At precisely eight-thirty I rang Clarissa's doorbell. No one answered. I rang again. Still nobody answered. I rang four more times. No answer.
I tried to look in windows. They were all curtained. I opened the garage door. No cars. They weren't home. How dare they do that!
I was furious and so sexually frustrated that I considered going out and finding one of my old female acquaintances. But I didn't. I went home and waited for the phone to ring, hoping either Clarissa or Charles would call.
I was sound asleep in a chair next to the phone when it rang. I glanced at my watch before picking up the receiver. It was two-fifteen.
I answered. It was Charles. "Be over here in fifteen minutes," he said and then hung up.
I stared at the receiver for a long while. That guy was a total asshole. What did he expect? Did he think I'd drop everything and run over there in the middle of the night?
I headed for bed. I was going to get this whole bit out of my mind. Forget Clarissa and Charles. Forget the excitement that being with them created in me. At that moment I hated them – both of them. They had mistreated me. Bastardized my faith in them.
Sleep didn't come easily, but finally it came. It seemed as though as soon as I finally did fall asleep the alarm clock rang.
I was hesitant about seeing Clarissa at work, but when, later in the morning, I walked by her in the hall, she offered me a cheery hello and kept on going. She had smiled, but made no mention of my not showing up the previous night. That bothered me more than if she had railed angrily at me. At least then I would have had a response for her.
Three days went by. Clarissa was maddeningly pleasant. But she never mentioned my coming over to her house, and made no reference at all to what we had done. We had a perfectly respectable business relationship.
I finally couldn't take it anymore. I invited her to coffee. I didn't know how to bring up what I really wanted to talk about.
"Darling," she said after a long while, "why don't you just ask?"
"You know the question, Clarissa, why don't you just answer it."
"No, darling," she said. "You must ask."
"Can I come over?" I asked. I was blushing. I don't remember ever being more embarrassed.
"I really don't know, Paul," she answered. "You'll have to ask Charles. Call him tonight. He'll be home."
That night I put off calling for an hour. But eventually I gave up all pretense. I had to call. The relationship I was having with those two was dominating my life. I could think of nothing else. I either had to call or else be strong enough to will them completely out of my thinking. I knew I wasn't strong enough for the latter.
Charles answered. He acted as though he didn't know me. I explained who I was. I told him everything I had done when I was at his house. When I was finished with that embarrassing recitation, he said, "Ah, yes. Now I know who you are. And what did you say you wanted?"
"I want to come over," I said, offering my defeat to him with one statement.
"But it is not what you want, Paul," he said. "It is what we want. Call me back a week from tonight."
There is no possible way to explain or describe the hell I went through for the following week. My cock was constantly hard. My mind dwelled on nothing but what I might be made to do. But finally the week was over.
I didn't have to call. There was a note for me from Clarissa when I got home from work. It was brief. "You're expected at eight-thirty," was all it said.
As the minute hand touched the six on my watch, I rang the bell. This time it was answered by Charles. "Ah, you're on time," he said, and laughed.
"Yes, I'm on time," I said. "But I wish you wouldn't laugh at me. This is hard enough as it is."
"I realize that, dear boy," he said, the humor still in his voice. "But we must keep a sense of humor."
I saw nothing funny in what I was letting myself in for, and I resented Charles's attitude.
In fact, I was starting to resent the entire affair. But I wasn't about to leave.
"I want you to do something first," Charles said. "Go to your car and strip out of your clothes out there. Then you may come in."
"You must be joking," I said. It was dark out, but their house was on a residential street, surrounded by other houses.
"I'm not joking," Charles said. "Either do it or leave."
This was the turning point. Right here. I knew it and Charles knew it. If I did what he had told me, I was handing myself over to them completely. If I walked away, any further relationship was finished.
I turned and walked down the front stairs, heading for my car.
"The door will be open," Charles called. "Just walk on in."
I sat in the car for maybe fifteen minutes. I checked traffic, to see how often cars passed. Not often. In that area, my chances of safety were good.
I pulled my cock out of my pants. It was hard. The Goddamned thing was always hard since I'd met Clarissa. Right at that second I wanted to cut the damned thing off. To get rid of all this shit.
As I pulled first my shirt and then my trousers off I threw them over the back seat onto the floor. When I was totally naked, I glanced around, making sure that nobody was out walking their dog or calling their kids. The coast was clear, and there was no traffic.
I got out of the car, and, under the cover of shadows; I hurried to the front porch. Just as I reached for the front doorknob, thinking I was safe, the front porch light went on. And the door was locked!
I felt like I was standing in the middle of Times Square. I knew thousands of eyes were staring at me, knowing me for the pervert I'd become.
Sweat beaded my forehead as I banged on the front door. "Let me in," I shouted. "Please let me in."
I heard movement inside but it seemed like an eternity before the door opened. Clarissa was standing there. "Come in, Paul," she said in a conversational tone of voice.
I jumped inside. I felt like hitting Clarissa. I was that angry. But I stood there, naked and ashamed of myself. I couldn't look at her.
"Drink this fast," Clarissa said, handing me a drink from a table in the hall, and then go straight to the bedroom.
I downed the drink in three gulps. It was very strong. And then I padded my way down the hallway and went into the bedroom.
The walls of the bedroom were hung with large, framed photographs. That was a new addition. The room was empty and the light was high enough for me to see what the photographs depicted. Every form of perversion that I could think of was represented. Women and animals; homosexual couples and groups; sodomy; a vivid color shot of a man being beaten with a whip; a child being screwed anally by a man with a huge cock. Everything was there. I was shocked and excited at the same time.
As I was staring at one of the pictures, Charles walked in behind me. "Good, aren't they?" he asked.
I turned quickly. He had startled me.
He called Clarissa in and told her to get on the bed. She too was naked now. She climbed on the wide bed and settled on her back. Charles then told me to get on top of her, and to put my cock inside.
There were no preliminaries. I simply got on top of Clarissa and slid my cock deep inside her. We were not supposed to move.
Charles moved to the side of the bed and took hold of my right arm. He pulled it up, hard. And then from below my line of vision he pulled up a length of nylon cord, to which was attached a single handcuff. He clicked that on my wrist and then moved to the other side of the bed, where the routine was repeated with my left arm.
He went then to my legs, where my ankles were similarly secured. I was spread-eagled on the bed, my cock impaling Clarissa. But I was able to move only slightly. I couldn't do more than raise my ass a few inches.
When I was totally helpless, Charles spoke. "Tonight," he said, "we initiate your ass!"