Safeword: Quinacridone

by Candace Blevins

  “I’ll allow exercise bra and bike shorts to start, but once you’re warmed up and the stretching begins you’ll be nude. I may let you have a little time with clothes if I think you need it, but it’ll be my discretion, not yours. I’ll handle your body in any way I see fit, and will bring you to many orgasms. However, you won’t see me in any kind of undress, you won’t know if I’m aroused or not, and you and I will not have sex during a session.”

  The negotiations lasted for the drive home and moved to the living room once they arrived.

  Cara didn’t say no to anything, but she had a zillion questions to ask before she felt comfortable agreeing to give this man the power to apply consequences when he didn’t feel she was following instructions.

  Travis had cleared two bays of the heated garage — the one he kept his most expensive babies in — and lined part of it with what looked like gymnastic mats. Floor to ceiling mirrors hung on a twenty-foot section of one wall, complete with ballet barre.

  She felt a little self-conscious in the workout bra and lycra shorts Travis handed her, but her libido had kicked in a few times as Jonathan discussed training people in much the same way equestrians spoke about expensive racehorses. She didn’t think he realized he was doing it, but the attitude was certainly there.

  Travis had also inserted a metal rod attached to a wire into her pussy — about as big around as a quarter and three inches in length, with rounded ends. He’d taped the wire to her thigh and then above and below her calf before having her put the bike shorts on.

  A camera in the garage would beam the action to a monitor in the house, allowing Travis to see and hear them. It was a fancy unit and he could move it around and zoom in or out remotely, so he’d be sure it was focused where he wanted.

  Jonathan showed her two ways to swing a kettlebell, and patiently worked with her until she could perform both to his satisfaction, finally saying, “Okay, you’re going to do one minute of the first, then a minute of the second, and repeat until I say you can stop. My cell phone will make a sound every minute to let you know it’s time to change. Your arms, shoulder blades, stomach, bottom, and the fronts and backs of your thighs are all going to be on fire when I finally allow you to stop. Hot muscles stretch without tearing, and I’ll be focused on how warm they are, not your comfort. Use the pain to push yourself, if you can. It’ll make it easier, but if you can’t you’ll still need to continue until told to stop. Okay, move over here and we’ll get you hooked up.

  She wasn’t sure what he was talking about until he pointed to a wire running across the garage, taped every few inches, with a few feet of it loose at the end. He connected it to the one taped to her leg, and walked to the wall, where the wire ran up to a box sitting on a table.

  “We’ll think in terms of percentages; I’m about to give you one second at ten percent power. Should you slow down you’ll get two seconds at twenty five percent the first few times, and if I feel it isn’t incentive enough I’ll go up with the power until I have your attention. Here’s your ten percent sample.”

  Cara gasped as she felt a million ants biting the inner wall of her pussy and the muscles convulse sharply. It was over almost as soon as it started, and hadn’t been awful, but she’d just as soon not feel it again.

  She didn’t have a chance to say anything before he said, “Begin when you hear the chime.” No sooner than he said it, she heard the sound and began swinging the kettlebell.

  Within four or five rotations her muscles were burning and she wasn’t sure she could keep going. Jonathan didn’t sound mean when he warned her to raise her arms higher and bend her knees deeper, more like a kindly father warning his child to pick up her jacket so she wouldn’t lose it.

  She’d long since lost track of the number of minutes when she received her first shock. It wasn’t much worse than the sample, but it was twice as long, and she pushed more energy into the swings, bringing her arms higher and bending her knees more, even though she thought her thigh muscles might melt from the burn.

  She received three shocks before he finally allowed her to stop. He unhooked the wire and they moved to the padded floor, where she immediately collapsed in a heap.

  “We have to keep moving dear,” he said as he went to his knees and rolled her to her stomach, “or your muscles will get cold and we’ll have to start over.”

  He quickly tied her arms behind her, from her forearms to her wrists, but her hands were far from touching and there was no pain.

  At least, not until he had her lie on her back, though it still proved more uncomfortable than painful.

  He had her point her feet towards the ceiling and then slowly drop them sideways as if she were doing the splits, except her legs were nowhere near the floor. He sat below her and cupped his hand over her mound and the thin lycra transmitted every fingertip as if there were nothing between them. He pressed, and her clit came alive.

  “Don’t stretch your muscles past the point of discomfort. Pain is fine when we’re heating them up but bad when stretching. Let gravity pull them down, but keep your knees straight and toes pointed.”

  He made small circles with his palm over her clit, but while it felt good, it wasn’t enough to overpower the stretch of her inner thighs and the burn to her abdomen.

  “I need... I can’t hold this any longer.”

  “I’ll count backwards from ten, you can straighten them when I reach zero. Push into the floor with your hands; it’ll take some of the strain off of your abs and help work your shoulders.”

  She managed to hold the position until he reached zero, but he immediately had her standing, legs spread with one bent and twisted so one thigh and her abs burned and stretched at the same time. Her breasts were pushed out and he fondled them through the sports bra as she held the position, but once again it wasn’t enough to overpower the burn. She almost fell several times but he caught her and talked her through finding her balance. When she insisted she couldn’t hold it any longer he counted backwards again, but on three she stood, saying yellow before collapsing in a ball on the floor.

  Travis came through the door within seconds, dropping to the floor to hold and rub her. Jonathan released her arms and said, “Plan B?” but she didn’t hear a response.

  She remained lying on her side, curled in a tight ball, and said, “I hate this. It hurts, and it’s a bad hurt, and I don’t really want to be turned on by Jonathan, and I hate this.”

  Travis sounded sad. “Okay Cara, we won’t do it like this again, but are you up to trying something different?”

  “As long as my legs and stomach don’t hurt like this.”

  “Jonathan’s going to leave us alone for a little while. Watching you made me horny and I want to fuck you. I assume you don’t have a problem with that, too?”

  Her first instinct was to bite his head off, but her traitorous body perked up at the idea of being used, and her hips moved involuntarily, giving her away.

  Travis lifted her head and fastened a blindfold. Cold metal pushed under the bra and it was cut away. The bike shorts were cut away next, the thing in her pussy came out, and the tape holding the wire was removed from her leg.

  He didn’t bother moving her, just situated himself to take advantage of her position, and slammed into her with no warning or further preparation. He took her hard and fast, and pulled her body back in place with rough hands when his repeated pounding shoved her away.

  She pulled her top leg a little higher to allow better access, and she straightened her back as her climax drew near, but just as she was near the top and ready to shatter, he pulled out and pushed her top hip towards the floor, forcing her onto her back and saying, “Hands behind your back. Lay there and take what I give you. Spread those legs so I can see your pussy.”

  Without thinking, her hands pushed under the small of her back, her knees fell open, and she felt something hit her chest. He was ejaculating on her.

  She pressed her feet into the floor and pushed her hips up, not carin
g how much her thighs and stomach still burned, and ignored their trembling protest at being used again as she silently begged him to touch her pussy. She was hovering on the edge and needed to come so bad.

  She heard him zipping up before he said, “Jonathan’s going to put some boots on you while I prep your ass for a plug you won’t easily ignore.”

  The next few minutes were a blur as she felt boots being laced tightly from the top of her foot to just under her knee as Travis worked fingers into her ass and soon traded them for a huge plug.

  The plug wasn’t all the way in yet when Jonathan moved to her other foot, and just as she was about to protest, thinking it too big, the large plug finally sank in. Though the stretched muscles of her rectum closed a tiny bit, Travis had been right about her not managing to ignore it.

  She’d assumed her foot was at an odd angle due to the process of lacing the boots, but when Jonathan moved to the second leg, her fully shod foot was still pointed at an unnatural angle and there was no way she’d be able to walk.

  When the second boot was on, Jonathan lifted her like a baby but only grabbed one leg and her stomach muscles complained loudly at the strain of lifting the other.

  Hands quickly fit a wide belt around her waist, and a thick strap was threaded between her legs and attached to the front and back of her waist belt, pressing the base of the plug into her and dashing any hope of pushing it out.

  Jonathan gently stood her on pointed toes, placed one of her hands on the ballet barre, and wrapped her other arm around Travis, allowing her to use him for support.

  The strap encircling her crotch began vibrating over her clit and Travis said, “You’re going to practice walking for ten minutes. If I don’t think you’re trying, the vibrator turns off and nipple clips go on. We’ll spend thirty minutes on other pursuits when we’re done here; if I’m pleased with your effort I’ll give you mind-blowing orgasms when we’re done. If I’m not, you’ll have to get yourself off, if you can manage.”

  Travis walked her back and forth while Jonathan’s voice told her what to do — straighten your knees but don’t lock them, don’t bend over, don’t tuck your bottom under, head up, chin forward, the heels goes down before the toe.

  After what seemed an hour but had probably been less than the promised ten minutes, Travis stopped as they were turning at the end of the barre, with her back to it.

  “I’m going to step away. The floor’s clear in front of you; take two steps and you’ll be in my arms.”

  She was terrified she’d fall, but heard Jonathan close and assumed he was there to catch her, just in case.

  As promised, Travis was there to support her when she’d taken the two steps, but he turned them to the side and said, “Okay, three steps and Jonathan will get you.”

  They only moved apart until she had to take four steps between them, but it was terrifying, and her feet hurt so bad she was at the point of tears. However, between the huge plug in her ass and the vibrations over her clit, she would’ve done almost anything for an orgasm.

  When Travis finally walked her to the padded mat and allowed her to sit, she thought they’d take the torturous boots off, but she was instructed to spread her legs, straighten her back, and lean forward.

  Her weight rolled over her bare pussy, pushing it onto the wide strap at her crotch and making the vibrations more intense, but still not enough to carry her over the edge. She followed Jonathan’s instructions and leaned right, center, left, center...straightening her spine when reminded, pointing her knees to the ceiling and not forward, and futilely tried to ignore the smarting in her stretched legs and hips. If every movement hadn’t changed the vibrations at her clit and pussy, she likely couldn’t have handled it.

  “Okay, lay on your stomach, arms over your head, legs together.”

  She mercifully pulled her legs together and rolled over, arching her back and raising her bottom suggestively once in position, as the plug in her ass made her crave the feel of a pistoning cock.

  Jonathan directed her hands near her waist and had her push up until her head blindly faced the ceiling, and then instructed her to, “Bend your knees and try to touch your toes to your head. They aren’t going to touch today, but get them as close as you can.”

  She again followed instructions, able to deal with the burn and stretch only because she was so damned horny, but when they allowed her to let herself down, only to give the order to reach back and grab her ankles, it was too much. Her shoulders hurt, her stomach hurt, her thighs were still on fire and may as well be jello, and she couldn’t ignore the pain any more.

  Tears filled her eyes under the blindfold and her voice broke as she said, “Quinacridone, dammit. Red, Quinacridone!”

  She rolled to her side and ripped the blindfold off so she could look down to see how the thing on her waist was connected, but it was solid across the front. Reaching around back, she felt a buckle but her hand was gently moved away and deft fingers quickly unfastened it.

  Arching her spine, she reached back and angrily ignored her screaming shoulders as she pushed from inside and pulled the plug loose with her fingers. Travis was trying to help but she shoved him away as she chucked the plug across the room and tried to stand. She wanted to run from the room and lock herself away from the men, but realized too late the dreadful boots were still on her feet.

  She dropped into a heap on the floor, tears streaming from her eyes as she fell apart. Travis held and supported her as Jonathan went to work unlacing the boots, but she didn’t care what they said and wasn’t listening. She allowed Travis to hold her until the boots were finally removed, but the instant they came off she pushed him away and stood. Her calves protested and her feet weren’t working right but she was prepared to run, anyway. Jonathan stopped her, gently but firmly keeping her with them, and she snapped, “Quinacridone, dammit. Let. Me. Go.”

  He released her and she ran, stumbling through the garage, sprinting up a dozen steps, tearing across the length of the house, into the kitchen and out the back door. She didn’t stop running until she was past the pool area, finally stopping in a garden area and curling up at the base of a tree several feet off the footpath and angled so she wouldn’t be seen by someone on the path. She needed time alone to think before she faced Travis.

  Her tears dried quickly and she felt her consciousness turning inward until she wasn’t aware of her surroundings, and didn’t have to think about what happened. She stared straight ahead without focusing on anything, her eyes hearing and seeing without her brain processing the information. She was vaguely aware when the men came outside looking for her, but not enough to wonder if she should respond. She later compared it to a functioning television invading one’s dreams while sleeping.

  She had no idea how much time had passed when she gradually became aware of her surroundings again and remembered why she was outside. Standing, she walked to the lights of the pool area, taking inventory of her stiff muscles as she walked, surprised her feet didn’t hurt.

  Stepping onto the diving board, she walked to the end, bent her knees, and dove in what felt like slow motion. Her body knifed through the cool water, bringing her mind the rest of the way back to reality; and she surfaced at the opposite end long enough to take a breath before turning and kicking off the side to return to the deep end. She didn’t count the laps but when she finally stopped she saw Travis sitting on the side of the pool, watching with troubled eyes.

  “I couldn’t find you. I was worried.”

  “I needed some time alone.”

  “I’m sorry, Cara. I thought we could adjust his program to work on you, because even though you aren’t submissive you respond like one when you’re on the edge. We’ll find another way to work on your flexibility. I’m sorry.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it and submerged again, giving herself a few minutes to be sure of her words before she said something she couldn’t take back. She swam to the steps and flipped over, surfacing in position to lea
n backwards and sit, with ten feet between them.

  “No, we won’t. If you don’t want me in your life unless I can do the splits then I guess this is goodbye.”

  Travis looked thunderstruck, and he stuttered, “You... I... no...”

  He took a breath and started again. “I’m sorry if I gave you the idea this was mandatory. I miss being able to bend my partner any way I want, and I was hoping to find a fun way to increase your flexibility.”

  “Fun?” She realized she was screaming but didn’t care. She stood on the steps and pulled air into her lungs so she could scream louder. “You thought that was fun? It was hell! I hated it!”

  “I’m sorry. Please Cara, I realized it wasn’t working without me, but once I was in there you responded as if you were enjoying it. You were turned on, and moving like...”

  He trailed off and she viciously said, “Yes, because you got me horny and then held me on the edge. I’d have done almost anything to get off and you knew it. You put me through hell because you knew how to trick me into accepting it.”

  Travis head fell forward and he looked at his knees for several long seconds before standing, carefully keeping his eyes averted so he didn’t look at her. He mumbled another “I’m sorry,” before he turned and walked away, leaving her standing on the steps in knee-deep water, pissed.

  Stunned, Cara watched him walk up the steps and into the house. Jonathan stepped out of the shadows of the porch and walked into the pool house, quickly returning with a large towel. It wasn’t the first time he’d known where to find something and she remembered again how close the two men were.

  “Come on, love. Let’s get you dried off. I have a closing sequence to keep the lactic acid from building up in your muscles, and since we didn’t get to it you’re likely a bit sore. If you’ll allow it, I’ll give you a massage to help work some of the kinks out.”

  She looked up, met his eyes, and was surprised to discover she wasn’t angry with him. He’d been trying to help, and had followed Travis’ instructions. It appeared he was trying to fix things now, and while she didn’t want a massage from him, she appreciated the towel.