Kasey and Erin are in the room with him when I get there. They aren't being quite as strict about the two person visiting policy today. I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not. Officially they won't say anything much at all. Ninety percent of people who suffer this kind of heart attack die by now. His life hangs by a thread. He's not breathing on his own, he has a mask. He can't talk, can't eat. And he sure as hell can't help me sort out the mess with his son.
Erin gives me a hug, which shocks the hell out of me. I feel like I barely know her, but I think she must sense the connection to Thomas through me.
I notice she has no earphones today. Kasey gives me no chance to reply on my own as she moves right in to tell me what she knows from the doctors. “He can hear everything, Caroline, it's good for us to keep talking to him, it stimulates him."
Erin is still clingy. Such a funny age-desperate for independence, but ready to bolt back to the womb, mom's or anyone else's at the least provocation. “When is Daddy going to wake up, Caroline?"
I feel a little tug at my heartstrings hearing her call him Daddy.
Brian's got me thinking … is something wrong with what we have?
"Caroline doesn't know that,” Kasey says to her little sister. “Why are you asking?"
"You don't know either, Kas."
"I didn't say I did."
"Yes you did. You act like you know everything."
"No I don't."
"Yes, you do."
I'm tempted to cut them off, but this might be just the stimulation Thomas needs to wake up. If for no other reason than to tell them both to give it a rest.
"Caroline, will you talk to dad with me?” Erin wants to know.
"Sure, Er."
Kasey floors me with her next statement. “We should give Caroline a chance to be alone with Dad; you can talk to him any time."
I try not to look too stunned. Just how mature is Kasey and how much is she capable of figuring out on her own? And isn't she a chip off the old block, thinking so deeply and creatively of someone else's needs?
Just goes to show you how little biology means. Kasey is the apple off the tree while Brian isn't even from the same orchard.
"Why does she need to talk alone?” Erin asks reasonably enough.
"They're friends. When you aren't a kid anymore you'll understand."
"I'm not a kid now."
Kasey shepherds her out. “Yes, you are."
"Am not."
"You are and that's why you're arguing with me."
"You're a kid,” her mini-Monica voice parrots down the hall. “And that's why you're arguing with me."
"Women,” I smile at Thomas. “Right, Boss?"
He can't answer back to one of our running jokes.
"He's supposed to say, ‘Can't live with ‘em, can't live with ‘em."
Swallowing hard … shit, don't let me fall apart.
Got to keep talking.
"I just want to know you're okay. I'd take the pain, anything you're feeling. Oh, god, I don't know what to pray for. I hate god, anyway, he does all this shit to us and expects us to know what to ask for. Fuck it Thomas, do I want you to pull out of this? Do I want to be that selfish?"
I try and touch his hand. I can't. I'm … afraid.
"You're hanging on for everyone else, aren't you? Anyone else would have taken the hand he was dealt. Don't stay for me. I'm okay."
The words catch, the words choke.
"Oh, hell,” I laugh through tears, nice and fresh. “You always could see through me. I'm a fucking wreck. I've never been less okay. Why did you have to be so nice to me? Why couldn't you have been a prick, thrown up in my car the first night and been done with it?
"You're too stubborn. I wasn't worth it. You should have kept more of yourself. Damn it, Thomas, did we cheat Monica and the kids? Were they supposed to have all that energy you put into me? I know it bothered you; we talked about it. You lost sleep too; I saw it in your eyes.
"You never told me. Was I the first? Why didn't I ask? Sometimes I see how other women look at you. I wish I could get jealous, but I am just too star struck by you or something. It's okay; you were born to love women. I hope you had as many as you could sink that beautiful cock into.
"Oh … shit … you're not going to make it are you? I don't know if I'll have another chance. Is this it?"
I sniffle, trying to be Daddy's big girl.
"There is one thing. You know what it is, you great big smart ass, you're already watching over me, I bet you're laughing, too.
"Your son's a chip off the old block. He wants something from me-not just the sex. Though, fuck, it's good. Shit, stop laughing; I'm not that much of a slut. Am I? Okay, but I'm your slut. He's a good looking young man. He can take care of business. No refinement, though. And don't tell me I like it. I'm not that kind of girl."
I can hear his answer. Wanna bet?
"Bite me,” I tell him. Then I kiss his forehead, fast as I can. “Love you, Daddy."
I look up. She's in the doorway watching.
My world gives way from underneath me. How long has she been there? My worst fear, all the pain I've tried not to cause, released in a single bombshell, one careless gesture on my part.
"Monica…"
Her face creases, trying to process, put things together. Puzzle pieces she's had a long time. Oh, thank you, cosmic dwarves, for making her so very blonde…
The sad thing is I don't think she's cheated on him … ever.
"I have to go, Monica. Bye.” I curse myself as I brush past her, trying not to look up, trying not to see anyone.
Nice recovery, Caroline. Talk about acting like the kid with his hand in the cookie jar. Even a blonde could see through that…
"Caroline."
I turn back around, blood pounding in my ears. “Yes?"
"Thank you-for being my husband's friend."
Has she been talking to Kasey? I swallow a ball of guilt the size and weight of a cannonball. “It's nothing, Monica, you'd do the same."
If I had a husband you could fuck behind my back.
I nearly run into a male orderly on my way down the hall. I punch the button on the wall. Come on, stupid elevator, open up … I don't even care if it's just an open shaft; I'll jump in it, anything to get me out of here.
The elevator door opens. Brian's in it.
God damn fucking worst timing in the world as always, thank you, Brian.
"Caroline, what is it?” As usual I am transparent to him.
"Not now.” I back up and head for the stairs.
He catches me in the stairwell, twisting metal banisters, concrete walls. “Caroline, what the fuck is going on?"
He melts me, that mix of concern and gruffness…
I collapse against his chest. I really should have my head examined. “Monica knows,” I exhale.
He holds me. “What did she say?"
"Nothing."
"Then how do you know what she knows?"
"How could she not? And the way I'm walking around like a basket case, I might as well take out an ad in the fucking Sentinel."
"Relax, baby. It's not that bad."
He's comforting me, but that's not what I want.
I rub against him. It's like he's a conduit for all my fucked up, misplaced sexual energy. I can't believe Thomas was ever able to handle me. “I'm a slut, Brian. Treat me like one."
"Here?"
"My sluttiness is surprisingly portable. It works anywhere."
He grabs my ass. “I thought you hated me."
"I do, you're obnoxious and you practically raped me,” I quipped. “But I want you anyway. That's what makes me a slut."
"What you need,” he growls in my ear, “is a spanking."
"What I want is a fuck…"
"But you'll take what I give."
My panties are wetting all over again. “If you think you can resist me.” I try and unzip him. He's too fast. He bends me over the railing. Smacks me hard.
"Ouch!"
He smacks me a second time.
"Mother fucker, your father doesn't hit that hard."
"He's too nice."
"If somebody comes through here,” I wince, “and you'll end up in jail, like I have been telling you all along."
"Makes it more exciting, don't you think? Telling the establishment to go fuck itself, playing them right under their noses?"
He whacks me at will; I can't do anything but take the heat. Thank god it's through my jeans.
"You sound like a lost hippie. Hasn't anybody told you to act your age?"
"What about you … Daddy's little girl?"
"It's baby girl, and you may not call me that."
"Don't want to. Not my thing. I'll call you what I want to.” He reaches around and pinches me nipple. “Isn't that right?"
"Owww … yes … you mother fucker."
He takes my arm. “Let's go."
We head down. “What about the elevator?"
"You need the exercise."
"Like hell. I run three miles a day. I'm in better shape than you."
"You need the humility, then. In fact, I think I'll take the elevator. Meet you at the bottom."
"I'll beat you."
"You can try."
I meet him in the lobby, biggest shit eating grin on my face. “Nice you could join us."
Not sure why I'm flying like this. I am this close to Monica finding me out, which means losing my job not to mention any hope of seeing the man I love ever again.
Whoa … do I love Thomas?
It's not the first time I've said it-we say it a lot, he's a firm believer in owning your feelings, not worrying about how it all adds up. But up to now it's been compartmentalized. A few minutes ago it all got blown wide open.
"You're a smart ass,” he takes my waist. “You know that?"
"I'm told it's my best quality."
"So where do you wanna play-your place or mine?"
"You have a place?"
"A motel room. Decent enough."
"Perfect. You can ravish me in it all afternoon."
"We'll need to make a couple of stops first."
"I can't imagine what you have in mind."
First stop is the adult toy store. Brian wants restraints. We get a basic set that fits under the mattress, with Velcro cuffs for ankles and wrists. A blindfold is also a must. He puts it on me from behind while I'm looking at vibrators.
Thomas loves to play with my senses. Once he led me naked through the backyard of his condominium, my eyes tightly sealed from the world. My hand was in his, the sun kissed my golden skin, and I felt the tickle of the grass on my bare feet. “I just want to see you in your element. You put nature to shame."
Hardly! I was always telling Thomas to get his eyes checked. But he was a very stubborn man. He insisted I was beautiful and that was that. Round and round the yard we went. He picked wild flowers for me to smell, he rubbed the petals on my lips, and he touched a twig to my nipple. A cord pulled in my body so tight I thought it would snap like a piano wire. I had visions of him taking a switch and whipping me. I never did dare to tell him that.
Wonder why?
"What are you thinking?” Brian is at my back, caressing my cheek.
"You'll use it against me."
"Only if you let me."
"That's what I'm worried about."
He laughs and takes the blindfold off. I readjust to the light. As we continue to walk I hold his hand. I'm a little excited, a little scared. Is it all happening too fast? It would be if it weren't for the connection through Thomas.
Or is that an excuse for me falling back into my old impetuous self?
We continue to explore the store. He picks up a crop, taps my thigh lightly.
"I don't think so,” I raise an eyebrow.
He smiles, a private joke. With mixed emotions I watch as he puts it back, keeping the restraints. And he wants a collar, too. My heart beats more quickly.
"Definitely not,” I tell him.
"Look at me.” He holds one up against me.
"Stop it,” I brush it away.
"Arms down."
"No."
"Yes."
My eyes flash, his flash back.
Something zaps in the air. Suddenly we don't feel like talking anymore.
"Let's go,” we say to each other, simultaneously. We buy the collar and the rest of the items. Brian hasn't got enough cash so we put it all on my credit card, which is damned close to the max as it is. Who knows what I'll need to be putting on it in weeks to come. Groceries. Gas. The power bill.
I have maybe three months saved up to cover the rent once Monica pulls the plug on my salary. After that, I'll have to find a real job.
"Caroline,” he checks on the way to the motel, getting all Dom like. “Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?"
"After the money I just spent? You got to be kidding me?"
"I'll pay you back out of my first hit album. Seriously, though, you and me are pretty volatile together. We could get into it hot and heavy and there won't be any turning back."
"Turning back from what? What are you talking about and why are you trying to think ahead?"
"Someone has to."
"No they don't.” I move my hand to his crotch. “We are passing time. Minute to minute."
He snatches it away. “Not without permission."
"Like hell.” I try again; he holds my wrist in a vise-like grip.
"Do that again, and I'll make you take your shirt off."
"Fat chance."
He lets go of my hand and pulls up the hem of my shirt.
"Cut it out."
"Will you behave?"
"Not bloody likely."
He gets quiet. Not sure what that means.
We get to the motel, park the car. The place is non-smoking. We light up together. Midway through he says. “Here's the deal. I want to play Master and slave. And I want to play hard. You can have a safe word, but otherwise I want to just … dominate."
"The word will be dirt,” I tell him. “And you sure as shit better honor it."
He grins. “You got it."
"Fine,” I sigh, covering my nervous excitement under a veneer of indifference. “What do I do … Master?"
"Wait for me on your knees, facing the door,” he orders. “Bra and panties only."
I raise a brow. “Wow. That's original."
"I'd call it classic, slave. I'd get a move on,” he warns, “or I'll strip you right here."
I roll my eyes as he opens the door for me.
"I'll be out here, smoking,” he tells me, shutting me in.
Son of a bitch. Cocky little pup. I'm tempted to turn the double bolt, lock him out. I'll be damned if I'll roll over and play dead. I flop down on the bed, flipping through the TV channels.
He walks in, observes me and quietly takes off his worn leather boots.
My pulse is racing. I'm so ready for a little fun fight, but when I don't get one right I'm a little disappointed.
Brian goes in the bathroom and takes a shower. I turn the lights off on him and race back to bed.
He finishes up in the dark.
I swoon at the sight of him, walking out, stark naked, his body dripping and proud, young and strong. How is a woman supposed to maintain the upper hand with that in the same room?
"I hadn't figured you for a brat, Caroline. I guess I was wrong."
Finally he speaks!
"I'm not a brat."
He takes my purse.
"What are you doing?"
"Relieving you of your license."
"You can't do that.” I scramble over. He holds me at bay with one hand.
"I just did.” He puts it in his pocket. “You'll get it if and when I decide you're acting like a big girl again."
I stomp on his bare foot with my sneaker. “This isn't part of the game."
"It is, as long as you don't use the safe word.” He takes hold of my nipple and brings me to my knees.
"Ow…” I squirm sounding exactly like the brat he's accusing me of being. I'm sure not giving in, though.
Brian doesn't let go. He keeps me like that, eye level with his cock, humiliated. “What does my father do with you when you misbehave? Just out of curiosity."
"That's none of your business.” I try and take a bite out of his left ball.
He rolls the nipple, until I see stars. “He spanks me,” I wince, “but it's in play, just a game, mostly we laugh. He'd never hurt me, he's not that kind of man."
"But you dream of being hurt … just a little pain, right?"
"No I don't!"
"Lie to me, Caroline, and things only get worse."
He takes the other nipple, too. The more he tortures me, the harder his cock gets. This is not a good sign.
"All right,” I grimace. “Sometimes I have … fantasies."
"Like what?"
"Of being … whipped."
"My father doesn't whip you?"
"I told you-he's not that kind of a dominant."
"But I am."
"I've changed my mind,” I announce. “I want to leave."
"Say the word,” he goads.
I will not do it. “I just want out. Let me the fuck out."
"Show me your dry pussy and you can go."
I glower, clenching my thighs. I'm sopping wet and he obviously knows it. By scent if nothing else.
"The thing is, Caroline, my father is afraid to punish you, because he feels guilty himself."
"For what?"
"You two are committing adultery. You're cheating on Monica, on his daughters and you're cheating on me."
"What the fuck are you talking about?!” I try and show the contempt he deserves given my current limitations. “I'm not married to you!"
"You steal my father's time,” he increases the pressure. “The two of you are stealing."
"It's not like that,” I protest through the wall of pain. “I make him stronger, I help him get by. He says I'm like an oasis…"
"A man will say anything to keep getting laid."
"You're a fucking asshole!” I spit at him. It lands on his stomach.
He wasn't kidding about it getting hot and heavy. I am in a very strange place. The only thing keeps me going is that I am somehow comforting Thomas’ son. I'm serving Thomas. The only way I can.
"Lick it off,” he commands.
"Yes, Master,” I hear myself say as I lean in; I touch my tongue to his hard belly.
"It's going to be a long night for you, Caroline.” He makes me clean him for a long time; long after the saliva is gone.
I am so fucking horny.
Then he takes my chin in his hand. “Thank you,” he whispers with a wink.
I swallow. He's stepped out of character, being nice. I can't take the change, though. “Does this mean I don't have to kneel in my underwear, because it is really a stupid thing to do."
"Actually, it's hot as hell and we both know it. I'm going back outside for another cigarette,” he grabs his jeans and pulls them up over his lean, manly thighs. “When I come back I expect you to have obeyed."
"We'll see…"
His smile is devilish and quite appreciative. On they way out he stops to take off his belt, which he has yet to buckle. He tosses it on the bed.
"What's that for?” I ask although I am afraid I already know.
"That's your future, baby,” he growls. “How much, how hard I give it to you tonight depends on your behavior from this moment on. But mark my words, you'll submit to it. And soon."
"I'll flush it down the fucking toilet!” I blurt.
He closes the door behind him.
Could a belt really fit down a toilet?
I look down at my clothed body. I have a certain amount of time to strip to my underwear, to present myself in a posture of sexual subjugation. After that … it's up to him.
How much, how hard he gives it to me.
I am going to be hit with a belt, I think, and worst of all it's up to me. I can say dirt, and it's all over. Otherwise, then I am the sick puppy, the masochist.
I will admit, belts on men turn me on. Symbols of power, testosterone.
The first time I felt Thomas's belt he was wearing it. His waist was pressed against mine. The buckle was digging into my bare belly, but it was all right, I felt centered, grounded. I needed the pain. I was wearing a halter top and sweat pants. We were outside a convenience store just across from my apartment. I had been on the program all of three days. I called him from a payphone because my cell had been cut off.
"I'm going to buy wine. Three ninety-nine a bottle. You'll never make it here in time, so don't fucking bother."
"Where are you?” He never flinched, he was so perfectly calm.
"University and Dean. I told you, don't fucking bother."
He pulled up as I was leaving the store.
"What did you fucking fly?"
"Throw the bottle away, Caroline."
"Go to hell."
"Do it, Caroline, or I will."
I hesitated and he took it from me, tossed it right in the bright green and blue trash barrel.
"Fuck! I'm out four and change."
He pushed a bill in my pocket. “Let's go."
"I'm not going. I'm buying more wine."
"No."
It was the first time a man ever said no to me like that-not drunk or pissy or half cocked. Just … solid … like it wasn't going to happen. I was not going to buy wine.
I freaked. “You're not my father."
"I should be, because you're acting like a child."
I was all set to go back in. That's when he pulled me close and I felt his belt, the smell of his cologne, the safe, secure, very, very masculine world he inhabited. “It's time to let go, Caroline."
His whisper was so god damn fierce, so incredibly overpowering. It was everything all rolled into one, sex, caring … love.
I'd known him three days…
You can bet you're ass I wanted to test him.
But there was no holding up to that kind of power.
Powerful enough to be gentle … let me show you what that looks like.
"It's time to stop running; you're safe, baby girl. You're safe with me. I promise; nothing will ever happen to you."
I broke down in his arms. I sobbed, I shivered, and I apologized for every fucking thing under the sun all the way back to my second birthday when I supposedly knocked over my cake.
"Is everything all right, Miss?” a concerned elderly gentleman wanted to know.
I nodded, sniffling.
I'll never forget how Thomas responded. “We are alcoholics,” he said. “I am her sponsor."
The way he said it let me own it and not be ashamed. That combination of utter humility and complete confidence, it made me open myself. It broke down the walls.
"Thomas, take me home?"
I had walked so he took me in his car. I asked him inside, with so much shyness it hurt. He didn't even want to-not because he didn't desire me, he very much did, but because he was afraid for me if I should get attached to an older man.
He didn't think it was fair. To bog me down with an older man, a married one at that. So many times I tried to tell him he only ever lifted me up.
Now one thing I've been told I'm good at is oral sex, and that was the first thing on my mind once we were safely behind locked doors in my apartment.
"Thomas?” my hands lightly touched his chest, my breath against his shoulder. “May I … please you?"
"No … I am not here for that. Just to make sure you get to sleep."
"Please? I need to give you something for all you've done. You've wasted I don't know how many hours on me already, buying me coffee, taking me to stupid movies and now, tonight, you finally get some peace and quiet and look at me, I pull this stunt."
"It's not a stunt. You reached out for help when you needed it, I'm so proud of you."
"Thomas,” my voice cracked. “Do I have to beg? I need to suck your cock. I need to kneel for you. I need to center … on your manhood."
He smiled. If it's possible for a man to take a blowjob to indulge a woman, he did. Not that he didn't enjoy it. My kissing, murmuring lips all over him. “Thank you, thank you … you saved me."
"Not me,” he was careful to say stroking my hair. “You must find your higher power."
"I know.” What I didn't tell him is that he was it, like it or not. He was as high as I was going to get. And was that so bad? Thomas never steered me wrong, he's got so much integrity and honor, and he would see himself torn apart before he would ever do anything to hurt me.
My breath catches.
He did tear himself apart, didn't he?
"Well, well,” says Brian, interrupting my little reverie. “I see the brat can behave after all."
I look up at him, jeans, no shirt, and no shoes. Somehow I have gotten down onto my knees. My jeans are off and my shirt, too.
Holy shit, I have followed orders…
"Slaves generally spread their knees a bit wider, though, and arch their back."
"I'm not your slave."
"As long as you're in this room you are."
"And you're a prick. In the room and out."
This smile is a new one. It goes right to my crotch. “You know how much I'm going to enjoy beating you?"
He's giving me butterflies and fucking with my head, too. I'm sure it's intentional. “How would you feel about a blow job instead?"
"I'd love one-but not until your ass is hamburger."
"Have I told you how much I don't want this?"
"Once or twice?"
"And you don't give a fuck, do you?"
"Not really."
"Can I tell you I'm scared?"
"You should be."
"Not very reassuring, are you?"
"Do you want me to be?"
"I want you to get this over with, that's what I want."
He purses his lips. “Bring me the belt."
My heart slams in my chest. Such an ordinary thing, a man's belt, suddenly transformed, imbued with so much power. I don't really know what this thing can do, outside of pictures on the Internet. I've masturbated to some. No one knows that, not even Thomas.
"My father hasn't taught you much, has he?"
A flash of anger rises as I stand there, holding out the leather strip for him, so gingerly retrieved. “What's your problem? I got it for you. Here it is."
He tells me to bring it like a proper slave girl.
I say no fucking way and he slaps me. It makes me hot. It makes my pussy clench. I feel the warmth on my cheek.
Brian throws the belt back on the bed.
Down I go to my knees. I crawl on all fours, head down. Each brush with the cheap carpeting sends jolts through me of crazy need. If this were Daddy I would just tell him I need sex and we'd stop everything. But Brian isn't his father. And I'm sure being punished for ever comparing them, aren't I?
I remain on my knees, sliding my breasts across the mattress far enough to reach the cursed belt. This time I clench it in my teeth. Like a proper slave girl.
"You look good like that, Caroline.” His praise humiliates me further as I return to him, little more than a dog sent to fetch.
Bastard … doesn't he know I'm a kitten?
"Drop it at my feet. And don't move."
My hair is in front of my face; I can't see anything but carpet fibers, the belt and Brian's bare feet. I've never been so focused on a man's will in my life.
He pets me with his hand. “I'm going to break you,” he says in a tone so soothing.
My head is really fucked with now…
"You know the irony? It's my father who opened this side of me. The sadist. He told me all about his interests and like I told you, I was freaked at first. It wasn't disgust though; it was something else. He was touching on feelings I already had. I never told him I liked this stuff at all. I guess I was ashamed because I don't have his gentle ways. I like it rougher. I like girls who need it rougher. I wonder if he knew that? I wonder if he told me all he did for my sake, not his?"
The answer is yes, that's how Thomas is, but I'm not going to tell him that. Not while he is humiliating me, petting me in my underwear as some kind of bizarre foreplay for whipping.
"Get on your belly, Caroline.” His breath is quicker, tighter. “I want to see you at my feet. Completely."
I lower my body to the floor. I'm breathing more quickly, too. Okay, so this does feel like foreplay … I must be as messed up as him.
"You have a nice body,” he assesses my prostrate ass. “You keep it up well for my father."
His every word burns me more, makes me feel the slut. My nipples are rock hard, caught inside the bra. My panties are so wet I am sure I will stain the carpet.
"You can kiss my feet if you like."
If I like…
The motherfucker, what choice does he think I have?
I tell myself I do it to appease him, to make my beating go easier, but the truth is … I need it.
He knows me, I think, and I hate that.
"A girl like you shouldn't be free. A girl like you should belong,” he says as I press my lips, once, twice and then a third time.
There is anger in his words, but it's not directed at me. I feel such a security right now, such a sense of being in place, the woman, servile, object, the man, accepting, even as his mind continues to dwell on loftier things.
Screwed up, right? I mean what kind of self-esteem building is this? After the first time Thomas and I made love and I thanked him for like the fiftieth time he marched me into the bathroom of his bachelor pad as he called it-the condo where he lived while away from Monica and the girls.
"Stop putting all this energy on me, put it on this woman here,” he showed me my own reflection. Go on,” he held my shoulders from behind. “Tell her you love her. You love that little girl who's been hurt so bad."
I couldn't do it, honest to god, he had to keep at me and at me, I got so furious, I called him all kinds of names but he wouldn't relent until finally I broke apart. The admission came out in tears … what was wrong with me, crying over such a silly exercise?
"It isn't silly,” said Thomas. “It's the most important thing you'll do. Without this the rest of your time on the planet will be a tragic waste."
How's that for food for thought?
He ordered me to do it every day, morning and night, looking into the mirror, talking to the little girl.
"Yes, Daddy,” I whispered. It was the first time I called him that.
I blink, enough times to get back to the present. What a time traveler I am lately.
Brian is the one I am dealing with. Brian and his little power trip.
Our little power trip.
"Ready to kick this up a notch, Caroline?” he lets the end of the belt dangle, along my back. I arch my spine, I release a moan. Any hope of hiding my complicity in this is gone. Still, I have to keep resisting, he has to keep raising the stakes, making me have to resist-that's the game.
"No, I am not."
Sure enough he squats down and goes to work. His hand taps my ass, treating it as the piece of meat it technically is, until I end this. “You are being a disobedient slave girl. I think you need to learn your place."
His hand caresses my neck. I close my eyes. “I think I'd like to see you kiss my foot. How about you."
"You're a sadistic prick,” I pant. “You know that?"
"Put your lips on my shoe, Caroline."
"No."
He takes my panties and rips them apart in his hand, leaving nothing between his wrath and my naked flesh. “Last chance,” he says.
"I said no…” I'm morbidly curious, I want to skate that edge.
I see him double the belt out of the corner of my eye, his arm raises with practiced ease and I feel this bizarre jealousy because it's obvious he's done this before, a lot, and I don't want to think of Thomas’ son beating other asses and degrading other girls. Not when he's with me.
I tell myself it's just my vanity; at least I hope it is.
The belt lands with a crack and all of a sudden the romance of corporal punishment is gone. This hurts … a lot.
The safety word … is it time?
Thomas always had one with me, though it was not really a big thing.
Ours varied from day to day, all kinds of silly things, inside jokes. I never used it, though, not once. We simply never made it to the edge-there was always so much room to explore within our boundaries. The only problem was he never had enough time, enough energy.
"Brian,” I say. “Di-” The syllable hangs in the air.
"Caroline? What are you trying to say? Are you using the word?"
I'm testing him, making sure he won't do anything if he even thinks I might use the word. I can see he is holding back, respecting. I decide to throw myself to the wolves.
"No, I am telling you I'm not kissing your fucking foot, that's all!"
Brian goes to work; five hard lashes that leave me twitching. I writhe in agony as he beats me, I try so hard to get up but he holds me down, his other hand on the small of my back. I have nowhere to go, I am trapped.
"I can do this all day,” he takes a break. “How about you?"
He's made his point. I put my lips to his foot. His boot is dusty. I hate that he's making me play the game this way-making me humiliate myself to get any more sex. On the other hand, I am getting so hot…
"Satisfied?” I spit.
"Lick it."
Me and my big mouth … can never leave well enough alone.
He can't leave well enough alone either, bending over and pushing two fingers down into my freely available pussy from behind.
Pleasure courses through me, mixed with dirty shame. Licking the rug has now become a sexual act, albeit a decidedly kinky one.
Brian yanks the panties out from underneath me as I kneel back up. He sniffs them, audibly. “Fresh and wet. Guess we haven't hit your limits yet,” he dabs at my pussy, sopping the material further, then turns me over onto my back, my ass pressing into the carpet, the contact making me moan.
"Open wide,” he orders.
I whimper as he makes me take my underwear for a gag. I'm scandalized at how aroused I am. This shouldn't be. I shouldn't have agreed, I shouldn't have wanted … and I most certainly shouldn't need more of it.
"Can you spit them out?” he wants to make sure before he continues. “To say the word."
I nod, almost angry. I don't want to be reminded this is all fake. I just want to be dominated and controlled.
"Crawl to the bed, then, slut. Get on all fours."
Is he going to use me? I can't ask, I can't discuss, can't resist. Not part of this menu. I wonder if I'll get sick of it any time soon. I get up on the mattress, facing the headboard.
I wait, I anticipate, I yearn. Reduced to one great big fucking cavity. Or is that one big cavity for fucking?
"You better be good, cunt."
The words, so bitter and mean and demeaning go right through me.
"I have high standards."
This is so weird, I think. Men used to do me this way and it was only ever to bring me down to their piss poor level. But this isn't like that. I'm in charge, or least I have the veto power. And Thomas is the one who made me strong enough to play like this. In uncharted territory. With his own son.
"You don't hold back on me, understand? I want the fuck of my life. Or your night will get unpleasant in a hurry,” he says huskily, sounding like the biggest psycho from any movie I have ever seen.
I offer up my cunt. I drop to my elbows, drooling from my saturated, ripped and soiled panties. I offer up my body, my whipped ass.
I'd say yes, Master, but I can't say anything at all.
He slams himself to the hilt, immediately condemning me for my wet and open state. “That was pathetically easy. You really are a whore. Let's see how you take it up the ass, instead."
I stiffen. This isn't in the plans, not that we have any.
Thomas hasn't even been there.
"Don't shake your head no at me, Caroline. No isn't in your new vocabulary, is it?"
"Is it?” He repeats, massaging my clit.
Ffffuck.
I moan. Cunt in heat. I move against his finger, obsequious, servile.
"No coming. Not just yet.” He denies me.
My cunt becomes a source of lubricant and nothing more as he scoops out what he needs for the narrower channel.
Spit out the panties, Caroline. Call this off…
I'm in over my head … I'm in this bizarre place … if I didn't feel Thomas’ presence in all this I would freak. Even so I am on the sharpest of edges.
If only I didn't seem to like it there … in this roller coaster kind of way.
Brian is naked behind me, he is hard all over, his erection is already pressing into place. Time, I need more time…
Then he does this most peculiar thing. He puts his hand on the back of my neck. “You're not alone…"
I swear it's just a sadistic ploy, to keep softening me up for more pain, to keep me from ending his fun.
His touch has its desired effect. I relax, I open.
Before I can close again, I am invaded. It is slow, sweet and dream-like, born of the darkly sensuous recesses of the mind, where the little animals run free.
"That's it,” he whispers. “Take it like the good little ass slut you are."
And there's the difference-what makes it possible with Brian and maybe with no one else. He has the ability to make it mental when I can't handle the physical and then, when the mental starts playing tricks on me, he flips it back to physical again.
I need to be called an ass slut. I need the attention or I couldn't take this, couldn't see what's good in this.
It's tight, for one thing, it's being filled in the wrong channel, it's naughty, it's thumbing your nose at society like Brian says. It's also a goddamn tease, because I can't get my pussy satisfied. I'm aching all over; I'm living, breathing in this space of prolonged, Tantric need.
The bottom line, pardon the pun, is not society or Tantric sex.
In the end, pardon second pun, I am gagged and being fucked at Brian's prerogative. I wasn't asked, oh, god, I wasn't asked. Do you know what pressure that takes off me? Daddy helps me grow every day, but it can be work. And there are always things in the back of my mind.
Not now. Brian doesn't give a fuck.
Isn't that amazing?
He is restraining himself, I can tell. It's not a cop out, just a recognition I have limits. This is no monster, he really is on double, and triple alert because I can't shout out, can't cry a safety word.
"You need to be widened,” he tells me.
I try and will myself to be more of a hole … but that won't do it. He means something needs to be done to me…
"We'll work on that."
New resistance. Not so much what he might work on, but the fact that I'd have to get to this point again. From out of my normal life.
Not sure I can do that.
"Methinks the lady doth protest,” he quotes Shakespeare, rather incompletely to my mind.
Oh, god, he's after my clitoris. Using his finger. Not cool. Not fucking cool.
"Ever wear a butt plug, Caroline? I imagine not. They can be uncomfortable for little girls like you, but they are good for keeping you in line. And they have the added bonus of permanently loosening you up. You want that, don't you? To take my cock deeper and deeper each time."
"No next time!” I cry into the gag.
He laughs. Did he understand?
"I'm halfway in, not bad for a virgin,” he comments. “I'm going to fuck you this way a bit then maybe I'll come. Or we might break for a shower."
The way he said it, just with total possessiveness, like my body was nothing more than a receptacle, a semen station…
I orgasm right then, his finger on my clit. He just laughs, low and guttural. He so has me…
"You just wait until I start denying you orgasms, you'll go out of your mind."
I make my protest, a distinctly muted “mmphhh,” sound.
Daddy never denies me, unless it's to give me something else, something even better.
Brian takes my hips, clamping tightly. I have to take it as he moves inside me, in and out, using my asshole like a pussy. I continue to spasm, sweat drenched in the after shocks.
He grunts and I feel his cock swell. Is this it? Am I going to receive his semen?
I try to be ready … I feel reverence welling up, too late to push it back down, too late to save my pride.
I thrust my ass toward my despoiler, the man who's told me I must be a good ass fuck for him. It's going to do something to me, to us, to have him climax this way, I really won't be able to look at him as equal again, and that makes me mad, but I have traveled too far and the way back makes me even angrier.
I groan … begging for it. He pumps and pumps with terrific self-control, I think I'm doing okay; maybe I'm big enough now? Definitely ready, who needs a butt plug?
And then, just like that, he plays with my head, taking himself out of me at the last possible moment.
"By the way,” he tells me as he sprays his come all over my ass. “I'm not done whipping you."
The psychological effect is staggering. I try and rear up and away. He holds me by the hair, yanking brutally at my scalp. Everything disappears but the frantic need to appease. Obedience equals end to pain.
I take the semen bath like a good slut.
"Lay down,” he slaps my hip. “On your stomach. I'll tell you when I'm ready for you in the bathroom."
My throat is scratchy. My head is turned sideways, cheek against the rumpled comforter. I'm terrified he's going to leave me. This hurts so much more than the belt or the cock up my ass. “Are we going to take a shower?” I asked.
"I am,” he says cryptically.
"What about me?” I say softly, the words coming from my underbelly, my flesh still glowing in a place of luscious degradation.
"I have a different kind of shower in mind for you."
I close my eyes, whipped and come soaked, my hair tangled and matted.
I'd thought this was the bottom, but it's not even close.
I think of what Brian intends. I think about him bathing me, the ultimate insult and the ultimate gift, both at the same time.
"Would you like that sweetheart?” he croons.
"Yes,” I whisper.
Wouldn't you?