by Maxine Marsh
He stared at her.
“They didn’t want to let me out, you know. But I got help for the anger thing. Well, they made me. Taught me some techniques, like breathing techniques and visualizations and stuff like that. I was skeptical and sort of an asshole to the therapist, but it turns out that stuff actually works. Mostly, though, it was this realization I had toward the end of my term, right before I got out.”
“Realization?”
“The counselor put it the best. I tied myself to my grief. When I lost my kid, it was like I was tied to this horrible feeling of being out of control, and I couldn’t get free of it. I felt like I literally had to destroy my house to somehow move on.”
He nodded and got a far-off look in his eyes, like he was remembering and feeling things too. “You don’t owe me an explanation, DJ. I wasn’t fair to you earlier.”
“No?” She sighed. “I like it here, a lot. More than I thought I could. But even just being here, I didn’t feel entirely free. I felt like I was waiting for something bad to happen, like—” She motioned toward the front door and the direction of the motel. “It followed me here,” she said before squeezing her eyes shut and placing her head in her hands.
“No, it didn’t,” he said.
“But it—”
“Stop.” His voice was firm and low.
He was right. She pitied herself, and that had gone on for too long. She looked back up at him, back into those eagle eyes that seemed to pin her in place.
“I felt there was freedom here, but I didn’t feel free until that night you tied me up.” The hunger she constantly felt for him was there too in his eyes immediately. “I found freedom inside me, if that makes any sense,” she said quietly.
He nodded. “It does.”
The front door of the bar opened, and Tom was back. He seemed less serious in the way he walked, which DJ took to be a good sign.
“You, young lady, are off the hook.”
The tidal wave of relief would have brought her to her knees if she’d been standing.
“What happened?” asked Clayton.
“That other employee you just took on, Adam? It turns out he’s been squatting in the motel since he got here. King said one of the guys was driving him to the motel, near DJ’s room. Adam told the guy driving him that he was staying there, but when I checked with old Kirk, he said he didn’t even know who I was talking about. Another officer just picked Adam up off the interstate, trying to hitch a ride. He had quite a lot of cash on him. The firemen were going through what was left of the east side of the motel and found the remains of a nice bit of stuff in the room next door to yours, Dina Jo. A burnt metal box hidden in the remains of the wall.”
DJ and Clayton looked at each other. The money from the ranch.
The sheriff nodded when he saw them make the connection. “He pretty much clammed up right away until he was told he’d be charged with arson. That he completely denied it. It took them awhile, but it looked like he actually didn’t set the fire—well, at least not intentionally. The idiot got ahold of a coffeemaker, kept it plugged in, and left it on this morning. If it hadn’t started that fire, he’d have gotten away with your petty cash, Clayton, and with skipping his parole.”
Tom turned to DJ. “Sorry for the inconvenience, miss.” He tipped his hat and just like that, he left.
They sat a little stunned, thinking about it all. The bar was quiet, but soon folks would be coming in after work, itching to talk about the most exciting thing to happen in Gooding since the motel went up.
“Those pictures,” he said finally. “The ones with you and me…”
“Yeah?”
“There was one with you and me in a field. What was that about?”
She bit her lip, a little embarrassed. “I had this fantasy about you.” She lowered her voice. “That you’d strip me and bring me to the middle of some open space and make me feel the way you make me feel. Just feeling the wind on my body. Having you watch me, whip me, touch me. Feeling everything.” She smiled looking down at her hands.
He stared, eyes intense, gazing at her for a long, long while. She was almost about to ask him what he was thinking when finally Clayton rose from the bar. He motioned to her. “Come on, time to go home.”
“Clay, I don’t think I can go back to the motel just yet. I was going to ask Ronny if I could crash upstairs tonight.”
He shook his head. “Hell, no. I meant come home with me.”
She looked at him, feeling the bottom of her stomach fall away with nerves, and didn’t move.
He kneeled in front of her, put both of his large hands on her shoulders, and said, “I made a mistake. I want to make it up to you. Show you something.”
Chapter Eleven
He didn’t even bring her inside, just opened the truck door for her and motioned for her to follow him. He took her, without being in a rush, around the side of the house.
“Oh,” she murmured when she saw.
Most of his property was behind the house—a large field, golden and rolling toward the horizon, an outdoor corral, and a large shed and barn.
“You keep horses here?” she asked.
“No. Not for a long time, not since my wife passed. She loved them.” He peered at the barn. “We used to roll around in the hay and use the barn for our own purposes too, if you know what I mean.” He smiled. She did too. “But, I sold the horses and closed it up. Too much to think about. Felt tied to it, like you were saying about your house. Never wanted to go back in.”
She only nodded. He held a hand out to her. “Come on.”
Hand in hand, he led her toward the barn. She helped him get some leverage so he could get the rusted lock popped off. When he swung open the doors, dust and stagnant air flooded out. Clayton watched her wander into the building, looking up at the loft, peeking over the paddock doors, feeling her way around the walls where many old tools hung, neglected. She paused and ran her hand over an old horse whip, which hung for decoration near the front doors.
“How many of these do you have?” she asked, amused.
“You like that one?”
She grinned at him, ran her hand along the wooden handle and then ran her fingers through the leather falls. “It’s soft.”
“I can make it sting,” he answered.
She looked at him a long while, then put her bag down by the barn door. She pulled her shirt over her head, popped her bra off, and went to work on her shoes and pants. Soon she was completely naked. She walked to him, pressed herself against him. Clayton reached and pulled the band from her hair so that it fell to her shoulders and hung loose and light.
“You want this?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, pressing her lips into his neck.
He held her to him for a minute then looked around them. “We’ll need some stuff,” he said quietly, holding her and feeling her breath against him. “Kneel, with your legs apart.”
She waited patiently, knees spread on the wood plank floor, the lips of her pussy visible to him. Her eyes, calm and bright, followed him as he went around. He pulled the whip she’d been studying back down from its hook and brought it to her.
“Open.”
She opened her mouth and took the handle of the whip in between her teeth.
“Don’t drop it, now,” he ordered. A plan formed in his mind. He looked around, forming a plan in his mind. He pulled a bandana from his back pocket. “Close your eyes.”
When the blindfold was in place, he gathered implements, planning out what would happen in his mind in an instinctual way. Where things might lead, what she might like, what she might not, and how he could form her and train her up to the best possible climax. Occasionally he glanced at her, paused, and looked over what he’d piled together. One more thing. He found her backpack nearby and dug around in it until her found her vibrator.
He took his time, leaving the barn and then coming back again. DJ’s head turned here and there as if she were trying to follow his activity.
Her nipples were hard and a dark stain had formed on the floor between her knees where her arousal had escaped and dripped free.
“All right, be good now,” he said, kneeling in front of her. He placed a couple fingers gently to her pussy, rubbed for a moment. He heard her breath through her nose heavily but she remained still, only the tightening of her belly betraying a response. Good girl.
“I’m going to attach something to your neck. Be still for me.”
He had gathered a collar and lead and made sure it was loose enough to avoid irritating her skin. The lead was silver chain and black leather, long enough for him to hold and stand over here while she kneeled. He tugged on it a little.
“Comfy?” he asked.
She murmured and nodded but kept the whip clasped between her teeth. A thin trail of saliva marked her chin.
He pulled her toward the barn door and led her out into the field. She crawled, whip in teeth, alongside him. “It’s a beautiful evening for a walk. The sun is starting to set already. Orange and a little pink.” He leaned and caught a glance of her pussy as her ass sidled back and forth in the air. “It’s the color your pussy gets when it’s ready for me. The color your skin is going to turn when I whip you.” He dropped the lead next to her. “Keep going until I tell you otherwise.”
She seemed to sense that he’d let go of the lead and moved away from his side. Her crawl faltered. He placed his boot tip to her ass and pushed her on. “I said, keep going.”
He listened to her pace her breathing and put one palm in front of the other in the grass. It was immensely satisfying to watch her crawl on hands and knees like this. Her gorgeous ass was exposed to the night’s breeze, her breasts hung and swayed when she moved, and there was a slight tension of fear coming off her he could sense.
She kept her pace up until he said, “Now stop.” She did, head moving side to side, wanting to sense what might happen next.
He went to her, tucked an arm down around her torso just under her breast and his other arm between her legs and around one hip, lifted her completely off the ground, and carried her over to the red horse blanket he’d laid out when he’d prepared everything. “Stay on your hands and knees,” he said. He took the whip from her mouth and placed it on the blanket nearby.
He walked to the array of implements he’d assembled. “We’re going to have to make sure you’re prepared for your punishment.” He grabbed a hard-cast, cock-shaped insertable. It wasn’t quite the size of his cock but it ought to keep her feeling nice and filled up.
“Now keep your ass in the air. Just lower your chin down to the ground.”
She did so, causing her pussy slit to gape wider and the little pucker of her asshole to rise to the sky. A huge part of him wanted to fuck her crazy right then. He kneeled next to her, put a hand on her back. She gasped when she felt just the tip of the firm silicone cock tease the mouth of her pussy. He rubbed it slowly and softly at first, then dipped it just a tiny bit into her. She moaned. He pulled it out, slid its slickness down and over her clitoris for a moment, then moved it back to her entrance. He pushed it a little more, then seeing her push back toward it, removed it again.
He smiled when she whimpered at the loss. “What are you?” he asked her.
She opened her mouth but didn’t seem to know what to say.
He smacked her lightly on the ass and she bucked. “I said, what are you?”
She gasped and said, “Your slut.”
Perfect. He pushed the toy into her farther still and this time left it part way in. Her bottom trembled.
“Do you want it all?” he asked. His own cock pressed so hard against his jeans that he thought it might break through.
“Yes.”
“If you can count to five without moving an inch as I spank you, I’ll let you have it all. Do you think you can do that?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered quickly.
“Count for me, then,” he said, raising a hand to the air.
“One.”
He smacked her right buttock, watched the cock sway from side to side, protruding from her glistening hole. She stayed stock still.
“Good. Again.”
“Two,” she managed, her voice growing gravelly with arousal.
He got her left cheek on her count, leaving a fine red hand print and eliciting sharp cry. The sound went right to his cock.
“Three.”
He spanked her again, glancing off the opposite buttock and watching to make sure she stayed still. She did. He twisted and turned the cock for a moment just to tease her and then said, “Again.”
“Four,” she rasped in an overcome tone.
The fourth blow caused her to grimace and grit her teeth. He rubbed a soothing hand over her ass and demanded she continue.
“Five,” she whimpered.
He spanked her one last time and then worked the toy all the way into her pussy. She gasped and groaned, her mouth wide open, a little curl of a smile betraying her satisfaction.
“What do you say?” he asked.
“Thank you, sir.” Her voice was sincere.
He watched a trickle of her juices run down her smooth thigh. He scooped some onto his finger and then pressed it to her ass. She jumped.
“We need to work this part of you in.”
The hand he had on her back felt her tense up a little.
“Have you ever had anyone in your ass?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said in a low, trembling voice.
“Has it been a long time?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, began to press his finger and circle it over her pucker. He could sense her hesitation.
“Does it make you feel ashamed?”
“Yes.”
“Dirty?”
“Yes.”
He nodded to himself again, taking note. “We’re going to have to break you of that.”
He teased her with his finger for a few long minutes until he sensed her relaxing a little. “I think we need something more here,” he murmured and reached for the whip that lay nearby.
He looked at it. Yes, just the right size and still moist from its time in her mouth. Even so, he leaned over her and spit into her ass crack, pleased to see her raise her bottom even higher toward him in need. A minute of rubbing her on the outside with the smooth and curved butt-end of the whip eventually elicited mewling from her.
“Push back,” he growled.
One moment of hesitation and then she was pushing back onto the whip shaft until her body spread and took it in. An open-mouthed cry and a shuddering passed through her body. Clayton slowly worked it deeper and deeper, until it was held tight and taut and the threads of soft leather hung from her bottom as if they were a tail.
“Now, don’t you look full?” She looked beautiful. “Get up on your hands again. I want you to suck my cock.”
Blindfold still in place, she rose onto her palms, ass full, breath heavy.
He undid his pants and finally freed his cock. It was as hard as the toy in her pussy and he rubbed the head of it over her flushed face and back and forth over her slightly parted lips.
“Take it, all of it.”
She opened, wrapped her lips around his cock head and then slowly leaned forward. He watched unblinking as his cock slowly disappeared into her mouth, inch by inch, enveloped in wet heat and tickled by the press of her tongue on the underside. She didn’t stop taking him in until her lips reached the soft hair at the base. She held him there expertly, still and obedient.
He wanted to see her eyes. The bandana was flung aside a moment later and there she was, all his, looking up at him with a fire that only turned him on more.
“Slowly. Make it last,” he said to her.
She obeyed. Her mouth worked him, soaking him, saliva dripping from both sides of her mouth. She spent a luxurious amount of time pulling back, revealing millimeter by millimeter the shaft of his cock to him, sucking the head like a lollipop, releasing it completely and tickling him with the
tip of her tongue. When she was good and ready she pulled him back in, as slowly as she’d released him, working her mouth around him until he was fully in her throat.
He began to feel her slip away a little, the way she tended to curl into her own space. He reached and twisted the whip embedded in her ass, she coughed around him and then moaned, her eyes flickering with recognition. She refocused again on his cock, on his pleasure.
He got close to his peak more quickly than he thought he would. She was so enticing, everything she did was so exciting and enticing that he felt ready to fall off the edge. He grabbed her hair tightly, looked down into her eyes, and growled, “Take every last drop of me.” He came, thrust hard into her mouth and felt himself pump out come, over and over, down her throat. She swallowed around him, moaning a little against his cock.
He stayed in her mouth for a time, hearing the breath move in and out of her nostrils, but she was a good girl and stayed perfectly still, holding that space for him. The sunset had turned to night, bringing with it that hot breeze that was so delicious against naked skin. He whispered things to her and gently removed himself from her mouth. He took a few shaky moments to sit and undress himself completely, kneeled before her again and stroked her cheeks lightly.
“Look me in the eye,” he said, his face close to hers.
She did, holding his gaze.
“Do you think you’ve earned your orgasm?” he asked.
“No,” she said quietly.
He smiled and kissed her. “Maybe you have, maybe you haven’t. But I want to play with your ass some more.”
Her cheeks warmed and turned bright red.
“Say it.”
She parted her lips, looked to him for comfort, and said, “Please, sir. Play with my ass.” He could barely hear her.
He let go of her face, sat back, annoyed. “Not loud enough. Again.”
“Please, sir. Play with my ass.”
He shook his head and frowned. “Not loud enough.” He stood up, peered around. “Are you afraid someone’s going to hear you?”