Watch What You Ask For

WATCH WHAT YOU ASK FOR

Part Two

Initiated into the ‘contract’ with the author, the wait begins for the next instructions before chapter two is published. 

Chapter One

Just under a week’s passed, the fiancé checking the BDSM website daily, sometimes even more, waiting for the newest stories to be posted.  She figures he’s even more eager then she is hesitant as she glances into the bathroom mirror, the remnants left by the use of the rubber bands over her breasts now just the faintest of discolorations.  She can only imagine how she’s going to be involved in the upcoming storyline as she traces across her bare breasts with the tip of a fingernail, recalling the stinging pain of each elastic band.  She even begins to have second thoughts as to if there’s going to be a story at all, and with her emotions mixed, in a way she hopes there won’t be.

Finally, the beginning of a weekend, a few stories again added to the site, nothing by their author though.  Next day, into the early evening, several more stories have been randomly posted as she finds him seated by the computer for what seems like hours on end while reading anxiously through some of the new tales, watching for the author’s name to pop up between every fresh listing.  Finally, almost a shout, she hears his excited voice as she’s just finishing up with a shower.

“Hey!... Here’s the story!...Oh Damn… It’s good!”  His voice as excited as she is anxious.

“Fuck!”  She whispers under her breath, the memory of the painful session overriding the exhilarating sex afterwards, realizing she is committed to a storyline.  Quickly wrapping the towel across her hair, momentarily standing in front of the steamed surface of the mirror, her fingers clench above her head as she can’t help staring at the image of her bare breasts, finally the bruised circles around each firm swaying mound having disappeared.  Reflecting back to her breasts’ treatment she doesn’t have to guess the meaning of his outcry.  Recalling the biting pain of the rows of bands digging into her tit flesh, still naked, glancing from the bathroom toward the computer room, she feels the rhythmic beating in her chest as she continues to nervously fluff her tangling wet hair with the towel before she hears his raised voice again.  Half hesitant, half anxious, she steps toward the open door.

“Come… Look at this!”  Already scrolling down the screen, his brief glance toward her just a momentary acknowledgement, he again flicks the mouse, leans closer to the monitor.  “Fuck!… Fuck, this is great… He’s using your name… Right here, already!... And… And he’s kinda describing you now… As… As he’s…………”  Eagerly nodding for her to step closer, pointing toward the screen, he hesitates.  “He’s… He’s already got you naked and bound, right out there in the garage to start his fucking story, being… Being… Fuck, he’s describing a guy snapping those rubber bands across your tits just like I did the other night!”  Glancing up toward her bare, wet breasts, the firm mounds shimmering from the reflecting glow of the monitor in the shaded room, he glances back toward the screen, scrolls further down.  “Man, he sure describes you to the ‘T’ doesn’t he?… Big rack and all!... And look… Lookie here!... Quick!”

Nervously stepping behind her fiancé, watching from above the back of his shoulder, she seems almost transfixed toward the text describing her as it slowly scrolls downward.  Her naked body being described in such depth, her breasts, her hips, everything, even down to the dimples on the small of her back, she reflexively reaches up, crosses her still damp chest just below her glistening breasts with her pressing forearm.  Stone quiet for the moment, almost feeling the rubber bands snapping into her tit flesh again, and again, she senses the pain as her bare breasts press out over her forearm, the puffy nipples spreading apart.  Staring at the screen, soaking in the visual wording of the torment she went through scrolling down in bold black letters on the monitor seems almost surreal as she nibbles gently on her lower lip, drawn like a moth to a flame, unable to turn away.

Slowly reaching up, cupping a breast with the curling fingers of her other hand while practically caressing the hardening nub with her thumb as the description of the tiny bands being applied to her nipples begin to scroll by, she’s consumed by the thought that the author can so realistically describe the ‘snap’ of the bands across her tit flesh one after the other, so vivid, so fucking realistic, dead on even down to her pleading whimpers.  Softly sliding the tip of her index finger reflexively around the firm tit flesh where each band had actually been applied, she finds herself beginning to quietly moan along with the author’s written descriptions of her audible responses.

Intently watching the first chapter of the story rolling by, stepping slowly around the chair, drawn to setting on her fiancé’s bare lap, curling back against his chest, she continues to somewhat apprehensively read along with him the entire eight, nine pages.  The sequence of the applied rubber bands, of the clothespins clamped to her breasts is a little amiss as she recalls, but they certainly reflect the pain, the torment inflicted.  As the script unfolds, the storyline placing her in the predicament becomes somewhat harsh, even bordering on brutal, but then again not quite as dark compared to some of the author’s harsher tales.  The forced sex descriptions by the stranger also become a little rough and obviously painful, but so far somehow also kind of stimulating, actually even kind of erotic as she senses the familiar arousing feeling between her already shower dampened thighs.

The story continuing to unfold, the ravaging of her naked body so graphically described, she can feel the other moistness between her legs, her juices flowing as she begins to sense herself somehow actually evolving into the storyline, actually being taken by the stranger, almost sensing his described cock in the tale forced on her.  Shifting her hips, the feeling of her fiancé’s actual cock swelling beneath her bare buttocks causes her to wiggle, squirm across his lap as she senses its responding crown probing, pressing across the outer reaches of her damp vagina while she leans, arches her shoulders back across his chest.  Eyes still riveted on the screen, sensing his hand circling up from around her waist to cup a bare breast, she follows his lead by slipping her own hand up across his, firmly pressing his fingers into the thrust out firm mound of flesh, across the hardened nipple, responding to its stimulation while she continues to mentally place herself ever deeper into the storyline.

Getting to over halfway through the tale, feeling his other hand reaching around, cupping her other breast, his fingers squeezing, manipulating her tit flesh, she lets her index finger glide down across her pubic mound, probe between the damp, puffy folds of her labia to locate the nub of her twitching clit being chaffed across the foreskin of the top his thick shaft still pressing between her thighs.  Visualizing the vivid description of her being spread-eagled right out in their own garage in the storyline, her naked body being described as being bound and stretched in the scrolling text, obviously her treatment much more harsh then her workout the other day, she can sense her body trembling, responding to the thoughts of being so helplessly abused, her vagina being ravaged by the unknown stranger, described as dark and muscular, and with an enormous cock.

The ongoing in-depth saga of her helplessness, of her breasts being painfully, humiliatingly abused, her vagina, rectum probed unmercifully as her torture’s so vividly described, she feels what was her initial apprehension of being part of such a storyline turning toward an unerring acceptance, bordering on a kind of erotic experience even while the flexing tip of her finger plays across her responding clit.  Her flat stomach muscles beginning to ripple, her bare thighs quivering above his, each breath brings a raspier moan as she allows the curling tip of her tongue to slowly swipe back and forth across her moist upper lip, her bare buttocks flexing across her fiancé’s nine inches of thickening shaft beneath her as she follows the scroll on the screen of being impaled over and over by the even larger cock in the story.

The towel having unraveled, fallen from off her shoulders, onto the floor, the last lines of the first chapter of the story scrolls across the screen, leaving the image of her left alone in the garage, her naked body battered, bound and sprawled, covered with impossible amounts of semen.  Naked herself now, trembling, aroused, she feels his hands sliding down beneath her, lifting upwards against her butt cheeks.  Relaxing back, closing her eyes, her heart picks up a beat as she allows her head to tilt further back across his bare shoulder.  Feeling his throbbing cock flexing, probing between her butt cheeks, visualizing the story’s lines, she fantasizes who’s beneath her, what’s pushing upward against her spreading vagina.  Gripping, cupping her thrust out breasts with both her clenching fists, she can feel the swollen head of his shaft ramming upward, inward, pulsing deeper inside her with each short but forceful thrust.  Moaning with each jerking thrust, she hears his own groans becoming loader grunts with each harsh penetration as his cock pressing inside her feels larger then ever.

Sensing his hand slipping around her hip as he presses his fingers against her pubic mound, his forefinger and thumb finding her clit, tugging twisting as her buttocks flattens back across his lap, she feels his cock ramming forcefully deeper, completely engulfed between her trembling thighs as he strokes in and out, deeper and harsher as her naked body’s jerkily raised and dropped across his bucking lap by his clenching fists.  Her eyes squinting tightly shut, her fingernails begin to hesitantly dig, then twist into her contorting globes, her mind engrossed ever deeper into the storyline, fantasizing the thick cock of the stranger’s pounding inside her, impaling her while her fingers become his clenching hands abusing her bare breasts.  “Oomph!... Humph!... Aaaggghhh!”  Grunting, wheezing, she imagines herself being helplessly, sadistically ravaged, finding herself almost wanting to be.

Harshly grasping at her thrust out breasts as her head jerks from side to side, her wet, tangled hair flailing across her shoulders, her own hands continue grabbing, twisting, painfully stretching the bare melons as her fingernails scrape, dig into her tit flesh, all simulating her thoughts of  her abuse in the storyline.  Riding her fiancé’s pounding cock, corresponding with the stranger’s cock burrowing deep inside her sex, she grunts even louder, squints her eyes forcefully shut, envisioning her rape while trying to imagine the author’s idea of the stranger beneath her.  Rasping for wheezing breathes as her glistening body succumbs to continuous tremors, reflexive spasms, her stomach churning; she forces her flexing hips to grind even harsher across what seems like the stranger’s huge cock, impaling her with each deep thrust while she squirms back and forth, aggressively, almost angrily riding him up and down while her mind morphs ever deeper into the storyline.

Time seeming to stand still, her buttocks bouncing across his thighs as she’s firmly mounted on the throbbing shaft, finally the ripples deep inside her womb become uncontrollable contractions as her naked body reflectively quivers, shakes.  “Aaaaaaggggghhhhh!”  A long moaning grunt, spasm after spasm rippling from deep inside her womb as her fingernails dig into her contorting tit flesh, she feels his swelling cock pulsing, ramming inside her even harsher as her hips reflexively jerk, bounce.  “Oooommppphh!”  Another unintelligible groan, she can’t hold back the mounting, rumbling orgasm exploding from deep inside her womb, her milky secretions spurting, gushing out across her inner thighs, his bucking thighs.

His engorging cock pulsing, throbbing as he runts, in moments, it too gushes load after load in waves as their sweating bodies jerk, press together across the creaking chair.  Loud animalistic grunts intermingling, his arms clutching around her shoulders, his hands grasp at her bare flesh as her own clenching fingers remain burrowed ever deeper into her discoloring breasts.  Her sweating body jerking, jerking again and again before finally slumping limply back, pressing against his trembling chest, she feels him too finally slumping back against the swaying seat.  The monitor flashing to a blank screen, the chair titled dangerously back, their naked bodies cuddle together in exhaustion, both drenched in perspiration rasping for breath until the room slowly becomes quiet.

Chapter Two

More sex that night, again early the next morning, again around noon.  Afterwards reading the story one more time, their imaginations heighten to what the next chapter could bring, their concerns split as to what she’s going to be ordered to physically submit too before the next chapter’s submitted on the website.  Deciding to spend the entire Sunday in the house together, winding up mostly discussing the tale, its first chapter, she has to admit that even as painful as the rubber bands were, the sex later was incredible, even the rougher sex after reading the story the first time, and the fantasizing to it while reading it on the monitor actually added to it immeasurably.

Already wondering when they’ll be contacted again, the computer practically kept on, he eventually pulls up the site, enters the reader’s comment section for the story.  Giving his usual ten stars to the author for his latest, and obviously most exhilarating tale, he leaves a coy comment at the end of his praising commentary stating he’s eagerly awaiting the next chapter, hoping its much sooner then later.  Going back to the library of stories, scanning their story one more time, mentally placing her again into the tale, he feels the adrenaline continuing to flow.  Recalling the excitement of binding her and working over her bare breasts, the intoxicating feeling of dominating her, then sending her photos to the author, he can’t wait for the next contact, especially to read the next storyline for the first time with her on his lap. 

Back to the bedroom, another romp in the sack, concentrating on her already bruised breasts, feeling the heightened excitement of abusing both globes as she squirms, arches, thrusts her chest outwards as she moans, whimpers, her own fingernails digging into his buttocks as he pounds between her spread thighs, even as he mounts, runts her, the anticipation of what the author’s possibly coming up with next overwhelms his thoughts as another orgasm drains his trembling body.  Collapsing across her, rolling off to the side, lying back on the bed, he closes his eyes, relaxes, drifts off.

Lying against his naked body as she also collects her breath, she stares toward the ceiling, the back of her head resting on a fluffed pillow.  Feeling her aching breast with a cupped hand, her other hand flattened across his stomach as he catnaps, she also wonders what the next chapter will be about, what she’s facing next.  Feelings mixed, actually quite confusing, she thinks of the obvious upcoming pain again in store for her even as her fingers trace across her puckering nipple.  Yet, she also thinks of the almost indescribable sensations of reading a story based on her, the description of her naked body precise, obviously thanks to the photos, and the secretively personal connection to the author, the unnatural control he’s in a way already having over her, his ability already to have her hurt, humiliated, and yet on the other hand, reward her with the most incredible sex imaginable just by his writings.  Eyelids heavy, slowly closing, she too boarders on sleep as she feels her fiancé slipping her hand away from his body as he gently slides toward the side of the bed.  Feeling the bounce of the mattress as she’s left alone naked above the sheets, she too drifts asleep in the darkening shadows of their bedroom.

Leaving her to rest, the computer on, e-mailing the author, asking for another exchange as quickly as possible, he re-reads the tale another couple times, imagines the endless possibilities as she lies alone in bed.  An hour turning into a couple, the late afternoon turning toward evening, a last glance into the website and there’s still no response as he shuts the computer down.  On the verge of frustration, glancing in at her naked body sprawled across the bedspread as he steps past the bedroom toward the bathroom, the anticipation of the next chapter of the story’s becoming an obsession; he can only guess when the author will again respond or how the story will progress.  A quick shower and he’ll hop on her again.

A couple days passing, the tale racking up a number of readers, it’s obviously another hit, quickly rising past the other recently submitted stories as yet another favorite on the site.  Alone at home she finds herself re-reading it among a few others of the author’s mounting work of often crude but admittedly erotic literature.   Finishing one of his other tales as she hears the garage door opening in the background, flipping to the e-mail, she’s momentarily taken aback by the screen.  Finally, another message from the author.  Quickly opening it, scrolling down the short message, she’s barely able to grasp its significance.

The footsteps behind her, she turns as her fiancé glances across her shoulder, verbally scans the screen.  “What’s… What’s this?...  A list?”  He eagerly asks.  “One roll of bailing wire… Three serrated alligator clips………”  Stepping around her, sliding into the seat as she stands up for him, he continues.  “Six wax candles, four inch circumferences…  Large bag of one foot length draw tights… One Wartenberg pinwheel, sharp… Roll of duct tape…  Coil of clothesline rope… Leather razor strap.”  Glancing across his shoulder toward her, glancing back at the screen, he finishes reading.  “Have all items for Saturday at noon for e-mail instructions… She’s to be bathed, shaven… She’s also to remain celibate until then… Also… The same digital camera is recommended.”

Her eyes widening, parts of the message sinking in, most disturbing in nature, the other’s purposes only speculative, she silently rereads the screen herself as she grips his shoulder with a cupped hand and asks.  “What… What you think all that stuff’s for?”  She asks, concern, apprehensiveness in her voice.  “I… I mean… a Wartenberg…. Wheel… That’s a… A doctor’s tool isn’t it?”

“Yea!”  He answers, also glancing over the screen again, a better idea then her as to what the list means.  “It’s got lots of spikes circling a wheel connected to a handle… And he emphasizes ‘sharp’ too.”

“Duct tape?... Rope?... And candles?... And… And alligator clips?”  She mutters as she shakes her head, senses the use of some of the more ominous items on the list as her stomach begins to churn, her heart picking up a couple beats as she reflexively tweaks a nipple between her thumb and fingernail, almost certain what the clips will be used on.

“Yea!”  Again breaking in, the excitement in his voice hard to shield, he blurts out.  “Serrated clips… That’s a bunch of teeth like, sharp points on metal clamps!... And he wants three of ‘em!”  Leaning closer to the screen knowing himself where the three clips will be used, glancing back toward her as she’s reflexively crossing her arms out in front of her chest, he adds.  “Rope… Draw tights… And what else?... Oh… A razor strap… And… And bailing wire?... What the fuck’s that wire going to be for, I wonder?”

“Fuck!... She shakes her head slowly back and forth.  “I wonder what the fuck he thinks he’s going to do with all that shit?...  And…  And what’s that crap about celibate?... No fucking sex?... Why?... What’s it to him?”

Leaning back, running his hand up the outer edge of her blue jeans, on up across the side of her blouse, he glances back at the screen, shaking his head back and forth as he adds.  “We know what he wants the camera for… Don’t we, babe?”

Chapter Three

       A couple more days, then another, finally the weekend arrives.  Late Friday night, the bag of items collecting in a bag in the garage, a thousand uses has crossed her mind during the week, probably two thousand crossing his.  Discussing the possibilities almost endlessly each night, each night of him bringing home another item or two on the list to add to in the sack, the memories of the first ‘shoot’ of photos, the pain involved, her apprehension begins to drift back into place, building with each passing day.  On the other hand, he’s struggled to try to shield his anticipation, the countless ways he’s picturing in his mind what she’s facing once the next ‘shoot’ begins.  One more day, not even that, she’ll be the model for part two of their tale.

       Another day, anxious, his having a hard time holding the anticipation in, it’s taken some serious coaching from him to keep her from nixing the appointment.  One more night, letting her toke a couple buds, chew a couple Xanax tablets, he’s run a hot bath for her in the circulating tub.  Extra bubbles, scented water, the works.  A glass of wine, giving her a few moments to soak, he quietly steps into the bathroom, kneels beside the almost overflowing tub.  Her head back against a large flattened coral sponge, arms stretched downward on either side of the flat lips of the tub, her eyes shut, the circulating ripple of the water affects the buoyancy of her soaped breasts as they gently lift and lower with the areolas, nipples partially submerged in the parting bubbles.

       Dipping in the water, drenching her chest with another hot, soapy sponge, he glances at her serine expression, her hair wrapped tightly behind her head pressing back, her face void of makeup, yet smooth, flawless, her full lips gently parting as she slowly breathes through her mouth as she reflexively arches her breasts forward, upward through the soapy bubbles to press into the soppy coral.  The marks left across her rounded globes from last week now traceless, her overall tan body glistening, the covering moisture beading, dripping from her bare flesh, a wisp of steam curls, rises from the bathwater.  Another calculated dip of his hand down into the tub, his arm submerged to his elbow, he swipes upward between her spread thighs, pressing against her pubic mound, up past her rippling navel as her parting legs respond.  Shoving the sponge again downward, pressing it deeper between her spreading thighs as her knees part, brush against the sides of the tub, the backs of his fingers slide across the puffy mounds of her labia, his knuckle flattening the nub of her clit as her hips rise, lower again into the hot swirling bathwater.

As she seems to utterly relax, his emotions are quite the contrary.  Restless with anticipation, visualizing using the memorized items in the bag on her naked flesh, he’s certain he knows where the serrated clips are going, all three of them as his submerged fingers continue to tease her clit while he watches the tan ovals of her areolas peek out of the soapy water.  The Wartenberg pinwheel’s also a given, the extra sharp needle tipped wheel will roll across her breasts and vagina quite nicely.  And, with the proper pressure, leave a nice pattern of tiny pin pricks.  More soap into the squeezed sponge, swiping it back and forth across her firm breasts, drenching her puckering nipples, he can envision the wide razor strap flattening both melons at the same time, then alternated across her butt cheeks, even up between her spread thighs.

Holding back the urge to climb into the tub with her, knowing for whatever reason, it’d be practically impossible for the author to know she’d been fucked before tomorrow night, he still restrains himself, just continues playing with her titties, her cunt as she’s practically limp, basically semi-conscious from the pills and pot mixed with the wine and hot soaking bath.  Besides, just envisioning where he’s going to get to use all those devices on her seems almost as good as the sex itself.   Another swipe of her bouncing titties, another submerged swipe between her separating thighs, he continues to anticipate, place his expectations into the many stories he’s read by the author.  Figuring the candles will obviously be used to drip wax across her naked flesh, obviously her breasts will be drenched in molten layers, covering her nipples, probably across her pubic mound and even down across her clit.  The possibilities flooding his thoughts as his cock stiffens, it’s even possible with the number of candles and their thicknesses; her orifices just might be used for candle holders.

Sliding a hand across his throbbing shaft as he continues to kneel on the wet floor, slowly stroking as his thoughts become even more erotic and sadistic, he keeps his eyes on her naked body slumped back, utterly relaxed by her sponge bath.  Thinking of what else is left of the items, the clothesline, obviously for binding, and maybe for suspending, and probably some hogtying, even tit tying, there’s any number of possibilities, but he still can’t figure what the spool of wire could be for, where it could be used, how it could apply to her.  Still thinking, still watching her boobs partially submerged, yet floating up and down in the soapy water, he runs the sponge back and forth across her parted thighs, her pubic mound as pre cum oozes from the tip of his pulsing shaft.

Several days without sex, feeling his masturbated cock twitching, beginning to throb, he drops the sponge in the water, quietly stands as he continues stroking the thick rod a little longer, harder as it begins to twitch.  Tilting her face toward his thighs with his free hand, gripping her hair, he shoves his spurting cock between her lips, rams it across her tongue, deep down into her throat.  Thrusting, ramming, staring down toward her startled eyes blinking hazily up into his, the soapy bath overflowing the side of the enclosure, her breasts splashing across the surface of the rippling water, he forces her face against his thighs as the second, third load of his cum gags her as she grunts, swallows, her hands gripping, slipping from the edges of the wet tub.

Pulling away, the familiar gush of air escaping her mouth from the suction of his still engorged cock, he kneels again, retrieves the sponge from the bathwater, swipes it playfully across her startled face, her still gapping mouth.   As he splashes more soapy water up across her breasts, again against her face with his bare hand, she turns her head away, mumbles, cusses as she swipes her own hand back and forth across her sticky lips, glances back into his eyes as she leans back, again grips the tub’s sides and rasps.  “Fuck!... Damn it!...  Now sponge me some more you asshole!… And…  And use it down between my legs, clean my cunt good… Work it for me real good.”  Still staring at him, she adds.  “That’s the least you can do for me now, asshole… Especially since you just shot your load in my mouth!”  Tracing her tongue around her wet lips, she mumbles.  “Your author friend didn’t say you couldn’t get me off… He just said you couldn’t fuck me!”

Kneeling on the wet floor, watching her head lean back, her eyes close, the tops of her knees raising out of the water, brushing against the sides of the tub, he retrieves the sponge from between her legs, slips his free hand across one of her glistening globes as he rubs the sponge back and forth across her clit.  Again his thoughts of the coming day, of what the instructions could possibly contain, watching her virtually oblivious to what she’s facing in just a few hours as her naked body begins to respond, rippling the water, knowing she’ll certainly realize the consequences when the drugs wear off, he still can’t figure what the roll of bailing wire’s to be used for.

Playing with her responding clit, the water rippling between her quivering thighs, he smiles as he thinks to himself, he’s sure the author won’t be disappointing, his stories almost never are.  Listening to her subtle moans, it’s obvious to him she’s certainly in for another serious workout, and it’s going to be incredible to be part of it again, especially getting to take more photos of her to send.  Continuing to sponge her vagina, manipulate her drenched breasts as she moans, grips the sides of the tub, he glances toward the clock, almost time for bed.

Chapter Four

Approaching noon, time for the e-mail, he finally sees the notice flashing across the screen at precisely twelve o’clock sharp.   As he taps the computer’s keys she stands behind him, nervous, having taken a couple Xenex without him knowing it, afraid to even anticipate what she’s in store for.  The message short, precise, the list will be a painful excursion into the storyline.  The several items all have their uses, except for the bailing wire for some reason.   Glancing up toward her, having her step around, sit on his lap, he holds her close to him in her cotton robe as they read the list a second time.

An occasional moan from her, a rub of her shoulders by him, he’s more then eager, excited even as he tries to shield his feelings from her as she mutters the list out loud.  “Wax on my titties… My nipples.”  She softly speaks as she taps a finger next to the key board.  “Bound spread-eagled with the rope…  The Wartenberg thing rolled across by nipples, my vagina!... That, that fucking bastard!”  Crossing her legs, a hand between her thighs, she continues.  “The sharp clamps clipped to my nipples, my clit!... Oh my God!”  She grunts as her thighs press even closer together.  “And… And the draw-tights binding my breasts as I’m hung by my wrists and whipped across my titties with that strap!... Fuck!... Fuck… Fuck!!... No way!... That’s… That’s too much!... Way too much!”

Still caressing a shoulder, pulling her back against him, he feels the excitement of doing all those things, photographing them, then being able to read the next chapter and think of her over and over in the storyline.  Slipping a hand inside her robe, feeling the smooth, flat surface of her areola, nipple, neither hard, just flat, he realizes she’s obviously not so excited with the message, yet.  Running his hand down her stomach, across her thighs as she continues to press her legs together, he brushes his chin across her neck, whispers in her ear.

“It’s okay… We can stop if you really want too… It’s okay; it was exciting while it lasted.”  His obviously disappointed voice, the pretense of understanding but with a hint of disappointment, he again brushes his chin across her neck, her ear as she squirms, continues to glance at the monitor as she cups a breast beneath her robe, slowly melds the firm flesh, flicks the nipple gently back and forth as it responds, shrivels.

“That… That’s just too much… Too harsh… Really it is!”  She mutters, almost apologetically as she turns her head, glances toward his disappointed expression.  “All that’ll hurt me… My titties too…  Too much.”

Staring into her welling eyes, giving her a subtle smile, knowing from her tone it’s still possible it won’t be long, she’ll be in the garage if he handles it just right, he cups his hand across hers beneath the robe, presses her palm onto her flattening breast.  “You think I’d let you really hurt these… To do anything to really leave any lasting marks or anything?”  He scolds, almost with a hurtful tone.  “It’s just a game, and if you want to stop now… Or even use a key word to stop at anytime while we play… It’s up to you, and its okay, Hon!... It’s your choice… It’s just… Just think how great our sex had been… But…. But it should still be good, anyway.”

Feeling the nub of her nipple responding beneath her palm, antagonizing over what to say, to accept, she mutters.  “A… a password if it hurts too much?... To… To stop when… If I want?... We can stop?... You sure?”   Thinking back to the occasional clothespins on her nipples, the almost child like fantasy games they’ve played out in the past between the two of them, compared to what’s on this list, she can’t block that feeling again from deep within, that little part of her that obviously enjoys the attention, even a certain amount of pain leading to their sex.

A caring smile, a soothing voice as he acknowledges her.  “Sure… A single, easy word if it feels too harsh and you want to quit.”  His stomach churning, knowing he’s got her on the verge of agreeing, he feels his cock hardening beneath her buttocks as he adds, taking away the option of not continuing.  “Up to you… So what’s the magic word going to be that’ll probably never have to be used anyway?… ‘Cause I’m not going to really hurt these titties… You know that, don’t you?”

“Oh… Okay… I… I guess… Okay then… We’ll try it.”  She almost whimpers, still glancing at the screen, noticing a blinking signal, nodding toward it, she asks.  “What’s that?... That there mean?”

Leaning forward, a couple flicks of the keys, a second e-mail scrolls across the screen.  Reading, rereading it, it’s an alternative to the scheduled session in the garage.  Glancing toward him, again toward the monitor, she asks.  “What’s that all mean… That… That suppose to be for tonight instead of the other stuff?”

Scanning the note again, an address of a fetish shop, a list to purchase stocked items, even the online address to have the material ready for purchase and pickup within the hour if purchased by credit card, they also see an address for an S and M club and a nine o’clock deadline to arrive at the club, and to be prepared for the evening’s activities.

The list of female items, clothing and cuffs, all quite in the fetish mode, the price not inexpensive, she again glances toward him, barely uttering the list.  “Stilettos, corset, chocker collar with leader leash.  Again glancing toward him, repeating ‘leader leash’, she continues with the screen.  “Wrist, ankle cuffs, garter, fishnet stockings… And Ball gag.”

Listening to the quiver in her soft rendition, he’s ready to reach for his credit card, go to the online store.  Glancing toward her, reading the bottom of the e-mail explaining the alternative to the initial session in the garage, realizing he’s to be her escort, actually to be her Dom at an S and M club on the other side of town this very evening, it’s hard to conceal his excitement of the possibilities.

“What’s he want us to do?”  She asks, concern, an almost unreceptive tone to her voice.  “You… You’ll take me to a fetish club… Dressed in that stuff?... Then what?”

Holding her tighter, thinking how exciting that could be, to go to something like that; he scrambles for a way to get her to approve, to do it.  “Hey, it could beat the hell out of what he wants us to do here… And… And you’ll be with me the whole time!”  He blurts.  “And we’ll be strangers to who evers there!... So… So no one will even know us.”

“Damn… Damn that’s scary!... And… Crazy!”  She shakes her head back and forth.  I… Don’t know!... I don’t really think it’s a good idea… Do… Do you?... Fuck, we don’t even know who they are!”

“Listen… The site’s on the web… Address and everything… It’s got to be safe… I mean especially with me being right there with you…. And… And if you don’t like it, we’ll just leave and come back home.”  His voice crisp, sharp.  “Huh?... Listen… We’ve kidded about stuff like that before while we played around… He’s giving us a chance to experience it… Just one time maybe… We can give it a try!!”

“Yea… Kidded… Fantasized.”  She answers, just a tinge of a slur.  “Just played with the thoughts while messing around……….”

“Okay… Then let’s just give it a try…. One time… Just one time… Okay?”

The pills taking the edge off, the thought kind of intriguing in a way, kind of, she kind of nods even as she actually knows better deep down.  Already entering the store’s online site, punching in the number for the order from the e-mail, seeing the items already waiting in the out basket, in a couple minutes the purchase is finalized, ready for pickup.

Lifting her up off his lap, a quick e-mail to the author, he figures he’ll be back within the hour if he leaves now.  “Start getting ready, I’ll be right back.”  Just getting the words out of his mouth, the e-mail’s returned.  Opening it, not even an appreciative comment, reading the short note explaining the etiquette of being a submissive, the proper procedures she’s expected to abide by, he realizes she’ll need some quick training of the short list when he gets back.

Keys in hand, a peck on her cheek, he stares into her slightly hazing eyes.   “Get your bath… Get made up while I’m gone… When I get back I’ll show you a few things he sent for you to practice on before you get dressed… Understand?”

A nod, her robe slipping off her shoulders, she mumbles.  “You’ll be back… I’ll be ready… Okay!”

The electronic garage door opening as he backs his Lexus out onto the driveway, flicking the opener, the door shutting, the excitement’s almost overwhelming as he pulls out of the cul-de-sac. Thinking of some of the storylines involving S and M clubs by the author, the reality of actually becoming involved with one, he can’t wait.   Damn, his mind races, who the hell knows what’s going to happen tonight, and its all going to be real!

End Part Two