather strap as well, with a buckle,” I said decisively.
I could see them tallying up the cost of an extra custom order in their heads. I didn’t care. I can’t say why, but that was what it needed to be. I wanted it.
“Hm, well I can’t say I’ve seen white leather before…”
“It won’t be white,” I said. “It’ll be red, of course.”
I didn’t care if they liked it. Wasn’t I paying them to put up with any bridezilla bullshit I threw their way? It was my ‘special day’, after all, and they were basically obliged to bring to life all my silly whims. I didn’t want something old, something new, something borrowed, or something blue. I wanted something alive, something dead, something black, something red. I smiled at the little rhyme I had made up. I don’t know when I had become so morbid, but in a way, a wedding was like a little death, wasn’t it?
The women left and returned with armfuls of other dresses, and some cheesy looking beaded belts. I decided before they had even placed them down that I didn’t want them.
I wished I could run away, right now. Run out of this stupid place, in my underwear. Run far, far away and never come back. I wish I could die. That something would come along and kill me, so I could be a ghost and get the day off, and go somewhere where nobody knew me, and there were no rules, and nobody wanted anything from me.