Caught in the Middle

by Kira Barker

  I’d seldom before been this angry at anyone, angry enough to shake, and I hoped that he could see every bit of that in my eyes. But, once he let go of my jaw, my answer was still the one he wanted to hear.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I might have gritted my teeth and my voice might have been husky from how much this cost me, but that didn’t change the fact that my acquiescence was still the honest truth. Even if I felt like I would instantly combust, I would tough this out.

  Simon held my gaze for another moment, his own face stern, then gave the briefest of nods.

  “Now go clean yourself. It won’t really subtract from your stellar mood if you run into Kara, sweaty, buck naked, and shaking with frustration.”

  Swallowing thickly, I eased myself off the bench and started for the door, my legs shaky enough to make me stumble a little, hating every single step I took.

  Chapter 9

  Of the showers I’d taken here over the last two weeks, this was the worst, but also the longest. Not knowing just how literally Simon wanted me to take that command not to touch myself, I only focused on any receptive part of my anatomy long enough to clean it, then kept my hands at my sides as I remained standing under the lukewarm spray, hoping that the water would sluice away more than just sweat and suds.

  Not surprisingly, that didn’t work at all. By the time I finally vacated the shower and toweled myself dry, I was just as horny as I’d been when I’d slinked down the stairs, if a little less afraid that Kara was already waiting downstairs to uncover and dissect every despicable detail of my sex life.

  Glaring at my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t help but crack up. I not only felt as if every fiber of my being was vibrating with frustration, I also looked the part, eyes too bright and red splotches all over my face.

  The worst part about it? As much as I resented Simon right now, and there was a lot of resentment bordering on boiling rage going on, I had to hand it to him; he knew exactly how to get under my skin. That frightened me a little. It also excited me a lot.

  I’d spent years lurking on blogs and message boards, reading firsthand accounts of submissives and how they felt about their place in the relationship. Some of that had sounded strange, and I’d had problems relating to all of it. Right now, as angry, frustrated, and painfully aroused as I was, I was feeling the first stirrings of all those emotions, though. And thinking about the directions he had sent me off with, that point became even more glaringly obvious. I felt like he did own me, strange as that sounded—at least a small part of me, the part that wanted to be owned, that wanted to please him, that yearned for all this and so much more.

  And on that same level I felt weirdly happy about it all, even if it came with me wanting to scream like never before.

  Realizing all that instantly made me feel better about the need to get back at him—however I could.

  Hey, just because I was embracing my inner submissive slut didn’t mean that I was ready to leave my vindictive, self-righteous streak behind. And knowing him, he’d take whatever I’d dish out in stride and just push me right on to the next level.

  Someone, likely Simon himself, had deposited my bag in the corner of the bathroom, letting me get dressed without the joys of a towel-wrapped dash of shame in my near future. Even with that tiny bit of mental satisfaction and reassurance that I desperately clung onto, I still almost started to cry when I put on my panties and felt the soft cotton brush over the swollen flesh of my pussy. The fact that the skin felt wonderfully smooth, begging to be explored and touched in its altered state now, just made it ten times worse. And the soft material of my too-hideous-to-show cotton bra was abrasive on my erect nipples, then pinched the entirety of my breasts in all the right ways as I adjusted myself. The tee and yoga pants were only a small degree less painful to put on.

  In short, I had a shit ton of reasons to scowl as I made my way into the front of the house, my hair dripping cold and wet onto my upper back.

  The picture I was presented with looked so harmonic that I wanted to scream.

  While I’d been busy moping around in the shower, Simon had managed to change into his previous clothes and looked like he hadn’t been up to any nefarious deeds in his entire life. Maybe his hair was a bit more mussed than before, and I thought I detected a hint of residual tension in his shoulders as he sat on the couch, one leg curled under him, a sea of paper spread out all around him, but that might have been my imagination.

  Or not. It took me seeing him to wonder just how much sending me off like that had cut into his own flesh. Those damn leather pants were tight in all the right places but did a stellar job hiding his actual state of arousal, but if his words had been any indication, he’d gotten off by tormenting me like that—without actually getting off himself.

  Maybe that should have been some small consolation for me, but it really wasn’t. Not one bit.

  Jack had retreated to the huge beanbag on the floor and was intent on his console game, his fingers manipulating the black controller in his hands in a way that made muscles all over my body clench with yet more unwelcome need. Oh, wonderful—now the most sexy thing in the world—watching a guy play a video game—was enough to send me salivating. I was truly and utterly fucked.

  The opposite side of the couch from where Simon had staked his claim was occupied by the third possible victim for my latent hostility, and it took her exactly five seconds from the moment I entered to attract said attention.

  “What are you doing here, bitch? Shouldn’t you be working or something?”

  I gave Kara the bland, toothy smile those questions deserved.

  Unlike the rest of us, she was already in her evening clothes, but then I’d never seen her in anything that wasn’t suited for a catwalk. Even her bikinis were stylish. Her long, blonde hair was always perfect, as was her flawless makeup, and she’d rather be caught dead than wear anything that didn’t accentuate her tall, thin body. On more than one occasion I had called her superficial and fake, but truth be told, Kara had one of the sharpest minds I’d come across, which likely explained why she was still Simon’s close friend, even after their lives had taken separate lanes. Her intellect had nothing on her tongue.

  I opened my mouth, ready to spew vitriol, but my mind ground to a halt. I was awake now, there was no doubt about that, but between the mental drag of sleep deprivation and the sexual tension that was still infusing my every fiber, I found myself weirdly dumbstruck.

  Instead of reaming me good, Kara frowned, then turned from me to Simon.

  “Are you two banging?”

  Jack uttered a sound low in his throat that made me guess that his headphones weren’t turned on, but Simon didn’t bat an eyelash as he held Kara’s inquisitive gaze steadily.

  “What makes you think that’s even a possibility?”

  There wasn’t a note of doubt in his voice, but the way he said it made me get angry for a wholly new reason.

  My irritation seemed to be infectious as if, her obvious incredulity aside, for once Kara chose to get offended on my account. Considering that she was, hands down, the person who got in my face the most often, that was hilarious on so many levels, but also appreciated.

  “Last time I checked she had an overabundance of tits and ass going on and that’s what you guys go for, isn’t it? It’s kind of conspicuous, seeing as she’s all wet and dripping, and you’re sitting here smelling all weird.”

  That made me realize that there hadn’t been any time for Simon to shower, and I’d been alone in the bathroom the entire time I’d fumed in there, so unless he’d washed his hands in the kitchen sink, he still had my juices all over them. And his mouth. Just thinking about that kicked off a new avalanche of toe-curling memories, kicking my frustration up yet another notch. I wouldn’t have thought it impossible right then if my entire body had started to vibrate with tension.

  Simon seemed completely unfazed by Kara’s observation, but he glanced at me briefly. That was enough for me to realize th
at he was acutely aware of what he’d done to me, and it was obviously still going on.

  “With that sort of combinatory skills, I’m surprised you haven’t started working as a script writer for a second rate crime show yet,” he noted, then looked pointedly at the stack of papers spread out between them, as if casual banter was beneath him.

  I wasn’t sure whether that pissed me off or not, but Kara wasn’t satisfied yet. Turning back to me, she looked me up and down, as if that would make me spill all my secrets. I was well aware that of the four of us, I had the worst poker face, but Simon wasn’t the only one who could pretend to be obtuse.

  “I got off my shift late and figured it would be nice to grab a real shower after more than thirty hours wearing the same clothes, instead of reveling in the prison shower room glamor of the locker room stalls.” She didn’t look convinced yet, but it wasn’t the first time that exactly that had happened. Realizing that I would have to pull a better stunt, I snorted derisively, and there was a lot more emotion in that sound than I had intended. “Besides, do I look like I just had sex?”

  “I don’t even want to guess what your ‘freshly fucked’ face looks like. Quite frankly, you look like the cross of death warmed over and a drowned rat,” she remarked, but she was already relaxed, a bloodhound thrown off its trail. “The usual, you know?”

  Smiling blithely, I wrapped my arms around myself, focusing on her mainly because looking at anything that had a cock attached was downright painful.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but on a scale of one to ten on the sexual frustration scale, I’m right now bottoming out on a fifteen. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

  Jack gave another one of those suppressed cackle-snorts, and Kara rolled her eyes, mostly for his benefit.

  “As if I give a shit? But, really, as a doctor you should know how to take care of that yourself. Or are you too holier than thou to rub one out?”

  It was so hard not to glare at Simon, but Kara likely took the set of my jaw as anger at her baiting. Not quite trusting myself with an answer, I ignored her and stalked over to the fridge instead. Before I’d even made it halfway across the kitchen, Kara and Simon had resumed what I figured was that animated discussion they’d planned well ahead of time—and I doubted that he’d forgotten about that.

  My knuckles stood out white from how hard I grabbed the fridge door handle.

  “Do I even want to know what this is about?”

  I jumped, then forced myself to relax as I turned my head and stared at Jack.

  “Leave me alone.”

  Unlike Kara, he wasn’t so easily dissuaded from keeping the conversation going, even when I reached into the fridge for the OJ and started guzzling it straight from the bottle. A muscle in his cheek jumped, the only indication that my behavior ticked him off, but when it became clear that I didn’t intend to put the bottle back, he relaxed. How I could be the medical professional and he the germophobe of the two of us where food was concerned was beyond me.

  “There are some leftovers in there if you’re hungry,” he pointed out, but still didn’t return to his chosen method of wasting time.

  Instead of thanking him for pointing out the obvious, I grabbed the container, cautiously sniffed the contents, then decided that projectile vomiting caused by food poisoning would at least take care of my unchecked libido. The silence between us got strained as I waited for the microwave to do its thing, and Jack was the one who finally broke it.

  “Look, if you’re pissed at me for interrupting you, I’m sorry, but I’ve seen you naked before. That shouldn’t be cause for giving me the silence treatment.”

  I quickly cast a glance toward the couch, but between the distance, the hum of the microwave, and their animated discussion, Kara was oblivious to what Jack had just said. Then again, he had seen me naked, or close enough to count, before that Saturday—it was just my frayed nerves that had me so on edge.

  Forcing air out of my lungs, I tried to get my temper in check, then did my best to appear calm even if I still felt the need to slap Jack for not leaving me be. He was standing decidedly too close to me even for our usual casualness around each other, and the fact that he didn’t seem to have a clue what he was doing to me just made my awful situation that much worse.

  “I’m not angry with you,” I offered, then exhaled loudly again, screwing my eyes shut. “I’m not angry with anyone. Just… give me some space, okay?”

  Jack studied me for a moment longer, then backed down and returned to his console, leaving me to my own devices. I thought about eating at the breakfast bar, but that seemed considerably close to moping, and the last thing I wanted to do was give Simon any ideas. So what I did was sit down next to him, both because it was the part of the couch that wasn’t littered with papers or fashionably dressed girls, and because he was sitting in my usual spot, so it was only fair to take his—only that until now I’d never felt weird about sitting so close to anyone.

  I didn’t really pay attention to Simon and Kara’s to and fro as I shoveled warm pasta into my mouth. My body was still on high alert, but fogginess already started seeping back into my thoughts, and bailing on our night out started to sound good again. But then, my half-assed explanation might get more scrutiny, and I doubted that I could throw Kara off track that easily again. When I was done, I got out my phone and started scrolling through my inbox, doing my best not to notice that Simon sat just an enticing couple of inches away from me.

  After what felt like hours, they finally reached the end of their debate—or so it seemed when Kara got up to call someone on her phone, while pointing at me, then at the back hallway. I got to my feet, resigning myself to my fate, when Simon suddenly grabbed my hand and pulled me down toward him, almost making me end up in his lap. I stared at him, momentarily paralyzed from not knowing what to make of that, and his smile was exactly that kind of pleasant that led to unpleasant things happening to me.

  “Do something different tonight.”

  “Different how?”

  Maybe I should have protested that he even thought he could give me any instructions outside of the playroom, but that idea was quickly quenched by the hope that if I followed along, he wouldn’t make me suffer that much longer.

  Cocking his head, he let his eyes roam over the bunched-up expanse of my tee and pants before they returned to my face.

  “You decide, but you do it for me. That should give you some ideas.”

  I held his gaze for another moment, then moved away. To myself I could admit that yes, it was stubbornness that made me not acknowledge his order, but when he only looked pleased as punch, I realized that he’d chosen to see my silence as acquiescence. Perfect. Not only was he leaving me hanging—no, he had to do it in a way that made me see just how at his mercy I’d set myself up to be. Like before, that knowledge came with a wave of lust, sending me right back to the point where the urge to touch myself was strong enough to need actual willpower to keep my hands still.

  Still chittering away on the phone, Kara followed me into the bathroom. Picking my bag up from the floor, I studied my options, not sure what to wear. I never wasted any time on choosing outfits, a fact that Kara bemoaned every single time we got ready to go out together. For once, though, I would have appreciated her input.

  Do something different. How the fuck could I do something different with just two sets of spare clothes, all packed for their casual comfort?

  Pulling the bottom-most item out of the bag, I studied the soft jersey dress critically. I’d worn it before over a pair of jeans like a tunic, but now I wondered if the hem went low enough to go without.

  “Do you think I can pull that off?” I asked, holding the slate gray garment out to her.

  Kara rolled her eyes and hung up, not quite ending her conversation mid-sentence, but close.

  “You already wore that like five times before. Is your sleep deprivation dementia that bad already?”

  “I meant without pants.”


  She looked at the dress again, then much more critical at me, ending with a shrug.

  “Only one way to find out, right?”

  Someone else might have left the room, or at least turned away, but Kara kept swiping away on her phone while I shed the outer layer of my clothes. She seemed occupied enough to lend some comfort, but not too occupied not to notice my underwear.

  “No wonder you aren’t getting laid if you dress like that.”

  “Not getting laid isn’t the issue here,” I shot back as I pulled the dress over my head. It came to mid-thigh, a little too high up for my comfort, but not too bad. And it was different, damn him!

  Kara motioned me to turn around, and when I’d dutifully shuffled my feet, she smacked her lips.

  “Panty lines. No way I’m going to let you hang out with me looking like that.”

  “Better now?” I retorted, not even trying to keep my annoyance out of my voice as I reached up underneath the dress to yank my panties down. Uh, bad idea, I realized when air hit my still overly sensitive pussy, and feeling the soft material of the dress slither against my now naked ass wasn’t exactly helping the entire situation.

  “That’s one solution,” Kara remarked dryly, and when I shot her a dirty look over my shoulder, she returned it blandly. In that moment she looked so eerily like Simon when he didn’t let me see into his cards that it freaked me out a little. I’d never realized that, until now, I’d missed what felt like half of what he was capable of. Before I could, she looked away, then pursed her lips.

  “The dress still looks a little wonky. I presume you don’t happen to have a different bra in that bag of yours?”