Rough Justice (a closed thread)

[shereads]

What I’m doing is cruel and cowardly. It’s possible that I’ve done worse things, but if I did it was strictly business.

This is personal, too personal.

Am I sorry to do this to him? No. I’m too relieved to feel sorry. The moment I knew I was going to stand him up, I felt calm. For the first time in months.


FOR DR. MABEUSE. OOC:

Talent agent Karen Delaney. Thirtysomething, happily divorced, less happily facing the end of another relationship. No kids, no pets, no career crisis, no financial problems. No Michael, as of three months ago.

No worries.

Karen has delicate features and a petite build, for which she compensates in the corporate world with a degree of ruthlessness. She has a couple of good friends. And several excellent enemies.

No need to compensate in the looks department. Karen’s parents didn’t leave her much else, but her profession has taught her the value of good DNA. She has her English mother’s peaches-and-cream skin and startling violet eyes; her exotic father’s silken hair, dark and sleek as polished mahogany.

In firelight, as it is now, Karen’s extravagant mane glows almost red from within, as if producing heat. She keeps it long, a vanity she thinks is silly on a woman her age. But she likes it when men stare in a certain way, and she knows they want to touch it.

Two years ago Karen bought this cottage, never occupied until now. Her dream cottage on the Northern California coast. Hidden from view by rocky cliffs on either side and by the forest where it faces the road, the cottage is private and achingly romantic.

In light of what had been planned for tonight and the weeks ahead, the romance of the place cuts like a knife.

Time to go.

She makes sure the fire is out, turns out the lights – the day is overcast and prematurely dark – and leaves a note taped to the door, sealed rather comically in a ziplock baggie in case of rain. Eight miles up the road, on the coastal highway just beyond the village, she checks into the motel where she’ll spend tonight hiding from the man she’s standing up.

A year ago, when her sex life with Michael had settled into pleasant predictability, Karen began an online flirtation with the least likely of men: a Dom. Karen, the least submissive of women, had been shaken to the core by her response to this man. What had begun as harmless teasing had built to unbearable tension, as Karen confronted her darkest secret fantasies.

Cyber-sex with her Dom had been more powerful, more real than anything in her experience.

Her dreams of him were not of writhing bodies, but of words on a glowing screen:


This isn’t a game, Karen. Open your mouth.

>> Yes, baby. Do it in my mouth, come in my mouth! <<

Here it comes, slut. Take it, take it all you HOT fucking BITCH


Damn, it had been good. A wicked pleasure. If only she had left it alone.

Instead, in the aftermath of losing Michael, she had invited her cyber-lover to meet in person. Invited, then pleaded. His reluctance had surprised her, then angered, then panicked her. She had to fuck this man.

He had finally agreed. Karen had taken a three-week hiatus from work, called ahead to have the caretaker prepare the house and stock the pantry, and had spent days in a frenzied effort to tie up loose ends at home and at the office.

On the drive up from Los Angeles, there had been time to think. Too much of it.

What the hell have you done? This man could be a serial rapist, a psycho with a chain saw…No, it’s worse: He wants you to kneel, to wear a collar. You said you wanted it too.

The butterflies in her stomach had turned to lead ballast. By the time she stopped for gas in the village, she had been almost certain she couldn’t go through with this.

He’d be furious if she canceled on the day before his flight.

This morning, steeling herself to see this through, she had watched the clock until she knew he would be on the plane.

There. Done.

No way to back out now…

Like hell there isn’t! I'm getting out of here.


KAREN DELANEY. IC:

He’ll get over it. Hell, for all I know he never planned to go through with it in the first place.

Maybe there is no “he,” maybe it’s “them.” Six or eight guys in a bar someplace, one of them a writer, the others snickering at my response to their most demeaning suggestions…

No, I don’t really believe that. I’m fucking with one man, a man I all but begged to fuck me for real. A man I know nothing about, except that I’ve promised him things I can’t do. I can’t.

And who knows how a man like this reacts when his “sub” says no. And means it.

I won't be here to find out. And once he knows the house is empty, he'll hve no choice but to accept this and go home.

One night in a crappy motel, a bit of a guilty conscience, and I’ll get over it too. It won’t be fun. But it beats being found in more than one dumpster.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Rob Steadman

He turned on the emergency flashers and slowed the car down, peering through the night and the fog that swirled up from the ocean below, looking for the road that led off 101 to her place. He’d been over this patch of road three times already and hadn’t seen anything, but it had to be here.

“Fuck.” he said.

He said it to himself, telling himself what a fool he’d been for taking the late flight instead of waiting till the next day. He said it to her for living out in here in the middle of nowhere, and for her directions, which turned out to be not very useful in the dark. He said it to the fog and the darkness and the feeble beam of his flashlight as he played it on the dripping trees alongside the road, looking for a single mailbox with three blue reflectors on it.

And there they were.

If he hadn’t found them with the flashlight beam he never would have seen them; the fog was too thick for his headlights to pick them out. And now he saw the gravel road turning off abruptly from the highway and heading into the dark redwoods on the side of the road. He snapped off his emergency flashers and turned the rental car off into the woods.

”I’m an independent woman, accomplished and successful.” she’d written him. People respect me and even fear me. I’ve always had my pick of lovers, and sex has always been good. But since I’ve met you I realize how shallow it’s all been. Your e-mails make me feel things I’ve never felt before. When I think of what it will be like when you’re actually with me, I get weak. I need you. I need you to teach me, to train me, to show me what a slut I am…”

He had been dubious at first. He’d had other online relationships, but never had he become so quickly and deeply involved with anyone. It had been like a whirlwind drawing them together, fueled by their passion and her own discovery of her secret submissive fantasies, her desire to be dominated. He had played Dom before to women on the web, but he had never been there to guide a woman though her own discovery of her true nature, and it had been a dizzying experience.

Sometimes it had seemed to good to be true, too perfect. She wanted him to come out to see her, she needed it, and he wanted to go too, but he was wary. She had begged, promised, offered everything, and finally, when she offered to pay his entire way, he realized that she was serious.

he didn’t take her up on it, of course. He couldn’t have his sub paying his way. But it was a sign of how serious she was. He couldn’t refuse her after that, and now here he was.

He was surprised at how long this road was, but eventually he saw the light through the trees and he pulled on a gravel drive. The house was large, and seemed to him unusually dark.

By the time he got to the front door and found the note he knew she wasn’t there. She’d stood him up. 2,143 miles and she’d stood him up.

He took the note from the plastic bag and read.

 

[shereads]

The note on the door

Rob -

This can't happen. I'm sorry.

Call it temporary insanity. Maybe a reaction to M walking out on me. I thought I meant the things I said, but I knew the minute I arrived at the cottage that this was a bad idea.

Please forget we ever met. Have a safe trip home.

Karen

 

[shereads]

Stand By Your Man

Karen hadn't sat on a bar stool in recent memory, much less in a bar like this one. She'd felt restless at the motel, too much so to concentrate on a book. TV reception relied on a primitive roof antenna, and delivered little more than static and annoyance.

She'd passed a bar back near Klamath, memorable because its neon cowboy shone larger-than-life in the thickening fog. A happy fellow, performing a jerky dance-step.

It was dark when she pulled up in the gravel parking lot, and the fog had given way to rain and crackling thunder.

"It was a dark and stormy night," Karen muttered. It was about to be a cold and wet one, too. She'd left her coat and umbrella at the cottage. In her panic to avoid confronting Rob, she hadn't thought of anything except her car keys, handbag, and a cellphone that she had no intention of turning on.

So. Do I get wet? Or do I have a tin of Altoids for dinner?

She opened the car door and ran for it.

"Shit! Shit it's COLD!"

Inside, she felt the welcome warmth of the dimly-lit, illegally smoke-filled room for only seconds, before her sweater and jeans were fully soaked through. Her shoes were sodden and made a squishing sound that might have been laughable, if not for the ice that seemed to encase her skin.

squish/slosh, squish/slosh

At the far end of the bar, two feet from a propane heater, was the most appealing of the few empty barstools.

Shivering, she delved into her purse and retrieved a large bill, slapped it down and immediately had the attention of the ponytailed man behind the bar.

"Tell me you have some hot food back there, and I'll get down on my knees."

He leaned his elbows onto the bar, and smiled a slow sly smile. "I'm a Cordon Bleu chef. Ocean's Edge in Mendocino. I'm just here to fill in for my sister for a few days. New baby."

"You haven't answered my question."

"I haven't decided if I want you on your knees."

Karen's nerves were too raw to work up a real laugh, but she managed a wan smile.

"Touche, Chef BoyArdee. Now, may I order some food and a glass of wine, or do you want me to squeeze out my shoes in this gentleman's beer?"

Within minutes, she'd been given a clean bartowel for her dripping hair, was wearing the down parka of the off-duty park ranger seated next to her, and was enjoying a bottle of merlot, crusty sourdough rolls, and a plate of sliced duck with artisan cheeses.

"God save California," she said, raising a toast to the unexpected chef.

The wine was good. She was beginning to like Tammy Wynette. And the attentive gathering - mostly men, who were vying to make her laugh - proved to be just what she needed to take her mind off of...

Rob. I'm sorry. Maybe in the next life I can go on my knees for you, wear your collar, and not feel like a fool.

I'm sorry, Rob. So sorry...

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Have a safe trip home.

He wasn’t especially surprised. It occurred to him that maybe he’d been expecting something like this. The whole relationship had been so strange, so intense. Something had to give. Maybe this was it.

He stepped back from the house and looked up at it. It was dead quiet out here. No sound but the water dripping from the trees. No bigs, no birds. The house was dark but for one night light inside. He’d thought that maybe she was hiding in there, but clearly no one home. He could feel it.

He walked over and looked in the attached garage. He knew she drove a burgundy Pathfinder, and it wasn’t there.

So she’d flown. Just like that. Another internet romance run aground on the rocks of sheer reality. He knew he should be upset, should be angry. But inside he felt strangely subdued.

He got back in the car and started the engine. He thought mayube he should leave her a note too, but then he figured the hell with that. Maybe he was angry. Maybe he was angrier than he knew.

”Whatever happens, I need this.” she had said. ”Whatever happens, promise me you’ll hold me to this. I might be scared, I might protest, but promise me you’ll hold me to this, darling. You don’t know how much I need this.”

By the time he hit the highway again he was definitely angry. He had predicted that this might happen, and she had denied it, again and again. He knew that she would be scared, and finally she had admitted it. She had made him promise he would hold her to it. She had cut and run anyhow

He should have turned south on highway 101 to get back to San Fransisco. Instead he turned north, where he knew the nearest town was. It was obvious from the note that she had just panicked. She wouldn’t have gone far. He didn’t think she had many friends in the are. She would probably make for a motel.

What angered him was the thought of all the gear he had brought: ropes, chain, cuffs, whips, sex toys. He had splurged and had felt like a fool at the time, embarrassed at the evidence of his own perverse fantasies. Now that embarrassment came back to him, fully justified. He remembered his nervousness going through airport security, having his bags X-rayed. Now he would have to go through that again. It was silly, but the thought infuriated him.

He pulled into the lot of the first motel and slowed down. It was so foggy that he had to cruise by the cars one by one, and he saw no sign of her car.

What was he going to do if he found her? He didn’t know.

He pulled into the second motel lot, and there it was. The burgundy SUV.

 

[shereads]

Karen

I was sleeping the sleep of too much red wine. Restless, disturbed by disjointed dreams.

There was a knock on the door. Ignore it, you're just about to drift off.

Then the knock became pounding.

I woke up to a strange room that smelled of disinfectant and stale cigarettes. Where the hell -

"Stop pounding! I'm coming, I'm coming..."

I was naked. No night clothes in evidence, nothing but my jeans and sweater and and underwear draped across the radiator.

Hell, I think I'm drunk. I don't get drunk, do I?

The pounding had stopped, but I had the sense that something had to be handled, and fast. Get it over with, go back to sleep.

With some effort, I pulled the worn chenille coverlet off of the queen-size bed and wrapped it around me. It was big enough to wrap a couple of times, clumsily, and I could barely walk. But I managed to get to the door.

The cold hit me like a shock as soon as I opened it. And I was suddenly, unfortunately sober.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

“Hello, Karen.” he said to the bewildered woman who opened the door. “It’s me. Rob. May I come in?”

He didn’t wait for her answer. He was a good head and a half taller than her, and twice as broad. When he stepped into the room she had no choice but to back up.

“Rob!” she said.

It was the moment they had waited for, the moment they had anticipated, when all the fantasies would become reality. And yet now things had changed. Changed totally. Even her greeting now meant something else.

“Rob, I’m sorry. I…”

“Shhh.” he said. He held his finger to his lips and she watched as he snapped the door locked.

He stood in the room, rain dripping off his coat.

“Get me a towel.”

It gave her something to do. She rushed into the bathroom holding the blanket wrapped around her, happy to have something to do to break the awkwardness. She brought him all the clean towels she could find. He removed his glasses, took a handful of towels and rubbed them over his hair.

She had to say something, but there was nothing to say.

“Get your stuff.” he said, putting his glasses back on. “We’re going back to your house.”

“Oh Rob, I just can’t. I’m so, so sorry, but I really just can’t…”

He grabbed her. Or rather, he grabbed the blankets where they were wrapped around her chest, and he pulled her across the floor effortlessly. She staggered and she fell against him, feeling the cold, wet rain against her warm, sleepy skin.

It wasn’t violence so much as it was insistence. She knew immediately that there was no sense in trying to resist him. None whatsoever.

“You told me you’d do this.” he said. “Remember. You said you’d try and get out of this. You made me promise I wouldn’t let you out of this.”

She tried to laugh.

"Rob, that was just something I said. Just some email."

He took his coat off and threw it in a chair. He wore a shirt and sweater, and she was surprised at how big he was. His shoulders and arms seemed enormous.

He took her in his arms and she had no choice but to let him. He closed his arms around her and pulled her close. She smelled his cologne, felt the cold of his clothes with the scent of the redwoods on them.

"The least you can do is kiss me, Karen. Two thousand miles is certainly worth a kiss, isn't it?"

She had no answer to that.

 

[shereads]

Karen

Until he touched her, he was a stranger.

Not that he looked very different than she'd imagined, based on a few grainy photos. He was larger, though. Larger than life.

Still, it wasn't his appearance that made this man a stranger to her. It was the months of strangeness. The urgent need that had hit her like a train when they first met, and had grown stronger the longer it went unrequited.

The unreality of this, the most passionate relationship of her life. With a man she'd never met. That's what had begun to nag at her on the long drive up the coast. The improbability of this whole damned thing.

And the collar. And the kneeling.

Sure, he might be a serial rapist The same could be true of a man you'd meet in the normal way.

Women were victims of violence every day, by men known and unknown, and to Karen's mind there was no shame in being betrayed by your instincts about someone. But to wear a collar? To enslave yourself to a man; to have begged for the privilege? What kind of woman would do such a thing?

What sort of man would inspire such need, and welcome it?

Here he was, flesh and blood. Impressive, angry, real. The stranger to whom she had revealed her dark secrets.

---------------------------

He's a stranger, until he touches me.

Touches me and triggers a <<shock!>>of recognition. I'd know this man anywhere by the tremor he alone has ever made me feel.

Rob, who brought me to my knees with nothing but words.

Rob. The ultimate danger to the woman I have to be.

"Kiss me," says the voice I fell in love with on the telephone. I'm weak with need. Weak with doubt. I'm trembling, though he's the one in wet freezing clothes. I can't take my eyes off of his beautiful mouth.

God his mouth! And God help me if I allow myself to look in his eyes.

His full lower lip, the thing I couldn't stop staring at when he sent the pictures, is inches from mine.

This is what Rob looks like! This is how it feels to be held in Rob's arms. This is how his wet hair smells, and this is how it sounds when he tries hard to calm his breathing and stem his righteous anger.

If I let him kiss me, I'm lost.

"Stop it, Rob."

He hesitates for just a moment. His hand on my chin, he tries to make me look into his eyes. Instead, I fix my gaze on a loose wool fiber on Rob's black sweater, just at eye level, and the quivering drop of rainwater that clings to the wool. Will it soak into the rough/soft wool? Get lost in that inviting warmth? Or will gravity help it fall free?

"Listen, Rob. This isn't going to happen. I'm sorry, it was a bad idea."

"I know you're nervous, Karen. We both knew you would be."

"Dammit, this is not about my being nervous. It's about my being an adult again, and sane. Let me go, I can't talk to you like this."

He releases me and takes a step away, and I wrap the heavy bedspread tighter, clutching it with both hands like a shield.

For a moment, I can't help but glance at his face. I see things neither of us want me to see - anger, betrayal, and something else, something that might be resignation. It twists something deep inside me. My stomach feels like lead. It's an awful feeling, but far less dangerous than what I felt in his arms.

Damn my body's response to this man. Thank god he couldn't feel the goosebumps through the thick layers of fabric. He may have sensed the melting, the mindless near-surrender, but if he did I'll have to convince him he imagined it.

"Rob what I did was stupid. It was a - a lark, a phase I went through. It hit me on the drive up here that I've been fooling both of us. I'm no more a submissive than you are. I run a company, for god's sake."

"This is about a sexual connection, Karen. It has nothing to do with who you are to anyone else. We've talked about that."

"We've talked about too damn much. It stops there. It stops right here, right now. Go home."

"You're a coward."

"I'd be a coward if I let you bully me, you son of a bitch. If you want a check to cover your expenses - "

"You want to cover my expenses."

"If that's what it takes to buy you off, yes."

"Keep your check, Ms. Delaney. I don't think your signature would be worth much."

He opens the door and disappears behind a curtain of black rain. I want him to slam the door behind him; I want him to do something childish like that.

He closes it softly, just firmly enough to make sure it latches securely.

That was hard. But it was the right thing to do, I think.

Tomorrow I'll go back to the cottage and gather my things. I think I'll put the place on the market when i get back to L.A. I never want to see a sunset there, not alone.

Not without Rob.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Well, that is fucking that!

He takes a few steps from her door into the foggy motel parking lot and stops. He’s tired, his nerves are on edge from the drive through the fog and he suddenly feels the fatigue of the entire trip weighing him down, smothering the anger and irritation he’s feeling. He dreads getting back into the car and realizes that he’s just unable to drive any more without some rest. He leans against the hood of the car and closes his eyes.

It’s irritation more than anger. Throughout their relationship she was the one who insisted that it be more than just two people seeking to please each other. She was the one who wanted to be dominated, wanted to be forced. She was the one who would always find a way to turn every topic of discussion into some sort of sexual channel, even as she expressed her horror at what he was ‘making’ her do. He’d known this, and he’d been amused by it. He’d even pointed it out to her, but of course she would never admit it. To her, he was the one who was bringing out this submissive side of her. She was just an innocent bystander.

He’d never thought of himself as a stereotypical Dominant. He had his likes and dislikes; he had his fetishes, he liked taking control, and so he naturally ended up with women willing to give that control to him, but for him it had always been a matter of the relationship first, and despite what Karen might think, what had drawn him to her was her personality first, her sexual preferences second. He would still have come to see her had their internet relationship been totally conventional. He had assumed that she’d felt the same, and so to have come all this way and to now be rejected because of her fears seemed suddenly ludicrous.

It was cold out here, and very wet. The damp cold seeped through any amount of clothing and sank into his bones. The light was on in her room, but as he stared he saw her snap it off.

He went up to her door and knocked.

“Karen? Karen, this is silly. Let me in.”

No answer.

He was suddenly seized by a surge of fury that made him weak. To be left standing outside her door in the cold and wet because of her fears… What a childish, self-centered bitch. He took a deep breath to calm himself and knocked again.

“I’m not going away, Karen, so let me in. You owe me that much.”

He was about to knock again when he heard the bolt snap. She fumbled with the chain and then opened the door and he stepped into the warmth of the darkened room.

She had put on a tee-shirt and sweat pants. She backed away from him, keeping her eyes down.

“It’s freezing out there and I’m in no shape to drive.” he said. “You’re acting hysterical about this, Karen. I told you all along that if you had any reservations just to tell me. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to, for Christ’s sake, so stop acting like such a fucking child!”

She had backed up against the wall and stood there not looking at him, her hands pressed together against her mouth, as if trying to hide.

Her manner suddenly infuriated him. If he was going to be rejected and locked out, he didn’t want it to be by someone like this. He saw now that she was frightened, but not of him.

“Look at me, goddamnit!” he said. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

He went to her and pulled her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. He saw fear, but something else glittering in there as well. She wanted this. He saw it in her eyes.

He took hold of her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face.

She shook her head. “No. Please.”

He held her wrists in his hands, not sure of what he was going to do, and she cringed at his touch. He could smell her now, smell her perfume, musky and seductive. She’d been wearing perfume. She must have put it on when she’d been waiting for him, before she panicked. So she had been ready for him, waiting; waiting for him to come and take her.

He pushed her and she backed up until she hit the wall. A slash of light from the parking lot fell across her eyes and her chest.

“No.” she said. “Don’t!”

He held her wrists up at shoulder level, pressed against the wall. She turned her head to the side in denial and he saw her pulse pounding in her throat. He could see her nipples through her tee-shirt. They were hard, making little shadows in the fabric in the dim light. She was excited.

“Bitch!” he spat.

He leaned his body against her. She was soft and still warm from the bed and he was suddenly overcome with a furious lust for her. His slave. She’d promised to do anything he wanted. She’d made him swear not to let her get away with anything, not to let her off the hook. She’d promised him whatever he wanted and more, if only he'd make her.

He pushed her hands higher up on the wall, forcing her to arch her back and thrust her breasts out against his chest. He held her wrists tightly, showing her that there was no escape.

"Bitch!" he said again.

He lowered his head and she suddenly turned to him, closed her eyes and opened her mouth to his kiss.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

OOC Mailbox Full!!

<<omit>>

 

[shereads]

Karen

Our lips had touched for the merest fraction of a second - sweet god - when my need to stop this before it started returned, full force, and I jerked away. The touch of his tongue-tip at the seam of my mouth was too compelling; the need to open up to him, completely and finally, felt far too dangerous.

Rob half-laughed, a bitter sound that expressed equal parts lust, frustration and plain disgust. His disgust shamed me, and I pulled against the grip of his hands on my wrists.

"You're hurting me."

"You wish."

His voice and the heat that radiated from him now, conveyed the sexual threat that had made me melt when we'd talked on the phone. Talked? Right. We hadn't talked, we had groped and mauled each other with words; it had been the best sex of my life.

But this time, the anger was real. He wasn't pretending, wasn't playing Master to make me hot. Rob was furious. And aroused. I had no idea how to respond.

My mind dipped into fight-or-flight mode. No matter what kind of man I believed him to be, no matter what he really was, the tension of the day and the unyielding strength of the big hands that held my wrists, awoke an inner voice of alarm.

The inner voice that takes over when the footsteps behind you on an empty street speed up to match your own. When the fire alarm isn't a drill. When the man you've spent months seducing has come to collect and has recognized the coward you really are.

His hands pinned my wrists to the wall and something within said, fight!

I took a deep breath and tried to summon Corporate Bitch, whose voice was an edge-weapon of cold steel.

"Get your hands off of me." The Bitch persona failed me miserably; the words came out panting, quivering.

Rob heard something in that breathless plea that brought a grim smile to his face. A smile that didn't reach his eyes.

He leaned toward me, his beautiful mouth cruelly triumphant, and I turned my face away, pressed my cheek to the hideous wallpaper to deny him a kiss. It wasn't my mouth he was after, though. With the instinct that had mystified me from the beginning, he went for my weak spot with pinpoint accuracy. Gently, so gently, Rob touched his lips to my throat and began to press a trail of soft, barely-there kisses up the side of my neck.

"Ahh. Ah, god...," I breathed. My body refused to heed the inner warning. It recognized a powerful male that wanted to mate, and conditioned by months of fantasies about this man, it prepared to receive him.

My vagina released a hot flood of moisture. My nipples had been hard before, but now they were painfully rigid. I was wearing the thin white t-shirt that was intended as nothing more than a cotton layer beneath my wool sweater, and even with my eyes squeezed shut, i knew how those hard tips must look: they strained against the flimsy fabric, stretched it as if trying to go to him.

When Rob lifted his lips from my goose-bumped neck, I knew what he was looking at. My nipples were showing through the taught fabric like small sharp shards of rose quartz.

"I see," he whispered. Just that.

And I melted. I felt my body go slack for a moment, and couldn't contain a sound that was both a sigh of pleasure and a sob of surrender.

When Rob felt it, he released one of my wrists and cupped a breast, lifting it toward his lowering head. Then his teeth were holding - not biting, but delicately holding - the hard nipple in its white cotton casing. He held it, breathed my scent, and did nothing more.

It was too good.

He'll own you.

It scared the hell out of me.

Without thinking, responding only to the shrill alarm inside my head, I roused the last vestige of the Bitch I had to be to rule my company and my world. I jerked my other wrist from Rob's grip and with both hands, pushed him with all my strength.

He was just surprised enough to let me dart around him. I leaped away from him, not heading for the door - where the hell would I go? - but for the bathroom.

Something stopped me from screaming; maybe my last coherent thought before I slammed the bathroom door behind me, was that I didn't want a public scene that either of us would have to explain. Certainly, I didn't want Rob harrassed by police, or worse, simply because he had trusted me enough to come here - and then had trusted my body's response.

I managed to latch the door with shaking fingers, and I leaned back against it, panting. I could see myself in the mirror, by the dim outdoor light that shone through the small pebble-glass window above the tub.

My small breasts were heaving beneath the tight tee. My dark hair was hanging half-across my eyes, like a gleaming solid curtain. With a shaking hand, I pushed it out of my face and revealed wild, nearly manic eyes. Normally violet-gray, my eyes shone neon-purple, giving the woman in the mirror a look that was half fear, half crazed arousal.

I couldn't bear the sight of her. What the hell had she ever wanted from a man that she couldn't have had a few seconds ago with the intensely sexual, sensual man in her motel room?

He was strangely quiet.

"Rob?"

"Rob, I'm going to come out now. We're adults, I'm not going to cower in here like a scared little girl."

Nothing. Good. He was giving up.

"When I open this door, I don't want to see you in my goddam room. I want you out of h --"

The door opened with enough force to sling me foreward, and I grabbed for the edge of the sink. I would have screamed then, but he was all over me. His hand across my mouth. The hard breath of real anger in my ear.

 

[shereads]

>>> bump <<<

This is Karen bumping into the bathroom sink.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He wasn’t a man to lose his temper, and he wasn’t a man to take advantage of a woman, to force himself. But he knew when he was being jobbed, and the Karen who’d locked herself in the bathroom, who’d told him to leave, was not the woman he’d come to know so well. She wasn’t the woman who had confided all her secrets to him, the one who had so fervently promised him everything, and he wasn’t leaving until he had talked to that woman.

“No, Rob! No…”

She turned away from him as the door flew open, grabbed onto the sink as he wrapped his big arms around her, one hand covering her mouth, the other going around her waist and picking her up as if she were a child.

“Damn it, Karen!”

She struggled, kicking out and hitting the bathroom door, sending it crashing into the wall and then recoiling and slamming shut with a loud bang. His hands found her bare skin, her warmth, and he just held her in the air like that for a long moment as she struggled to get her feet on the ground and free herself from his arms.

He turned and dropped her onto the bed and stood over her, ready to grab her should she make another move.

 

[shereads]

Karen

I had baited the bear, for some reason I still couldn't fathom. Maybe I wanted Rob to prove he was dangerous or unstable. Then the mess I had made of things would make sense.

Picked up in his arms as effortlessly as he might have lifted a stack of cushions, I didn't know or care why I'd been taunting this man. I was scared now, on a primitive level, and I fought like a cat - all claws and flailing limbs.

Rob is a man who routinely bench-presses weights equal to more than one of me. Having taken a couple of bad scratches on the hand that covered my mouth, he probably tossed me onto the bed to avoid hurting me in self-defense.

I'd think those things later. Right then, I was beyond thinking.

I was feeling. A sensation as primitive and compelling as fight-or-flight, but far more subtle. And harder to explain, unless you're a woman who's been startled by her need to be overpowered by a man.

There's a feeling of melting. All the muscles that tense for a fight do the opposite, and within seconds my body is no more capable of resistance than a dish of warm butter. My breathing changes. I find myself glancing at him timidly, then averting my eyes, the way a submissive animal signals to the alpha that there's no danger of a challenge.

All my adult life I had fought strength with powers of my own: flattery, intimidation, a careful lie when nothing else would work. I generally won. It had made me a successful, financially independent woman. And a lonely one. Tired, so tired, of men I could manipulate.

In Rob I had met a man I couldn't out-think, intimidate or manipulate sexually. He was too sure of himself, too honest. I had needed his strength with my body, long before i had understood what made his strength different from that of any other man in my experience.

Right now, curled up on the bed like cowering prey, my body simply took over. My mind could follow or not, but my body needed to submit to its master.

"Rob," I whispered. He was standing at the side of the bed, his face as angry as he deserved to be, and his body poised for action if the scratching cat tried to strike again.

Careful to move slowly, and keeping my head bowed, I turned toward him, crawled close to the edge of the bed on hands and knees, and kneeled, sitting back on my ankles. I wondered if he could imagine how ready I was for him, between my legs where everything was suddenly soft and wet and receptive- as if
to compensate for my earlier hard edge.

"Rob, I'm sorry." I kneeled there, unconsiously assuming a posture of submission that I had once thought would be the hardest part of our meeting. I could feel the heat of anger radiating from Rob's big body; whatever part of me was in charge right now, interpreted his silence as a threat.

I risked a look up at his face - and on the way up, I couldn't miss the erection that tented his pants. Jesus, it's huge. He could kill you with that.

His face was wary; his eyes unreadable. But his cock...that, I understood. Maybe I could achieve a mutual understanding with Rob's cock.

I reached for it, slowly. Reached out my hand from where I knelt, and when my trembling fingertips were within inches of the straining fabric of Rob's rain-wet jeans, I looked up at him for permisson. Caught his dark eyes with my violet ones, brimming with excitement and inexplicable tears.

Look at me, please. I kept my dark hair long for you; I haven't cut it for a year, not since the first time we flirted online. I never told you that men say it feels like silk when they comb their fingers through it. I wanted you to discover that for yourself. The fingernails that scratched you are perfect, polished ovals on delicate, milk-white hands. My breasts might not be as big as you'd prefer, but I've been told a dozen times how beautiful they are. They're for you.

Brown eyes and violet ones, we held each other's gaze for what seemed a long time. I was about to look away - you don't stare at the alpha - when he gave me my answer.

He nodded.

Now I touched my fingertips to him and felt his penis jerk beneath the cool, damp denim. Looking up at Rob again, still hesitant, I pressed my palm to him, cupped him, felt his pulsing strength. I shifted closer to him now, still on my knees at the very edge of the bed, and with both hands - both shaking like a virgin's - I tried to unzip his jeans.

"I can't - can't grip the zipper. My hands are cold...Will you do it?"

 

[dr_mabeuse]

"I can't - can't grip the zipper. My hands are cold...Will you do it?"

He looked down at her now. Her complete demeanor had changed and yet he was still filled with the hot pulse of adrenalin, ready for violence, ready to take what he wanted., The warm touch of her skin as he’d held her, the feel of her body and yet the feminine strength that she’d brought to bear when she tried to escape, all had combined to make a potent aphrodisiac that was pumping through his body as she kneeled in front of him.

“Give me your hands.” he said.

She held her hands up and he took her wrists, not her hands. He pulled her towards him by her forearms, pulling her off balance, pulling her towards him till her face pressed into the buckle of his belt.

“Use your teeth.” he said.

“Rob…”

He just tightened his grip on her wrists. It wasn’t just his strength. It was his desire. She could feel his desire in the way he held her. She could feel his will in his hands. He squeezed harder, yet she knew he hadn’t even begun to use his strength on her.

Her face was pressed against the cold denim of his pants. She could feel the cold of his zipper against his cheek, and beneath that, the hard pulse of his cock. He pulled her to him and she opened her mouth. She found the flap of denim that covered his fly.

She wouldn’t do it. She knew who she was, and she wasn’t this. She didn’t do things like this. This wasn’t a game on the internet; this wasn’t role-playing.

He tightened his grip. Now it hurt.

Karen moaned. She turned to his fly and extended his tongue, feeling for the cold strip of his zipper. Finding it, she ran her tongue up to the top of the zipper. She almost sobbed as she found the zipper with her lips and took the tab in her teeth. She pulled on it like a bitch with bone between her teeth and she felt it move.

She was rewarded as his grip on her forearms relaxed slightly. The zipper started moving, and once she got it over the central bulge it slid easily. She got it down as far as it would go and that’s all she could do. She pressed her face into the open slash of his fly and felt the heat of his cock coming through his shorts. She smelled him. She puckered her lips and kissed the bulge of his prick.

He let go of her wrists as if he were done with her, but she didn’t move away. She knew what was coming. He opened the top button of his jeans, reached inside and pulled his cock out.

He didn’t have to speak. She was ready and waiting for this. Even so he took the rich, thick cascade of her hair in both his hands and turned her face up to him. She opened her mouth, but not wide enough. The bulk of his hard prick forced her lips apart as it slid into her mouth and she moaned submissively as she felt the hard weight of him on her tongue, throbbing with virility.

He hissed in pleasure as she took him into her mouth. His grip on her hair didn’t loosen. This wasn’t for her. It wasn’t even for him. He was teaching her something. It was her first lesson.

 

[shereads]

Karen

My whole body is shaking as I open my mouth to accept the penis of a man I've never seen until tonight. The first man I've ever physically fought with.

The first - no, the only man who will ever see me humble myself, humiliate myself.

How perverse, then, that I feel so deliciously alive. That I hunger for the triumph of having Rob's enormous prick inside my mouth. If I can only --

"Nn -- nng --" He's too big for me. My lips are as wide open as they can possibly be, and still they feel a pinch as the thick penis pushes inside. I try to work my tongue on him - I like giving head, I'm always in control of this - but it's all I can do to keep my teeth from touching him. He pushes steadily, allowing me just enough time to take gasping breaths around the huge head, but making it clear just who's in control of this act.

Going down. Oh yes, aptly named. Corporate Bitch is most certainly going down.

Just breathe, keep breathing steadily and calmly, you can take this. You can make it good for him, so good.

I try to swallow my saliva but there's no room to work in there. I'm hardly a participant in this, as I struggle to adjust to his size.

Suddenly Rob's hands in my hair twist harder, and I sense what he's about to do. I stiffen - draw in a deep breath through my nose - and try to be ready when --

His hips retreat, give a warning swivel to signal what's coming. Then he holds me still by my hair and THRUSTS, withdraws, THRUSTS!

I'm gagging, his thick cock is pummeling the back of my throat and for a moment I struggle to pull away. Rob won't allow it. I've used up my allowance of retreats and objections, and with my head in his firm grip and his hips fucking my mouth and throat, there's nothing I can do but accept him.

He snarls. The sound of a male animal having its way.

That's when I feel a rush of wetness between my thighs that threatens to make my jeans as wet as they were from the rain, hours ago.

I'm so hungry for this penis. So starved to please this man. I squeeze my legs together for my own pleasure, and my hips make a wicked little circling motion as I begin to suck Rob in earnest. I take a fistful of denim at each of his thighs and hold on tight, for leverage to counter the pace of his thrusts.

I find the rhythm he wants, and I begin to match my breathing to it. Then I'm able to work my tongue, using a sweeping side-to-side motion calculated to pleasure the sensitive underside of his cock.

I hear him groan; I please him. That's what sends me into a place of mindless ecstasy, where the pleasure of sucking is as much mine as his. Did I say I liked giving head? I love having Rob in my mouth. Love that he's fucking my mouth and that he enjoys the slick-hot pressure of my sweeping, tasting tongue.

He begins to fuck me differently now; less choking pressure at the back of my throat, and more finesse. Not less vehemently, or even more slowly, but with a different sort of thrust, he lets me experience the strength and textures of his penis, instead of just hanging on for the ride. Again and again, Rob withdraws until the ridged glans is barely inside the circle of my lips; he pauses for a fraction of a second, while I breathe deeply. I get my tongue ready to greet the sweet spot just beneath the ridge, with rapid circling movements.

He thrusts. Withdraws. Thrusts. He moans at my tongue's eager greeting. He pushes a little farther each time, almost gently allowing me to accommodate a centimeter more of his long stalk.

We'll never get it all in; maybe next time I'll relax enough to take it all.

After all these months, I'm filled with Rob. Filled at last.

I'm only half-conscious of my own lewdly rotating hips, as I seek some satisfaction for my needy clit and pussy. I could use my hands, but I find I want to use them on Rob's thighs for now. I knead his thighs, pressing and releasing like a contented cat - I think I may even be purring - and when I know he's as lost in this blow job as I am, I pinch him, just hard enough to be felt through the thick denim.

He growls in response, but doesn't break his rhythm, so I think he must like the pinching. I do it repeatedly now, sharply pinching the front of his thighs with each inward thrust of his cock.

Now I'm swept away in the dance; I'm a sucking, tongue-teasing, thigh-pinching machine, hearing my whimpered pleas as if from a distance.

"Mmmm...Mmmm...?" Will you come for me? Will you let me have it in my mouth? I'll be good, I promise. I'll drink every drop.

And between my legs, something else of consequence is happening. The stiff denim at the crotch of my jeans has turned out to be fuckable; by moving my hips just-so, and with my thighs pressed tightly together, I'm giving my clit and labia an obscene, wet workout.

I've never liked letting a man see me masturbating. Caught up in the act of winning Rob's cum, I neither know nor care if he realizes what I'm doing.

Come for me, give in to me. Baptise me with cum!

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He stood with his legs flexed slightly, his hands full of her hair, holding her head still as he slid his thick cock slowly in and out of her mouth. He could hear her humming with pleasure. He could feel her as well. Aside from the friction of the tight circle of her lips and the maddening flutter of her tongue over the head of his cock as he pulled out of her he could feel the soft appreciative hum of her throat.

“Oh Christ!” he swore softly.

Her hands were on his thighs, alternately pinching him and digging her nails into the rough denim of his jeans. He felt a sharp little frisson of pleasure as a dollop of his lubricant seeped from the head of his cock. and she must have felt it too on her tongue for she groaned and he felt her tongue trying to work it’s way into the little opening on his prick, begging for more. She was suddenly so subservient, so willing, hungry for his come. She moved her hands around to his ass and pulled him into her mouth, tilting her face up to take him better.

He’d never seen such a natural cock-sucker. It wasn’t her technique; it was the obvious pleasure she took from having him in her mouth. The feel of his hardness sliding between her lips seemed to put her into a sensual trance. He saw her shifting her weight as she sucked him, her hips weaving a subtle dance, and he knew she was contriving to pleasure herself while she worked.

he let go of her hair. There was no need to hold her now, and his initial anger had dissipated, He reached down and combed her fallen hair out of her face so he could study the expression of almost religious bliss on her face.

She had surrendered totally, and now begged him for mercy with her sucking mouth, begged him for the blessing of his ejaculate. he stood before her like a god and she paid obeisance with her lips and mouth.

Her breathing was coming faster and she was bobbing her head of her own accord now, taking him deep, her tongue finding a rhythm. her breathing was accompanied with an soft., imploring mewling. She wanted his come, and she was close to bringing herself off with her secret masturbation.

He grabbed her hair and pulled his cock from her mouth. It emerged trailing long strands of saliva and mucus that broke and fell back against her chin where she quickly licked them off as she looked at him with hurt and bewildered eyes, panting like an animal, her lips swollen from sucking.

“Not yet.” he said. “You owe me for this, bitch, and you’re not getting anything till you pay. Get your stuff. We’re getting out of here.”

She wiped her lips on her hand, looked up at him as if she’d just awakened from a dream.

“Come on, get up!”
He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet, spun her around and reached into the pocked of his coat. He took out a length of rope and quickly bound her wrists behind her. She was too disoriented to protest.

“Is that all you brought?” he asked her, indicating a tote bag on the dresser.

She nodded dully. He looked around the room and threw her few things in the bag. He found her shoes and opened the laces and then kneeled down to help her get her feet into them.

Karen looked down at him kneeling at her feet. What kind of Dom was he? He pulled the laces tight and then tied them as if she were a child, as she leaned against the wall. The taste and feel of his cock still filled her mouth. She missed him terribly.

Rob got up and as if he had read her mind, he suddenly pushed her back against the wall and covered her mouth with his, desperate for her. She put her head back and opened herself to him, hungry for his tongue to fill the void left by his hard prick. and as he kissed her she felt his hand reach down inside her sweat pants. He found her naked pussy and hooked his fingers under her, pulling up. Her clit, so close to orgasm before, now responded to the touch of his hard hand and she felt the sharp stab of a little orgasm at his rough treatment of her.

He held her head back as he kissed her and bit her lips while his hand explored her hot and swollen cunt. With her hands tied behind her she was defenseless, little better than a prisoner, and the thought made her legs weak. She sobbed in her throat as he kissed her, realizing that she had no power over this man, no leverage whatsoever.

He broke the kiss and looked at her. He seemed to know it too.

He got his coat, threw her coat over her shoulders, took her by the arm and led her out to her car.

She said nothing as he fished her keys out of her bag and opened the car. He helped her into the passenger seat, her wrists still tied, then he went to his car, the rental. He cot his things out of the back seat and threw them into the SUV, then got behind the wheel.

He left his car where it was.. He could pick it up later.

 

[shereads]

Karen

Karen is quaking inside like a penitant turned away by the priest. She once read a definition of hell: to be shown God's glory, and then denied His presence. Being denied Rob's cum is close enough. It feels like hell.

She had gone to him on her knees, worshipped him with her mouth - and it hadn't been enough.

Curled up in the passenger seat, staring out at black rain and infrequent passing headlights, Karen feels the absence of Rob like the absence of everything strong and solid.

She's scared, too. Her hands are tied behind her. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to remind her that Rob is a stranger. And potentially dangerous, despite her instinct that he's incapable of really harming her.

He hasn't spoken or even looked at her since they got in the car. His silence - after months of almost unbroken contact - fills her with dread and longing and loneliness. This is how Snow White must have felt, abandoned in the forest by the royal huntsman. Of course, Snow White hadn't offered to perform fellatio on the huntsman and been turned down.

Still reeling from the rejection - all the worse because she knows she deserved it - Karen wishes Rob would at least have the courtesy to stop radiating testosterone. His quietly intimidating, effortlessly sexual presence as he concentrates on the dark, wet road, is all it takes to cause a constant trickle of warm moisture between her legs.

Ah, jesus! She remembers his fingers there, rough and hard, and how easily he made her come, having refused to come for her. His hands had mastered her, once and for all. For Karen, there would be no going back.

She can still taste him in her mouth and on her lips. Still hear and feel the sensations that racked his body when she found the rhythm and began to suck him well. She's still shocked that he was able to pull his pulsing cock out of her mouth and push her away. Has she destroyed something that can't be brought back?

She glances at his unmoving profile, a stark outline against darkness, and recalls how different tonight might have been. Would have been, if only...From the moment Rob had agreed to come, she had thrown herself into this with passion, pestering the hell out of the handiman who looked after the cottage. For days, she had kept Hank so busy answering the phone, it's a wonder he found time to get everything ready.

"Don't you dare let Mrs. Eames put linens on the bed directly from the cupboard. I want them freshly laundered and pressed."

"You did tell her to use the Frette sheets and pillowcases, right?...No, all sheets are not alike. I'm appalled that you think so...Did you find the scotch I asked for?"

She had given the caretaker some peace when she'd begun to focus on lingerie. The best of her new things (or the worst, if she happened to be having second thoughts when she took this mental inventory) was a black leather "body harness" that was nothing more than straps of kidskin with metal studs, outlining her breasts and belly and ass. Between her legs, two thin straps could be adjusted - should her master wish it - to part her labia and keep her open for him.

The day she bought the body harness at the proudly trashy "Sextique" in Santa Monica, she had planned to greet Rob at the door, wearing the harness, high heels and nothing else. When she was packing two days ago, she'd given in to modesty and added a black silk robe to complete the outfit.

"You don't want the man to think you're a harlot," she had thought, chuckling with girlish glee as she closed one of two suitcases filled with nothing but teddies, corsettes, a $300 chainmail bra and harem pants; garter belts and stockings, a cupless bra (he'd confessed a weakness for Fredericks of Hollywood) and finally, as a bow to the possibility that they might take a break from fucking like minks, and read or play backgammon in front of the fireplace one cold night - a loose sleep-shirt of silk velvet, in a shade of cobalt blue that Karen had nicknamed "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil."

-------------------

"Help me find the turn, Karen."

His voice startles her. Recalling her plans - the way this evening and tonight had been meant to happen - she had nearly forgotten that she and Rob were together at last - unspeaking, in her car, in the middle of the night. And that her hands were bound, and that he had reason to despise her.

"I wasted enough time today looking for your driveway. I don't plan to waste any more time, so look for the turn."

"Rob, I haven't been here for nearly two years," Karen answers, her voice a hoarse whisper. "I don't know this road much better than you do."

"Look for the blue reflectors on the right side. We've come nearly eight miles."

There is a long and infinitely uncomfortable silence, broken only by the steady sound of the windshield wipers. And Karen's far-from-steady hearbeat, a hard thump that seems almost loud enough to be heard from the driver's side.

"Rob? What happens when we get to the cottage?"

His answering silence lowers her body temperature. Karen is suddenly freezing, shivering - and perversely hot. She's never felt anything as intensely as she feels this...whatever it is. Fear. Hurt pride. Fevered longing.

Lust. Pure, pussy-dampening, nipple-hardening lust.

"That was - that was Old Klamath Road," she croacks, then clears her throat and tries to speak calmly and clearly. "The turn should be less than a quarter-mile south...

"Rob? I want you to untie my hands when we get there...This scares me, it really scares me."

"You're not watching for the turn, Karen.

"I said you're scaring me."

"Am I? I've been up since 5 a.m. EST. Miss that turn and we'll see how scary I can be."

 

[dr_mabeuse]

It was not just the darkness now, but the heavy fog rolling up through the dark trees that obscured the road. He found the turn-off and took it, switching on the wipers to clear the moisture from the windshield. He had the defrosters on high and it was hot in the SUV. Karen watched his face, lit by the unearthly light from the dashboard as he maneuvered the big car along the rough gravel road.

“That was a hell of a way to treat me, Karen.” he said. “A really shitty thing to do. I’d expected better of you.”

She said nothing. Her arms were hurting from bouncing against them on the rough road and she was scared and still terribly confused by the welter of feelings she had for him, for what he was doing to her.

He pulled up in the graveled parking area and cut the lights. They sat there in the dim light that filtered from her empty house, the wipers beating intermittently against the mist that fogged the windshield. Rob reached down and unbuckled her seat belt, then did his own. He hit the release and pushed the steering wheel up out of the way, and Karen watched as he unbuckled his pants and pulled his cock out. It was still hard.

When he reached for her she didn’t make a sound. He put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her down till she fell over. His cock smeared across her lips and she knew better than to fight. She opened her mouth and took him inside.

“Ah, yesss!” he moaned, “Suck it, bitch! Suck it now.”

She could hardly move in this position. She could smell him now, his feral maleness. Her fear, her misgivings were obliterated as she thrilled to the feel of him in her mouth again. She moaned and began to suck, bobbing her head as best she could, jammed between his belly and the rim of the steering wheel.

“Ah fuck! That’s it!”

She felt his hand slide down her back and pull her coat up out of the way. It slid inside her sweat pants and reached down over her ass to find her pussy, still soaked with her arousal. He found her and he stuck his finger inside.

Karen moaned but didn’t stop sucking. He fingered her pussy in time to the movements of his head, and she soon found that if she wanted him to move his finger faster, she had to move her head faster. The sloppy, sudsy sounds of his cock in her saliva-filled mouth and his thick. anxious breathing were loud in the car.

She lifted her mouth off him for a second to get her breath. His finger still pumped inside her and without his prick in her mouth to distract her the feeling was suddenly intense. As his finger plunged into her his thumb was toying with her anus.

She was suddenly taken with how lewd this whole situation was. She was on her knees with her ass in the air, her sweat pants down around her knees and his thick finger sliding in and out of her sopping cunt. Her wrists were tied behind her and her face was coated with saliva and the secretions of his wildly aroused cock, and in the stifling heat of the SUV her nose was filled with the hot male smell of him. And the irony was that her vacation home—her secret getaway, her fortress of solitude—was right outside, filled with sex toys and all the things he might need to treat her to a week of totally sexual depravity. She had asked for all this. She’d begged for it.

He suddenly removed his finger and slapped her sharply on the ass.

“Get busy, whore!” he hissed.

It stung, but more than that was the feeling behind the blow. No one had ever hit her in her entire life, especially not like that, as punishment, impatient with her, displeased with her. It was how you might hit an animal, and she realized that that’s all she was to him right now: a cock-sucking animal, a mouth.

Rather than anger her, his blow brought a groan of desire from her mouth as she took him in again, sucking him deep. His finger entered her again, hard, rough. he wasn’t fingering her for her pleasure, but for his own, feeling how wet she was, what a whore she was.

He groaned and began to lift his hips to her mouth, fucking her face. She knew he wouldn’t pull out this time. He was too hard, too excited from their last session. he was not even trying to control himself.

“You hot cunt!” he gasped, “Suck my fucking cock! I’m going to come Karen! Get ready to take it. I’m going to come!”

He held his prick at the base, holding it upright in her mouth. She felt it jerk against her tongue. She closed her eyes and lashed the head of his prick with her tongue, and he thrust deep into her, held her head there, and with a deep growl he came, his cock fountaining in her mouth with rich, heavy gouts of semen.

He’d been aroused in the plane, in the trip to her house, and then again in the motel, and now all of his exited seed gushed into her sucking mouth, more than she could keep up with, and it leaked from the corners of her mouth as she cried out, swallowing as fast as she can.

Again and again he burst into her throat, shoving his finger deep into her violated cunt each time and moaning as he spasmed beneath her with his hot release. Karen’s eyes rolled up in bliss as she took his spendings into her mouth and swallowed them down.

When he finished he let go of her head and she released his deflating prick, but she nuzzled into his pubic hair, licking up everything she’d missed, determined to get every drop.

 

[shereads]

Karen

There had been nights when she scarecely breathed for fear of waking Michael as she crept from their bed. She could have them both if Michael slept through her nightly trysts with Rob. She could keep her two lovers each in his own dimension - Michael, flesh and blood, a comfort if not quite a friend; Rob, who with nothing but words on a screen had aroused feelings Karen hadn't known existed.

Those first nights had been thrilling, for a woman who had no idea of her capacity to be thrilled. Those stealthy, secretive nights - so innocent in retrospect - had been a second adolescence for Karen. More interesting than her first one, and over within a matter of weeks.

No, she hadn't been careful for long. If at all.

The need to keep Michael in the dark became a courtesy; the need to read what Rob was feeling and what he wanted her to feel, became Karen's obsession. To see his name on a message made her instantly wet.

When he fucked her this time, would he be rough or gentle? If she begged him to fuck her harder, would he punish her by ceasing to move at all? How long would he hold her pinned to the bed, an arm across her belly so her hips couldn't thrust? What gave him the strength to torture them both while his cock pulsed with frustration inside her weeping pussy?

Night after night, Rob fucked her with words. Her dreams were of being fucked by Rob, or of sucking Rob, while he told her what a slut she'd become and why she deserved to be punished.

Afterwards, she would lie in his arms and feel safe. Those were the moments for which there were no words.

When Michael left, Karen's last kindness to him had been the illusion that their breakup was his idea. She had ignored him until he'd had little choice but to pack. Even when his suitcase lay open on the bed, she hadn't acknowledged its significance - If she said the wrong thing, he might have second thoughts.

She had cried when the door closed behind him, and wondered if that meant she'd loved him.

The tears had stopped by the time she'd finished taking off her clothes. Tonight she could tell Rob she was finally reading him while naked.


This isn’t a game, Karen. Open your mouth.

>> Yes, baby. Do it in my mouth, come in my mouth! <<

Here it comes, slut. Take it, take it all you HOT fucking BITCH

------------------------------

In the driveway of her fairy-tale cottage, Karen is a prisoner in her trusty SUV. Rob is at the wheel. She has no idea how long she's lain here, face-down in his lap, motionless as he is in the aftermath of his raging orgasm. Her shoulders are beginning to feel the awkward angle of their position beneath the steering wheel.

It isn't pain, only the promise of soreness later on. And if she asks him to help her sit up, she thinks he might. He will.

But then she'll have to relinguish his softening cock from the cradle of her mouth. She'll have to stop the soft, almost imperceptible sucking that Karen finds oddly comforting just now, and that makes Rob's penis reluctant to leave her. Having let it go while she licked up spilled drops of cum, she'd had to coax the cock back within her lips with tender licks and whimpers. Resting, it fits comfortably in her mouth and seems content to remain there.

She's less sure of its owner. Rob's silence in the minutes since his climax could mean anything. Or nothing.

For now, Karen is grateful to remain in the shelter of his body. There will be time later on to appreciate the irony:

This is her dream come true.

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He sat there trying to catch his breath as his orgasmic convulsions ebbed away and reality returned. Karen still lie with her mouth on his deflated cock, gently nursing at it. He had expected to feel some remorse after his orgasm; he always experienced a brief wave of sadness and tenderness after coming, but now he was surprised to find that he still harbored some angry feelings for her, for the way she’d tried to run from him. Or was it really anger after all. It felt more like desire.

Her wrists were still tied behind her, and he had no desire to let her go. He took her arm, pulled her off his cock, and sat her up. She still had some of his semen on her chin, beyond the reach of her tongue. He left it there.

Her eyes were closed, her lips swollen from his rough violation of her mouth, and she seemed to be in a trance, probably ashamed at the way she’d tried to get rid of him. But unless he missed his guess, she was also trying to deal with the shock of her own reaction to him. She wasn’t used to losing control of herself like this, and he knew it must be hard for her.

He pulled the keys from the ignition and jumped out of the SUV, went around to her side and opened the door.

“Come on, Karen,” he said gently. “I’ve got you. Let’s get inside.” He held her up with one hand as he led her up the stone path, opened the door and flicked on the light, then led her inside.

It was an old, craftsman-style cabin, but it had obviously been refurbished as a vacation home. The wall facing the ocean was one large floor-to-ceiling window. There was a large rough stone fireplace, now cold, and the stove in the kitchen was a wood-burner too. Exposed stairs ran up to a sleeping loft above.

He led her to the sofa and sat her down and immediately set about building a fire. There was wood and kindling and a stack of old newspapers, and he quickly got the fire going. The kindling began to snap and pop in the hearth. He stood up and looked at her.

She was sitting up on the sofa, her eyes on the fire, but she still seemed to be in a daze. He stepped in front of her, blocking her view and she looked up at him. It was hard to tell what she was feeling from her expression, but she looked so forlorn and abandoned that he squatted down in front of her and took her face in his hands. He was looking for signs of the bitch she had been earlier, trying to understand what had happened back there in the motel.

“Are you all right?” he asked her.

She nodded her head without much conviction.

He turned her face to the side and she didn’t resist, and he studied her profile. It was the first chance he had to really look at her, and he wanted to study her, this woman who he’d had such an intense online relationship with.

She was not a big woman--he’d known that; it had been a standing joke between them, how she’d be helpless with him—but she had presence. She was a woman who was used to being in command, telling others what to do, and having ceded that authority to him she now seemed confused and very vulnerable in a way that touched him. He didn’t feel bad for what he’d done, but he felt now that she had retreated inside and he wanted her back. he didn’t want her to hide from this.

“Karen, look at me.”

She raised her eyes and he saw fear there, but also challenge. He remembered that she was helpless, that this is how she’d wanted to be, that she’d made him promise to keep her like this.

He ran his thumb across her lips. They were soft and warm, still swollen from his oral rape, and the feel of her excited him anew. He brought her lips to his and kissed her, a tender, tentative kiss, still not sure of who she’d be: his submissive lover or the bitch from the motel. She let herself be kissed, passively, and he kept his mouth to hers until he felt her relax slightly. She wasn’t going to fight him anymore, he could tell, and her tongue came out and cautiously touched his lip.

For some reason he didn’t understand, that touch inflamed him. He knew then that she would be his, that all they’d talked about would happen, that her outburst had been only that: a momentary flare of apprehension before she surrendered.

The kiss deepened and she opened her mouth to him. He could feel her breath through her nostrils, hot on his cheek. She made the tiniest sound in her throat, a whimper, pleading with him to take her gently, for she knew that he’d take her. There was no doubt of that now.

Without breaking his kiss he got on his knees before her and reached down, took the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it up over her naked breasts. He covered her warmth with his rough hands and felt her nipples stiffen in his palms. When he took them between his fingers and squeezed gently, she melted into him. Her struggles were over.

 

[shereads]

Karen

It's his tenderness that binds her now.

His hands holding her face as he kneels before her; his thumb softly stroking her lips. A kiss that tells her, Karen, it's me. I'm the man you believed me to be when you pleaded with me to come here.

She trusts him. He's Rob.

No longer passive, but still tentative - she knows she's behaved unforgivably - Karen touches his exploring tongue with the tip of her own. In response to that single questioning touch, Rob is suddenly with her.

Their kiss becomes the kiss of lovers, not a weapon in the battle she had begun today. She feels Rob wanting her, seducing her, as if she hadn't insulted him, as if his cock hadn't violently punished her mouth.

Both of them are wondering whether Karen is ready to accept her master.

He leans into her, cradling her head in his palm, a thumb-tip softly strumming her bare nipple. Karen feels aware of her senses as she hasn't been before: the sweet, nearly painful ache of her nipples as he toys with one, then greets the other; the heat of his mouth, textures of his strong, thrusting tongue. Sounds: the growing urgency of their breathing; the fire snapping, sizzling, then roaring like a strong wind when the conflagration begins in earnest, wrapping Karen and Rob in its glowing warmth; the violent clash of sea and stone that reaches the cottage on the cliff above as no more than a constant, comforting whisper.

Rob's two hands are on her small breasts now, and for once she forgets to wish they were larger. She presses her nipples into his hands with a low, almost pained moan.

Breaking the kiss, he raises himself onto the couch beside her. But instead of easing her down and lying atop her as she expects, Rob lifts her - she feels like a doll in his arms - and sets her across his lap. She leans back, her bound hands protected from the brunt of her weight by the deeply cushioned sofa, and her head resting against the rolled leather arm. He's already hard again. She feels his erection pressing upward against her bottom, and can't resist moving just a bit - the smallest rotation of her hips and ass, for the pleasure of feeling his cock's frustrated upward jerk.

Karen smiles up at him, her violet eyes veiled by soot-black lashes, and Rob is reminded of a cat regarding a dish of cream. Karen realizes with a bitter echo of shame that this belated smile is the first real welcome she's offered him.

She catches only glimpses of his face in the flickering light; not enough to read his mood. The heat in his eyes is unmistakeable, as it was in the car before he pulled her head down to his lap and fed her his cock. But this time, Rob's touch is teasing and seductive. His hand on her stomach dips too slowly beneath the loosened drawstring of her sweatpants, moving downward in agonizing increments.

Karen wants his hands on and in her wet pussy with a sudden, raging hunger, no less than if he hadn't touched her there, hadn't taken her with his thick, angry finger less than an hour ago.

The placement of their bodies has put Karen's face more clearly in the firelight, and she knows from the gleam in Rob's dark eyes that he's watching for her reaction. Her body wants to demand his fingers and then his cock. Her heart wants to tell him what he still might not fully know or believe...

"Rob," she whispers. "Forgive me. Forgive me for not trusting this...And fuck me. Show me how my master fucks his slave."

 

[dr_mabeuse]

He kisses her as his hands dip inside her sweat pants and travel down to her sex. She’s shaved bare, just as she’d promised him she would be, so that nothing would distract him from his sensual pleasure, and now he spends some moments stroking her, dragging his fingers lazily over her bare skin, enjoying the way she trembles.

He leans back, grabs the waist band of the sweats and pulls them down her legs, and as the pants come down her legs, Karen has a brief twinge of apprehension. As well as she knows Ron through e-mail and phone call, she’s never seen this man before tonight and he’s never seen her, and yet here he is taking her clothes off. It’s hardly the time to worry about it, she’s already sucked his cock and swallowed his semen, but still there’s that momentary fear: What if he doesn’t like me? What if he doesn’t like my body?

A look at his face shows her there’s nothing to be afraid of, not in that regard. His eyes sweep up and down the curves of her legs with a gaze so hot she can almost feel it on her skin. She holds her legs together instinctively, one knee covering the other, hiding herself, but she lets him part her legs, and she feels herself pulse with wetness when she sees the look in his eyes as he regards her. It is terribly exciting to see the fires of lust ignite in his eyes.

“Sit up.” he says roughly.

He reaches behind her and she rests her chin on his shoulder as he unties her wrists. She can feel the muscles in his arms moving as he works at the knot. His arms; hers now. He lifts her sweatshirt off, and she’s forced to sit there exposed to his gaze, all of her visible; naked, with no way to hide. Despite the heat of the fire she feels a chill, and thankfully he doesn’t leave her exposed for long. He pulls her face to his and kisses her deeply, drinking from her mouth.

And suddenly all of the need and passion she’s kept bottled up inside comes bubbling out in a wave that makes her dizzy. She kisses him feverishly, biting at his lips, trying to pull him down on top of her, trying somehow to get him inside her. He’s still dressed, and the feel of his clothes against her naked, heat-kissed skin just makes her feel more slave like and vulnerable and excites her terribly.

Somehow his clothes come off, a piece here, an piece there, both of them tearing at them. Karen’s beside herself with desire, kissing and biting him, digging her nails into his skin, feeling his muscle and hardness. His lips are at her throat, her breasts, her hand delving between her legs, finding her wet and ready. She’s melting with need, molten from the waist down.

His cock sliding inside her does little to cool her down. He’s big and he hurts her as he enters, but she loves it; it’s hardly enough. Not until he gets himself arranged and starts to drive his prick into her with hard, hungry strokes does she stop struggling, realizing that he’s already giving her what she wants.

Her hands are all over her, behind his neck, pulling his hard hairy chest down against her breasts, moving her hips beneath him, wanting to feel him everywhere. She runs her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, feeling their firmness and strength. My strength she thinks, all for me! She feels the muscles in his back, then down to his ass. The power in his savage thrusts almost makes her faint with lust.

“Yes!” she moans, “Harder! Fuck me harder!”

He’s so much bigger than she is, but she wants everything he has, all of his strength. She lifts her knees for him, cocks her hips up at him so that she can feel his pubic bone against her clit and his heavy balls snug against her ass as he grinds into her. Her hair is plastered to her face, her eyes closed, she turns her face to the side to refuse his kiss because she can hardly breath.

Above her Rob is dripping sweat all over her. With one had he keeps her ass pressed tight against his working cock and with the other he holds her hair to keep her from slipping away from him. He revolves his hips, hanging on the edge of orgasm, trying to make the pleasure last but dying to pour his seed into this hot woman, this delicious bitch.

 

[shereads]

Karen

Her cheeks are wet with tears before Karen knows she's been crying. Her body can't find enough ways to celebrate this joining. A rivulet of hot cream has trickled down the crevass between her buttocks, wetting Rob's hand where he grips her ass, puddling on the leather cushion, and still her pussy offers him more.

Her vagina, tight after months of celibacy - greedy for Rob after a year of fantasies and phone sex - seems stretched beyond its capacity to accommodate him, and still she cocks her hips up and up to take him deeper and deeper.

Her hands hold Rob to her so she can tongue-fuck his mouth, and it's not enough. She grazes his shoulder with her teeth, presses her open mouth to his skin and sucks as if she could drink his flesh. She presses her thumbs to his flat male nipples, leaves a trail of small half-bites along his thoat and collarbone.

Bracing herself on her elbows, she looks down between their bodies and is mesmerized by the sight of his cock - Rob's hard cock - red as a demon in the firelight - plunging into her small body, pulling out to thrust again. She marvels at the act of fucking as if discovering it for the first time: an alien body is invading hers, feeding from her, taking her over. The sight and sound of Rob's demon prick pistoning in and out of her bruised pussy is too much to bear.

"Too good. Too much," she sobs, and closes her eyes to shut out the incomprehensible sight of this claiming. The tears are spilling freely now, as if in sympathy with the flow of juice from her pummeled cunt.

"Please, please, please..." Karen has no idea what she pleads for, but god how she needs it. "Baby, please! I need -- I can't -- nngh -- nngh! Dammit, Rob please!"

Now she's bucking her hips with no pretense at matching his rhythm or finding one of her own. Like some clueless girl, she thinks; it's as if she's never fucked before and doesn't know how to find her own pleasure or bring Rob closer to his own.

She's simply wild with need.

"Tell me what you need, Karen. I want you to say it."

In response to Rob's voice, she opens her eyes, smiling at him through her tears. "F-fuck!" she sobs, and allows him to set the rhythm again. Relieved to know that it's coming, it's coming, she recites a random litany of fuck-words, Rob-words, remembered as glowing symbols on a computer screen...

"Fuck...sucking you, I love sucking you. FUCK me. Stick your cock in me!

"Ahh, honey yes! Like that - just like - oooooh god, FUCK your bad girl, fuck your slave, fuck your whore!

"Make me sorry - I'm - I'm sorry! Please come in me come with me, Rob make me come..."

 

[dr_mabeuse]

God, it was good! It was like being young again, doing it for the first time, her softness, tightness, her heat, her wild need and the thrill of filling it, of being everything to her and of having her, fucking her, driving her ass down onto the leather of the sofa, already wet with her spilled juices.

His cock was hard, brutal, and she was everything he needed. She wrapped herself around him and shuddered as his cock split her open and claimed her and she shoved her tits up at him, shameless, offering him everything.

“Ah fuck! Bitch! Get ready! I’m gonna come, Karen! I’m close…”

She sobbed, “Yes! Yes!” And she spread herself even wider, wanting all of him, everything he had.

“Oh Christ!” she heard him groan, felt his body go rigid on top of her, his terrible strength, the anguish of his come. “God yes! Yes! Coming! Coming baby!”

She held her breath, shoved up with all her strength, squeezed him tight, willed herself open, and deep inside she felt him throb, pulsing, jetting his seed into her, his passion, all his need.

She clung to him, her whole body rejoicing in his pleasure as he shuddered and moaned on top of her, giving her his semen, the fruit of his passion, his lips seeking her out, blind and hungry.

She gathered him to her, her body still ringing like a bell with the echoes of his passion, feeling him shrink inside of her, satisfied, satiated. She didn’t want it to stop and didn’t want to open her eyes to let the world back in. If only she could stay there like that…

He was smiling down at her, still breathing hard, and looking at her with wonder, pleased.

“Ah, Jesus…” he said as he got up off the sofa.

Immediately she missed him, his weight and the way he used her. She felt suddenly bereft and cold despite the heat of the fire.

“Come back?” she asked. Her chest was still heaving from the exertion.

He stood up and combed his hair back out of his face. giving a small laugh. How easily he moved, naked as he was. He was totally unself-conscious and it gave her a thrill to see how easy he was with himself like this, his once-mighty prick now small and shriveled.

“So you’re the one giving the orders?” he asked her, smiling. “I don’t think so. Come on, Karen. I’m beat. Where’s the bed?”

“Aren’t you hungry?” she asked. “I could make us something to eat.” She had laid in all the things he liked to eat, and she had an urge to feed him now. Also, she needed some time. Her legs were weak, her muscles watery and unreliable.

“No. Not now.” he said. He saw her disappointment. He knew that she rarely cooked for herself and realized that this was something she wanted to do for him, a gesture of her submission. He owed her something now. “But I’ve got something for you. Stay there.”

He threw on his clothes and stepped into his boots, went out to the car and got his luggage. He brought it in and opened his bag and rummaged around till he came up with what he was looking for: a plastic bag. He brought it over to the sofa and opened it.

“You know what this is?” he asked.

She watched as he drew out a black leather collar with silver buckles and rings attached. Her mouth suddenly went dry.

“Yes.” she said.

She knew what it was and what it meant. They had talked about it extensively on-line. It was her slave collar, and when he put it around her neck it would formalize their relationship: as long as she was wearing the collar she was his to command and use as he saw fit. She would give up her autonomy to him.

It was something she didn’t take lightly. They both knew that it really meant nothing outside of their commitment to each other, but in the context of their relationship it meant everything, and to Karen, who’d always been independent, who was used to running other’s lives, who had broken off relationships when she felt that the man was too demanding, it was a terribly potent symbol.

“I’ll ask you just once,” he said, his voice low, “are you willing to wear this for me? You know what it means. Tell me yes or no.”