"No, why don't you,” I rub the soreness.
"Okay,” he declares. “I will. What I said to you was wrong. You're not a taker. Maybe I have been a little jealous. Maybe I have come at you too hard and fast but there's a reason."
My eyes are watering, but I am starting to laugh.
"Because you're a dickhead?” I venture as he hands me a handkerchief from his corduroy jacket.
He smiles slantedly. “Well, that, too."
I wipe my eyes.
"I've wanted you from the minute I saw you. I saw through you, into you, I knew the submissive you were, I saw you were misunderstood, I felt your loneliness so bad it made me ache all over. I wanted to just hold you, tell you it would be all right. I wanted to prove myself in the only way I will ever be able to a woman. Through sado-masochism."
A part of me is ready to fall to him right then and there. But another part doesn't want to make it so easy. What would Brian learn if he just got his way, a robot, offering him no challenge?
How would he grow into the master he needs to be? How will I grow into the sub I should be, the woman I need to be?
I feel a hand on my shoulder. Thomas, confirming I am on the right track. “There's a lot more to life, a lot more to relationships than S and M,” I suggest gently. “You learn that in time, how to balance things."
"Don't start in telling me how young I am, Caroline. Age is an excuse for older people to defend their fear of risk taking. Who says we can't make a relationship thrive on sado-masochism? You don't just have to take your spankings from married men on the side."
Caroline brought him up short. “That's an awful thing to say, Brian. To me and to your father."
"My father is gone."
"He is as alive as we keep him in our hearts."
Brian's breathing was quick. “Let's make love."
"No, not now."
"Why not?"
Not until this moment had the full reality of his youth dawned on me. I wanted to be angry. I couldn't. That's just how it was. The younger you are the faster your mind can dart from thing to thing, the more filled with wonder you are. And the more self-pre-occupied you are. Not selfish, just more unabashedly indulgent. Thomas could get back there, through me.
But I'm too old for this.
"I'm not your personal playground, Brian."
"Yes you are."
I squirm away from his wandering hands.
"I'm going to train you so you can't do that,” he tells me.
I'm breathing so fast. Should I get it over with and just let him have my body? It's my only chance-to get to the next inevitable knock down drag out. And this fight will be the last. The beginning of the end of the entire relationship. “I mean it, Brian, I am not screwing around."
My tough talk falls on deaf ears. “Take off your clothes,” he tells me. “Hand them over."
I feel a rush, blood pouring into my nipples, my pussy. “What did you say?"
"You heard me, girl. I want you naked, ready to suck cock. You're still my sex slave. We never finished back in the motel room."
I'm transported there in a flash, the sensations overcome me. And the desire. “Someone could see…"
"Then I'll invite them over to join us."
"Like hell you will.” It's the twinkle in his eye wins me over, not the heavy dominant stuff.
I unzip the dress in back, lifting my breasts and pushing them outward.
He takes the dress from me after I pull it over my head. “Keep going."
It's inevitable from here. I am past the point of no return. I pull down my stockings, which are already covered in runs. I do the bra next.
Again I arch my back, displaying my cleavage as I unbuckle.
My breasts spring free in the open air.
"Give it here and hustle with those panties. I have been waiting all day to get at you."
I slide my panties over my hips. “Today is your father's funeral. Do you have any idea how brutally insensitive you are?"
"Enough to make you wet."
I turn over the panties and endure the humiliation of having him sniff them. No point in denying it now. “Can we just get this over with?"
"No, I think we'll drag it out as long as we can, thank you. Turn around. Slowly."
"What for?"
"I'm trying to decide."
"Decide what?"
"What to do to you next. Turn,” he repeats. “Arms over your head."
I pivot on my heels; my scent is filling the air. Fear and sex stink. Sure to arouse the bastard to new heights.
"Again, slower."
I give him the show he wants.
He has me face him again, cupping my breasts. “Tell me what my father did that you liked best."
"He made me laugh,” I say without hesitation.
My intent is to shame him, but it doesn't seem to work.
"I could tell that,” he nods. “You had that look about you."
"What do you mean?"
"When I was with him, I saw how he made women relax. They let their hair down. They were totally and completely female with him. They felt safe. Waitresses, the freaking toll booth operators. What did it take, all of five seconds? They got this glow from him and I figure you got a pretty good dose because you were a light bulb when I met you. I was so jealous, because I thought, I can't do that to a woman like Caroline. Couldn't in a million years."
"If you're fishing for a compliment…"
"Nope. Just a little diversion. You can get on your knees now."
"You really like fucking with my head, don't you?"
"I adore it, Caroline."
I sink into the dirt. “This means nothing. We have no future together."
He doesn't even dignify that with a response. The futility of my resistance is embarrassing. I hasten to unzip him. I hope he comes quickly.
"Do a good job, angel. Or I'll use the crop on you."
My toes dig in to the soft ground. My pussy yawns. The way he'd laid that whip on me in the store, as light as it was, had definitely done a number on me. I could only imagine him using it for real.
"We didn't buy the crop,” I remind him, craning my neck to see past his crotch.
"I already had one. I was just testing you that day."
"Did I pass?"
"You're here aren't you?"
I pull out his member, thick and hard. “I'll take that to mean I failed."
"There's nothing failing about how you use your mouth."
It's not the most noble compliment, but it will do at the moment. I make myself a circle, open, receptive. At the same time I suckle, a weird combination of mother and whore.
Not feeling like baby girl. But that's okay, I am what I am. Me, not the roles, Thomas taught me that. I look at Brian and I see how much he still has to learn.
I am teaching him now. A sweet sacrifice on my part. Brian uses my mouth like a pussy, like a cunt, while my sex cries out, wanting to be used. Even my ass is clenched in anticipation. The man has me on the precipice.
Come is my existence. The semen I crave, which will plunge me over the rim, down into the belly of the beast.
Brian's beast.
Our beast.
He shifts his weight, leaning on my shoulders. I take over the motions of my mouth, in and out with uncompromising speed. I must satisfy him. I must satisfy myself. I must drink.
The semen comes out thick and warm, I gulp the first spurt just in time for the second. It goes down smooth, my eyes are closed and I'm drifting, everything in sync, my hands reach around to grab his ass cheeks, tender, possessive. It's a hell of a risk on my part, ever showing a man I like him. I can please and Thomas made sure I never failed, but I am terrible at initiating.
Thomas wanted me to work on that.
Do you think he ever intended that would come with his own son?
Why not? It always came down to that for Thomas. If something seemed impossible, if you could show it on paper even, he would just shrug and say why not. If you could dream it then why not?
His hand strokes my hair as he vacates my mouth. “Lick me clean, baby."