Indulgence

by Liz Crowe

“And the lifestyle?”

  “We talked about that before we ever actually met. We met on a website for kinksters. He liked me because I didn’t have naked pictures of myself posted, and I liked him because when he sent me the friend request, it wasn’t a dick pic. Of course, I got one of those later!” she laughs.

  I just have to ask the question that’s burning in my chest. “So is there a club around here?”

  “There are several, but we really like the one where we’re members. It’s clean and the people are friendly, and they’re very non-judgmental. Believe it or not, one of the clubs wouldn’t let us in because we’re an interracial couple.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “What the hell century are we in again?”

  “I know, right? Idiots.” She turns up her upper lip in disgust and rolls her eyes. “If that’s how they feel, we don’t want to be members there anyway.”

  “Exactly. So what do we do the rest of the afternoon?” I’m looking at my watch and I think we’ve still got a couple of hours to kill.

  “Come on. I’ll take you to my favorite store.” This should be fun. I’m sure they have cutesy dresses and sexy shoes and all that stuff.

  Oh, yeah, sexy shoes and all that stuff. It’s an adult store, The Painted Lady. I don’t think there’s a single thing anyone could want that they don’t have. Craziness, that’s what it is. And then she takes me to a big wooden door with huge iron hinges. “Here’s the fun stuff,” she whispers and throws the door open.

  It’s a warehouse full of dungeon equipment. My god. There are things in here that I’ve only seen in pictures, and I’ve been a member of the club for years now. One of the ones I really like is a huge bondage bed, and I make a mental note to see if I can find them online. But there, in the store, it’s about twenty-three hundred dollars, and we can’t afford that. Plus I don’t want to have to move the damn thing, and that’s exactly what would happen.

  We putter around in there for a couple of hours, and I buy some blow job candy – it’s really like pop rocks – plus some throat numbing spray and a gel that’s guaranteed to make my clit tingle. Like I need that . . . and then my phone rings. “Hey, Sir, how’s it going?”

  “Good! You girls about finished up?”

  “Yep. I got some fun stuff too. Wait until I tell you about everything we did.”

  I hear him snort with laughter. “So I hear there was no way you were going up in the arch!”

  “Absolutely not. Never gonna happen.”

  “Never say never, baby girl.”

  “Never. Never, never, never.”

  “Okay, all right. Point made. So what’s for dinner?”

  “Where do you and Reggie want to go?”

  “We want seafood or Italian. Which one would you . . .”

  “Italian! Please!”

  Now he’s really laughing at me. “Okay, Reggie says to tell Misty to go to Guido’s Trattoria. She knows where it is.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell her. Hey.”

  “Yeah?”

  I try to whisper loudly enough that he can hear me. “I missed you today.”

  “Same here, baby. Love you. See you in a bit.”

  “Love you too. Bye.” I turn to Misty. “Guido’s . . .”

  “Trattoria. How did I know?” she laughs. “We’ll be there in fifteen.”

  *****

  The restaurant is elegant beyond belief. And I hate that. I’m sure it’s expensive, and Jaz really can’t afford this. Both guys greet us with kisses, and I’m instantly impressed with Reggie. He seems like a fabulous guy who’s just positively smitten with Misty. She watches him with google eyes all evening like she just can’t get enough. God help them, they’re in as deep as we are.

  Dinner is incredible, starting with lovely wine-steamed mussels. I let Jaz order for me, and he orders a pasta al pomodoro. I love the tomatoes but, unlike a lot of dishes with tomato sauce, this is very light and refreshing. He has the biggest lump of lasagna I’ve ever seen in my life, and I’m thrilled to see it has a healthy layer of spinach and toasted pine nuts in it. Bless his heart, he tries.

  We sit around afterward with our wine, sipping and talking. Finally, Jaz asks, “So do they let visitors into your club?”

  “With me they will or I’ll knock some heads together!” Reggie says, laughing into his wine glass. If he asked me to let someone in, I’d say yes. I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of his wrath, no sir.

  Jaz turns to me. “Would you like to go?”

  “I sure would! Can we?”

  Jaz looks at Reggie. “Tomorrow night?”

  “Thursday nights are usually pretty quiet. I’m sure that won’t be any problem at all. Let me call the manager and explain the situation to him. Would you be willing to do a shibari demonstration?”

  “Kinbaku and, yes, I’d be glad to.” Jaz turns to me. “Do you think you can do that?”

  “I’ll most certainly try but I don’t want to embarrass you.” I’d die if he were embarrassed by me freaking out.

  “You’ll do fine. I won’t do anything too terribly restrictive, and I’ll take my time and let you take yours to settle into it.” He looks at me and says, “I know you’re thinking about Amelie. It’s okay. I don’t expect you to be her, Kimmie. You’re a different person, and you’ll react differently. And we’ll adjust.” I just nod. “Good. Make the commitment, Reggie. We’ll do it if they want.”

  “Good deal. I know they’ll let you in that way. And you’ll be able to do whatever you please after the demonstration. Do you need a third or fourth? Because we’ve got some guys at the club who’re really good at . . .”

  Jaz’s eyes flash. “No. I don’t make it a habit to share. Ever.”

  Reggie nods. “That’s cool. Just thought I’d offer.”

  “Thanks, but no.” Jaz turns to me. “More wine?”

  “Nah. But thanks, Sir.” I try to stifle a yawn but I can’t.

  “Looks like you need to take someone back to the hotel and put her to bed!” Reggie chuckles.

  “Looks like I do! Hey, listen, thanks for dinner. And Misty, thanks for showing Kimmie a good time. You guys got something fun to do tomorrow?” Jaz asks her, and her face lights up.

  “I think so. But she’ll have to call you several times during the day.” She turns to Reggie. “Is that okay, Sir?”

  “Perfectly okay. So you two can find your way back to the hotel?”

  “I have nav,” I say and hold up my phone.

  “Then see you in the morning, Jaz.” The guys exchange handshakes and then Reggie hugs me and Jaz hugs Misty. I like these people. They’re comfortable to be around, friendly, warm, everything I’d want in friends.

  Friends. I have new friends. I’ve spent years with just Michael and Robyn, too afraid and damaged to go out and meet anyone new. But today I’ve had fun. On the way back to the hotel I tell Jaz, “They’re so nice. I wish we lived closer.”

  “Me too. But you have Michael and Robyn.”

  “Oh, yes. I’d never trade them in for anything.”

  He pats my thigh as he drives and I watch various landmarks go by. St. Louis is a pretty place. I’m so happy to be here with him.

  Once we’re back in the hotel, the very first thing he does is gather me into his arms and kiss me – hard. When he pulls back and looks at me, he grins. “God, I missed you. All I could think about today was last night. You’re a magnificent fuck, missy.”

  “You’re a magnificent fuck too, Master.” The minute the word is out of my mouth I can feel him hardening against me. “I hope I get to experience some of that magnificence tonight.”

  “Absolutely. Got anything new for me? Did you buy me a present?”

  “Well, sort of. Wanna see?”

  He laughs out loud. “Sure! Hope it’s good!”

  “Oh, I think you’ll like it. I’ll just be going into the bathroom now,” I say as I pick up my bag of new stuff. “Nothing going on in there. Absolutely nothing.”

  “Of course not.” As I
walk away, he starts stripping off clothes, and I know he’ll be naked when I come back out. And that’s fine with me.

  I get all dressed and stick my head out the bedroom door. “Ready?”

  “Um, yeah, I suppose. What am I supposed to be ready for?”

  I step out of the bathroom and I get a “Sweet mother of god, look how fuckable you are!” I just grin. I’m barefoot, and I’m wearing the tiniest pair of little Daisy Duke shorts ever made and a red and white checked shirt that’s tied at my midriff. My hair’s up in pigtails, and I’ve got a rope belt around my waist. Did I mention my push-up bra? Yeah, the girls are high and huge, and Jaz’s eyes almost pop out.

  “Hey, Sir! How y’all doin’? Y’all wouldn’t know somewhere that a little ol’ country girl could find a man, now wouldja?” I’m trying hard not to start giggling. He’s not. He’s staring at my tits.

  “I think I might know one who’d love to meet you. How ‘bout you come on over here and let me see how purdy you are, little girl.” His outstretched hand is met with mine, and I’m more than ready for him to take me and tear me down with that yummy cock of his. I swear, I think he’s sexier right now than he was the night before, if that’s possible. “Um-um-ummmm, look at you, darlin’. You got yourself quite a rack there, don’tcha?”

  I thrust my chest out. “Yes, Sir, I do. And I’m lookin’ for a man who can handle ‘em. Know any around these parts?”

  “Actually, I do. Let’s see what we got here, girly.” He unbuttons my blouse but leaves it tied, and then pulls it open to expose my red check bra. “Nice bra. Very nice.” He slips a hand into each cup and just hefts my breasts out of them, leaving them supported by the cups but completely exposed. There’s a rattle in his pocket and before I can respond, he snaps a clover clamp on one of my nipples and I shriek. “You wanted a man, you’ve got one. Take it like a big girl.”

  “Oh, Sir, please . . .” I moan out as he clamps the second one on. “Oh, shit! Oh, god, please . . .”

  “Please what?”

  “Please, Sir, jerk that chain,” I pant out.

  He gives the chain a sharp tug and the clamps tighten. In that moment, I go wet. “Yesssss,” I squeeze out.

  “Down on your knees, country girl. I’m gonna fuck your face something fierce.” I think about the exploding blow job candy I bought, but I don’t want to stop in this moment. It’s too good. “Take off that belt,” he barks, so I untie it and hand it to him. He moves in behind me and ties my wrists together with the rope run through the back belt loop. “There. At my mercy, and I have very little,” he lets out in a menacing whisper. “Open wide and take this cock, girl.”

  Straight down my throat. I cough the first time, but after that, I’m fine. I add in a little hum and he really gets into it, his hands tangled in my hair and his face a study in ecstasy. This is what I live for. This is what I want. Being used is my calling if I’m being used by a man I know cares for me. I’m lost in thought, my nipples tingling and my pussy dripping. Pulled out of my reverie by his voice, he growls out, “Take my offering, submissive. Swallow it down.” In a split second, my throat is flooded and he lodges his cock in it, grinding in and then holding still.

  I don’t fight him. I can’t breathe, and it’s okay. Things start to get very, very dark, and then suddenly I’m gasping as he pulls out. As soon as I’ve caught my breath, he slaps me – not hard, just a wake-up call kind of slap. A groan escapes my lips. “Had enough yet?” he asks, and he’s answered with the shaking of my head. “Is that right?” Leaning down, he grabs the chain on the clover clamps and gives it a sharp jerk, enough to make me squeal. “I think we need to play rough tonight, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Sir. Please.”

  “Good deal. Tonight I own your body. It’s mine to play with however I want, and I want to give you a reminder of who you belong to.” This isn’t the Jaz who usually plays so sweetly with me, and I like it. “Get up off your knees,” he orders, and helps me by pulling upward hard on the chain. That makes me almost leap to my feet, which is difficult, seeing as how my hands are tied. “To the bed. Lean over it.” He doesn’t join me, and I hear him rustling around – the gig bag. When he comes back, he reaches around me, unbuttons and unzips the shorts, and pulls them down and off. Something is rubbed all over my ass, and I recognize the scent of the lavender oil from before. As soon as he stops rubbing, he says simply, “I can’t wait to see your ass red.” The next sound I hear is the swish of a flogger’s falls, and then he makes contact.

  There’s no way to hold it back – I yelp. The pain takes me completely by surprise, and it warms me from head to toe. The strikes keep coming, and I’m shocked that Jaz would do this, even though I need it. What the hell’s gotten into him? Mind you, I’m not complaining, not one bit. It just seems so out of character for him, and yet I’m so excited I can barely breathe. By the time the last strike hits, I’m a panting, wriggling, writhing mess.

  He follows with, “I really think it’s time we did something different, don’t you?”

  I have no idea what he means, but yeah, bring it. “Yes, Sir. I’m here for your use.”

  “Good. Stay put.” I feel him step away and then he’s back, and there are two snaps – one of latex, and one of a bottle cap. And I know what he’s about to do. This will be it, the final frontier of our sexual realm, and he’s about to explore it. I can’t wait. God, I wish I’d known he wanted to do this so I could’ve done some prep, but I have to trust that whatever happens, it’ll be okay. “Kimmie, safeword?”

  “Pickle, Sir.”

  “Very good. If you need it, use it, but I hope you won’t.” The trickle of lube is cold, and I wait expectantly while he works it into my rosette. I wasn’t sure this was something he’d ever want – we’ve never talked about it – but looks like it is, and that’s fine with me. And just like in the men’s room that day, he orders, “Not one sound. You’ll be punished for non-compliance.” It crosses my mind to defy just to be punished, but this all seems so odd for him that, on second thought, defiance might not be the best idea.

  And then he shoves in. Maybe shove isn’t the best word; he does take his time with the first two strokes, but after that, it’s game on. Jaz isn’t the largest guy I’ve ever been with, but he’s plenty big enough, just a bit above average, and I’m having trouble staying quiet. Most of the guys I’ve done anal with wanted me screaming, so this seems even more odd than before. I really can’t figure out what’s going on with him, but I’m turned on to a fucktastic level, so I decide to get into it and worry about the emotional stuff later.

  That’s when I realize: He hasn’t made a sound either. Not one peep except to direct me. After about ten more strokes, he grabs my hair and leans back into it, pulling my head up more than enough to restrict my airway. The only way I can describe this ass fucking is aggressive. He’s not intentionally trying to hurt me, but he’s not intentionally trying not to either, just pounding away like there’s no tomorrow. Because of the scars and curves, his cock is challenging for this. It’s rubbing every spot I need it to, and I want so badly to come that I can’t stand it, but I don’t think I can. It’s just not possible. I know my juices are running down my legs and there’s nothing I can do about it except ride it out. I’m about to just give up when he stops, his shaft buried in my ass, his tight, full balls against my pussy, and leans around me. Oh, god, is he going to do what I think he’s going to do?

  He absolutely is. Finding my hot spot, he strokes like a maniac and pretty soon I’m wishing I could cry out. The orgasm isn’t pleasant; it’s violent and over-the-top intense, and I jerk and convulse with out-of-control spasms. He just keeps stroking wildly, and I feel another one coming right behind the first. The second one is just downright scary and crazy, and I’m losing my battle to stay on my feet. Just as the realization hits that I’m going down onto my knees, he stops stroking my clit and starts pounding my ass again.

  I shudder and come, and he just keeps going. He wrings at least three
climaxes out of me just from the stroking of my G-spot through that thin membrane that separates my pussy and my ass. For me, the question becomes how long he can keep it up – literally. He’s got great staying power, but this is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. He goes on and on and I find myself lifting off into subspace, drifting along as I wait for the next orgasm to hit and for him to finally come.

  His climax brings my flight to a plummeting halt. In all the years I’ve spent in the lifestyle and all the things I’ve done, I’ve never known a man to have an orgasm like that. He turns loose of my hair, grips my hips, and bows his back over me, hunching me like a maniac, like some kind of wild animal.

  Through it all, he’s never made a sound. Finally still, he rises up behind me and I can feel him trembling, hear him panting. Then he pulls out of me, unties my hands, and simply says, “Go shower.” That’s all. It’s all I can do to straighten up and, when I do, it’s to watch him strip off his condom, pull on his shorts, and walk slowly out onto the balcony.

  Too weird. I really don’t understand what’s going on, so I head on into the bathroom, take off my shirt and bra, and climb in. Other than the butt plug that one night, it’s been a long time since anyone fucked my ass, and that tiny little ring is now on fire and sore. Once I’ve washed it gingerly with some antibacterial soap, I take my usual shower, dry off, comb out my hair, and wrap a towel around it. To my amusement, there is one of those fluffy, white robes on the back of the bathroom door, but I bypass it and instead walk out into the suite naked.

  Through the sheer draperies, I can see him, still sitting in one of the chairs on the balcony, and I tiptoe out that direction. He never told me I could talk yet, so I’m not sure what to do. I decide to do the one thing that seems right.

  Silent and waiting, I sink to my knees beside his chair in the pose I finally developed. The concrete of the patio is rough and cold, but I don’t care. Something’s up and I don’t know what it is, but I want to find out. If he needs something, or someone, I want to be there. After what seems like forever, he whispers out, “I’m sorry, Kimmie.” Apparently he realizes why I’m not responding and he says, “It’s okay. You can talk now.”