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.