It's funny looking back how the relationship I had with Thomas developed along dominant and submissive lines before I even knew what the words meant.
From the moment he captivated me, made me laugh and dragged me out of that basement-and out of that funk-I became his. To mold, to do with as he wished.
I wonder if he knows to this day just how vulnerable I was-am?
He tells me I've been the strong one all along, that no one could have survived the things I did without having an indestructible core. The trouble is my coping mechanisms were limited and pretty damned dysfunctional.
I knew how to drink, lose jobs and spread my legs. Great country music stuff, but not really helpful for a stable life.
The day after I first called Thomas Daddy I was so incredibly horny and needy. I literally begged him to keep me by his side every minute. We ended up taking a long drive to look at some land near the coast for a possible deal.
He stopped to buy me some clothes. Very expensive. A skirt, on the short side and a pink blouse. We shopped at a store for women much younger than me. I was so thankful for having kept up my jogging, because I could actually fit into the teeny sizes.
I felt totally wicked in the new outfit, complete with strappy sandals.
I wanted to play with him when we got back to the car, but he had a different game in mind.
"Is your seat belt buckled, baby girl?"
"Yes, Daddy,” I told him.
"Are you ready to go bye bye?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"That's my girl."
I took a deep breath, allowing the reassurance to wash over me. This man really could protect me, care for me. I could let myself go, as far as I wanted. “Where we going, Daddy?"
"Daddy needs to see some land."
"What's land?"
"A big piece of ground, a lot of dirt where Daddy might build some houses."
"Why?” I was aiming for about five.
"So people can live in them."
I took one of his hands and started idly bending his fingers, this way and that. “What people?"
"People who need somewhere to live."
"Why?"
"Everyone needs somewhere,” he said.
"Why?"
He stroked my hair. “Just because, baby girl."
"Because why?"
"Baby girl, you're whining."
"No, I'm not."
He spoke sternly. “That's enough, Baby girl."
My pussy flooded. I was twitching like crazy under my panties. “It's not enough,” I said, driven by some uncontrollable desire to be bad.
"Baby girl,” his voice was very calm. “Do you need a spanking?"
"No.” I folded my arms over my thumping heart and burning nipples. “And besides, you can't reach my bottom while you're driving."
"That's true. But I can spank your thigh, can't I?"
I covered both of them. “No, Daddy!"
"Sit back, baby girl."
I obeyed, my face contorted into a great big sourpuss.
He laughed. “How can I be mad at you?"
"You can't,” I grinned. “You can only be happy with me."
The rest of the ride I was the little princess, getting to play with the windows and the radio. I asked a million questions, I rested my head on his shoulder. I begged him until he stops for an ice cream at one of the highway exits.
Finally I fell asleep, my head in his lap.
It was the most peacefully I had slept in ages.
Unlike the present; I am certainly not sleeping now. My every sense is on alert. I relax while the shower is on, but not completely. I half expect Brian to come out while the water's still running, just to mess with me.
He takes his sweet time, or maybe I'm just too on edge. It feels like forever. I want so badly to play with myself. Would he care? Does he even have to know? I'd rather not take chances, but I can only take so much burning. At last I give in, lifting my pelvis and slipping my hand underneath. I know right where to put it.
I fuck my hand, moving as quick as I can. It's humiliating trying to sneak in pleasure like this-after all this is supposed to be my body.
I'm getting real close when I become aware of someone standing over me. Shit, did he float in here like some kind of ninja?
"Just couldn't help yourself, could you?” He has the handcuffs we bought at the toy store.
"What are you going to do to me?” I ask-though it's pretty clear as he clicks the steel on my wrists that I am going into bondage.
"Removing temptation. For a little slave slut who can't keep her hands where they belong."
"Please, Brian,” I moan, my dignity in ruins. “I'm so horny. Please let me come?"
"Negative. I think you need to concentrate on Master for a while."
He circles my neck in the collar and attaches it. There is a leash that jingles as he tugs it.
"Down on the floor,” he orders. “On your knees."
I feel the snug leather against my throat. The symbolism is overpowering. The collar has been placed on me. It will stay there until Brian wants it off. Unless I feel like fighting him again.
It's a pet collar. The leash re-enforces the point. He intends to treat me as an animal.
I'm having a hard time moving. I try and get up on my knees. How am I supposed to do this? I look at him, gagged, pitiful.
"Does the slave girl need help obeying Master?"
I nod, trapped for the moment on my side.
He chuckles. He's going to help me all right, but not in the way I imagined.
"Obey me,” he levels the belt at my hip. “Find a way."
I squirm and squeal, irrationally trying to cover myself. That isn't going to work. The blows sting my flesh, my ass, my back, and the backs of my thighs. He won't let up.
There's only one thing to do. I crawl forward, head first over the edge of the bed. He lets me fall. He doesn't help me to get up on my knees, he does nothing but continue to punish me.
"Legs spread,” he lashes the top of my thigh.
I spread widely.
"Back arched."
I scream into the gag as he whips my breasts. I glare at him in hate and fury.
"You need a lot of work,” he says.
That's it. That's all I get for all that work?
He lifts the leash and pulls me toward the bathroom, “Keep up, slut."
I burn the hell out of my knees. Not a pleasant glow, but total fucking agony.
The tile in the bathroom is actually a relief, hard as it is.
Brian takes out the gag.
I work my jaw, trying to get out the soreness. “May I have some water?"
"Beg for it, like the slut you are."
You total prick! I don't say this out loud, there's no telling what he'd do to me.
"You want a privilege, Caroline, you have to beg for it, the way I want you to."
My lower lip slides between my teeth. I am so hot and ready. Why won't he take me? He has that hard cock to play with.
Then I remember he's a Master, of the sadistic variety. It's not about the climax alone. There is oh so much in between. “Master, may I have some water? Your … slut … begs you."
He half fills a glass on the counter.
I gulp it down. “More?"
"No, you'll get yourself sick. Besides I want you to be good and thirsty for my piss."
My look of pure trepidation induces more laughter. “Don't worry, girl, I won't make you drink it, I'm just kidding. I'd advise you to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut tight, though. I know it will be a challenge."
My eyes narrow.
"I don't hear a thank you. What kind of Daddy's girl are you?"
"The kind who's going to kick your ass when this is all over,” I can't resist.
"What was that?” he pulls my leash, digging it under my chin.
"T-thank you…"
"Thank you, Master, you mean."
"Thank you … Sir."
"There's a good sport.” He winks. “Go hop in the tub, sweetie, there's a dear."
He makes me crouch down, holding up my breasts for him to piss on.
He stands outside the tub, taking his aim. The plug is in, so the urine won't go down the drain. The really crappy thing is I need to go, too.
Brian makes a ritual out of it. He rubs himself over my cheeks, makes me kiss the tip.
I taste the salt…
"Too bad Monica isn't here,” he says. “I bet she would enjoy watching this happen to the woman who's fucking her husband."
"It's not like that,” I insist.
I close my mouth just in time. The spray hits my lips, like a fire hose. I sputter. He takes aim at my eyes, my hair.
"Hold the tits higher."
Not my tits … the tits.
The golden curtain cascades over my bosom, trickling down my belly. I have piss between my legs, piss on my feet, piss in my eyebrows, piss in my ears.
A man's piss.
I'm soaked, shamed, exhilarated. Collared and leashed, totally used.
"Sleek wet little bitch…” He licks his lips and starts stroking.
His eyes are on me, scanning, part to part, indifferent to my personhood.
I might as well be a jpeg.
God, I want that cock, why is he wasting that erection?
But it's not a waste; he's doing what he wants with it. His cock, his game … my tough luck.
Anyway, who wants sex with a girl glistening in urine? I stink, the piss has soaked me and it's already starting to dry.
"Open up wide,” he orders.
It's another bodily fluid he has for me and this time my mouth is the target. One of the targets.
I'm dumbfounded how thick the jets are. This is the fourth time with me today. He's like his father … in this way at least.
No one ever lusted after me like Thomas. I was like his first crush, his college sweetheart and the prostitute he picked up down the lane on a daily basis. You'd think there were no other women but me, like I was every female rolled into one.
And this from a married man-omigod, I am so not the other woman-so not a piece on the side, except when we both want it to be that.
He just has the gift. To give women what they need. Monica couldn't endure him as a sexual animal, couldn't take him as Daddy, or mentor.
He is just Mr. Fix it.
"Brian, where are you going?!"
He's at the door, he is finished pissing and ejaculating and now he's going to close the light on me.
"Cigarette."
"You can't leave me!"
"You're not really in a condition to go outside."
"Let me clean up."
"I am not quite done with you this way, I'm afraid."
"Well you can't leave me like this.” I wriggle to my feet, using my cuffed hands along the wall of the tub.
"I can do what I want with you, Caroline. That's the deal. Unless…"
"Stop rubbing the word under my nose! I know about the fucking word. I'll use it when I want to."
"Suit yourself."
"Brian, wait."
"What?"
My heart is thumping. What to say?
"Will you be long?” I ask meekly.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm not this kind of female…
"I might bring back take out, I don't know.” He chuckles. “You don't mind if I borrow the car, do you, slave girl? Seriously, I won't be too long. Burger World's just across the street."
I can't laugh. I have no emotion left. That last outburst has drained me.
"Yes, Master,” I whisper, the urine in puddles around my feet.
He shuts the lights off.
I try to figure out what the hell just happened.
And why I am hornier than I have ever been in my whole entire life.
* * * *
"You trade one addiction for another."
That's how Thomas sums up the Alcoholic's meetings. That's not the official philosophy, and he's careful to tell me that.
"You have to have the higher power, you have to follow your steps, but sooner or later it comes down to deciding what you're going to use in your life to keep the beast at bay. All of us have it. You can fill it with sex or power, drugs or alcohol."
Or you can fill it with Daddy.
The night he told me about BDSM I was so freaking fascinated, so totally into his explanations, his unique take on things. He could have been into anything, fishing, macrame and it would have seemed sexy, but the way he talked about what it meant for him to be a Master. What it meant to get a woman to trust him, to bare her soul, to bare her body.
"It's in the mind,” he said. “You can be intimate without paddles and cuffs, but to be intimate with them, to really do it in a consensual way, that is the ultimate rush."
His drug, I suppose.
So naturally, it became mine. Daddy's baby girl. Slave slut, little princess no panties.
He wouldn't ever put a collar on me. I wanted to try it.
No one has done that-until Brian.
I pictured this so much differently, a romantic little scene, a piece of rope jewelry, given in a restaurant, the meaning entirely secret as it changes hands. Or an ankle bracelet, delicately attached by Master's hands to my bare flesh. The feeling so intense, He might as well be locking my pussy.
"In a different world, baby girl…"
"Pick one,” I grinned one night, pointing to the stars as we dined together on the patio of the finest Italian restaurant in Orlando.
"There.” His finger angles perfectly steady, pointing to a certain star. He calls it by name, I don't remember what he said, I was just watching his finger.
Thinking naughty things about it being in my pussy.
"Will you fly me?"
"Yes, baby girl. Soon as the rocket is out of the shop."
The rocket never did get through its repairs. Though he took me in his private plane a couple of times.
There's no way to describe seeing things from the air when you're being piloted by a man like that. Your life in hands like his … all man, powerful enough to be gentle. Oh, fuck, has he ever shown me what that looks like.
"Take off your clothes,” he turned to me once, hundreds of feet in the air.
"Are you fucking serious?"
He was fucking serious.
I stripped it all off. Socks, sneakers, t-shirt, shorts. I thought we would crash, the way he had to keep leaning over to help me. Every time he did the plane would take a small nosedive.
"Keep your eye on the road!"
"There is no road."
"Well keep your eye on something."
He ran his hand over my mound, making me moan. “I am."
"That's not your eye, Mister."
"I'm practicing in case I go blind. Your pussy is like Braille, you know."
"I can just imagine what it's saying to you."
"It's shocking, really."
"It always did have a mind of its own."
I end up climaxing over an orange grove. What is it with orange groves and us?
I lick his fingers clean and beg to suck him. “Please, Daddy,” I say in my most irresistible voice. “Let your baby girl get a treat?"
Damn if he didn't unzip. I had to start and stop a bunch of times. I could get my head in, but there wasn't much maneuvering room. Daddy never gives up, though and in the end I got my treat.
Yummy.
The rest of the flight he just played with me, buck naked in an airplane, running his hands over my body. That's what's so amazing. Thomas can just turn any occasion into sex. And not just the act but also the whole sensuality of being. He was born to be nude, born to fondle women.
"How often do you think about sex?” I asked him once, intending to tease.
"Constantly,” he said.
He wasn't joking.
I think maybe the best thing he's done for me is make me not feel so alone in being the little sex fiend I am.
"You're a bigger slut than me,” I am always telling him.
"Everyone's a slut, or should be. We're sexual animals, Caroline, it's society that tells us we shouldn't be. They shove us in a box, I think it just drives some people into awful dark places."
We've seen dark places, both of us. My childhood was for shit and so was his. Brian thinks his Daddy wasn't there? He has no idea what Thomas had to overcome, no model, no hope of success. Written off at such a terribly young age, only to fight like hell and win all the things society values. And then what? You look inside, and you're still empty. So you try and fill the space-there's your beast.
The alcohol. Thank god Thomas figured it out. He made his choice. Call his life now an addiction-but I think it's fucking good. I think he and I are good.
Don't I?
I don't have guilt. Brian's full of shit.
So why am I leaning against the shower wall, rubbing my legs together, getting off on smelling like piss, on being treated like shit?
Don't ask why, angel. What turns us on comes from somewhere too deep for explanations … just surrender, find the joy…
A shiver passes through me.
Something very inexplicable.
That was not my own thought.
Someone talked through me.
No, someone passed through me…
Like a spirit on the move.
A soul, leaving a body?
I scream for Brian.
He comes bounding in, bouncing the doorknob against the wall. “What on Earth?"
"Thomas…” I say as he turns on the lights. “He's…"
"He's fine,” Brian completes the sentence. “I just called. No change."
"That's hardly fine,” I snap.
"It's a hell of a lot better than anybody expected. Christ, you're a worrier."
"I'm a realist,” I correct.
"Okay, realist,” he grumbles. “Time to get cleaned up."
He gets the keys to the handcuffs and releases my wrists.
There isn't any talking. He rubs my wrists. Taking off his clothes he gets in the shower with me and turns on the water, shielding my body until the water is warm. He lets me stand still while he soaps up my body, getting down on one knee to clean me off. He is very gentle, washing my hair, telling me to put my head back so he can rinse it squeaky clean. He even uses conditioner.
I am tingling all over, but he's just begun. Kneeling down on one leg, he starts to work on my pussy. “You are going to come for me, slave."
I brace myself on my shoulders. “No, Master…"
I feel too wrung out, but he won't take the no for an answer. He goes straight for my clitoris, his hands are on my ass holding me in place. I am helpless, I have to take the pleasure in the same way I had to take the pain and all the rest of it.
I am reminded of Thomas, but there's a subtle difference. He has that sharper edge, I can tell it's turning him on to have me so completely at his mercy, submitting to pleasure.
Who am I to deny? I come for him, like a good, obedient little slut.
He turns the water off and helps me out of the shower. “Hands over your head,” he orders.
I am not allowed to interfere as he towel dries my body. Very delicately, tantalizing my flesh. I am embarrassed because he cannot dry my pussy. He laughs, taking full credit.
Finally he dries my hair. I have to hold my hands together behind my back. My breasts are pointed sharply towards him. He does not touch them which makes them ache all the more.
"Good girl,” he praises although I have done nothing. “I want you to go and kneel by the desk. There's food there, but you must not touch it."
I walk out of the bathroom, feeling like a zombie. I put my finger on the collar on my neck, wet and stiff.
What is he doing to me?
The smell of food brings me out of my fog. I suddenly realize how hungry I am. Forgetting his orders I sniff it out, intent on rapid fry consumption. I salivate at the sight.
Two white bags, with burgers and fries.
I grab the fry bag and start munching. He finds me sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Put down the bag,” he says, his voice deadly calm. “Slave Caroline."
I talk with a full mouth. “We can play again after."
His voice gets my attention. “Now girl, or I will whip you until your ass is bright as that ketchup."
Arousal grips my empty stomach. “Brian,” I wheedle. “Please."
"Now,” he points.
My breathing is quick, my nipples throb. I imagine him squeezing them, I fantasize about him locking me away somewhere, feeding me scraps of food, for all eternity.
I drop the bag and then I drop myself, sliding to the floor. I crawl past him to the desk and kneel up beside it.
His eyes stay on me, level, appraising.
He waits until I remember posture. My pussy burns like he's whipped it as I spread my legs. He wants them wide. And wider still. At the same time, I offer him up my breasts-to tease, to play with. To fondle. To hurt.
"See Caroline,” he smiles. “I have already begun to train you."
I flush red. Disgraced … and craving.
"Does that make you feel more like a man?” I challenge.
"Yes, as a matter of fact."
"Figures."
"And how does it make you feel? Being treated like a dog?"
"Like crap, how do you think?"
"Your pussy tells a different story."
I snap shut my glistening, dripping lips.
"Bad girl! Thighs open!"
I jolt in shock. My legs come back apart in sheer reflex.
"Good girl,” he praises.
I surge with the animal heat. The man is more than sadistic; he's turning demonic.
And I am helping to create the monster.
Now I have to watch him as he takes out one of the burgers and starts to eat. Two or three bites into it he sips a soda and eats some fries. Then he takes up the burger again.
I glare. Ready to fight again. “Where the fuck is mine?"
"That's not very polite,” he chides. “Swearing at Master."
"I'm hungry,” I manage. “I want a burger."
"Better, but in all fairness pets and slaves beg for food."
He will have to work harder to get anything more out of me. “Never mind. I'm not that hungry."
The trouble is I am. The smell of cooked meat is reminding me I haven't eaten since I don't know when. Last night, I think … at the diner. Out of the corner of my eye I see Brian's guitar case. What if I hold it hostage in exchange for a burger?
"Swallow your pride, girl,” he says with a full mouth. “You're obviously starving."
Is this not the most obnoxious man on the face of the Earth?
"May I have something to eat, oh most noble highness of the universe,” I smile sweetly.
"Not what I had in mind,” he shakes his head. “I think you better try again. You're going to need your strength for the next session."
"What session?” I feel the spasms in my pussy starting in. Is this another form of training?
"The stimulation session. Time for you and the new vibrator to get good and friendly,” he grinned.
"I don't like the sounds of that, Brian."
"Why not? You bragged to me in the hospital what a slut you are."
"I meant sex with you, not a toy."
"You'll take what I give you, babe."
"I'm not your babe."
"You'll take what I give, slave."
I watch him unwrap one of the other burgers from the foil. Why does it have to smell so fucking good? “Want some?” he holds it up.
My stomach roils. “Brain, please, you know I do."
"Then beg."
"Fine, I'm begging."
"Doesn't look like it."
I move a little closer. “Please, Sir?"
"Paws up,” he coaches. “Tongue out."
My body is tingling all over. I do it; I demean myself just like the dog he wants me to be.
"Good girl.” He tears off a piece of the burger and holds it out for me to take from his fingers.
Bastard.
I would really like to bite him, but we both know I won't.
My breathing is shallow. Something is coming over … it's like the feeling of being pissed on, but more so. I know what I have to do, I know it's beneath me and I shouldn't, but I will anyway. Approaching, meekly, I take the food. I use my mouth, my teeth.
I swallow it right down. “Good girl,” he praises.
He holds up another.
I eat it.
I look up at him, whimpering for more. Piece by piece, he feeds me, petting me in between, soothing me, making me actually enjoy this at some visceral level. The total simplicity, cunt wetting and satisfying of being provided for by a man strong enough to keep me on my knees.
Is it just the unknown element here, the novelty factor or has Brian really given the S and M game a permanent new twist for me?
One thing is sure, Thomas and I are going to have a hell of a laugh over this when he gets better.
I watch Brian take out a package of French fries. My French fries.
There is no question how I will respond when he holds one up. “Here, girl."
I arch my back and lift up my lips, gently biting down on the crisp, golden potato.
He pats my head.
"Want another, girl?"
I nod … I don't dare speak, I am afraid even to breathe, I am so close to a fucking climax.
He deigns to give me another. I swallow it down. God, I'm still famished. The package disappears in a blur. He stops several times, making me lick his fingers. I suck at them, hungrily desperately. The symbolism is clear.
He tells me to thank him after all the fries are finally gone along with the burger.
"Thank you,” I rasp.
"Not like that. On your belly. At my feet."
He wants me down on the carpet. This is the most degrading thing yet and I am going to do it. I have to. We've come too far. I have to know where he will take this, I have to see how it turns out.
I get down on the floor and present myself at his toes. “Thank you…"
He pushes his foot into my face. “Not like that,” he repeats.
I suck his toes, one at a time.
Thank you…
"Enough.” He snaps his fingers. I get back on my knees.
How did I know to do that exact thing?
I must be operating on some kind of autopilot. Lord, my body is a furnace, I am so warm. Sweat covers me in a glistening sheen.
He strokes my cheek. “Are you ready?"
I nod yes, caught up in his energy, but it's a bluff; how could I possible be ready for what I have never experienced?
"On the bed, on your back, ankles apart, wrists over your head. Spread them wide."
I bite at my lower lip.
It doesn't take a genius to know how vulnerable a position that is.
It also doesn't take one to know that I am going into this position because I am Caroline, most stubborn sub in the world.
The reality of all of this should scare me, but it makes me oddly peaceful, docile. “Master, may I have a little drink first?” I ask softly.
He puts a straw to my lips, mildly surprised, I think at how eager and polite I have become. I swallow the icy cola. He doesn't hurry me.
"Thank you, Master.” I feel his eyes hot on me as I move. I'm aroused, knowing he's turned on, knowing he wants to do things to me.
As if he hasn't done enough already.
I make a calculation of the number of hours off and on we have been at it today, starting with my apartment. Brian really is insatiable, I marvel. With Thomas there are long breaks in between sex, times of friendship, business, shooting the breeze over tea and coffee.
He gives me the companionship of an older man and I know he likes to have a younger woman lust after him. I am so glad to make Thomas happy, but this is good, too.
I hear Thomas in my ear. Just say how it makes you feel.
Honestly? It makes me feel good as a woman to know I can be this wanted by an attractive younger man.
Too bad he's a sex maniac.
Then again, I've been accused of that, too.
People in the Alcoholic community hear my story and often direct me to sex addict groups. Part of Thomas’ theory about addictions-the people who live for meetings live for nothing else and sex is a threat.
I lay down on the bed, still wondering exactly what he has in mind. I push out my limbs like a snow angel; I bare my pussy. Again.
Brian grasps my ankle, encircles it in a Velcro cuff.
I pull it a little bit.
It's secured. He does the same to the other ankle. That's when I realize he's put the restraints down, under the mattress. While I was in the bathroom, presumably.
He has to partially climb on top of me to secure my wrists. A different kind of hunger overcomes me. I arch my back, reaching for him.
I gasp as his teeth clamp lightly on my nose.
I lay flat again in a hurry.
He laughs lightly. I get a lump in my throat.
Oh, that's Thomas … sheer, child-like delight.
Was he like this when he was younger? A bad boy, untempered by wisdom, by the hard knocks of life?
I've never wished to know Thomas in his youth, not like I do now. Brian has got me so curious, I am re-thinking everything.
He goes to get the vibrator. He has the vinyl tape we bought, too.
Skillfully, diabolically, he wraps the tape around my right thigh, attaching the vibrator to my body. Naturally he positions the top between my legs.
He pushes it snug against my clit, checks it for looseness.
It's good. He turns the thing on, putting me into auto fuck position.
"We'll start on low,” he informs me.
Some we…
The little machine buzzes breezily. I shift into it, trying to make peace. It is there, taped in, it's going to have its way with me, but there's no reason it can't be a pleasant thing, right?
We will see.
Brian heads away from the bed. A wave of dread overcomes me and a loneliness I haven't felt since childhood. It's so fast and so unexpected I am literally shocked. But I can't ignore it. “Please don't leave me, Master.” There is no pretense of pride here, no attempt to cover just how completely I have been dominated and dependent.
"I'll do anything, I'm a slut, begging … I can't be alone. Don't even go out to smoke, Sir…"
"Hush,” he whispers, running his hand up my leg. “I'm not going anywhere. See?” he holds up his guitar case. “I thought maybe I would play you a song or two."
He sits down on the bed, cross-legged, next to my hip. I see his cock is hard under his jeans, pretty much his normal state, at least around me.
The first of the orgasms hits me as he positions the guitar, lightly strumming. The sound goes through me, I am ever so much more taut than his strings.
"I wrote this song this morning."
I clench my fists, unclench, my hips lift.
"Chestnut hair, green eyes, born to fight with sighs…"
The first orgasm moves right into the second, I strive to listen. God, my tits are so swollen; I need nipple sucking, pinching.
"Travels in a mystery, Caroline's surprise…"
I moan … Brian … tell me … you didn't … write … about … me.
"Silky hair, for fingers twirled, curves that see the light…"
"Wrestling with the dawn and slinking into night…"
A fucking song! He wrote me a fucking song!
I'll show him fighting Caroline.
But Caroline can't do very much at the moment. She's splayed open, pinned like a butterfly in someone's collection.
I make another futile attempt to snap the Velcro, straining until my muscles give in, exhausted. Brian keeps doing his thing.
Shit, I think, I don't want to hear about me, I don't want to be immortalized and all that crap.
It's a pretty good song too; he has talent. There's a beat, a melody.
"Caroline, don't sleep no more, Caroline wake up, Caroline come out to play, Caroline today…"
I'm awake all right.
"Caroline today…"
We've hit the chorus.
He smiles at me now, his eyes all aglow. I can't believe it. Is this the same guy who pissed on me and made me fucking like it?
"Looking forward, looking back, won't you give her ass a smack. Pretty Caroline in chains, guess her secret, Caroline needs pain…"
Deviant frigging prick. I stick out my tongue.
He turns up the vibrator; I throw back my head. “Brian, no…"
"You can take it,” he assures me.
The song goes on. More flattering stuff about my body and my looks and then back to the chorus. Caroline needs pain.
Caroline needs pain.
I can't stop coming.
I'm getting hysterical. “Please … Brian … stop…"
Haven't heard that line in a while, have we?
He tickles my toes. It feels like needles pushing into my soft flesh. I scream. Brian starts another song.
"Just one more and we'll turn it off."
He starts up with Bye, Bye Miss American Pie.
"Brian that has like a hundred fucking verses!"
"But it was written in Saratoga,” he points out. “By Don MacLean. At Lena's."
"I know who fucking wrote and it was at the Tin and Lint not Lena's."
"Really?” he stops.
I fall off yet another cliff, down into a sea of liquid black glass. These climaxes aren't satisfying; they're only winding me up.
"Don't stop, fucking play, just get it over with!"
"From the top…"
"Arrggghhh!"
I feel like a vampire, strapped down, out of my coffin at dawn, my nerves curdling for blood, my system starving, my insides boiling.
This is cruel, shadow sex.
"Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry…"
What I wouldn't give for an honest to goodness cock, or two or three.
Rape by an army of Cossacks might be preferable to mechanical deflowering, again and again, that pathetic little buzz, ripping me apart, so deceptively gentle. I need a man's hands, squeezing, I need attention, I need a body on me, at me, I need to be put down, oh, god, with all the sex today and all the heavy BDSM I am just one thirsty little cunt, craving.
He's singing about the father son and holy ghost, taking the last train to the coast … I just want him to fuck me like the devil.
"Brian, Master, fucking use me … I surrender, do you hear me? I surrender to you!"
He stops playing. He sets the guitar down, not saying a word.
The tape comes off and the vibrator is removed. I inhale in expectation, my belly sucked in, I'm so wet, I've soaked the bed under my ass, my nipples are still vibrating, pussy still twitching, the little needles everywhere.
He moves like a panther, all sinew and muscle, my own personal jaguar, ready to spring and I am terrified of what more power he might have to unleash but I have gone too far, been pushed too far and there isn't any turning back, I have surrendered and if I am not conquered … no, if I am not occupied at this very instant, I do not know what will be left of me, if there is anything even now, anything apart from his breathing, from the predation in his eyes, the hardness, the graceful, powerful … catness.
Tiger, tiger, burning bright….
William Blake.
He falls down on me so hard, pounces more like. I am robbed of breath; every inch of me is … his.
He takes my earlobe in his mouth. “Caroline … needs pain."
The orgasm is his confirmation. I do not have it; it has me. It is shame and desire and confession all rolled into one. I might spend a lifetime denying, but this can never be taken back.
Strange, but I feel him staying out of the way. Never has a man so completely imposed his form, the restrictions of bondage, prolonged sensory assault, testosterone bombardment, and yet he lets me endure … enjoy? … this moment alone.
I wish I could describe that dark ocean I am on, no stars, no moon, only crack of lightning, silent thunder, silver flashing over water, a ship, the prow breaking waves into endless night. There will never be sun here and this is a good thing, never another inhabitant … or will there be?
The mystery of solitude.
He is still biting my ear. Or is it my breast?
Thomas … Thomas couldn't do this, he doesn't have it in him, or rather he won't go to the place of his darkest beast. He stays in another part of the jungle. At least with me.
It dawns on me. Alcoholics hide, or think they need to.
Brian, he's built without that fear. Something else drives him. He's born to pursue. To chase. He's chased Thomas down, now he's chasing me.
And he very nearly fucking has me in a lot of ways.
Would he know what to do with me? Outside the bedroom and shower that is?
I hold perfectly, perfectly still as Brian comes inside me.
He's used me so hard today and this is the culmination. What an imagination he's got. His cock is the thickest, hardest yet. I can feel it through the rubber.
Thank god he remembered one.
I am having to trust him so much. I don't have a brain in my head right now; I haven't since the heart attack.
Everybody, a lot of people have been looking at me to be so strong, the tough employee and friend, level headed Caroline, but that is Thomas’ creature, none of these people knew me before, they don't know the real me, inside, still just the lost little girl.
Thomas’ baby girl.
They should think of me as a five year old lost up and down the aisles of a store, parent misplaced, or maybe up at the service desk, sitting prettily on the counter as the blue haired lady clerk describes me over the intercom.
"Chestnut hair, green eyes, born to fight with sighs. Pretty Caroline in chains, guess her secret … Caroline needs pain."
A car passes by outside, head lights rush in, the world, rushes in, and with it reality.
Thomas on life support.
Caroline needs pain?
She sure has her fill now, doesn't she?
After I met Thomas and we fell into each other, I begged him not to take me to any of the meetings, I rationalized six ways from Sunday that I didn't need it, that we had it under control, that there was no way in hell I would ever drink with him around, all he had to do was say, “C, no.” And that was it. But he told me it didn't work that way, and I knew he was right, it wasn't fair to make him be the entire program for me. He knew I was scared, though, so he let me be baby girl. I held his hand the whole way.
"Do I look pretty, Daddy?"
"You look beautiful, baby girl, are you ready to go inside and make Daddy proud?"
"I'm scared, there's so many people in the room."
"I know, but Daddy will be with you."
"Promise?"
"Baby girl, you know Daddy will never leave you…"
He has left, though, hasn't he … at least in the ways I need him.
"Do I have to talk?"
"Yes, baby girl, you need to tell the people about yourself."
"I can't.” I bury my head against his chest.
He soothes me, telling me what we will do later, what my reward is going to be if I am a good girl.
It is a very adult reward.
I sigh, and discretely touch his erection. “I love you, Daddy."
"I love you, baby girl."
Brian is undoing the straps, I am limp as a rag doll, think I might be sobbing, but I don't have tears left. How long does it take to make more? I wonder.
He's whispering things in my ear and he's holding me, very, very tight. I let go in a different way, sharing it all through the pores of my naked body skin to skin, far too much life experience than he could understand, but it's funny, I don't feel older, superior, I feel like woman, embraced by man. Fresh, strong man.
"Brian … I don't know what I'll do without him."
He doesn't answer me with any platitudes, for Thomas or me. He just rolls us both under the covers. He makes a cocoon, cradling me against his back. Together we make it feel okay.
I must have dozed off. The next thing I recall is hearing a cell phone, not my own. I sit up, groggy. Brian is facing away, talking. His hand is on his hip. I love his naked ass. The rest of him is good, too. Solid. And man shaped.
He clicks off the phone and turns back, a strange look on his face. “It's Thomas,” he tells me. “He's … awake."
"But that's good news."
"Yea … I guess I'm still just in shock. From the whole thing."
"I know the feeling."
We dress quickly and quietly. A united front. A terrible way to have to end this latest “session” as he puts it, but probably the best way, because it keeps us from breaking into our usual post-coital fight.
I let him drive.
His hand moves across the seat, I find it and hold on for dear life, even as I tell him we should probably go in separately.
"You want to go first or should I?” he asks.
"You're the dominant,” I say, only half joking.
"I'll go first,” he declares before I can tell him if I'm joking or not. “Wait outside, follow me in after about five minutes. I'll tell them I called you."
I do as he tells me. My hands are shaking too much for a cigarette.
I wonder why Monica didn't call me.
My mind starts playing tricks. She doesn't want me here. She knows.
Something worse is going on, though, ever since I had that feeling in the shower of a spirit passing through me. I feel like the worse kind of traitor for thinking this way and I wouldn't dare say it, but I don't think this waking up is good or permanent.
I drop my lighter and kick it in frustration.
"Caroline."
It's Brian. Behind me.
"You scared me."
His face is expressionless.
"He's gone,” I whisper.
He runs his hand through his hair. “I don't get it, he had his eyes open, they said, he squeezed Monica's hand."
"He was saying goodbye."
Brian's eyes tear up. “Not to me he fucking didn't. He was always leaving me in life now he does it in death."
"Brian, it was more than he could handle. He held on long enough so we could come and see him and talk to him. No other man would have been that strong. Who knows what extra pain he went through?"
"Is that it, then? Nice and cut and dried? Your hero Daddy dies and now you'll worship him in death? How cozy, for you, Caroline. A taker, right to the end."
My lip trembles. Experience tells me he is wont to turn like this, opening me for love and then ripping my guts out, but that doesn't keep it from hurting. “You really shouldn't talk to me anymore right now, Brian."
I go to walk inside. Can't let him see I'm barely able to stay upright.
"Stop, Caroline, that's an order."
I ignore him; I have to.
Monica's upstairs and Kasey and Erin. They need me.