Safeword: Quinacridone

by Candace Blevins

  They even washed each other’s hair, though Travis had to sit on the built-in bench so she could reach his head. When at last they exited the shower she discovered he’d had someone bring a hairbrush, toothbrush, pair of jeans, fashionable t-shirt, bra, and another package of panties.

  “What will the paparazzi make of you paying someone to buy this stuff?”

  He smiled. “They’ll never know. Debbie picked them up and dropped them off. You’ll meet her later, I hope. She runs the house — keeps it clean, does the cooking, takes care of my laundry, makes sure I don’t run out of anything, arranges to have the grounds mowed and the flowerbeds weeded, that sort of thing.”

  “Why won’t I meet her today?”

  “She’s off on the weekends. I called and asked if she could pick some stuff up and drop it off, and it turned out she was free this morning. I don’t ask a lot of her outside of her normal duties, but I’m flexible when she needs time off so she’s flexible when I need something extra.” He shrugged. “She’s been with me so long she’s almost like family.”

  “How old were you when you hired her?”

  “Seventeen. She has a son who’s only a few years younger than me, and somehow she managed to fill the place of a maternal advisor while leaving me in charge of my life. She’s a good friend, and wise about the ways of the world well beyond her years.”

  “Does she know about your, umm, kinks?”

  He tilted his head. “I don’t think she knows the specifics, but I guess everyone probably figures my sexual tastes aren’t normal. She’s never brought it up, and I doubt she ever will.”

  Cara didn’t say it out loud, but it dawned on her that if everyone knew he was kinky they’d assume she had to be, if she was his girlfriend.

  The care package included another bottle of the expensive shampoo and conditioner he’d bought her before, and she stepped back into the shower to condition her hair properly before drying it.

  When she finally came out of the bathroom, he was nude and sitting in a straight-backed chair he’d brought in from the dining room. He patted has thigh and said, “We’ll do this a bit different today. Drop the robe and bend over my lap — hands and toes on the floor, ass in the air.”

  She did as he said, feeling terribly vulnerable and off balance. The heat that’d been gradually building between her legs had reached bonfire proportions though, and she wanted this. Badly.

  One of his hands caressed her upper back and then settled with some weight, gently holding her in place. The other rested on the back of her thigh, open palmed.

  “I gave you a nice warm-up last time but I want to give you four hard hand spanks to start this time. They’re going to hurt, but won’t harm you. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, I think.”

  “Count out loud. You’ll say the number when you’re ready for it. Say one and we’ll begin.”

  “One”

  SLAP!

  “Oh FUCK that hurt! Shit!” She tried to stand, but the hand on her back kept her firmly in place.

  “It was supposed to hurt.” His voice was calm. Deliberate. “You get three more. Say two when you’re ready, or say your safeword if it’s too much.”

  It took all she had in her to say, “Two.” The second spank landed with the same intensity and she yelled a few more expletives. The third strike brought heat as well as pain, and she felt warmth blooming across flesh and through muscle as the pain faded. The fourth hurt for a briefer moment, and the heat that followed set her insides on fire.

  Travis hands immediately started the warm-up, striking her over and over with barely more than a pat, building the intensity gradually, and before she knew it she was so horny she was in danger of self-combustion. From the way his cock hardened under her stomach, she figured he must be in the same situation.

  She didn’t know how long he spanked her. Five minutes? Ten? Cara’s toes and calves began to cramp but every time she relaxed against him he stopped spanking until she returned to position.

  Her ass throbbed and a fire kindled inside as liquid heat spread across her skin. She craved more, yearned for something harsher than his hand. She wanted it to stop; she needed it to go on.

  “Please, fuck me already!”

  Had she said that? She heard him chuckle as his hand slid down her ass. “Spread your legs, let’s see how wet this pussy is.”

  She slid her feet farther apart and lifted to her toes. His hand felt proprietary — he wasn’t trying to make it feel good, merely checking her as one would check a car for oil. She was an object, or maybe a piece of mechanical equipment, and he was verifying the system was ready for use.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re ready. Stand up.”

  He walked her to his bed and had her sit on the edge before stepping away to remove a perfectly folded sheet from a beautifully carved armoire.

  He tossed the sheet over one of the metal vines over their head and it draped like a curtain, puddling in her lap and blocking her view of him. She pushed it behind her back and watched him step to the headboard to retrieve a pillow. He placed it behind her and stepped in front of her again.

  He smiled, but it was a cold smile and it simultaneously turned her on and scared her. He stroked himself once, twice. His cock was rock hard. “Lay back.”

  It wasn’t a request, and her body obeyed before she realized what she was doing, giving her no time to argue or question.

  The pillow caught her off guard as it forced her back to arch, and the draped fabric slid to her front, blocking her view of him once more. He lifted the sheet a bit, though not enough so they could see each other, and said, “Knees to your shoulders and keep them there.”

  Again, so obviously not a request. She pulled her legs up and he let the makeshift curtain fall, spreading it so the fabric rumpled over the back of her thighs. She only wondered what he was up to for a few seconds; quickly realizing all he could see was her pussy and ass, and a smidgeon of the tops of her legs. He could see her sex, but not her. She felt her hips move at the thought — a sex object. A thing to be fucked.

  She heard the condom package tearing and his hands pushed at the backs of her thighs, angling her pussy down. He gripped her hips, drove himself into her, rearranged the pillow to get a better angle, and thrust deeper.

  She’d read stories describing the sensations experienced when blindfolded, but this was so much more dehumanizing. Cara was alone on her side of the curtain while he pounded into her, his grunts and growls passing through the fabric to her ears.

  Her ass was still hot from the spanking, and the fire of his hands pressed the backs of her legs, holding her in place as he repeatedly plunged into her. Heat, touch, desire, need, loss of power, the shattering of her humanity — everything merged into a singular awareness and thrust her into a primal response that tore through her consciousness like a bolt of lightning. Her climax shot her blood straight to boiling and she clutched wildly at the blanket beneath her as she rode the waves of pleasure.

  Her orgasm didn’t stop, and the idea of being an object — a piece of equipment utilized for his pleasure — kept her soaring as he held her thighs and continued to destroy her.

  Without losing rhythm, he pulled out of her pussy and plunged into her ass like a beast in rut. The storm inside her surged, the blood roared in her ears, and she screamed in pain and surprise as her body continued to convulse around his cock, and still he pounded her relentlessly.

  With a loud bellow he stopped, shoved all the way in, and held as throaty sounds between human and animal filled the room and his cock jerked in her ass.

  Her climax hadn’t peaked, but before she could be disappointed his fingers were at her pussy, his cock still in her ass. Her clit exploded in pain and she roared as her orgasm came slamming back with a vengeance, her hips hopelessly trying to buck as his hands and cock held her in place by her pussy and ass.

  He stretched her impossibly wide with the fingers of one hand while the other worked her clit, and she continued to jerk
and spasm uncontrollably. How obscene it must look — a distended pussy without a human attached, trying to move, writhing and spasming around his hand. She screamed as the orgasm reached a zenith and flowed out, draining her. And she melted.

  He swiped the sheet away and was on her, kissing her gently, stroking her arms, her face. Holding her. No speaking, just reconnecting.

  When she could breathe again he ran his fingers through her hair, his voice lazy, confident. “I think that worked for you?”

  She laughed and sat up, moving out of his arms. He let her, thank goodness, so she only moved a few feet away, though she had the distinct impression he was treating her as one would a feral cat who didn’t want to be touched. “You have to ask? I hadn’t realized there was a name for what I needed until I started reading, and once I discovered the word — objectification — I got myself off umpteen times just contemplating the concept.”

  Pulling a pillow casually into her lap, she continued. “What you just did, with the sheet, it was...I mean, it’s silly, I knew it was you and you knew it was me,” she shook her head in wonder, “but that thin sheet changed everything.”

  * * * *

  Travis let her move away, thankful for the few minutes he’d been allowed to hold and caress her. He didn’t sit, but moved his arm up to prop his head in his hand. “Tell me something you’ve read that objectified someone but was too much, and you wouldn’t want done to you.”

  He noted she didn’t take long to answer, only needing the few seconds cover she obtained by scooting to the top of the bed — farther from him — and leaning against the headboard, keeping the pillow in her lap as cover.

  “There was a story of a girl who couldn’t go in public anymore because her master had arranged for so many body modifications. She had no hair, not on her head or even eyebrows or eyelashes. He’d had her front teeth removed so she could give better blowjobs. She had partials she could put in to eat, so I guess that didn’t keep her from going out, but by the end of the story she had no vocal cords and couldn’t speak, and he’d had a surgeon amputate her legs so they didn’t get in the way when he fucked her, and...no.”

  Travis knew people who’d removed all hair from their slaves, but when she reached the point about the teeth, he found himself a little horrified. He was dumbfounded she brought up amputation, but kept his face carefully schooled so she’d only see acceptance, as he wanted to be sure she felt comfortable telling him anything.

  He knew many Doms asked this question to find out what women wanted but were afraid to admit to. He desperately hoped Cara was taking him at his word and telling him the things she truly didn’t want to experience. Travis’ two biggest guidelines were to be sure everything was consensual, and no permanent damage. He could tell by looking at her she was aroused, and was mortified at the notion of Cara wanting to truly lose essential body parts. He considered a few possible scenarios to try to figure out if she were looking at it as a fantasy or pondering it as a reality.

  She’d been looking at her hands and raised her eyes to meet his, and he had a feeling it took effort for her to meet his gaze. “I want to keep my life as it is outside of sex, but I think I’d like to see how far we can take the whole objectification thing, as long as nothing interferes with my art or the ability to go to gallery events. I need to be able to talk and walk, so...” She shrugged as she trailed off.

  His heart found a regular beat again as the impact of her words sank in. She didn’t want to lose body parts for real; she was turned on by the fantasy. He could work with that.

  He sat up but didn’t move closer, not wanting her to feel she had to run. Trying another approach, he asked, “What turned you on the most? What have you found yourself returning to and re-reading.”

  Cara’s face blazed red. “It was another Master/slave story, where the Master had parties and his slave was always a party favor. He’d pose her somewhere and bind her in place, immobilize her, so anyone could have access. She’d be fucked over and over, used all night long, sometimes in the mouth at the same time as her pussy or ass. He’d insert a ring gag so she couldn’t talk right, and drooled; and she was tied so she couldn’t move anything, sometimes not even fingers or toes. A living, fuckable statue.”

  He looked at her appraisingly and resisted adjusting his legs to hide the fact his cock was swelling again. “You did enjoy sex with strangers.” He paused, his mind swirling around a thousand possibilities. “If you could safely be objectified by total strangers, would you want to?”

  Her face showed eagerness, but then a shadow passed through her eyes and she shook her head, almost as if she were convincing herself, instead of him. “If we’re in a relationship it wouldn’t be... I mean, sex with strangers scratched an itch at the time. But if I have you then you’ll be scratching the itch. So...”

  He relaxed inside, realizing she wanted it, but was hung up on monogamy. They could cross that bridge later — no need dealing with everything all at once. He said, “You’re dancing around without answering, but that’s okay. We’ll talk about it later. Much later. Are you hungry? Do you want something more substantial than fruit?”

  He saw her glance at his cock and start to say something, but chicken out and nod her head.

  Yeah, he wanted her again, too, but they had other things to talk about first.

  * * * *

  Cara spooned some oatmeal, the glistening peaches peeking out between the grains, and looked around Travis’ huge assed kitchen as she savored the bite.

  “I have friends coming over later. I’d love for you to hang out with us.”

  She put another bite into her mouth to avoid answering right away, as she wasn’t comfortable meeting a roomful of strangers. After a few moments of silence he added, “I want you to meet my friends, Cara.”

  She swallowed and said, “You’re throwing a party?”

  “No, just having some people over. The plan’s for an evening of geeky computer games. Some of them work for me and there’ll probably be a little shop talk.” He shrugged, looking a little embarrassed again. “Since I’ve never had a regular girlfriend you may have to deal with some good natured ribbing.”

  Yeah, that was what worried her. That, and people knowing what Travis did to her when they were alone. “Your friends know you...”

  He finished her sentence when it was clear she wouldn’t. “Are kinky? A few know more details than I’m comfortable with, but I was young and talked a lot when I was experimenting and learning. But they’re my friends and like me anyway. The rest have seen the gossip, there’s no getting around that, but they aren’t part of...” He shrugged. “I keep my life pretty compartmentalized. I have kink friends and I have geek friends, and other than two exceptions I don’t mix the worlds.”

  Not sure how to gracefully bow out, and realizing she’d probably need to meet them sooner or later, she said, “If you want me to meet them then...okay. Just, I’m not good with that sort of thing, so stay with me?”

  “Of course, Cara Mia. Would you like to play, or sit with me and help?”

  “How would I help?”

  “Warn me if you see someone coming. Give me ideas for what to do next.”

  Relieved she’d have a chance to watch first before being pushed to play, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I can do that at first, but once I get the hang of whatever you’re playing I might want to join in. Is it okay if I decide later?”

  He nodded. “I’ll even stop and help you a while, if you want. Just tell me when you’re ready. Timothy will be here, you’ve worked with him on the education project, so you’ll know someone.”

  “I haven’t met him in person, just emails and a few phone calls, but he seems nice enough. How will he react when he realizes we’re together? Will it change the way he interacts with me? I don’t think I want to work for your company Travis. People will assume I have the job because I’m fucking the boss.”

  “But don’t you see? Timothy will know it’s
not true. Sure, I pointed him to you, but we weren’t together then, and I didn’t tell him to hire you, just suggested he look at your work. All decisions since have been his — I’m brainstorming the deep coding and he’s in charge of the user interface.”

  He sighed. “It’s up to you whether you want to keep working for us on a contract basis, or as an employee, or not at all, but I hope you’ll join us on at least a few projects here and there. You’re good Cara, damn good, and you’ll be an asset to our teams if you agree to create for us.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Travis watched the monitor as the makeup artist worked on Cara. He knew her deepest fantasies enough to start making a few actually happen, and while some were so dark it might be years before she was ready to experience them, she was primed for this one. He’d prepared her for weeks, getting her accustomed to incredibly restrictive bondage, testing how far he could take the objectification and keep her titillated, and assessing her pain tolerance without a warm-up when properly aroused.

  He watched as Jazz stained her skin a rich mahogany, noting the makeup artist didn’t pay any more attention to breasts or genitals than arms and legs. That was the beauty of hiring a gay makeup artist — he was doing this for the art, not the opportunity to fondle a beautiful woman.

  This was only the beginning of Cara’s objectification for the day, manipulated as if she were an object instead of a person. Jazz was told she’d play the part of a human table in a music video, and had been advised she needed to get into character and didn’t want to be spoken to or treated as a human. He was to move her to the positions he required without speaking unless verbal directions were absolutely necessary, and even then he’d express the position he needed the table, without requesting it of her.