Without Marc telling her to do it, Patricia picked up the clamps. She fastened the chain around her neck and then carefully attached the clamps to her breasts. She tightened them to the point where she could feel their pinch, and then stopped. When she looked up, it startled her to see Marc stroking his erection through his trousers.
Suddenly realizing the tub had filled with water, she hurried to turn off the faucet. Marc never took his eyes off of her. His intense stare flustered her. She needed a few minutes to collect herself. “Sir, might I get you a drink before we begin?”
The idea seemed to appeal to Marc. “That would be appreciated, my dear. Get yourself one as well.”
Patricia left Marc in the bathroom and went back to the kitchen. She retrieved two clean glasses and poured them each some Jack Daniel’s. Bolting hers back in one gulp, she refilled her glass. As the warmth spread though her body, she returned to the bathroom.
Expecting to see Marc already undressed and in the tub, she was surprised to see him still standing there, waiting for her. She handed him his drink and set hers on the sink. Forgetting her role for a moment, she asked, “Why aren’t you in the tub?”
“I’m waiting for you.” He took a sip of whiskey. “I want you to undress me.”
Marc continued to sip his drink and watch her. She could see his eyes moving down her body and back up again. She burned inside knowing he wanted her.
Slowly, deliberately, she put her hand on his chest and slid it down his belly. When she reached his waist, she opened his belt and unzipped his fly. Wanting him to suffer the same infuriating frustration as she had to endure, she lowered his trousers with excruciating slowness, and made sure their skin touched whenever possible.
“You have to sit. Otherwise, I can’t take off your pants and socks.”
Marc sat down on the toilet seat, his erect cock touching his stomach. Dutifully, Patricia knelt in front of him, first taking off his socks and then his trousers. She knew having his bare feet rubbed made him crazy. Before he could stand, she put his foot on her bare thigh and massaged it. His cock twitched as she rubbed.
“Suck my toes.”
She had only ever done this once. Marc had ravaged her afterward, fucking her so hard she could barely breathe. Patricia picked up his foot. Bringing it close to her mouth, she leaned forward and licked the bottom. The glass he held nearly slipped from his hand. She stopped.
Marc put his glass on the sink. “Don’t stop, Tricia. Do what I asked. Suck my toes!”
One by one, Patricia sucked his toes into her mouth. Before she reached the last one, he put his hand on her head and held her still. She had barely stopped sucking when suddenly he grabbed the chain attached to her nipples and pulled. She groaned as the pleasurable pain shot through her chest. Marc growled, “Help me into the tub.”
She did as he asked, holding his arm as he stepped into the steaming water. As he lowered himself into his bath, she saw his cock leaking. Well beyond being shy about his condition, she spoke her mind. “Marc, can you handle this? If I bring you off now, in the tub, will you be able to manage anything else?”
“Don’t fucking worry about what I can or can’t handle, Tricia. You are here tonight to do as I say. Now, wash my prick!”
“Yes, sir.” Even if she couldn’t gauge his stamina, Patricia understood she had to relinquish control. This test could well determine her future and her ability to sustain balance in her life.
She knelt by the tub and lathered the washcloth with soap. Apart from the pleasure she would give him, she wanted to make sure she cleaned him thoroughly. If he could manage another erection tonight, she wanted his cock in her pussy. Once his arousal kicked in, he wouldn’t even think about the implications of their earlier session.
Leaning back in the tub, Marc closed his eyes. She could tell by his breathing that it wouldn’t take much to bring him off. Wanting to give him a chance to settle a bit, she put the soapy cloth on his chest, intending to slowly work her way down.
“Tricia, I said wash my prick!” His abrupt command startled her.
“Don’t you want me to bathe you all over?”
Marc cupped her breast in his hand and squeezed. “I want you to wash my prick.”
Again, his forcefulness both surprised and excited her. Unlike in her dream, she felt more in control. “Do you want to come or do you want me to stop before?”
“I want to come in your sweet hand, Tricia. If you’re worried about later, don’t. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied.”
“Do I take that to the bank?”
“Yes, along with the portfolio you put together for me.”
Patricia knew they were teetering on the brink of another argument. Not wanting the war of words to escalate, she dropped the washcloth and stood.
Marc sat up in the tub. “Where are you going?”
“Only to get your drink, sir.” Patricia retrieved his glass and gave it to him. “You are tense. This will help you to relax.” She again knelt by the tub and waited.
Marc stared at his glass and then bolted back the contents. He gave her the emptied tumbler, which she put on the floor. “I’m having trouble doing this.”
“Doing what, Marc? I don’t understand.”
“Holding these roles. I don’t want some fantasy servant to jerk me off. I want you to do it.”
Patricia fished the washcloth and soap out of the water. “Well, I want you to fuck me, which is why I’m hesitant to do this. You’ve already ejaculated twice tonight. This will be three. Can you do four?”
“Try me.”
Patricia again lathered up the washcloth. “All right, Mr. Stud. Here goes.”
She wrapped the cloth around his cock and tightly closed her hand. Marc groaned. With no inclination toward gentleness, Patricia rubbed his prick, both scrubbing him clean and jerking him off. Satisfied she had properly washed him, she dropped the cloth.
Marc grabbed her hand. “Patricia, for Christ’s sake, don’t stop!”
“I’m not stopping.” She had a sudden impulse to get into the tub with him. “Open your legs more.”
Marc did as she asked. She crawled into the tub and knelt between his legs. The chain hanging from the nipple clamps floated in front of her as she again grasped Marc’s cock. He grabbed the chain and tugged, her tender nipples stretching with agonizing pleasure pain.
Her grip tightened around his prick. “That’s right, Tricia. Don’t hold back.” He jerked the chain again and she nearly toppled onto his chest. “Give me a hand job that’s worth writing home about.”
Regaining her balance, she hissed at him. “You fucking son of a bitch! You want me to jack you off? You got it!”
She found the soap and lathered up her hands. With speed worthy of a hooker masturbating a john, she pumped his cock. Marc never let go of the chain, holding it as he thrashed in the water. The sinewy veins throbbed as she beat him off, his dick hard and red. She loved how it felt in her hand, actually pulsing with life.
Suddenly he gasped with the desperation of a dying man struggling to breathe. He rasped out, “Jesus fucking Christ!” as semen burst from his penis, spraying her breasts with white cream. She didn’t let go, continuing to pump as he spurted and splashed, covering the bathroom floor with water.
6
Marc came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. “I really made a mess in there.”
“I know you did. Thanks for cleaning it up.”
“Technically, I suppose I could have made you do it. But that hardly seemed fair.”
“Excuse me, but I didn’t know fair came into play with a dom/sub scene.”
“I think we might have gone beyond the scene, don’t you?”
“I know we did, and I’m glad about that.”
“You are? Why?”
“Because the role playing only goes so far. There reaches a point where we have to come to terms with being ourselves.”
“I thought you didn’t want to go there tonight.”
“I don’t, at least not into the emotional part. It seems whenever we get close to the bone, we fight, and I can’t fight anymore, Marc. The sniping and blaming are over, no matter how this all plays out.”
“Then tell me what you do want.”
“Do you think we can be this way with each other without the roles, and without arguing?”
“I don’t know. With no setup, all we have left is the raw need to be dominant and submissive. Can you handle that?”
“I can be the puppet if you can handle pulling the strings.”
Marc opened her robe and tugged the chain still attached to her nipples. “Just call me Geppetto.”
Patricia looked up at the mezzanine overhead. “The bed is up there?”
“That’s where I had them put it. It took four Teamster types to get the bedroom furniture up there. The two delivery guys had to call for reinforcements.”
“How the devil do you get up there?”
“With the ladder, of course.” Marc reached up and grabbed a handle, which Patricia hadn’t noticed before. A ladder slid down to the floor. “The person who originally built this loft bedroom used the fire-escape ladder as inspiration. Unfortunately, they didn’t finish it. As you can see, they left it an open platform, with no outside wall.”
“And what happens if you’re drunk and have to pee during the night?”
“You either hold it, or you be mighty damn careful coming down.”
“Can’t we have some stairs and a guardrail built for it? I don’t want either of us to break our necks.”
“We?”
Patricia smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Freudian slip.”
“Actually, it’s good to hear you use the ‘we’ word again. I’ll see what I can do about it. In the meantime, the ladder can double as a torture rack.”
“What a comedian.”
“Patricia, I’m not joking.”
Marc’s firm tone and somber expression made her shiver. “What do you get out of this, Marc? Why are you so into seeing me helpless?”
“Why are you so into being helpless, Patricia? It seems the dynamic works both ways.”
“It’s about power, isn’t it? Controlling and being controlled are two sides of the same coin.”
“It’s also about pleasure, Tricia, and about my being able to lead you into a place where you can’t go alone. By allowing me control, you’re giving yourself the freedom to let go and feel. I watch you feel, and I get off.”
“You really enjoy it, don’t you?”
“More than I ever expected to.” Marc pointed to the ladder. “We’ll start here, at the ladder, and then move up to the bed.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. Take off your robe. I want you naked.”
Patricia untied the sash of her robe. “Remember, no bruises.”
“Correction, no bruises that show. Now, take off the robe, go to the ladder, and put your hands over your head.”
Marc went to the closet and came back with a shopping bag. He took out a pair of leather handcuffs. “These are lined with fur that will protect your wrists.”
“You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“Lenny told me what works and what doesn’t. So far, he’s spot on.”
Patricia tossed her robe onto the sofa. She leaned against the ladder and put her hands over her head. Marc wrapped the cuffs around a rung, and then fastened them around her wrists with Velcro tabs. She wouldn’t be going anywhere until he released her.
Marc took off his towel. Much to Patricia’s amazement, he again had a full-blown erection dangling from his groin. “Well, Mr. Stud, it looks like you are good for another one.”
“Yes, I am, Ms. Piranha, but not until I’m ready.” He stood in front of her and stroked his cock. “You’re fucking hot, Patricia. Too damn bad I don’t have my digital camera here.”
“What the hell would you do with pictures? Post them on the Internet?”
“It could mean a whole new career for you if I did.”
Lenny had left the blindfold and ropes lying on the table. “I won’t tie your ankles unless I have to, but I think I will use the blindfold. It’s better if you can’t see what’s coming.” Marc stretched the elastic around her head and covered her eyes. “Lights out, Tricia.”
Patricia could see nothing, but she could hear Marc rummaging in the shopping bag. “You really are a merciless motherfucker, aren’t you?”
“But Tricia, isn’t that what you want?” Before she had a chance to spit out a retort, a flash of pain took her voice. Marc had smacked her pussy with something, she didn’t know what. Another swat connected and she yelped, her knee pulling up in an involuntary defensive posture.
“Patricia!” She recognized the near growl in Marc’s voice from their night at Lenny’s dungeon. “Keep your legs down, or I will have to tie them to the ladder.”
Practically panting with pain and desire, she gasped for air. “I don’t think I can!”
“Oh, but pretty lady, you will!” The next thing she knew, Marc had pulled her legs open and lashed them with rope to the ladder. “Now they will stay open.”
“My God, Marc, I can’t stand it!” He didn’t answer. “What the hell are you doing? Where did you go?” Panic welled up in her at being left bound and helpless.
“Steady, pretty lady, I’m just turning on some music.” Marc put on some blues. The music calmed her, until he told her why he put it on. “This will cover any noise you might make, so I don’t have to use the ball gag again.”
“Marc, you’re scaring me.”
“Are you calling red?”
“No. At least not yet.” Patricia took a deep breath. “Could you do what you did the other night? Give me a shot of whiskey. I’m shaking.”
She heard the cupboard door open and knew Marc had gone for the Jack Daniel’s. After taking a few more deep breaths, her heartbeat started to slow down.
The cool edge of a glass touched her lips. “I’m going to tip it now, Tricia. Swallow all at once, so you don’t choke on it.”
Marc poured the whiskey into her mouth and she drank it in one gulp. The heat of the liquor spread through her torso. “One more, please?”
He poured another shot into her mouth. This one melted some of the fear, and she began to relax.
“Is that enough?” Marc’s voice had a hint of concern.
“It’s enough. I’m all right. And I’m still green.”
“Lenny really did call it before he left. He said you are one ballsy bitch.”
“What an inspired quote! I’ll have a tapestry commissioned on Monday.”
Marc laughed. “If you can make jokes naked and tied to a ladder, about to be pussy whipped, you are definitely all right.”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
“No.”
The flash of pain hit again and she yelped. Her whole body tingled with the ripples of sensation.
Again struggling to breathe, she gasped for air. “What the fuck is that, Marc? It stings like hell!” She barely got the words out before he swatted her pussy again.
“It’s a cat-o’-nine-tails, my little love. I do like the leather toys.” The lash that followed connected with her upper thighs.
With each successive swat, Patricia went deeper into the zone, that luscious, forbidden place where pain becomes sweet pleasure. When the leather bit into her skin, she moaned and trembled. Each time Marc swatted her pussy, her body ached for release. She lost track of time, and the number of times he lashed her. Dazed, she again felt the edge of a glass against her lips.
“Patricia, drink this. It will bring you around.”
She drank the whiskey he gave her, coughing after she swallowed. Then she moaned. “Marc, I need to come. I’m throbbing with wanting it.”
“Do you want me to fuck you until you come, Tricia? Say it! Ask me to fuck you until you come.”
Patricia nearly sobbed. “For God’s sake, yes! I want you to fuck
me until I come. Please, Marc, put your cock in me and fuck me so hard.”
She felt him pulling at the ropes around her ankles, untying her. Her knees felt rubbery, and she had trouble standing. “Patricia, I have you.” Marc took the blindfold off. “When I unfasten the handcuffs, lean on me so you don’t fall.”
He didn’t have to tell her to lean on him. When he released her wrists, she went limp. He caught her before she went down. “It’s all right, sweetheart, take some time to get your land legs back.”
Patricia flexed her fingers, working the circulation back into her hands. “We have to climb that damn ladder, don’t we?”
“Yes, unless you want me to fuck you on the floor.”
“Help me get to the bathroom. I have to go before I get up there.”
Marc supported her as they walked together to the bathroom. He didn’t leave while she used the toilet, waiting until she finished. His erect cock bobbed close to her face as she sat. She desperately wanted that hard rod inside of her.
She finished and washed. After a glass of water, she felt able to continue. “All right, I’m ready.”
“Can you walk by yourself now?”
“I think so.” She wobbled a bit when Marc stepped away. Steadying herself, she left the bathroom with no help.
Marc coached her about using the ladder. “You go up first, and I’ll follow. Take it slowly, putting both feet on each rung. You’re still shaky. I don’t want you to fall.”
She did exactly as he said. When she reached the top, she crawled onto the mezzanine on her hands and knees, with Marc close behind. “You fucking have to have stairs made for this damn thing! I feel like I’m climbing into a hayloft, not a bedroom!”
“I don’t know. I rather enjoyed the view from back here.”
“Very funny! Is there enough room to stand up?”
“Just. You’ll be fine. My head almost hits the ceiling.”
Patricia stood and looked around. “While you’re at it, how about having that railing made? If I get trashed up here, I really will break my neck.”
“You plan on getting trashed?”
“I hope so!”
“Well, then…” Marc took her hand and led her to the bed. “I bought this hoping we would share it.”
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