by Liz Crowe
And then he draws his hands up the insides of my legs until he comes to the crease between legs and labia, and I shiver all over with arousal. I had no idea I was aroused – I was concentrating so hard on the sensations I was experiencing that I hadn’t noticed. I wiggle a little and he murmurs, “Easy, baby. I’m taking care of you. Tell me what you want. Are you ready for me?”
I try to answer but I can’t make my mouth move. I manage an “Uh-huh.”
“Very good. You need this. You’ll be satisfied when I’m finished with you, and so will I. You want to please me, don’t you?”
I force out another, “Uh-huh.” Everything’s so foggy that I’m having trouble putting it all together, and I feel like I’m floating – then I realize I am floating in those bindings.
“Good girl. You’re about to be rewarded. And so am I.” I feel his fingers slide into my pussy and start to stroke, a fast and furious stroking. Before I know what’s happening, I feel a warm gush and my whole body stiffens. A wildness comes over me and I just want more, want to feel him inside me, want to come over and over. If I could speak, I’d beg, but all I can do is moan and whine. God, I want his length in me, to feel him fill me and pound into me. Squirming in my bonds, I want desperately to press back against him, but I’m neutralized and there’s no way for me to propel myself. I have to trust him to do that.
And he does. With his hands turned palms up to grip my thighs, Jaz steps up between my legs. I feel the head of his cock pressing into my slit, and in one smooth, gentle move, he’s buried inside me. My every thought is directed at that one place where he connects with me like no one else, so erotic and deliciously painful in the first three seconds, and so satisfying and thrilling in the next. His hands grip my thighs, then slide up to my hips and pull me back against him. In the next movement, I’m sent forward until just his tip is left in me, and then pulled back again. My hands ache to touch him, but they’re bound tight. I’m completely at his mercy, and knowing that turns me on in ways I’ve never been turned on. He can do whatever he likes to me and I’ll take it. The sound of a slap registers a split second before I feel it on my ass, my brain dopey and slow, and I cry out, not from pain, but from sheer want.
Jaz Givens is commanding my body. And he’s stealing my heart. Any reservations I might’ve had about him up to that point just fly away with the swing of my body in the ropes. My brain struggles to hear the words he’s murmuring to me. “Oh, yeah, Kimmie. God baby, I wanna fuck you all night. Do you know how beautiful you are? Do you know how hard I am for you? Kimmie, oh god, Kimmie. I want you, babe. I want you always.”
It all rolls over me like thunder in the night, and all I can manage is a strangled, “Come? Come? Please? Pleeeeeease?”
“Not yet, babe, not yet. God no, hang on.” And he stops, buried in me up to his balls. I want to scream, What are you doing? Why are you stopping?, and then it becomes clear when his fingers find my clit. He leans over my back as he strokes, kissing here and there while his fingers work magic, drawing sweet, tantalizing little strokes around and around to make me shiver and moan, then backing off just enough to give me some relief before starting again. He knows exactly how to capitalize on my sensitivity, and every time he starts again, I’m more certain that the intensity will be my death. I’m working at waiting, I really am, but my body is giving way rapidly and I know it won’t be long before I can’t hold back anymore. Begging is what I want to do more than anything, but I can’t; I can hear myself mumbling, my mouth unable to form words, trying so hard to plead with him and wishing he could read my mind. Before another thought comes, he whispers out, “Okay, Kimmie, anytime you’re ready.”
My body convulses and I bounce on the ropes as the orgasm swallows me like a black hole and won’t let go. I hear myself scream, “JEEEZUUUUUUSSSS,” the first semi-intelligible thing I’ve said in twenty minutes. “Oh, please, oh, please, oh, please,” I manage to pant out as he just keeps stroking, and a low growl breaks from his throat.
“That’s it, baby. Get it all out.” When he finally stops, he growls out, “I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. I hope you want me like I want you because, if you do, you’re on fire right now.” Drawing back, he plows into me.
Like an alien voice from a sci-fi movie, from my mouth comes, “OhhhhhHHHHH GAWD!” and I give in to the friction of his shaft. I can’t remember any other man ever making me feel this way, wanton and needy, begging pathetically for more of his cock. Sweet lord, he’s all the man I can handle and then some.
As he strokes into me, I hear him start to groan, in rhythm with his strokes, “Oh. Yeah. Kimmie. Yeah, baby. I’m so damn hard. Uh-huh. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck, baby. Yeah. God, Kimmie. Kimmie, Kimmie, Kimmie . . . shit, shit, shit . . . fuck, fuck . . . shhhhhhit. Oh god, oh god, oh god, I’m, I’m . . . OH YEAH!” Even through his condom, I can feel the heat of his cum, all the while wishing I could know what it’s like to have it inside me, warm and wet and comforting. He’s enjoying me, wanting me, letting me want him and giving me what only he can give. This is bliss, and I float along on it as surely as I float on these ropes. It’s magical, being here with him in this moment, sharing our bodies and our hearts and our souls. Then he stills, and the next words he speaks freeze the moment for me forever.
“You’re mine. I don’t want another woman – ever. Oh, Kimmie, please . . .” His hands engulf my bound ones, slide up my arms, and tangle in my hair, and he pulls my head back and whispers, “What did I do to deserve you?”
All I remember from that point on is the sensation of my body lowering and the ropes loosening. When I open my eyes, his are looking straight into them and he smiles. I try to move my arms and, when I understand that I can, I put a palm on his cheek. Reaching for it, he pulls it away from his face with his own hand, turns it, and kisses my palm. Every sweet minute from before is in his voice when he says, “Hi, beautiful. Welcome back.”
“Was I good?”
He kisses my forehead, a light little kiss that sends shivers up my spine. “You were okay.”
I’m still trying to make sense out of everything. “What did I need to do to be better? I only wanted to please you. I want you to be happy, Jaz, really.” Without warning, I start to cry and I feel like a complete idiot.
Thank god, he blurts out, “Baby, baby! I was just joking! I guess I shouldn’t make jokes when you’re just drifting back from the zone.”
I sniffle hard. “No. You should not.”
“I’m sorry.” He kisses my forehead again, this time more purposefully, and his lips linger a bit longer. When he pulls back, he smiles. “You were perfect. No, perfect plus. We’re very, very good together. You know that, right?” I nod and start to cry again. “Oh, honey, don’t cry! It’s okay. It was awesome – you were awesome. Just rest, okay? We’ll go in a little bit.”
“Jaz?”
“Yes, darling girl?”
I start to sob again. “I want to sign the contract.”
And I cry even harder when he answers me. “Know what?” I shake my head and peer up at him in time to see his eyes mist over. “I do too.”
*****
“You look like you’re feeling well,” I tell Candy when she comes into the workshop on Tuesday.
“I am. For being preggers, I feel pretty good. But it’s getting harder and harder to get up from kneeling in presentation pose.”
I’ve worked to try to get a good fit for her corset and I finally came up with exactly the right thing. She looks adorable, even though it’s not a traditional kind of thing. “So how is Mr. Augustino?”
“He’s well. And we’re getting married!”
“Really?” You finally said yes? Congratulations! So when are you going to do this?”
A wistful look crosses her face. “Next Wednesday. It’s his anniversary.”
“Anniversary?”
“Yeah. His and his late wife’s. He says it will honor their relationship.”
I’m sort of appalled, I guess y
ou’d say. “Their relationship? This is about the two of you.”
“Oh, I know. But if that makes him happy, I’m okay with it. She’s dead. It’s not like she’s going to be in attendance or try to break us up or anything.”
Hey, you know, if she’s okay with it, who am I to say? “So are you planning to wear the corset to the wedding?”
“Oh, no! I’m wearing white!” she smiles with obvious pride.
Good lord. I don’t know what to say to that. “Okay, then, let’s see if we can get this thing finished up for you.” I start working around her. “Are you excited about the baby?”
“I sure am! I never thought I’d have children. You know, after everything.” I guess I look pretty puzzled because she adds, “You know, with all the abortions and everything.”
Uh-oh. This is none of my business. “I see.”
“I’ve had six or seven.” Six or seven? She’s not even sure how many. Holy shit! Since I’m determined not to ask, I’m glad when she offers. “I was an adult film star. And I did a lot of bareback. I tried to time it when I wasn’t ovulating, but to do that and miss out on filming when I was having my period didn’t always work. So I got pregnant several times.”
“But weren’t you on the pill?”
“No! I’m a good Catholic girl!”
Well, now, that’s the beatingest damn thing I’ve ever heard. Porn and abortions, but no birth control. I’m trying to figure out the logic and I realize – it’s pointless. There isn’t any. It’s not about religion. It’s just, well, quirky, and it can’t be figured out. So I just manage, “Oh, well, of course. No birth control. That would be so wrong.”
“I know, right? So I just had them removed.” She talks like it’s a surgical procedure, which I suppose it is. “And my doctor told me after the fifth one that I’d probably never be able to get pregnant. But I did. That guy at the club who bred me has like eight or nine kids, so we knew he could get the job done.” And I realize: She’s talking about Blaze. He and his sub have a houseful. At least two of them belong to other subs who didn’t want them once he got them pregnant, and he and his sub – she’s actually his wife as well – are raising them as theirs. It’s a crazy mess that, oddly, seems to work for them.
About this time, I think to ask, “Boy or girl?”
“At my last ultrasound, they said it was a girl. But sometimes they’re wrong, you know.” A sad look crosses her face. “He really wanted a boy.”
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine with it, er, her, as long as she’s healthy.”
“I hope so. But he already has a daughter.”
“Oh? How old is she?”
She laughs. “She’s forty-six.”
I should’ve seen that coming. His daughter is about twenty years older than the girl he’s getting ready to marry. Holy shit. I hope the old bastard takes his vitamins, that’s all I’ve got to say.
As she’s leaving, Candy smiles at me and asks, “Can I hug you?” I open my arms and she walks right into them, wrapping hers around my neck. “Thank you, Kimberly.”
“For what?”
“For letting me talk. I don’t have anyone my age to talk to.” She hugs me really tight and it’s hard to breathe. “I know you’re older than me, but you’re nice to talk to.”
In an instant, I’m sorry for this girl. She’s barely in her twenties and getting ready to marry a man in his seventies. Yes, he’s filthy rich and yes, he’s good to her, but she’s got to be horribly lonely. I’m glad I can lend her an ear while she’s here. The whole situation is strange, but she’s a good person. “Any time, Candy.”
“Thanks. Bye. Next time I’ll bring a copy of my ultrasound so you can see her!”
“I’d love that. See you soon!” As I’m speaking, she closes the door and disappears. I pick up my phone and send a quick text: Busy? I miss your voice.
My phone rings almost instantly. “I miss your voice too. You okay?”
I sigh as I drop into my chair. “Yeah. I just had a client who, well, she’s having a baby with her Dom.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. And she’s barely in her twenties and he’s in his seventies.”
I hear him sigh too. “Well, nice to know he’s still ‘got it.’”
“Nope. Had her bred by a guy at the club.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
“Wow.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, then he asks, “So do you want more kids?”
“God no! I’m too old.”
“You are not . . .”
“Yes. I am. I had my last period five years ago. And my son is grown. So no. If that’s something you really wanted, I wish you’d . . .”
“God no!” He starts to laugh. “I was terrified you’d say yes just a minute ago! I’ve got Melissa. She’s all I need. And I’m hoping someday she’ll have a partner who wants a child and I’ll have a grandchild. Or two. And hopefully that’s a few years down the road, seeing as how she’s not in a relationship now.”
“She doing okay?”
He sighs again. “Yeah, I guess. She has no idea why Adelaide is being such a bitch. She thinks Addie’s involved with another girl and she’s being bitchy to try to deflect from what she’s doing. I told her she just needs to get out of a poisonous relationship.”
“Poor girl.” I’m picking up and cleaning up from the day’s work as we talk. “So what are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“I’m driving back from St. Louis. I should be in by seven. Want to come over?”
I think for a second. “Why don’t you come to my place? I can start cooking and by the time you get there, it’ll be done and waiting. I’ll try to have it ready by seven. If you’re late, it’ll keep; if you’re early, you can wait!”
I love the sound of his laughter. “Works for me! Want me to bring anything?”
“Your gorgeous smile.” I can see it now, and I’m almost giddy thinking about it.
“Got it with me. I’ll see you around seven. Can’t wait.”
“Me neither. Jaz?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I love you.”
I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “I love you too, Kimmie. See you in a bit.”
“Be careful!” I yell into the phone.
“Okay! Okay! I will! Bye, babe.” With that, he’s gone.
I dance around the workshop, anticipation coursing through me, rising like sap in a maple and just as sweet. Everything in me wants everything about him. It really seems that, for the first time since Phil left, I have a chance to have a happy future. And I want it with Jaz. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man, and he wants me back. That makes me more than happy.
That makes me ecstatic.
Chapter Eight
There’s a rap at the door, and I turn the sauce down before I head that way. I pull it open to find him standing there, bottle of wine in one hand and a huge bouquet of roses and carnations in the other. Ah – my old fashioned fantasy realized! I take both out of his hands, set them on the table by the door, and kiss him before I ever close it. “Wow. I like that,” he grins.
“Yeah. Me too. And thanks. Let me put these in water.” Without me having to ask, he follows me to the kitchen.
“I just wanted to bring you something. The last few days have been busy and we haven’t gotten to see each other,” he says as he stands behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, and he kisses me on the side of my neck. I feel the hair at my nape rise. “I’ve missed you, Kimmie.”
“I’ve missed you too.” I get the flowers into the vase and spin toward him. When I do, he pins me against the edge of the countertop. “God, Jaz, I want you,” I manage to mumble into his mouth as he kisses me.
“I want you too. But we’re not wasting this food. Let’s eat first. I’m sure we can work something out afterward.” He pulls me away from the cabinets, only to smack my ass hard with his open hand. “I’m going to warm that cute little backside up tonight.”
“Promises, promises!” I giggle. “Okay, dinner first. Then don’t make me wait.”
“Not on your life, beautiful,” he whispers into my mouth and then kisses me again. There are no sweeter lips on earth. But he interrupts the kiss with, “What’s that smell?”
“Oh shit! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” I squeal out. When I pull the roasted potatoes out of the oven, I find it was just the butter in the bottom that was getting a little hot – the potatoes are perfect. “Oh, god. I thought I’d ruined them.”
“Look pretty damn good to me. Can I help you with anything?”
“Sure. Open the bottle, please?” I point to the wine bottle sitting on the counter, the one he brought in. “Opener’s in the drawer under it.”
“So, Kimmie, I’ve been thinking.” I hear him doodling with the bottle opener and then that paahhhh sound it makes when he pops the cork out. “You asked me if we were going to live together.”
The sound I hear in my ears is my own blood whooshing through my veins, and my heart starts to slam so hard against my ribcage that I’m afraid it’ll break loose and skitter across the floor. “Yeah?” I manage, breathless and weak.
“So maybe we should consider that. I mean, if we were in the same house, we would’ve seen each other every night instead of going several nights without. Seeing each other, I mean. Not sex. Although we haven’t . . . well, you know what I’m talking about, right?”
I nod, trying to make words form. “Uh-huh.” I swallow a couple of times and take a deep breath. “I mean, yes, Sir. I know what you mean. And you’re right. We would’ve seen each other every night that way.”
I hear the glug-glug-glug of liquid pouring from a bottle and a glass appears in front of me. “So let’s think about what that would mean, if we’d want to do that, how we’d do it. If you want to, I mean.”
I nod again. “I want to.”
“Okay. Sounds good.” He leans against the countertop right beside me, turned toward me while I cook. “By the way, Melissa called me today.”