Masochism of M: A Sexual Mémoir

by Janice Collins

  Suddenly, as easily as flipping that twig, Sir tossed me onto my knees in the seat. It was so fast my head spun. Hands on my hips, Sir hovered over me, then for some reason, paused. Ears ringing, I barely heard his query as he towered from behind.

  “Where’d you get that?” He asked, his voice full with passion. It took me a second to realize what ‘that’ was. I twisted my neck to look at him. He was zeroed in on the large bruise on my hip.

  “Oh,” I stammered, dizzily, scrambling to recall. “It’s… from…” (What was it from again? Oh yeah…) “... the metal of my seat belt.” Suddenly his intense gaze demanded more. I caught my breath and hurriedly replied, “It was sticking up and I…I…I sat on it wrong,” I heaved, my head spinning from the fucking and my poor brain burning the white meat to pull together a coherent sentence.

  Through the buzz, I thought how odd to be discussing a random bruise in the middle of our blood lust.

  Now I realize it made perfect sense... to a sadist.

  He stared fixedly at the spot like he was possessed. The whites of his eyes encircled dilated pupils, eyes that threatened to pop out of his head. The sight of the bruise and my explanation seemed to electrify him, and with my ass in the air at his complete disposal it was too much to resist. He slammed in like a freight train. He pounded my cunt so hard I thought he’d ram my silly head through the door. I was lucky the metal was padded. My cunt was smoking, but I didn’t care. His fucking was so goddamned incredible I whimpered and begged for more.

  He fucked me with unbridled passion till, like a wild animal, he finished with a bellowing roar. I felt his red hot cum shoot straight up my cunt like the molten lead it was, and I nearly passed out.

  Slowly Sir withdrew and dropped back on the seat, heaving and covered in glistening sweat. The drumming in my ears was gradually backing down to a dull roar.

  Sir closed his eyes and panted for a few minutes, recovering, and then, with an innocent smile announced he was getting out to ‘take a leak’.

  “Like that?” I piped, also still heaving. “Naked? What are you going to do if somebody jumps out of the bushes at you?” I was serious. Now who was the innocent?

  Sir regarded me with amusement. “I. Will. Beat. The. Living. Hell. Out. Of . Them.…” He stated flatly in his quiet baritone, turning to peer back at me from where he’d slid to the ground. He folded his arms across the unzipped window and lowered his chin with a John Wayne grin. Through the deepening twilight his piercing green eyes twinkled impishly at me as I melted into the seat. Suddenly I had every confidence in the world that, buck-naked or not, this chiseled god would indeed ‘beat-the-living-hell-out-of’ anyone—or anything—stupid enough to jump out of the bushes at him.

  I pitied them.

  He took his ‘leak’ and climbed back in.

  Night was quickly dousing any glimmer of light filtering through the trees as I slowly drifted back to earth. The sexual haze clearing, it began to dawn on me where we were—Jamison Ferry. The river was so close, just beyond the blackening trees of the bank on which we were perched. Sounds of chugging riverboats drifted up, accompanied by the shush of the lazily lapping water against the shore. It was both soothing and surreal. Surely this was a dream.

  After regrouping a few minutes, limp noodles in the sweat of the sex-christened leather seats, we gathered our disheveled clothing and got dressed.

  Sir turned the key and the engine roared to life. Clambering out of our love nest was no problem for the agile Mercedes, and as soon as the tires bit we were spinning gravel on our way to the dark highway. His tall Mercedes cut through the late summer air like a sleek, black hawk, flowing milky, warm air over my skin, and whipping my black hair over my face. It all felt so good. We drove in near-silence except for the wind that was whistling through the open windows shushing us with its feathery hand. There were no words to fit the intensity. This man was perfect: quiet, calm, no pretense whatsoever. Beautiful body, beautiful sex, beautiful god of a man.

  Unreal.

  The power of that night defies description. From that moment on, my body was no longer my own. An irreversible transition had taken place: I was now completely his, and his alone.

  I stand 5’7” and weigh 125 pounds, yet this quiet panther dwarfed me by nearly a foot. Massive shoulders; narrow waist; slender hips. He looked like a Greek god; Michelangelo’s ‘David’; chiseled marble. The gaze from his beautiful forest-green eyes was so pointed and deep, it was painful. He ruled by touch; commanded by thought. I knew that he had me that night, I just didn’t know then by how much.

  He must have sensed my mulling question, because out of the blue he answered…

  “… because I need somebody and you need somebody too.”

  I was surprised. How could he have known what I was thinking? But it was true; we both did need somebody. The only exception was I didn’t need just ‘somebody’, I needed HIM.

  Soon the lights of the city rimmed the horizon. A few minutes more and we were back to my building. I was thinking how I still didn’t want it to end, and as we coasted to the curb…

  … UH OH! Disaster!

  I looked up to see that the building was completely dark. WTH? Too late it dawned on me that the garage, which I usually left by five, was now—at ten—securely locked down, tight as a drum. Dark. Deserted. Not a single light on or single soul left inside to let me in. There at the entry—now a black, gaping maw—of the five-story garage, a heavy, padlocked metal gate blocked our way. It slapped us in the face. All we could do was sit on our perches and stare.

  OK, piper-paying time.

  Sir and I observed a different kind of silence now, because it was painfully obvious I didn’t have a clue what to do next. I was dumbfounded. He was merely reticent. Finally, hissing in frustration, me-Jane, slid down from you-Tarzan’s tall love boat with my skirt riding up my long legs, and hit the ground with an angry plop. I stomped off to circle the building in my hard-clicking high heels leaving Sir to wonder what the heck silly me thought I was possibly going to do, scale the wall? I was hoping beyond hope that there was someone still there—somewhere, somehow—a janitor? A cleaning lady? But barring all else, at least hoping there was a crack that I could squeeze my skinny body through. Then what? I didn’t know…5 to 10 for breaking and entering?

  Ha! Right. I’d had my fun (and a lot of it) now it was time to come back to reality. Ouch! This was gonna hurt.

  I jiggled, kicked, and pounded every damn door and window within reach. Zip, zilch, nada. Nobody came. I paced the length of the building and turned the corner out of Sir’s sight to give the double front doors a try. No good. Everyone had gone home. If I kept up all this banging, my efforts would bring somebody all right, the cops! No thanks.

  I sighed.

  There was nothing left to do but accept it; my car was locked up tight for the night. Stymied, I turned to drag back to Sir with my tail tucked between my legs. Guess he’d just have to dump me in an alley somewhere to sleep till morning. Oh my goodness that wasn’t even funny. Would he do that? I’m sure he’d slept in worse places.

  Rounding the corner from my fruitless endeavors I stopped in my tracks. There, coming straight at me from the shadows were two, big malevolent-looking guys, not thirty feet away. They weren’t yielding; in fact they were heading for me like two Mack trucks. A shiver ran down my spine as I acquiesced and edged closer to the wall, but it probably wouldn’t do a bit of good. A woman alone, at this time of night? In this part of town? Yep, I was in trouble. I clasped my purse tight to my side and tried to project 125 pounds of butch. But by their swagger and jive they weren’t buying it. Unbeknownst to me I wasn’t the only one watching.

  Oh, how could they fathom the Death from Above that lurked just inside the tall, black Mercedes parked so innocently on the corner? They hadn’t seen him, but Sir had certainly seen them! Rising up like a pit-bull from hell, he jerked himself up to his full-length to stand in the car’s doorway and lean over the roof like one GIGANTIC bad
dream. One glimpse of him—this big body that just kept on growing like some huge mushroom cloud—and the streets suddenly cleared. Just ‘scatter zoom!’ the jive-walkers were gone! I didn’t hang around to look; I scrambled into his car like a mountain goat, faster than I’d ever done before. Screw worrying about snagging my hose!

  Only when I was safely inside did Sir slowly ease back down. He hadn’t said one single word. (John Wayne wouldn’t, you know.) To him it was nothing; to me it was HUMONGOUS. It was nothing short of a knight in shining armor on his black steed rescuing a damsel in distress.

  “What now?” I squeaked, once safely inside, curling in on myself.

  Sir, again said nothing; he just dug into his pockets.

  “What are you doing?” I muttered, lamely.

  “Taking you home,” he replied.

  I felt badly. So stupid. I should have remembered that the building would be closed. But when I was with Sir time just stood still. I looked in my purse for change also. Two starving artists we, to have enough for a quarter of a tank of gas between us would be a miracle. We headed to the gas station.

  My home was fifteen miles in the exact opposite direction of his and this ride promised to be even longer. Not that I much minded—the air, the night, the rumble of Sir’s Mercedes, and especially the nearness of him—it was all too magical and enchanting for me to suffer too much regret.

  Shamelessly, though I should have felt badly I was so happy to be with him that the mink stole of the night’s bliss wrapping around me sent me purring like a kitten.

  At last, he pulled into my driveway and I slipped gracefully down from my seat. I was becoming an expert at this.

  “Thank you,” I offered meekly, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t run out of gas going back home. Somehow I gathered the courage to steal a glance up at him. He looked so damned good, sitting there, right arm draped languidly over the wheel, smiling down at me with those piercing, miraculously un-accusing jade green eyes. He didn’t seem worried about anything at all. My heart sang.

  “See you tomorrow,” Sir intoned, eyes smiling. He was actually coming all the way back to take me to school in the morning? Good grief! I would definitely pay for his gas for all this. No way was I letting him drive round trip without it.

  I smiled back up at him and my breath caught at the magic sparks and fairy dust floating around him like glittering moonbeams. Walking backwards and still smiling up at him, I staggered a little in the wake of it all. He grinned down at me like a rock star indulging a groupie.

  I could faint under his gaze—his relaxed, happy gaze. It didn’t make sense, he seemed so content! He wasn’t even condemning me for my idiocy with the locked garage. Maybe he assumed the guilt, but wrongly, if so. I knew it was my stupidity, my exuberance to be with him that had gotten us into trouble. All this long, dark county way to my house, far from his home and he didn’t even seem to care. Unbelievable. Looking down, I shook my head with a smile. Could it be, hope beyond hope, that he’d enjoyed being with me? I dared not conceive it. The man was simply too incredible, and after all, who was I?

  I beamed a good bye smile as I walked up the stairs to the deck. Would I ever be with him again?

  The answer was yes.

  For nearly a week after our ‘river dance’, he had me every single night, picking me up after my work in his big, black monster car and fucking me every which way but loose. It was beyond wonderful.

  “You’re going to burn yourself out on me,” I warned with a wispy smile. Still he kept coming back for more, and more was exactly what I gave him.

  It was odd, though. Each day in class he played it cool, as if we weren’t doing anything at all after hours. Following his lead I tried to do the same—even though I wasn’t quit sure why—but I wasn’t nearly as good at it. In fact the whole charade was absolutely burning me alive.

  'If you let me make love to you, then why can’t I touch you? …'

  The scent of him as he walked past my desk nearly gave me a heart attack. Seeing him in his white, sleeveless ‘wife beaters’ with his tanned skin and rippling muscles made me absolutely nucking-fumb. Increasingly the struggle was harder to keep my mind on my projects, to pretend that we weren’t involved. I wasn’t sure why we had to pretend—I only knew from what I sensed from Sir we did.

  Yes. We definitely did...

  4 —The Question...

  “There’s got to be a reason…”

  I knew there was more at play here with Sir than met the eye; something dark that lurked beneath his placid surface like a Great White ready to strike. Sir was a wild buck that I wanted more than anything just to be near. I didn’t care what it took. Instinctively I knew also that the only way to approach this illusive creature was to simply kneel and wait, head bowed, arms outstretched, palms open in surrender. Wait for him to come to me in his own good time; wait for him to call all the shots. Wait. Wait. Wait. Otherwise I would spook the beast and lose him to the abyss forever.

  Waiting came hard for the rabbit in me.

  There simply was no other way with Sir, though. There was so much that I couldn’t put my finger on, and somehow I knew I shouldn’t try… and I wouldn’t try… at least not obviously. Secretly I analyzed, working on mysteries without any clues, and kept it all to myself.

  Night Moves.

  For one thing there was this self-made barrier, this impenetrable wall around him no one could possibly scale unless he allowed it. Unless Sir reached over that brick wall and pulled me across I’d never make it over. Never. So tough was that exterior, so private was he that it set me shivering just to be near him; and not merely from sexual excitement. It was that aura. That unbelievable mystique surrounding the enigma that was Sir hidden deep within. He was truly a Magic Man, momma.

  Everything in me perceived that Sir had been though some rough experiences; tumultuous and mind-numbing ordeals that were probably not yet over, at least not in his mind. Perhaps they never would be. I suspected the military was the culprit, but somehow it seemed more raw and closer to home than that.

  Each time we were together it was as if a beast had been unleashed from its lair, ravenous and clawing to devour me. Yet Sir surged and waned; bobbed and weaved like a prizefighter, delicately balancing restraint and abandon, violence and gentleness, beauty and darkness—every yin and yang possible—and all with an infinite discipline. He was so controlled—a mountain lion at bay. Why? I wanted that mountain lion to go totally ape-shit crazy on me and eat me alive! How else could I know we were real?

  Still I kept my place and didn’t push, though there was no way I could resist Sir. Not in a million years. Unhesitatingly he came for me; fiercely he stabbed into me; each pierce a little deeper into my DNA till I no longer had any will left. I wanted him so badly it was killing me. It was this ancient magnet pulling me from across time.

  Voluntarily I was compelled to be everything to and for him. Like a mother lovingly protects a child, I wanted to scoop him up in my arms and hold him safe in my hands, though Sir was the farthest thing from a child there could be. I wanted to protect him and shelter him, and spoil him like Rhett Butler wanted to spoil Scarlet. Surrendering myself to him was the only way. I was way past obsession. All that existed now was life at the bottom of this beautiful, shimmering well that looked up into the eyes of my man-god. Everything else, along with my reason, totally disappeared.

  Sex was incredible with Sir, but I knew, as fantastic as it was that this brand of sex was just the tip of his iceberg. Sir’s biggest chunk of passion dangled provocatively beneath the frozen surface teasing and tantalizing me like an itch that can’t be scratched, a whisper that can’t quite be heard. There was something deliciously forbidden beckoning us. I knew what that was for me, and had known for a long time, but I didn’t think I’d ever find the key to unlock it. I went through years of mundane sex which never came close to satisfying me. Not at all. I wanted what I needed; and so did Sir. I could feel it. It was so close. Why couldn’t he let himself bl
ast through?

  Sir gave me the vibe that he was covering up a deep, dark secret, and that if he revealed it he would scare me away. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. I had to let him know that I would never condemn him, and that I would be anything, do anything he wanted; whatever he asked. Unconditionally. That was the only way I could love: open hands, open heart. All or nothing. How could I let him know?

  From day one I sensed a danger in him which drew me like a lightning rod; a raw animal passion and primitive maleness oozing from his pores, which, deep in my bones I craved, no matter WHAT that danger entailed. I had always known it was out there—the wanton depravity for which I hungered—and I knew when he stepped off that elevator that Sir was the one to satisfy it. It was him. I’d found the one who could quench—and stoke—all my raging fires. Something was holding him back. It was as plain as his quivering hands on me that trembled like a racehorse before the bell. He stopped short of exploding his full sexual passion on me at every sexual encounter, though I knew full well he wanted to. Something within this mysterious man was holding the actualized Sir at bay. Who or what could it possibly be, and how could I set the wild mustang free?

  We had parked in the garage of my office building one afternoon and somehow I gathered my courage. Sir’s aura seemed more than normally muted this day, like he’d been mentally beaten. I could suppress my feelings no longer. I drew a breath and...

  “Why are you so controlled?” I meekly asked.

  It seemed to shock him like a bucket of ice water. He couldn’t answer. The turbulent creature that boiled and writhed just beneath his surface—like a car revved in park—could not answer. I pushed my luck and asked again. “Why can’t you let go?”

  “What is it?” He mumbled helplessly. “What do you want me to do?”