“Perfectly straight line.” Paul gave a wry grin. “I taught you well.”
Travis smiled and stepped back to give the older man room, and to situate himself with a good view of Cara’s face. He watched her carefully as Paul worked, making sure she was handling everything okay. The game plan was to declare a winner if six strokes was all she could take, but to restrike the first mark each had made as a tiebreaker if Travis judged she wanted more.
Paul made his three strikes and Travis was certain Cara would be disappointed if they stopped. Her screams reflected both pain and arousal, and the end of the plug in her pussy shifted as she clenched around it. Her leg and back muscles strained as she tried to move her hips, but the bondage held firm.
He watched her as they negotiated the tiebreaker, challenging each other to strike the top mark in exactly the same place. She was obviously turned on and Travis knew her role of target, with no consideration for her pain, was working for her. He’d never tell her how close he paid attention to her reactions so he’d know before she did if it was too much, or if she fell out of the right headspace to enjoy it.
He worried about her legs falling asleep, so while they were discussing the tiebreaker he released her ankles from her thighs and gently lowered them, one at a time, to large pillows, so her shins were parallel with the floor.
Paul went first, and Travis was in place so he could throw his strike immediately after. Cara almost screamed a word at the second impact, but turned it into a wail halfway through. Objects don’t talk, after all.
The men stepped closer to look at the marks, and grinned. Both were almost perfect, and Cara looked like she needed a good fuck in the worst sort of way. Paul had insisted Travis take the win, saying it was important for a woman to feel good about her lover’s skills, and now he smiled as he said, “Looks like it’s your choice. The student has beaten the teacher.”
“Well then, I’ll take the ass and you can have the mouth.”
Paul walked to her head and unzipped his pants while Travis unfastened his own and pulled the plug from her ass. He drove straight in the instant the plug slid out — no extra lube, no working up to it. Cara was ready and would love being taken this way, with no consideration. They’d dispensed of condoms between them a while back and he loved the feel of skin on skin as he entered her now, the heat of her body searing his cock as her muscles squeezed and released, trying to come to terms with the invasion.
He stayed buried, pushing hard without moving, and reveled in the feel of her ass clenching and relaxing as he watched Paul smooth his condom on and drive into her mouth. This brought back memories of them fucking a woman after Paul had worked with him, mentored him, taught him how to safely let his monster loose.
Travis pulled back and drove into her, the friction and tightness threatening to send him into orbit sooner than he wanted. He could feel the plug in her pussy, the fullness making her ass squeeze him harder. He went slow, deliberate, trying to get control, however tenuous. The combination of her restrained body, the tight sheath of her ass, and the visual of seeing Paul fuck her mouth — he wasn’t going to last.
He began pumping in earnest, needing to spill, to fill her ass with the contents of his balls. He plunged into her, felt her coming as the rings of muscles surrounding his cock spasmed around him, and he tried to count to ten in his head. Ten more strokes and he’d go; she needed him to keep fucking her through the orgasm, nine more, eight more. When he reached one he slammed home and held, and felt his own ripples and tremors as he lost control, buried deep, and emptied himself into her.
As the fog of the orgasm lifted and he resurfaced, he saw Paul turn the corner, heading towards the nearest restroom. Still partially on autopilot, Travis reached for the butt plug and slid it back into her ass. Cara wouldn’t relax with the fear of sperm leaking and he was hoping to finally give her some proper aftercare, but it wouldn’t be possible if she ran off to shower.
He retrieved the baby wipes from the bar, hastily swiping himself before zipping up, and using another to carefully swab around the outside of the plug. She didn’t need it, but it would make her feel better.
Paul returned and quickly helped him remove the glass tabletop, the wooden pieces holding legs and arms in a square, the table legs from beneath her arms and knees, the wrist braces, the gloves. They massaged her arms and legs, and Travis rubbed water-based cooling gel on her ass. He’d worry about cleaning her up tomorrow. Jazz had assured him the stain was waterproof but would come off easily with olive oil.
Paul helped him get her into the bedroom before nodding a goodbye and letting himself out the front door.
Cara permitted him to hold her, and when she snuggled against him Travis was so touched he was in danger of crying. She’d always pushed him away after a scene, and he’d allowed it, remembering the feral cat he’d tamed soon after buying his first place. It’d taken a long time to gain the feline’s trust, and he’d instinctively known if he ever forced the cat, it would never trust him.
It was possible Cara was still in scene mode, and he was afraid to get his hopes up too much. He prepared himself to let her go without showing disappointment, should she come out of it and push away, but he held her silently for a long while, enjoying the feel of her relaxed in his arms.
Eventually, he needed to pull her out and get her talking, so he stroked her back and ran his hands over her hair — not as a caress, but to get her attention. He gently removed bobby pins and released her hair from the bun, and when she finally began to stir he said, “How are you feeling?”
She flinched, but didn’t say anything. Travis tried again.
“Cara Mia, I need you to come back. I loved my new table, but now I’m ready for my human girlfriend to return. Talk to me, sweetheart.”
Cara burst into tears and Travis held her, alarmed, but he’d hoped for some kind of breakthrough. He kept his voice calm and reassuring.
“I’m here Cara; I can handle whatever’s running through that beautiful head of yours. Let it out if you need to. I’ve got you.”
“Stupid Stupid Stupid Stupid Stupid Stupid. It’s so Stupid.”
She could barely form the words between sobs, and he rubbed her back, trying to sooth, to remind her she wasn’t alone.
Just when he was about to ask what was stupid, she continued. “Stupid Billy Jenkins, I had a huge crush on him and I thought he liked me, but he was only using me so I’d do his homework.” Her sobs racked her body now and she barely pulled enough air in to speak through her tears. “I gave him my virginity and he never saw me as anything more than something to manipulate so he could pass English and Algebra and get his precious football scholarship.”
Travis immediately wanted to find Billy Jenkins, hack into his bank account and wire all his money to a worthy charity, destroy his credit rating, and send red flags to the IRS — but it wouldn’t help Cara now, so he said, “That was him being stupid, not you, Cara. You’re a beautiful soul and anyone with you in his life is lucky. He was stupid for not seeing that. You know how special you are, don’t you?”
“I know it now. But what you said, about first sexual encounters creating...”
Travis didn’t talk. He let her put it together. After a few minutes she stopped crying so hard, brought her breathing under better control even though the tears continued to flow, and said, “That’s why I looked for guys who were honest about not giving a shit. I cared so much about Billy. He was my first love and I thought we’d be together forever, but as soon as I’d finished the final homework assignment I could do for him our senior year, he dumped me and told me unless I wanted to go to college with him, he didn’t need me anymore.”
She snuggled into Travis arms, clinging to him, and he held her a little tighter, hoping to assure he had her, was there for her.
“He already had the football scholarship, but using it was dependent on graduating high school with a 2.5, so he broke up with Angela before Christmas and seduced me, dated me until the end of
the year, then dumped me and went back to Angela.” Her voice turned harsh, caustic. “Apparently, she was in on it and they’d been pretending to fight and not like each other while fucking like bunnies in private the whole time.”
Travis sighed, kissed the top of her head, and reminded himself he was pissed at Billy Jenkins, not Cara. He made sure his voice stayed gentle as he said, “So you never let anyone else get close. You chose assholes and made it your choice there was no relationship.”
When she didn’t say anything Travis said, “I love you Cara. You are so important to me. Not what you can do for me, but who you are. Do you understand?”
She sniffled and started crying again. “Yes, I do, and it scares the shit out of me. If you were to dump me I’d be devastated. I walked away from you, I pushed you away, but I was miserable without you. I tried to tell myself it was the sex. I persuaded myself to believe I needed the kink you can provide, but it’s you I need.” She raised her head and her watery gaze crashed into his. “You. Not just the sex.”
He thought his heart might beat its way out of his chest as he said, “I love you Cara. I stopped saying it because you looked like you wanted to run away every time you heard it, but I think you need to hear me say it. I love you.”
“I love you, too. It terrifies me, but I do.”
He held the eye contact, and lifted his hand to brush her cheek. “I’m pretty scared sometimes, too. But we can do this; we can make it work.” He pulled her to him and she buried her face in his neck. He kissed the top of her head and held her tight, his voice breaking a little as he said, “I trust you with my love; I hope I’m trustworthy with yours.”
Chapter Twelve
A few months later Travis took her to a big Hollywood movie premier, flying them out on his private jet and arranging a limo to drive them between airport and theater.
He surprised her with a gorgeous emerald green dress, and draped a heavy diamond-encrusted necklace around her, settling it onto her chest so it perfectly paralleled the arched neckline of the dress. It was wildly extravagant, and she knew she shouldn’t accept, but it was exquisite with the dress.
He pulled matching earrings out, saying, “I won’t try to put these on for you, but they’re a set, with the necklace.”
“Travis, this is too much. I know it’s rude to ask if they’re real but I need to know, because if they are I’ll be walking around in jewelry that probably costs twice what I paid for my car. I have no place to keep this sort of thing! What am I going to do with it?”
“Keep them in your closet, in the back of your sock drawer.” His eyes sparkled with laughter. “Or some other place no one’s likely to rummage. If it’ll make you feel better I can arrange for you to have a safe deposit box at my bank.” The smile in his eyes extended to his mouth and his whole face as he said, “You’re beautiful, Cara Mia. Put them on, please.”
Cara knew he had enough money this wouldn’t seem a big deal to him, but she was uncomfortable letting him buy her too much. Part of it was her desire to be clear she loved him for who he was and she didn’t want his money; but if she were honest, she was also uneasy with the idea he was actually buying her. Being ‘bought and paid for’ had been a great fantasy with the guys who meant nothing, but she wanted to belong to Travis with no money changing hands. Perhaps a little of her reticence was an inferiority complex, since she could never hope to measure up to the women he used to pay, but whatever the reason, it was important she not let him appear, in any way, to be paying for her.
Still, the earrings and necklace, along with the dress, made her look and feel like a fairy-tale princess, and with him wearing an ultra-fashionable charcoal suit, she went from dreading their trip down the red carpet to almost looking forward to it.
* * * *
Cara was star-struck at first, and had trouble even saying hello as they mixed and mingled in the lobby. Thankfully, Travis effortlessly kept conversation going around her, so she felt no pressure to have to say the right thing.
The movie was great, and they were invited to a party afterwards, which turned out to be more fun than she’d anticipated.
However, one of the actresses couldn’t seem to keep her hands off Travis. Cara was annoyed at first but at some point her sense of humor took over and she sat back and delighted in his attempts to politely rebuff the beautiful, but very drunk, celebrity.
However, when the prima donna literally fell into his lap and said, “Oh, come on Mister Tall and Sexy, what do you want with that wallflower when you could have me?” Cara’s rarely seen temper flared.
They were seated in separate chairs with a group around the pool, and Cara stood and walked behind Travis, leaning down so her face was beside his and looking at this super-famous actress from inches away.
Aware they’d drawn attention, she kept her voice low as she purred, “She has a point, Travis. My ass is still raw from the caning the other night, and my breasts and nipples are still so sore from your whip, even breathing hurts. I wondered why you installed bondage equipment on the plane, but I wouldn’t mind seeing her strung up on the cross with lash marks on her back. Or, no, on her breasts.” She looked at the actress a second and pulled her lips between her teeth, as if the thought turned her on. Speaking a little louder, so the people around could hear, she added. “Can we take her back and play with her? Please?”
The actress’ eyes grew to the size of saucers, the pout dropped from her lips, and she looked from Travis to Cara a dozen times before standing and walking away, speechless. Cara was reminded of the time the family cat had fallen off the arm of the sofa and attempted to strut pompously from the room, pretending it hadn’t happened.
Travis laughed, twisted to grab her, and pulled her gracefully into his lap. He kissed her breathless before saying, “You’re naughty, and I have no idea what kind of fallout we’ll have to deal with when she blabs, but it’ll be worth it. Have I mentioned lately how much I love you?”
Cara smiled, eyes twinkling. “As drunk as she is? No one’ll believe her. And since you don’t have bondage equipment on the plane, just let someone interview you while travelling because you’re too busy to do it any other time. Prove part of the story is wrong and the whole thing falls apart.”
“Damn, you’re devious.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this side of you. I like it, but...what brought it on?”
She shrugged. “It was funny at first, but then she pissed me off, I guess.” Not wanting to tell him she didn’t appreciate being called a wallflower, probably because the truth hurts so much more than false contentions, she changed the subject. “You know, it’s been a while since my ass and breasts hurt at the same time. Any chance we can fool around on the plane?”
“I’d planned a scene for the way home, but without impact play. Will you settle for objectification and a little bondage pain?”
“Settle?” She laughed, grinning with delight as she said, “Well, gee, it’ll be a sacrifice, but I suppose.”
He looked up, glanced around, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Let’s stick around another fifteen minutes and socialize so it won’t look like we left right after the confrontation. You haven’t eaten much; let’s check out the refreshments, shall we?”
* * * *
Travis tortured her in the limo all the way back to the airport, making her take her panties off and sit with her ass on the edge of the seat and her legs spread, as he sat on the floor and mercilessly teased with his tongue.
Her panties were in his pocket as they boarded the plane, and he motioned her towards the bedroom in the back as he detoured to the front to speak with the crew.
His final instructions before leaving the limo had been, “Go to the bedroom, close the door, strip, and bend over the bed so I’ll have a nice view of your pussy and ass when I walk in.”
Cara suddenly wasn’t tired at all and her pulse picked up as she removed the diamonds and kicked off her shoes. Not knowing how much time she had, she quickly hung
the dress and stowed the jewelry in their original boxes, tucking her shoes and the boxes into her travel bag before bending over the bed. He’d positioned her enough, she knew how he’d want her — back arched sharply down, legs spread, ass pushed as high as she could manage.
He didn’t make her wait long, bent over the bed and on display, before she heard the door snick open and close quickly. He walked to his bag, and a large bundle of black rope hit the bed beside her. She reached to feel it, surprised at how soft it was.
“It’s silk rope so it won’t irritate your skin. Let’s get buckled into the seats in here for take-off.
She stood and saw he was holding a large dildo on her seat, and she met his eyes, wondering if he were serious.
“Have a seat, Cara Mia. Pussy or ass — it’s your choice but you aren’t getting any lube.”
She was soaking wet from the tongue torture in the limo, but still, making her sit herself down on it? He didn’t look like he expected her to argue, and the plane pulled away from the hangar and made her have to sidestep to keep her balance.
The dildo was textured and she felt every ridge and knob on the way down as her pussy spread to accept the invasion, and the plane’s engines made everything vibrate.
He buckled her in, then himself, and pushed a button to speak with the pilot to let him know they were belted and ready to go.
“This is your plane; couldn’t we just stay in bed and pretend we have our seatbelts on?”
The dildo inside of her came to life and she gasped, then groaned.
He smirked as he showed her the control, and then answered her question with a serious look on his face. “I once wrecked a McLaren Roadster on the autobahn. They tell me I was going around a hundred and sixty but I wasn’t paying attention to my speed, so I’m not sure. I swerved to miss a deer, the back end lifted at an angle, and I went end over end. I cartwheeled forever and didn’t think the car would ever come to a stop. Everything hurt for weeks, but I didn’t have a scratch on me.” He shrugged. “Supposedly because I never actually hit anything except for the road every time I flipped, and those were more glancing blows than direct impacts; but I’ve never been so scared in my life. I didn’t always wear my seatbelt back then, but I’d put it on that day, and pretty much the only time I don’t wear one now is when I’m riding in a limo in traffic where we won’t pick up much speed.”
Safeword: Quinacridone Page 12